#i don’t think this can count as an analysis though | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

arachine · 1 year

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૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა ... i'd follow you anywhere .ᐟ

ᥫ᭡ pairing :: neteyam sully x avatar! reader

ᥫ᭡ genre :: mature

ᥫ᭡ synopsis :: in which reader uses her new avatar body to finally show neteyam just how much she loves him… + based off of this thirst!

ᥫ᭡ general tags :: 18+ (explicit sexual content, explicit language), minimal angst (?), lots of fluff and banter lol

ᥫ᭡ content warnings :: characters aged up to 20, oral (m receiving), cum swallowing, dacryphilia (v tame), corruption

ᥫ᭡ word count :: 2.5k

ᥫ᭡ note :: guys this is what happens when i ask for thirsts!!! i get carried away and never know when to stop ;(( anyway, here, have this while i work on my annual dick analysis for jake & quaritch.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Shh, you’ll see, kitty boy,” you giggled, tightening your grip on his wrist.

Neteyam shakes his head, tongue in cheek. He could never say no to you—not that he wanted to…he always wanted to play with you. He’d follow you into the depths of hell, or whatever the na’vi equivalent of hell was. Yeah, he’d follow you there, he thinks—definitely.

The boy relinquishes all of his motor skills to you, allowing you to drag his body further into the forest. He mirrors all of your agile movements, jumping when you jump, running when you run—and then you come to a halt, turning around quickly to face him. You’re so close—too close, the sudden proximity disrupting his equilibrium.

“Don’t go falling for me now,” you grab his forearm before he can fall, pulling him back up with a wink. He scoffs at this, mumbling something sly under his breath. You were always so quick-witted, with quick reflexes to match, too. To anyone else, this would be annoying, but to him, they were your most admirable traits. It’s what made him fall for you.

“Ha, ha, can you tell me what we are doing all the way out here now?” he raises his hands, gesturing to the clearing that you were now standing in. You smile wildly, pursing your lips together in avoidance. The boy reaches behind you to pull your tail, tickling your sides until you surrender.

“Okay, okay, just s-stop it already,” you belt out, “I wanna show you somethin’…gotta be nice to get it, though.” He retracts his hands, letting them fall slowly to his sides. Just what were you planning?

Grabbing his hand this time, you usher him to follow you with a tilt of your head. You lead him to a tree surrounded by shrubbery, a spot that, up until now, only you were privy to its whereabouts. The perfect place for privacy.

Letting go of his hand, you push him down to sit on the forest floor, with his back resting against the bark of the tree and you nestled between his legs. His pulse quickens. What was so important that you needed to drag him so deep into the forest? In such a secluded place, nonetheless.

“I’ve been wanting to try this with you for a while,” you start, voice so low, just barely above a whisper. His eyes squint in confusion, but he remains silent—listening, as to not scare you from continuing.

“You know, growing up in a shack with grown men…you hear a lot of things,” a silence, “things only men talk about.” Your eyes flitter to his, unmoving.

“like, the things they missed doing on Earth, the girls they miss fucking—and what they’d do to have a woman’s lips wrapped their cocks…” The last bit comes out more hushed, gently kissing the shell of his ears. His tail reacts to you before he can, swishing in jagged movements, exposing his excitement.

“Has anyone ever kissed you down there?” your eyes flit to his groin.

He shakes his head eagerly, “No, I have n-never heard of this…nobody has ever…”

“Can I?” you tilt your head, flashing him your best doe-eyes. It was fun teasing him, a feeling that you’d never grow tired of. From first glance, to first introduction, you’d been bound at the hip since you could talk. Everything he did, you did, and vice versa. If you were feeling sick one day and couldn’t play, then shit, he was too. If you wanted to jump off a cliff one day, he’s jumping with you!

His loyalty to you was unyielding, grounding. And as the years passed, and the two of you transitioned from bright-eyed little kids to gangly, awkward teens on the cusp of adulthood, you started to realize something. That you wanted to be all of his firsts.

Determinedly, you set out to do just that. On his thirteenth birthday, you kissed his cheek. A scintilla of your love, stained onto the expanse of his face that served as a mental reminder that this boy was yours—promised to you, and only you.

Then, three more years passed. The boy with the rounded cheeks and toothy smile, had begun to change. It started out slow, though, then the differences became more gradual.

The first to change was his face. What was once round and doughy, had now become slim and sharp. And then it was his physique. No longer was he the awkward child with gangly limbs, and a head too big for his body (as you liked to put it). No, he was much more…different. And each and every one of these changes, a testament to his inevitable journey into adulthood.

On his sixteenth birthday, you kissed him. Once. But in that one kiss, you poured every ounce of love that you’d collected over the years. Every thought, every wish, every yearn, went right into that kiss—another piece of your heart that you carved just for him. For him to have and hold, to keep safe.

And when it was over, you pulled away with a smile, and a dagger of a tongue dipped in poison, ready to deliver heartbreak.

You’re a man now, you uttered. I wanted to give my best friend his first kiss. And that was it, that was all it was ever going to be—because you were human, then. Still a weak, measly, little human who spent all her time living in a false reality, chasing something (someone) that could never really truly be promised to you. Not until you made the change.

So, you waited. And…waited, and waited, and waited until one day you could meet his eye without having to look up, or for him to drop down. You waited until the day when you’d be recognized as his equal.

Today was that day, on his twentieth birthday. And so you ask again.

“Can I kiss you down here?”

He nods. Once, twice, then stutters out an eager yes. Gently you smooth your palm up and over his knee, the skin of his thighs, and then stop beneath the fabric of his loin cloth. Your fingers trace the area teasingly, and you giggle when his hip juts up from the sensation. So sensitive.

Slowly, you remove the cloth from his body, and take him into your hand. He’s semi-hard and leaking pre—and warm. So, so warm. You bring it up to your cheek, rubbing it against the area before turning your head to leave a zephyr-light kiss on his shaft. You kiss it once, then twice, then kiss it again for every year you spent not kissing him.

“What are you doing?” he laughs, “Come on, it tick—hahhh.” A whine vacates from his throat upon you licking a long stripe from the base of his shaft, to the tip of his head. Naturally, his hands find solace atop of your head.

“So dramatic, I didn’t even do anything yet.” This time, you take him into your mouth, forcing him to watch you as more and more of his length disappears into the cavern of your mouth.

Technically, you’d never done this before (save for the few times you practiced on fruit) so it was your first time, just as much as it was his. But he didn’t have to know that. You wanted to appear like you knew what you were doing, or at the very least, like you’d done this before. You try to remember all the things you’ve heard over the years.

1) Girls who used teeth were bad, but girls who flattened their tongues and relaxed their throats were good.

2) Girls who didn’t use spit sucked, but girls who got really messy were good fucks.

3) Girls who didn’t play with balls were lazy, but girls who did knew how to have fun.

So, you use an amalgamation of all of the tips that you garnered. You flatten your tongue, ease your throat so that you can take him farther, until the head of his cock hits your uvula.

“Shhit, mmf,” he breathes, attempting to stifle a moan by digging a hand into the forest soil. Immediately, you grab his hand and place it back onto your head, pulling off of him with a wet pop.

“Keep ‘em here,” your hand fists his length, “want you to use me. Wanna make you feel good, ‘kay?” His dick twitches in your hold, because fuck, the sight before him is almost too much for him to handle.

You, before him on your knees, with your dainty hand wrapped around him, and your face wet with drool. And you want him to what? Use you? To make him feel…good? God, if he didn’t know any better, he’d think this was Eywa playing tricks on his mind. Giving him a taste of euphoria before yanking him back to reality.

He has half a mind to pinch himself, and half mind to poke you, because there’s just no way this is real. Bullshit. But then you’re sinking back down onto him, and swirling your tongue around his head, and using your hands to massage his balls, and—

“Fuck,” his hands reflexively push you down onto his length. His body shivers when the tip of your nose makes contact with his pelvis. You’re so warm, and wet, so inviting, he can’t seem to let go. He keeps you there until you physically can’t fathom it, and pull off of him in search of air.

“That felt…nice,” he says bashfully, “can you do that again?” You nod eagerly, accumulating a generous amount of spit in your mouth to use as a salve, lathering it up and down the length of him before he guides you back to his awaiting cock.

He watches intently as your lips stretch to accommodate him again. Now his hands, which are tangled in your tresses, are moving more confidently. They push and pull you, maneuvering your head gently and at a steady pace, then gradually, they increase their speed.

Neteyam does this a few times and then allows you to take the reins. When you’re ready, you take a deep inhale through your nose, and push yourself down until you feel the weight of him hit the back of your throat. The first time was a bit easier, mostly because your jaw wasn’t as fatigued as it was now, but you persevere anyway.

Inhale, exhale. A mantra that you have to repeat to yourself to distract you from the urge to gag. You try your best to keep your jaw relaxed and your throat open by digging your nails into the fat of his thighs.

When you look up at him, there’s an elated expression molded onto his face. His head is thrown back against the tree, hair strewn about with tendrils sticking to his forehead, and his eyes are shut closed.

He looks…so beautiful. That’s when you feel a tear ribbon down your face and onto his thigh. You’re unsure if it’s because of the air steadily leaving your brain, or if it’s because of how pretty he looks right now—all sweaty, slick with your drool.

You settle on the former. It had to be the air. Eventually, your lungs give out and you have to take a breather. The sudden loss of warmth forces his eyes open, and then they fall on your face. Your eyes. Doe-eyed and clouded. Cheeks stained with tears.

“Pretty.” Is all he says, bringing up a hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You work him the rest of the way with the iota of energy you have left, concentrating on the head of his cock while your hand fists him to climax.

His abs begin to tremble and flex when you switch between hollowing your cheeks and massaging his balls. A visual indication that he was close to coming.

“Waitwaitwait, it feels like,” he’s panicked, trying to push you away. You dodge his attempts to remove you and continue your assault, only this time, you gently apply pressure to his perineum. Unceremoniously, he pushes your head down to the hilt and you moan around him from the force.

The vibrations from your throat makes his head feel all fuzzy. He’s so close, on the precipice of euphoria. And your hands—that are still situated on his thighs—rub the expanse of them reassuringly, coaxing him to finish right on your tongue.

With a final lazy piston, he comes into your mouth, and the warm, salty seed that you’d been anticipating leaks down the column on your throat. Moans tumble from his lips, along with hushed expletives, and he’s shaking. The cords of muscle beneath your palm tense and flex before regressing to their natural, relaxed state.

You remove your mouth promptly and rise to your haunches, making sure that his eyes are locked onto yours as you stick out your tongue to show him his seed.

“No, do not swallow that, I didn’t mea—“ Disobeying his wishes, you do it anyway. Swallowing it all all down and making it a point that you did so by sticking your tongue out again. His tail flicks in response, eyes wide in disbelief.

“Why did you do that? It’s dirty,” he caresses your cheek, wiping away the leftover spent from your mouth.

“‘Cause I wanted to…” You counter. “And it’s not dirty, you tasted good.”

Neteyam rolls his eyes at this, like him tasting good is too hard for him to believe.

“Don’t believe me? Here, try it.” And then you give him the gift that you had gifted to him all those years ago. A kiss. It’s equal parts sweet and needy, different from the first time it happened, but that’s because it was supposed to be. You wanted him to know exactly what you meant. No more waiting. No more pining.

When you draw back, breathless and dizzy, he’s still stuck in a stupor. Lips jutted out and waiting for you to kiss him again. Again, again, again. He opens his eyes, and sees you staring back at him.

“See, I told yo—“ He takes a fist full of your hair and connects his lips to yours. This is him returning the gift. Letting you know that he got the message, loud and clear, and that it was reciprocated. Every ounce of love that flows through his heart is poured into your own; he hopes you can feel it.

“I told you not to fall for me,” you whisper, looking up at him with an avian flutter of your lashes. Neteyam’s hands find solace on the sides of your cheeks, and then he speaks.

“I think I fell for you a long time ago.” Warmth washes over you, his sweet words and strong hands overriding all of your cognitive functions. Specifically, the one in charge of keeping you calm and collected.

“Good, ‘cause I think you’re gonna fall for me a lot harder when you see what I have planned for you later.”

“What’s later?”

“Shh, what fun would it be if I told the birthday boy the surprise?” You grin cheekily, unaware of the way your tail swishes from side to side as you say it. Neteyam knows you’re up to no good, but he doesn’t care. He’d follow you anywhere, after all.

#neteyam x reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam smut #neteyam sully smut #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak x reader smut #avatar x reader smut #avatar x reader #atwow smut #avatar the way of water smut

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jamespotterismydaddy · 4 months

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Academic Rivals

michael gavey x reader

summary: a partner project in the library leads to heightened emotions

A/N: a request from my dearest belie boo! hope you enjoy @valeskafics !!

TW: smut!, semi-public sex, degradation, hate-fucking, misogyny, michael is a little perv actually

word count: 1,788 words

You despise Michael Gavey. The smug bastard sits right next to you in history and the two of you constantly compete for top of the class. You’ll be the first one to admit that he’d have you beat in any math class but history is yours. The worst part of it is that your professor encourages the rivalry, insisting that it’s ‘healthy competition’. Which is why you’re currently (very apprehensively) making your way to the library to work on your partnered essay with Michael.

You don’t want to make it easy on him though so you strut in, ten minutes late with an iced coffee in your hand. You’re dressed in a sweater and a very short plaid skirt with black thigh highs that just reach under the hem of it. His eyes glance over you almost too quickly, like he’s trying to avoid your gaze.

“You’re late.” He says while looking at his notes.

“This part of the library wasn’t easy to find.” You look around and there isn’t a single person in your line of sight. “Maybe that’s why it’s so dead in here.”

He scoffs. “Or perhaps you’re late because you stopped to get overpriced coffee on the way. Whatever you’re drinking is more sugar than coffee anyhow.”

“So hateful today.” I tease.

“If you spent more time focusing on punctuality then I wouldn’t need to be.” He says pompously. “Get out your notes. I need your contributions for the analysis of economics during the 18th century.”

“In a moment.” You say as you pull out your compact mirror instead of your notes so you can check your hair. You don’t particularly care how it looks at the moment but you know your primping will piss him off.

“Did you even do your research or were you too focused with your own vanity to get the work done?” He asks in a snarky tone and your eyes dart up to meet his.

“Just because I enjoy putting an effort into looking good doesn’t mean i’m an airhead. Of course I did my research.” You say with a roll of your pretty eyes. Michael thinks you look particularly pretty when you’re angry.

“How should I have known any different? You spend more time worrying about getting attention than your studies. It’s pathetic really. You have so much potential, yet you let your feminine interests dominate you.” He says with a mock look of pity.

“Oh you poor thing. If my ‘feminine interests’ seem to dominate my life then why do I have the highest mark in our class? Shouldn’t you have the highest mark if you dedicate all your time to your studies?” You give him a sweet little smile and he is mortified at the way it makes his cock harden.

“History is hardly my top priority when i’m in much more academically challenging classes and I was top of the class last week so it won’t be long before I overtake you again anyhow.” He tries to act nonchalant but you can tell your words got to him.

“It’s probably difficult for you to do as well as you could when you spend most of the class staring at me.” You say and feel a sense of accomplishment when his cheeks turn crimson red.

“I only look at you because you spend all class talking and giving your half-brained takes on the French Revolution.” He retorts but his words are a little clumsy.

“Then why are you blushing?”

“It’s hot in here.” He says firmly.

“It is a little hot in here.” Your tone is casual but he can sense the mischief in your voice. His eyes widen as you shrug off your sweater to reveal a tight, white camisole underneath and because it isn’t really that warm in the library, your nipples harden under the garment and they poke through the fabric. “Something wrong, Michael?” You ask sweetly, noticing how his eyes are glued to your perky tits.

“No, of course not.” He answers too quickly and you smirk at him.

You stand up and walk over to his side of the table and sit on it right next to him, so your thigh could almost brush his arm. He can now clearly see the lacy hem off your stockings. “You’re so flustered. It’s pathetic.” You say a little cruelly and he stands abruptly, his chair almost tipping back.

“You’re a bitch.” He spits back at you.

“That’s no way to speak to a woman, Gavey. What would your mother think?”

He just glares at you for a moment and you can’t tell if it’s hate or lust burning in his eyes. You realize quickly that it’s the latter when he grips the back of your hair and forces your mouth to his. Michael presses himself against you and you can feel how painfully hard he is in his trousers as he kisses you roughly. You hate to say that you kiss back, enjoying how sloppy and inexperienced he is, although full of emotion.

He parts his mouth from yours but stays slotted between your thighs. He looks almost nervous, like he half expects you to slap him and leave. He’s fucking delighted when you roll your hips gently against his instead. The math nerd has never touched a woman before but he’s more than ready to grasp the opportunity. He slips both his hands right up your top and groans when he feels your soft tits. He massages them and you whine, lifting your shirt for him so he can see exactly what he’s doing.

“Oh, God.” He murmurs as he rolls your nipples between his fingers.

“Have you ever been within two feet of a woman?” You ask him with a cruel little smirk but then you squeak as he pinches your nipple hard. “Ow! Fuck, Michael.” You whine.

“You fucking slut.” He murmurs and you can’t tell if it’s a term of endearment or just plain old misogyny. “Always have some bratty little remark to say.”

Your eyes glaze over a little and you pout at the way he looks at you. You would never think that a virgin could act so dominant.

He looks like he’s fighting some conflict in his mind before he speaks. “Now, you’re going to take your underwear off and bend over the table… then i’m going to fuck you.” He says it like it’s a command but it’s almost as if he’s trying to breathe a dream into reality. When you obey him, his eyes widen and he begins to make quick work on the removal of his belt. He can hardly believe that a woman as hot as you just listened to him, that a woman who seems to despise him with every inch of her being has just bent over a table, waiting to be fucked by him.

He lifts up your skirt, feeling more bricked than he’s ever been as he rubs his hand over your ass. He gives a firm slap to your right cheek just to see how you’d react and he’s pleased when you whimper. Michael runs his fingers through your folds as he finally releases his cock from his pants. He pumps himself as he rubs you, enjoying how wet you are, knowing it means you like it.

“Jesus, Michael, are you gonna stand there all day or are you going to fuck me?” You barely manage to get the question out when he decides to slam himself, balls deep, inside of you. You whine out as you try to get used to how big he is. You really didn’t expect him to be so hung.

All he can do is think to himself, don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum. As he tries to block out the sound of your voice so he doesn’t spill himself inside you prematurely.

“Michael…” You whimper out, not even knowing why you’re saying his name.

“Shut the fuck up.” He murmurs before beginning to move himself in and out of you. “Little fucking brat, thinking you’re smarter than me.” He starts to thrust harder. “I’m the smartest person in this entire fucking school.”

His cock is slamming in and out of you at this point and all you can do is let out little moans from how roughly he’s treating you.

“Say it. Say i’m the smartest person in the school.”

“Fuck you, asshole.” You manage to groan out from under him.

He grins. “That’s my job.” Michael may have never had sex before this but he sure as hell knows how the woman’s body works. So, his fingers snake around your front so he can roll your clit between his fingers. You let out a strangled gasp. “Say it. Now.”

“You’re the… smartest… person… in the school.” He punctuates your words with his thrusts as his hips slam against yours, making you stutter at every other word.

“Good girl.” He says smugly.

You give him no warning when you cum and the way your pussy squeezes and convulses around his cock almost makes him fall to his knees and pray to God in thanks. He cums instantly after you, not having the self control to hold it back anymore and not having the will to pull out as he spills deep inside of you.

He now fully contextualizes the fact that, no matter if it’s a deserted section, the two of you are still in the library. He pulls himself out quickly and you whine at the abruptness of it all as he swiftly begins to clothe himself.

“Get dressed!” He urges but you can hardly do more than lie there after being fucked so hard.

You move slowly as you pull up your panties and fix your skirt and top, your thigh-highs looking rumpled.

“We’re going to be expelled!” He panics as he kneels down to straighten up your thigh-highs for you.

“Nobody saw and there’s no cameras in here.” You say as you manage to pull yourself together enough to roll your eyes.

“T-This is your fault!” He exclaims.

Post-nut spiralling i guess.

“My fault?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Yes, it's your fault! You seduced me!” He gets his things together, his face one shade off of a tomato.

“Then it won’t happen again.” You say simply. His face drops.

“Whatever.” He seems to have calmed down a bit, slightly irritated by your words.

You sigh and decide that it’s best to leave while you’re ahead.

“Goodbye, Michael.” You say in a sing-songy tone as you strut away, now leaving him as the dazed one.

“B-But we didn’t start the essay!” Is all he can get out before you turn around the corner and out of his sight.

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 7 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey

sorry if y'all only wanted to be on my hotd taglist i forget

#michael gavey x reader #michael gavey smut #michael gavey #ewan mitchell #ewanverse #saltburn #saltburn smut

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bradshawssugarbaby · 7 months

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I Can See You (Aaron Hotchner x Reader)

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem! reader

song prompt: I Can See You (From the Vault) - Taylor Swift

warnings/content: mutual pining, Hotch being a gentleman, making out.

word count: 1571

And I could see you up against the wall with me, and what would you do, baby, if you only knew? Oh, oh, oh, that I could see you throw your jacket on the floor, I could see you make me want you even more

You sipped your drink as your eyes scanned the room for a familiar face. You dreaded social events, especially ones where you hardly knew anyone by name, let alone anyone you knew comfortably enough to talk to at length. These work galas were nothing short of awkward and you were thankful they only happened a handful of times a year, but even that was too often. You specifically took up an admin position with the FBI to avoid the social interactions with others regularly - you just weren’t a *people* person. As you continued to sip your cocktail, praying for the fire alarm to ring through the hotel ballroom as the perfect escape for you, you heard a deep voice say your name. You spun around on your heel to see Aaron Hotchner, the unit chief for the Behavioural Analysis Unit standing before you, a warm, friendly smile on his face.

“Hey, fancy seeing you here!” You grinned, trying to mask the social anxiety you were feeling, especially when faced with a man you had feelings for.

Aaron laughed softly, holding his whiskey glass firmly in his large hand. His fingers wrapped around the glass, making it look as though it was meant for a doll rather than an average sized high-ball glass. He rarely smiled, let alone laughed, so the fact that you were able to accomplish even the slightest snicker out of him was a feat to be admired.

“I don’t normally come to these things,” he nodded his head, “I was told I had to attend this one though for some reason.”

Aaron’s dark brown eyes watched the others as they mingled, creating small talk with colleagues and avoiding the dance floor like the plague. He shook his head, laughing.

“Why did they think a group of FBI agents would want to dance?” He said discreetly to you.

You laughed at his comment and shrugged your shoulders, “You know, I was wondering the same thing.”

Aaron turned towards you, a warm smile on his lips. You were used to the odd friendly glance from him in passing, but a genuine smile was rare. You couldn’t help but notice how his eyes lit up when he smiled, his whole face appearing completely different from the normally reserved, stoic man everyone knew him as. His eyes were the most beautiful shade of golden brown you’d ever seen, with honey and hazel coloured flecks in the irises. His dark hair had the faintest hint of gray to it, which made him even more attractive, if that was possible. He wore his hair cropped fairly short, with his bangs gelled up slightly, the way he always wore it. In fact, he didn’t really dress any differently from how he usually did at work with his suit and tie, except instead of his usual red or blue tie, he opted for classic black, with a black suit and pure white pressed dress shirt underneath. Aaron was at least 25 years older than you, but that didn’t change anything about the crush you’d developed on him over the past year. If anything, his maturity made him *more* attractive to you.

“I could use some air,” you nodded, a soft smile forming on your face as you spoke to Aaron.

“Mind if I join you? I could use some fresh air too.”

You nodded your head and followed behind Aaron as you walked outside into the cool October air. The two of you walked further down the pathway into a garden area, further away from the party that was taking place inside. You could feel a shiver down your spine as you walked, but you couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or the sheer nervousness from being alone with Aaron. You bit your lip as you looked up, admiring the stars and the peacefulness of being outside, and you didn’t notice Aaron’s eyes on you at first. He watched your features closely, as if he was studying them carefully, trying to memorize them. Aaron sighed happily as he looked up at the sky, watching whatever it was you were staring at.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” Aaron said, breaking the silence between you.

“Go for it,” you laughed softly, nodding your head. You couldn’t help but wonder what Aaron could possibly want to ask you.

“You always seem to come to these events alone,” he nodded, his profiling skills coming into play, “are these events just, not your partner’s thing?” He asked.

“I don’t have a partner to bring with me,” You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I sort of wish I didn’t have to attend these things alone though, at least then I’d have someone to talk to for the evening.”

“Well…you can always come find me,” Aaron nodded. “I get the sense I’ll be attending these more frequently now.”

Your eyes met with Aaron’s, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip slightly as your gazes crossed paths. He gave you another rare smile, before shaking his head.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who makes me as nervous as you do. I’ve never had an issue talking to women before,” Aaron let out an awkward laugh.

You almost couldn’t believe what he had just said, you had half a mind to ask him to repeat himself. Aaron Hotchner was one of the most intimidatingly handsome men you’d ever met, and here he was, telling you that you made him nervous. You raised an eyebrow at him, speechless, and hoping he would elaborate further.

“You know, I’ve thought you were beautiful since the day I first saw you,” Aaron nodded, his cheeks flushing to a soft pink colour.

You couldn’t help but laugh awkwardly as Aaron complimented you, and for a moment, you swore he almost had a look of defeat on his face. You shook your head and smiled at him.

“You know, I’ve had a crush on you since the day I first saw you,” you replied.

Aaron took a step closer to you, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. You could feel your heart racing as his hands rested on your hips. You’d had the odd daydream about this happening to you before - you’d often daydreamed about Aaron, but rarely of him in a romantic light, normally your daydreams consisted of Aaron inviting you into his office for a “meeting”. The sweet, soft kiss he was giving you now was a welcome surprise.

“Aaron,” you said softly as he pulled away, “you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting you to do that.”

“Oh? Funny, I could say the same to you,” he grinned.

“Do it again,” you challenged.

As if on command, Aaron kissed you again, this time with passion and excitement behind it. You felt like a teenager having their first romantic experience - almost giddy with excitement as his tongue slid across your bottom lip gently. You had to admit, kissing Aaron was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. You couldn’t tell if it was the passion he had, the experience of his, or the fact that you’d longed for this moment, but Aaron was unmatched in terms of passion. You felt Aaron press his body against yours, your back gently pressing against the wall behind you. He gently caressed your sides, his hands running up and down on your waist and hips slowly, in almost a teasing fashion.

Aaron pulled his lips apart from yours slightly, shrugging his suit jacket back off his shoulders in one quick motion. He tossed his jacket to the ground as his lips met yours again as if magnetized to one another. He put one hand into your long curled hair, perfectly styled for the event, although at this point, you couldn’t care less about how your hair looked. Aaron’s fingers gently tugged on your hair, pulling you in as close to him as physically possible. You could smell his Bleu de Chanel on him, the notes of his cologne giving you a rush as you realized just how close your bodies were to one another. The typically reserved, serious Aaron was a completely different person as he kissed you - he was passionate, romantic, intimate, and it only made you crave him more. You craved his touch, the taste of his lips, the smell of his cologne, the sound of his voice, the feel of his gaze on you. You didn’t just want Aaron, you needed him, at this point.

As you heard the sound of voices calling Aaron’s name, you realized that some of the other guests had set out to look for him, wondering where he had disappeared to, as he was about to be called for an award of some sort. Aaron pulled his lips away agonizingly slow. He whispered softly to you and smiled.

“We can continue this once I’m no longer needed inside,” his voice was almost seductive as he spoke.

Aaron bent down to pick up his jacket, then straightened his clothes out before laughing softly. You noticed a smear of nude lipstick across his mouth and grinned.

“Aaron, you know, that isn’t really your shade,” you laughed as you licked the tip of your thumb and wiped it off quickly.

Aaron smirked at you before whispering again.

“Maybe we should test it out again, it might look better in the lighting at my apartment.”

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #cute #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader

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thatsonemorbidcorvid · 10 months

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why is headless women art bad? i can see why it's seen as objectifying but why is it such a big deal to make art out of the female form? (sorry if i sound agressive this is a genuine question)

Hi anon! You certainly don’t sound aggressive - I’m actually very grateful for the opportunity to collate my current thoughts in one place, so thank you for the prompt. I’m going to try my hardest to keep this short.

For any women who haven’t seen posts on this topic previously, some examples of the ‘headless women art’ trend I’ve been talking about for a while now are below. They’re often missing their limbs, at various points of amputation, as well as all or part of their heads (if she has her eyes, I generally don’t count it). Sometimes their heads have been ‘replaced’ with other objects, typically plants or mushrooms, though I wouldn’t count a woman with an animal or bird’s head. They’re often naked.

So, per Anon’s question, why is it a ‘big deal’?

I mean, really, it’s not. It’s an absolutely minuscule deal - it’s as dwarfed by the issues of the sex industry, femicide, and systemic sex inequality, as we are by the Sun. And yet, much as our bodies are made of particles formed in dying stars, I see elements of the large within the small… ok, I’m not getting poetic.

It’s not a big deal, and I don’t necessarily think it’s wholly terrible either, which is why in my analysis posts on the topic I try to ask questions more than criticise, and criticise gently when I do so. What it comes down to is that I spotted a pattern, and wanted to acknowledge that pattern, think about it, and ask other women for their thoughts on it.

With that said, there are certain things that I question particularly, and have seen other women question, which I’ll list:

Remove her legs and she can’t run, remove her arms and she can’t fight, remove her mouth and she can’t shout, and remove her eyes and she can’t look back at you. You totally disempower her when you remove almost every body part capable of action.

By removing her head you also remove her brain (her personality and internal identity), and her face (her visible external identity). By anonymising her you strip her of her individuality, and depict all female people as a result - so what message are you sending about all female people with your depiction of us, naked and dismembered?

A (living) woman’s neutral existence requires her to have her head. By removing it, you are making an active choice to step away from the neutral (and it’s on you to defend that choice), and you are also by necessity depicting a dead woman. You ask about ‘art out of the female form’ - the living female form has a head. Why remove it?

The simplest test of whether something might be sexist, is to see whether it applies to men and women equally. Are (straight) men decorating their homes with ‘bits’ of male bodies? Do men in general feel conscious enough of, yet alienated enough from, the appearance of their bodies that they seek out their representation, sans heads, to reflect back at them? Why not, if women are? Would it be strange if they did?

As a follow up, since many of these pieces are made by women (often straight women), are (straight) men often focusing their artistic output on depicting ‘bits’ of male bodies? Do men regularly choose to create art intended to depict the ‘beauty’ of the male form? If not, why not?

You mention objectification - what links are there between objectification and violence? Could self-objectification be used to normalise violence against the self, or even excuse it? What about violence against others who are like the self (ie violence against other women)?

As I say, I’m not necessarily saying this artistic trend is exclusively a bad one, or that people/women in particular shouldn’t be decorating their homes however they please. It’s just something I’ve noted and found interesting, and like many apparently free choices, I think feminist women have a responsibility to interrogate their own and others’ motivations.

This is a hasty overview, and I’ve probably missed things - I’ll reblog with additions if I think of any, but you can also see my previous posts on this topic, and other women’s contributions, under my “Headless Women Art” tag. Thanks again for the question!

#headless women art

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dragoneye01 · 2 years

Text

Confessionals

Tangerine x Reader

Word Count: 1,438

Summary: After saving your ass on a job, you end up on a long car ride with Tangerine and Lemon. Some things can’t stay hidden forever.

A/N: Yes, I did spend more time than necessary on the Thomas and Friends wiki page.

“Ok, can I be honest with you?” You leaned forward.

“Of course.” Lemon leaned forward, too. Being the driver, Tangerine tried his best not to pay attention to this weirdly philosophical discussion.

“I feel like I’m an Arthur. I’m too paranoid about failing and I’m too obsessed with being perfect. I think being an Arthur is my downfall, though, because if I never fail, I’ll never grow as a person.” You said. Lemon snorted and shook his head.

“Mind you, I believe you’re wrong. You may think you’re an Arthur because you’re only focusing on your negative qualities, but I think you’re an Edward. Wanna know why?” Lemon held up his finger as if this was a teaching moment.

“Why?” You asked, eyes wide.

“For fucks sake.” Tangerine sighed.

“Because everyone can count on Edward. Just like Tangerine and I count on you all the time if we ever get in trouble. Edward is kind and reliable, just like you.” Lemon went on.

“Aww, do you really mean that?” You beamed.

“Cross my heart.”

“Well, if you’re calling me an Edward, then I’m calling you an Oliver because you learn from your mistakes and are reliable and hard-working. You let it go to your head sometimes, but you take care of others, like that time you helped Tangerine when he had a hangover.” You said.

“I thought we all agreed not to fucking bring that episode up again, you shit.” Tangerine gripped the steering wheel hard.

“He’s acting like such a Gordon right now.” You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, Tangerine can act like a Gordon, but that’s only sometimes. I mean, he did pull you out of that job just now.” Lemon reminded you. He didn’t need to tell you twice. You had been sitting in the back of their car for the last hour with your arm in a makeshift sling since it got broken while you were in the middle of a high-stakes job. You were in over your head and had to call backup, enlisting the Twins since they owed you a favor.

“I’m not a fucking Gordon.” Tangerine looked back at you through the rearview mirror. “You take it back right the fuck now.”

“I will the fuck not.” You snorted.

“I’ll kick you out of this car right now if you don’t take it back.”

“Wow, you’d throw out an injured friend just because you don’t agree with your Thomas the Tank Engine character analysis?” You put your hand over your mouth in fake shock.

“That’s cold, man.” Lemon shook his head.

“I can’t believe you two. Like a bunch of children.” Tangerine shook his head.

“Hey, you’re the one getting upset because you’re a Gordon.” You shrugged.

“Stop calling me a Gordon, you twit.”

“Wow, nice insult. Did your mom pick it out for you?” You shot back.

“Don’t talk about our mom.” They both chimed.

“Ok, my bad.” You raised your good arm. “How far away is this safe house?”

“We’re almost there.” Tangerine grunted. You continued to chat with Lemon in the back seat, the sky darkening until it was pitch black out. The safe house you’d be staying at with them was out in the middle of nowhere. Lemon had fallen asleep by the time you arrived. You were nodding off, leaning on his shoulder for support.

“C’mon, you two. Get up and get out.” Tangerine put the car in park, shaking his brother until he woke up. Lemon almost hit him out of reflex. Your eyes felt heavy as you pulled yourself out of the car. Lemon took the keys and went to open the house up, while Tangerine held the door for you. The house was small and dingy with only two beds. Lemon took one bed and passed out without even changing his clothes or taking his shoes off. He must’ve been tired after the whole rescuing thing.

You set your bag down on the floor and looked around, not sure where to sleep. You set your jacket on the small couch when Tangerine grabbed it from you.

“Bed, now.” He demanded like an authority figure.

“Where are you gonna sleep, then?” You asked.

“We’ll share.” He shrugged. “I’ll leave you to change.” He walked out of the house, lighting a cigarette to smoke outside. You changed out of your dirty, bloody clothes in the bathroom and walked over to the door. Lemon was out cold, so you didn’t have to worry about being too quiet. Tangerine was sitting on the steps leading up to the house, smoking.

“Those will kill you.” You said quietly, sitting down next to him.

“Your job will kill you first if you keep getting in over your head.” Tangerine scoffed. You were silent and he wondered if he hit a button he wasn’t supposed to touch.

“Can I ask you something?” He finally said.

“Yeah?”

“You’re usually so careful. Why’d you take a job you knew you couldn’t handle?” His voice was tense. Not judgmental, but you could feel his jaw tighten with every word he said. It felt like you were being scolded.

A deep sigh left your mouth. “I wasn’t lying when I said I get paranoid about being perfect. I didn’t want word to get out that I rejected a job because of the danger-factor. I just. . . I worry what other people will think of me.” You quietly admitted.

“You’re a fuckin’ assassin, love. What people think about you should be the last thing on your mind.” Tangerine told you, looking up at the dark sky. You couldn’t see any stars or even the moon. Honestly, you could barely see Tangerine in the dark.

“I know.” You muttered. “I’m an assassin with some anxiety issues. How’d that work?”

You looked at Tangerine and he looked at you and you both laughed quietly.

“Did you mean what you said? That I’m a Gordon?” He asked.

“Wow, my words really hurt you, didn’t they?” You smiled.

“No fuckin’ way. I just don’t want to be compared to some shitty-”

“Why do you care so much about what I think? You’re a fuckin’ assassin, love.” You laughed, mimicking what he said. Tangerine glanced at you in the dark, stubbing out his cigarette. He raised his hand and cupped your cheek, letting his thumb run over your skin. You froze in place.

“You know, I could get anything I want. I have the money, the skill, the charm. Yet, things always seem to be just out of reach. Lemon is lemon because our clients like to deal with me instead of him, no one likes lemons.”

“That’s not true-”

“Let me finish.” He took a breath, waiting to see if you’d stay quiet. When you didn’t make a noise, he continued.

“Lemon is lemon. You come waltzing in and you two become best fuckin’ friends. You like him more than you like me, it seems. Everytime I get closer to you. . .” Tangerine trailed off, pulling his hand from your face. Before he disappeared on you, you reached out and took his hand. You could feel his rings and watch under your fingers.

“Stop.” You whispered.

“I’m sorry if I upset you, love. It’s just how I feel.” He moved to get up. But your grip on his hand tightened.

“I don’t. . . I didn’t mean stop like. . . just. . .” Your mind was moving so fast and your arm throbbed and you were at a loss for words.

“I fucking like you, too, Tangerine. Look, Lemon is my friend and he’s easy to understand, but you? You’re like a closed book and I’m dying to get my fingers between the pages and open you up.” You admitted, then cringed at your metaphor.

“You want to open me up? How morbid.” Tangerine suddenly laughed.

“Yeah,” you said, tension easing away. “I want to dig into you like a bug and hibernate in your chest cavity.”

“You’re sick.” He snorted.

“And you love me.” It came out before you could stop it. Love. Love. Love. The air had that sudden tension again and you regretted it so much. You shouldn’t have said it. He was quiet. He was staring at you. Jesus, why did you have to say Love?

“Yeah, I fuckin’ love you.” Tangerine said, barely audible, yet you heard it. You heard those words and you felt like your world expanded. You let go of his hand and leaned your head on his shoulder. Tangerine wrapped an arm around you, keeping you warm in the cool night air.

“Hey, Tangerine?”

“Yeah, love?”

“I love you, too.”

“Well, it’s about time you fucking said it.”

#my writing #dragoneye01 #confessionals #bullet train #bullet train imagine #bullet train x reader #tangerine x reader #tangerine #tangerine imagine #tangerine bullet train #lemon and tangerine

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thebeast-dennis-etcetera · 2 months

Text

Man, Myth, Legend

You waited and waited and waited some more until Jethro’s voicemail began playing.

“He thinks he’s so clever,” you grumbled to yourself as you sent him a text. Not like he would respond back but at least your two cents was thrown in there.

It was bad enough he made you stay behind with Tony instead of joining him, Ziva and McGee to his HOMETOWN. But now he wants to ignore your calls too? Granted, the calls would have only been you pestering him with all kinds of questions but nevertheless, he should still pick up the phone. What if you were in danger?!

“C’mon Probie. Let’s see if Abby has anything for us,” DiNozzo stated while walking by.

You locked your phone and huffed in annoyance before joining him in the elevator.

“You can stop calling me that Tony. I’ve been working with you guys for like a year now.”

“I know. But I just love how much it bugs you.”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing and followed after him once the doors opened.

Abby gave you two the rundown on the blood analysis before McGee’s face popped up on her screen.

“Gibbs has a father!”

You ran over with Tony while they gave all of you the much needed info on the Gibbses. Jethro had told you he grew up in Stillwater and wasn’t exactly the towns poster child but he never really spoke more than that, let alone about his father.

“I’m coming. I’m leaving,” Tony stuttered.

“Well you’re not going without me,” you added.

“Not unless you’ve found a way that people in town might have thought Ethan LaCombe was alive,” McGee answered right back.”

————

You and Tony sat in the Bullpen, throwing different questions each others way as you wanted for your next orders.

“So do you think he like got ran out of town and that’s why he hasn’t been back?” Tony asked, tapping a pen against his mouth in thought.

“I don’t know but I wouldn’t put it past him if it were true. Do you think his high school girlfriends still live there?”

Tony gave you a puzzled look which you quickly defended.

“I mean I’m just curious since most small town people don’t really move out past their county.”

“I doubt he’s dinner dating with any of his past flings probie. Plus, how is it you don’t know anything about Gibb’s past but you two are together?”

“You know he doesn’t talk much. Especially about his past. It was like pulling teeth when I asked him where he was born!”

As if his ears were burning, your phone began ringing as Jethro’s face popped up on your screen. Making a face for Tony to be quiet, you answered.

“Oh, look at that, you know how to call people all of a sudden.”

“I was busy. Talking with people,” he justified.

“People like your dad? Or the townspeople? McGee said you’re already ruffling feathers.”

“Well McGee needs to stop gossiping. I talked with Chad Winslow and his family. They’re hiding something. I want you and DiNozzo to get a search warrant together for blood samples and financial records.”

“Uh. A please would be nice.”

“Please. Honey,” he charmed, making you smile like a school girl. You’d do anything for him if he added those words afterwards.

“Much better. I’m assuming you won’t be home tonight?”

“No. We’ve got a lot of work to do here and I don’t see anyone being cooperative any time soon.”

You silently pouted but Jethro knew you like the back of his hand.

“Don’t pout. You, Abby and DiNozzo can come tomorrow afternoon. We’ll need help executing those warrants once they’re approved and Abby will need to examine the blood quickly.”

You beamed with excitement, catching Tony’s attention. You both said your goodbyes and Tony came over to give you a high five.

“I’m driving though. You suck at obeying the speed limit,” he established.

“That doesn’t count! Baskin Robbin’s was closing in 10 minutes and you encouraged me!”

————

We pulled up to the scene of the crime as smoke was still slowly coming from the wreckage. Thank God no one was in the car when it exploded. Jethro hasn’t even been in town more than 2 days and people are already trying to blow him up!

You gave McGee and Ziva a greeting before following Tony in the little store. It was stuffy and warm but the place was cute with all the natural lighting and small town vibes.

You and Tony saw an older man standing behind the register whom you could only assume was Jethro’s dad based on the eyes.

Just as Tony went to introduce himself, Jethro came from the back and interrupted. As they both talked, you made your way over to the counter.

“Hi, I’m Y/N.”

“Jackson Gibbs. Leroy told me about you but he left out just how stunning you were,” he flirted as you two shook hands.

“I see where Jethro gets his charm from.” you two chuckled together before Jethro came over looking displeased.

We took the rental to Jackson’s house as he led us to the garage where the most beautiful Dodge Charger sat.

“That’s right. I said we.”

You hopped in the backseat as Jethro peeled out onto the street like a bat out of hell, passing the shocked faces of the team and sporting the biggest grin on his face.

At the Winslow house, Jethro advised you to stay behind with Senior.

“Fine by me. Someone’s got to tell me what the great Leroy Jethro Gibbs was like as a kid,” you jested as he rolled his eyes and shook his head.

You sat on the porch steps with Jackson as he started the conversation first.

“I’m glad Leroy found someone again. You know after Shannon and Kelly, I thought he’d never find love again. But you seem to make him happy.”

“I try. And he makes me happy. It hasn’t been years but I think we’re good for each other.”

“I just don’t understand how you two even came about. Someone like you, so beautiful and elegant should be dating someone similar. Like that DiNozzo guy.”

You laughed at the thought of you and Tony together.

“Jethro is much more sensitive and approachable than people think. And Tony? No, he’s far too..rockstar for me. Jethro just has that personality that grounds you and uplifts you at the same time. I’ve never felt it with anyone before.”

“Spoken like someone truly in love,” he stated with a smile.

You blushed at the thought and you two continued talking until it was time to leave.

Back at the store, McGee and Abby went over their findings as you stood next to Jethro, your hand brushing against his. You saw a small smirk appear on his face as he listened.

It wasn’t long before you guys had enough evidence to arrest Nick Kingston and his 2 accomplices and telling the awkward news of Ethan being Emily’s brother. You all stayed the night at Jackson’s place as he told you all stories of his great adventures before leaving the next morning.

“You’ve got a good one here Leroy. Don’t let her go,” Jackson praised to his son as he looked at you.

“Oh I don’t plan on it.”

You gave Jackson a farewell hug as he gave the Charger keys to Jethro and stuck your tongue out at Tony when you were the chosen passenger.

In the car, you pulled him in for a kiss and smiled. “I like your dad. We should come see him again soon.”

Jethro just shook his head and smiled before driving off.

#gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs #ncis #ncis fanfiction #agent gibbs #mark harmon #jackson gibbs #gibbs request #ncis request

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fuumiku · 1 month

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Chilcille huh... ngl I was a little suspicious. like why would you do that, huh... hope youre not mischaracterizing anyone in your weird and wacky ship. a little weird. but then you said they both had flat asses and you know what? I salute you and your perfect characterization

The fact you seem to think you managed to not make this ask insulting is baffling. What the hell. Fuck off.

If you actually care to be open minded about the ship, I talk about marchil on my sideblog 24/7. Funnily enough I’m currently 4k words deep into an analysis of their character arc together in canon, but that’ll take some more days to get done. Some notable posts:

Of course without counting the analyses of Chilchuck on his own I’ve made, like my masterpost on his family situation. Or better yet you could also read my fics for them, see how weird and wacky they are here.

Wanna talk about mischaracterisation? They’re literally a comedic duo who interacts 24/7. Marchil is crazy bc ppl are like "did those shipper read with their eyes CLOSED?? They have no chemistry!" Meanwhile canon is like: "She’s obsessed with knowing everything she can about him and she reads him like a book." In her eyes he’s like that extra rare and hard and shiny unlockable dating sim character, that brooding mysterious character trope that’s thrilling to crack open and typically is at the center of the plot. The wife roleplay???? "Hey, did you know his type is blondes. Hey did you know he likes his women pretty and blonde. Hey did you know he likes her hair. Hey did you know that he teases her 24/7 and it’s one of the few things that consistently gets him grinning because he finds her reactions cute." Like a schoolyard bully pulling on the pigtails of the girl he likes.

It’s not like they have any thematic narratives or relevance. It’s not like she’ll live to 1000 and has existential dread about it while he’s logically gonna be her next friend to die at 50 and wether it’s romantic or platonic it’ll terrify her to lose him. It’s not like it’s fear of death x fear of rejection so they’re both obsessed with the thought of loss looming, past and ongoing. It’s not like it’s half-elf x half-foot and there’s an inherent journey that was and still is to dispel prejudices and truly come to see each other. It’s not like he’s painfully real and raw and flawed but still a good man, that he’s not the figure of prince charming that she’s always dreamed of while still being virtuous and worth fighting for. Or you know, her hair being golden and it being the epitome of beauty to him, and his hair turning silver and it being Marcille’s worst nightmare.

Just a weird wacky ship who means nothing but shallow things to people who have weirdo reasons for liking it. Like can you not. If you’re not imaginative enough to think of reasons why this ship may have an appealing dynamic that’s not my issue. But yes, yes, they’re both flat asses to me, thanks.

#Dungeon meshi #Ask #Spoilers #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #Marcille donato #chilchuck tims #Marchil #You me the parking lot after i finish and post my arc analysis #Sobbing……… we’re 20 over here in the rarepair pit come on. Like do u not see how obsessed i am. Do u think they like. Mean nothing to me #Do u think it’s all incidental and i slipped and the 10 thousands of words I write for them had no thought or feelings behind them or #Their arc is so beautifuuuuul they come to see each other and her standards become more real while he allows hope and openness #Into his heart again 😭😭 not the way two of their scenes lowkey read as a proposal…#Anyways I hope this makes it clear I’ll fight to my dying breath for them.#I don’t want trouble and i imagine you don’t either so just don’t come shitting on my doorstep #In positive news my fic Grind Me Down Sweetly recently reached 100 likes and 1k hits <3 it can also be read as just platonic so if you like #Them as a duo even as friends give it a shot #Every time I see someone shitting on marchil I start making marchil content faster btw #Not art

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bettyshoweduptotheparty · 6 months

Text

1989 - The story of two muses

Back to my first and forever love – Lyric analysis!

1989 is very close to my heart, and I have always found it noticeable that this album has quite a contrast between love songs about a very up and down/anxiety filled relationship on one hand, and the very raw and heartfelt romance as portrayed in ‘This Love’ and YAIL on the other.

And the 5 new vault songs we have on Taylor’s version now have added quite a bit of detail to the picture that emerges and I’m more convinced than ever that there are two distinct relationships/muses being described and I fancied doing a deep dive into how each one is described in the music and how the themes connect to other songs. (And it may even explain the beach theme 😉)

Ok, so, I have actually sorted every song from 1989 that is about a romantic relationship, including the 5 new vault tracks, into this scheme (even though I found some really hard!)

Muse 1 – “The heartbreaker” This relationship is described as very up and down, very anxiety-driven, something you can’t walk away from like an addiction, “against your better knowledge but can’t help myself” kind of way. Taylor has described this person as ‘the one that might one day interrupt your wedding, because you’re never truly over’. Break up: ‘you left me’.

Muse 2 – “The one that came back” While this relationship is by no means described as perfect, it has a very different tone to it. It’s very much based in secure feelings, ‘us against the world’, any difficulty faced is worth it. Break up: ‘had to let it go’. And the person came back when it counted.

(Sorry about the pictures, I couldn't fit a table in any other way)

I am really impressed with how much just five new songs have furthered the story of these two relationships and I (personally) love how much this is filling in the blanks and makes everything make so much more sense. 'You can hear it in the silence' vs 'Now your silence has me screaming' almost killed me, honestly. She really found the love that needs no words. 🥰 And the direct contrast of the metaphors, one relationship as an addiction with very high highs and very low lows, and the other as the calm waves on the shore that continually come in and out with the tide, is just so masterfully done, I love it. And I think given the beach theme of the 1989 TV covers, we can guess which of the muses is being honoured in this re-branding.

Lyrical connections to later albums

Perhaps not surprisingly, these two muses and their lyrical themes show up again in Taylor’s music in later albums. The connection I’ve already seen a lot of people make is the playing cards reference from Say Don’t Go (‘I’m trying to see the cards that you won’t show’) linking to Cornelia Street (‘back when we were card sharks, playing games’). And I love how this tells the story of someone whose previous relationship impacts how they react in a new relationship. Because the person in Say Don’t Go really did lead her on and played her and then left, whereas the Cornelia Street muse didn’t but Taylor thought as much based on her previous experience (‘I THOUGHT you were leading me on…but then you called, showed your hand…’).

Another parallel to Lover songs is the ‘light in the dark’ theme that starts in This Love with “lantern burning/ flickered in my mind for only you”, which feels very similar to “chandelier still flickering here” from Death by A Thousand Cuts. This relationship/lover is the light that perseveres in the dark, even if it’s just flickering, it never goes out. It lights up the darkness (‘glowing in the dark’), whereas the other relationship is a “shot in the darkest dark”. We obviously get a whole lot more songs in later albums that reference love as light in the darkness, most prominently in Daylight, the Lover album closer. But more subtly, I also think that “Takin’ your time in the tangerine neon light” from Slut, and “hang your head low in the glow of the vending machine” from Cruel Summer follow that same pattern. Something that illuminates the darkness. And just btw, Slut and Cruel Summer give me a very similar vibe in terms of different takes on the same situation…anyone else get that? But one last, maybe more subjective, connection is the line “I’ll pay the price, you won’t”. Which everyone immediately took as a comment on double standards between men and women, but I think it could also be interpreted to mean ‘I’ll happily pay the price and take the hit, so you don’t have to’, if you interpret the song to be about dating a man in public to keep a female partner out of the public eye. With that in mind, the line becomes very reminiscent of ‘I can never give you peace’ from folklore, both expressing that Taylor wants to shield her lover from the media scrutiny that comes with dating her.

Suburban Legends alone has so many links to later songs that I had to give it its own paragraph. The chorus ‘I didn’t come here to make friends’ is so ‘I don’t want you like a best friend’ coded, and ‘We were born to be suburban legends’ gives me big reputation/big conversation vibes. Other people have already pointed out that ‘flushed with the currency of cool’ draws links to Gold Rush and Gorgeous (‘You’re so cool it makes me hate you so much’) and ‘so magnetic it’s almost obnoxious’ is very similar to ‘magnetic force of a man’ from Lover. All painting the picture of a person who is so cool and alluring that they feel almost unattainable. The whole premise of the song being that the narrator didn’t come to make friends, but instead is on a mission to get what they want, feels very Mastermind to me. The background music over the outro confirms that, as it’s the same production as Mastermind (I call it ‘game show music’ 😊) and the lyrics saying that the muse now doesn’t knock anymore, suggests to me that maybe the masterplan has worked. Lastly, the conclusion of the song being ‘my life is ruined/I always knew it’ is a different way of saying I’ll happily ruin myself for you, as in ‘for you I’d ruin myself a million little times’ from Illicit Affairs.

We don’t get nearly as many references to the first muse’s themes in later music, but ‘fell from the pedestal, right down the rabbit hole” from Long Story Short is a nice drawback to the wonderland theme. Bottom line though, ‘It was the wrong guy…’.

And there we have it, the story of the two muses of 1989. If anybody here is even remotely as excited by lyrical analysis as I am, this one is for you, and feel free to have a friendly chat in the comments if I’ve missed anything!

#lyric analysis #taylor swift 1989 #1989 taylor's version #the story of two muses #kaylor #swiftgron

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17magpiesinatrenchcoat · 5 months

Text

ALL THE SLAY THE PRINCESS ANALYSIS-ISH POSTS IVE FOUND ON HERE SO FAR

As someone who can never really grasp meanings in media beyond surface level, analyses like these are always lovely to read. Here are all the ones I’ve gathered during my short time in the fanbase so far, this is mainly for myself, but maybe it would be useful to someone else!! Also. If anyone knows of any more, please please send them to me!! I will add more as I go too.

I don’t think these all count as analyses, but they all made me go “oooh :0” so yeah

https://www.tumblr.com/momentomori24/735278091386126336/i-just-had-an-epiphany-about-the-cold-that-i-never

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/735000176332259328/the-pristine-blade

https://www.tumblr.com/electronicdelusionstarlight/735270452740734976/id-like-to-point-out-that-in-the-wild-if-you

https://www.tumblr.com/dapperrokyuu/735178155760992257/alright-now-that-ive-seen-the-end-slay-the

https://www.tumblr.com/momentomori24/735068416032047104/something-i-really-love-about-the-smitten-is-how

https://www.tumblr.com/geebeeskoos/735078530884534272/the-nightmare-the-moment-of-clarity-might-be-the

https://www.tumblr.com/electronicdelusionstarlight/734951196420358144/id-like-to-point-out-that-while-the-tower-and-the

https://www.tumblr.com/bpdwwx/734705488874422272/insane-over-slay-the-princess-imagine-death

https://www.tumblr.com/satellite-slickers/734633384872132608/slay-the-princess-is-really-cool-because-learning

https://www.tumblr.com/satellite-slickers/734573430353117184/i-just-realized-that-even-though-our-protagonist

https://www.tumblr.com/satellite-slickers/734558408577073153/i-like-how-the-twist-in-slay-the-princess-isnt

https://www.tumblr.com/golvio/734492024048369664/it-was-a-bit-of-whiplash-going-from-the-damsel-to

https://www.tumblr.com/three-lesbians-of-the-apocalypse/734467272705490944/theres-something-so-chilling-about-asking-the

https://www.tumblr.com/in-fair-verona-we-set-our-scene/734463751524319232/the-more-i-think-about-it-the-more-not-exactly

https://www.tumblr.com/honeyfizzly/734464645923045376/i-think-the-horror-of-deconstructed-damsel-comes

https://www.tumblr.com/colorful-noircuts/733183847545683968/rambling-about-something-i-realised-in-slay-the hello my lovely mutual!!

https://www.tumblr.com/k20spock/734344272686481408/i-feel-like-i-havent-seen-as-much-discussion-of

https://www.tumblr.com/nerdlordofnerds/734384189011607552/man-dont-you-hate-it-when-you-try-to-rid-the-world

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/735338029994115072/oh-for-the-stp-questions-what-do-you-think-of

https://www.tumblr.com/honeyfizzly/735336172257198080/i-really-adore-the-witch-wild-route-because

https://www.tumblr.com/supervillainies/735028943239921664/ive-mentioned-it-before-but-voice-of-the-cold

https://www.tumblr.com/lots-of-little-pink-clouds/734249738756620288/follow-up-thought-tsm-says-when-you-meet-he-gave

https://www.tumblr.com/angelofthemornings/734527183265185792/one-thing-i-like-about-slay-the-princess-is-that?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/metanarrates/734373760026705920/if-you-choose-to-chain-yourself-next-to-the?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/satellite-slickers/734216961853095936/durring-slay-the-princess-our-leads-have-the-only?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/golvio/734035911415857152/tried-the-damsel-route-today-this-shot-and-the?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/electronicdelusionstarlight/733870455536173056/say-what-you-want-about-the-smitten-but-the-man?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/electronicdelusionstarlight/733801315338190848/the-way-the-skeptic-implicitly-trusts-the?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/electronicdelusionstarlight/733269659334426624/the-way-the-shifting-mound-ends-every-ending-by

https://www.tumblr.com/electronicdelusionstarlight/733333027972907008/the-way-the-princess-has-no-name-but-at-the-same

https://www.tumblr.com/justsalpals/733475592170848256/the-spectre-really-had-no-idea-what-she-was-doing

https://www.tumblr.com/electronicdelusionstarlight/733630301609295872/the-way-you-can-only-kill-the-princess-with-the

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/735453678374469632/also-what-do-you-think-of-the-adversary-i-like

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/735448991864635392/oh-oh-another-question-what-do-you-think-is-up

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/735538031989293056/oh-what-do-you-think-of-the-spectre-and-prisoner

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/735509320346812416/what-do-you-think-of-nightmare-and-spectre

https://www.tumblr.com/minotaur-asterion/735506279592787968/might-be-a-weird-question-but-what-do-you-think this one isn’t an analysis at all but I thought it was funny

https://www.tumblr.com/birdmitosis/735586819735961601/this-honestly-really-fascinates-me-because-it

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/735614693262196736/ohhhh-and-what-about-the-narrator

https://www.tumblr.com/elieclowngamer/735849806204960768/okay-but-like-spoilers-for-slay-the-princess

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/735902648917721088/what-do-you-think-about-the-beast-in-stp

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/736242037895168000/what-do-you-think-about-the-fury-and-the

https://www.tumblr.com/k20spock/736789844699807744/birds-and-trees-in-slay-the-princess

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/735509712935829504/what-do-you-think-of-nightmare-and-spectre

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/736243685245730816/what-do-you-think-about-the-fury-and-the

https://www.tumblr.com/fierce-little-miana/736431035990016000/strange-beginnings-ending

https://www.tumblr.com/chi-the-idiot/736610535159873536/ok-but-we-need-to-adress-how-slay-the-princess

#slay the princess #shut up lori #I’m gonna go hunting for more of these tomorrow #please send me any more you can find!!#on tumblr or anywhere #I must collect these like a crow collecting shiny things #this is the only way I can see all the cool ass deeper meanings in this game #as much as I love metaphors and shit #because of my autism I find it extremely hard to take things beyond surface level/literally #so being able to read stuff like this makes me appreciate art like this so much more #showing me all the depth I cannot see on my own

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thescribblesofreverie · 1 year

Text

I Needed You

Aaron Hotchner x Daughter!reader (reader is sixteen)

Summary: Your dad was usually your best friend, but lately everything has been different.

Warnings: Reader skips school, reader and Hotch get into a fight, brief mentions of smoking and drinking, reader cusses a little, Haley and Jack didn't exist cause kids make me uncomfortable

Word Count: 2384

A/N: This is my first Criminal Minds fic! It is a little stereotypical because I'm still learning how to write in second person and write Hotch. I'm counting this as a starter fic. In the future I will write more creatively, and I have a series in the works. Any and all feedback is appreciative, but please be kind.

You didn’t know that you wanted to hurt him when it started.

There was no malice intended, fuck, there was barely eny forethought at all. Sometimes, the subconscious makes decisions and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

Your father was an important man. Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI was not an easy role to get. Nor was it an easy one to keep. He was barely ever home, either at the office or away on the case. He did his best to call often at night, but as you got older it got less and less frequent.

When he was home he was a great dad. Movie nights happened often, he helped with homework, and you made meals together on some nights. You were even fairly acquainted with the team, though you weren’t close to any of them. Though you dad loved and trusted the team, he preferred to keep both lives separate. When asked why he would usually mumble something along the lines of “safety”.

Unfortunately, those good nights became less and less frequent.

Y/N,

We got called out on a case. I’ll be in Oregon. Call Garcia if there’s an emergency. There are leftovers in the fridge.

Love you,

Dad

It had been case after case for months. There was hardly even a week passing between each one. You didn’t blame your dad - you couldn’t really.

But goddamn were you lonely.

You had friends, but they couldn’t hang out all the time. And nothing was like the company of your dad. He was usually your best friend.

“Hey dad?” You knocked on the door of his home office, waiting for his response before coming in.

“What’s up?” He didn’t glance up, focused on the paper in front of him.

“I need help with my Algebra homework. I keep trying to solve the problem and it just won’t work…” You were nearly in tears over it.

“Give me a little bit, and I’ll be out.” he still didn’t look up from his work.

“Ok.” You said quietly and closed the door. He never used to bring work home with him.

If he ever came out to help you, it was too late. You fell asleep, curled up on your bed, the assignment pushed to the side. The next morning before school, you struggled through it on your own. He had already left.

It was hard to not be upset. You knew his job was demanding. You knew he got stressed. But he was all you had.

Didn’t he realize that?

It all started with a group project.

You were paired together in biology, and you had to do a research project on one of the topics given. The kids you were paired with were kids you knew, but not well.

You were surprised when you found yourself actually enjoying the project for once.

“So who wants to give the presentation?” Jake asked your little group.

“Nose goes!” You shouted, pressing your finger to the tip of your nose.

The four others quickly followed, leaving Casey the last one. She groaned.

“Oh come on, I hate that stuff.”

“No one likes it! And to be honest, I don’t think anyone pays attention during this stuff anyways.” You pointed out.

The group was sitting in Jake’s room, trying to make the final decisions for the presentation. It was to happen during the first period the next morning, and they were supposed to be the last group.

“I swear, after this is done I'm just leaving school. Screw the rest of the day, a presentation first period is grounds for leaving!”

Jake seemed to consider this carefully, pursing his lips and cocking his head. “Why don’t we all leave?”

“Yeah, sure, Jake.” You laughed.

“No, I’m serious!” He grinned, jumping up from where he was sitting on the edge of his bed. “Why not? I can forge my parents' signatures. If you get me an example of your parents signatures, I bet I can do those too! I can make notes.”

“I don’t know, Jake.” You said quietly. “If my dad found out I think I wouldn’t be allowed to leave my house until graduation.”

“Come on!” He whined, looking at the whole group. “I think we can pull it off. Do any of you actually want to be there?”

No. The answer was the same for all of them.

“You know what, I’m in.” Casey spoke up first.

The other two quickly agreed, leaving everyone’s eyes on you.

“Y/N?”

Your dad was on a case. If you were ever going to be able to pull it off, it would be then. And he hadn’t been checking up on you as much ever since you turned sixteen.

You looked up at your new friends and grinned.

“Let’s do it.”

It wasn’t a one time thing.

It became quite often actually. Leaving the school was less likely, but sneaking off to hide somewhere for a period happened weekly. Your grades really weren’t any worse or any better. You were still having issues but it wasn’t like you were getting any help with them, so why bother with class?

You considered it very low on the rebellion stage. All you did was miss class sometimes to hang out with your friends. It wasn’t like you were getting high or drinking…

You got sloppy. That’s all it was.

You decided to leave after the second period, texting Jake and Casey who quickly joined you. You had a headache and a school environment is the worst place for having a headache.

Jake’s parents were at work, so the three of you hung out at his place for the day. It was only a few blocks away, and you had only just got your license, so you didn’t have a car yet.

You made it back to school before you bus left, hurriedly getting on it and riding home.

When you got dropped off, the first thing you noticed was your dad’s car in the driveway.

He’s not supposed to be back until this weekend.

You rushed inside, swinging the door open.

“Dad!”

He was standing in the middle of the room, a panicked expression on his face when his eyes snapped up.

“Oh thank god,” He breathed out, eyes roving over you, looking for injuries. “She’s here. She’s safe, Garcia.”

He hung up on her, and tossed the phone onto the end table before engulfing you in a hug. “I thought you were gone.”

You hugged him back, confused but still excited to see him.

“I thought you weren’t gonna be back till the weekend at the earliest?”

“We got home early…” He trailed off, pulling away. One eyebrow was raised. “The school called and said you never showed up to third period. Or anything after that.”

Oh, shit.

He took in your shocked expression and frowned, jaw clenching. “I thought someone had taken you.”

“I’m fine…”

“What the hell were you thinking?” His voice was calm.

“Dad, I-”

“Skipping school? Why would you do that? Is something going on?” He was peering at you with an intense gaze. “Are you being bullied?”

“No!” you searched your brain for any excuse.

“Do you know how irresponsible this is? You’re at school to learn, y/n. You’re at school to prepare for your future.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” He ran a hand down his face. “What if something happened, and no one could reach you because you weren’t at school?”

“I have a cell phone.”

His glare told you that was not the right thing to say. “Ok, what if something happened to you! What if someone saw a teenage girl wandering around during school hours and decided to take advantage of that! At school you’re at least protected.”

“I don’t just wander!”

“Are you saying this is a regular thing?”

Shut up, y/n.

When you were silent he took that as a “yes”.

“Where do you go? Do you have a secret boyfriend?”

“No!”

“Are you doing drugs? Drinking?”

“Dad, stop!” You finally shouted. “I get it, what I did was wrong!”

“I don’t think you do get it!” He took a deep breath. “Why hasn’t the school called me until now?”

You hesitated.

“Y/N. I’m gonna need an answer.”

“My friend… can forge signatures.”

He closed his eyes. It was silent for far too long.

“You’re grounded.”

“I know.”

“Indefinitely.”

“I know.” you rolled your eyes.

“Hey!” he snapped, raising his voice slightly to catch your attention. “Don’t act like this isn’t your fault. I will be calling the school to let them know that you can only leave when I call in and let them know. No more notes.”

“What if you’re on a case?”

“I’ll remember.”

“Sure.” You scoffed. “Are you gonna tell the school?”

He hesitated. “No. But only because I’m certain it won’t happen anymore.”

You grabbed your backpack and went to your room in a huff.

He was right. Skipping was dumb.

But now you were going to be even more alone.

Hotch didn’t like how the fight ended.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure what to do with you in general. You were usually such a good kid. None of this made sense to him.

Keeping tabs on you wasn’t easy with his job. The hours were long and the work was important. He texted you to check in a lot more than he had been, but all he got was one word responses.

You were being tight-lipped about what friends you had been skipping with. The loyalty would’ve been a good thing in most other circumstances.

When he did come home, you stayed in your room. Some nights you wouldn’t even eat dinner with him.

It was stressing him out.

Rossi knocked on his office door about a week after the fight. He let himself in and sat across from Aaron.

“You’re on edge.”

“That obvious?” Hotch muttered.

“What’s going on? Is Y/N ok?”

Aaron shook his head. “She got in trouble last week. I found out she’s been regularly skipping school.”

Rossi winced. “Y/N? That’s surprising.”

“I know.” Hotch nodded. “She’s grounded. She has to come home after school first thing, and she isn’t allowed to hang out with friends until further notice. But…”

“But?” Rossi prompted after a short time.

“I expected her to come around sooner. She’s a smart kid, she had to know she would be in trouble for this. But it’s been a week now, and she still won’t talk to me! I just don’t understand what happened.”

“You know what I’m going to say.” Rossi said, smiling gently.

“I know, I need to talk to her. I just wish she would come to me like she used to.”

That night your dad knocked on your bedroom door.

“Come in.” You said, though you really didn’t want him to.

You were bored. And really lonely.

Jake and Casey were sympathetic, but you didn’t get to hang out. And even if you did text them all the time, it wasn’t the same.

“Hey…” His voice was gentle as he entered the room and quietly shut the door behind him.

You were sitting at your desk, your algebra sitting in front of you. Most of it was undone, and the few problems that were done had been erased and re-wrote multiple times. None of it was adding up.

You were silent, waiting for him to talk first.

“I think we need to talk. Can I sit?”

You nodded and he sat on the bed, across from you.

“I know you’re upset about being grounded.” He started. “But what you did was wrong.”

“I know that.”

“Then why are you still so mad?”

You sighed and looked away. “I really don’t want to talk about this.”

His face fell, and he genuinely looked hurt. “Honey, I just want you to come to me again. You know I’m always here for you.”

Anger.

White hot searing anger flared up quickly and your eyes snapped to him.

“Bullshit.”

“Y/N-”

“No, that’s bullshit!” You stood and crossed your arms. “What are you talking about? We haven’t had an actual conversation in months!”

“That’s not true!” He was standing now too.

“Yes it is!” you stood your ground. “You’re always at work or bringing it here! Even if you’re not on a case, you’re doing paperwork and shit and you still don’t come home.”

“Y/N, my job is important!” He defended himself. “I’m sorry that it takes so much time, but I do my best to keep it at work!”

“You used to! Now I can’t even ask for help with homework without being brushed off.” Your hands were trembling. “You don’t talk to me when you’re on cases anymore, and we haven’t had a movie night in three months!”

He was taken aback. “Y/N, I-”

You shook your head, fighting tears. “I don’t have anyone else, dad. No one else can help me with my homework, no one else texts me to check up on me during the day. I get that your job is important, but I wish I was too.”

His heart shattered.

He had been aware that work had been more intense lately, but he had no idea how badly it was affecting you.

“Y/N, honey…” He hurried across the room and wrapped you in a hug, letting you sob into his shirt. Your shoulders shook and you clung on like you were going to lose him. “I’m so sorry…”

The apology didn’t excuse it. It didn’t make up for you feeling abandoned for so long.

“You were skipping school because you thought no one would care.” He muttered, the answer finally hitting him.

You choked out another sob, silently nodded.

“Of course I care…” He said, holding you close to him. “I’m sorry I’ve been distant. I promise, I won’t bring work home anymore. And I’ll make sure to text you more and call when I’m on cases.”

“I’m sorry, I’m being needy…”

“No.” He promised, looking her in the eye. “You’re not. You’re the most important thing in my life.”

You sniffle and nod, finally smiling.

“C’mon, let’s go get some dinner.” He kissed your forehead and led you out of the room.

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x daughter!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x daughter!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds angst #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotchner

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bbyseok · 1 year

Text

the drummer

pairing: bakugou katsuki x gn!reader

word count: 3k

a/n: this was made due to my newfound infatuation with the band babymetal and their music everyone say thank you babymetal

content: fluff, no quirks au, rock band au, bakusquad (excluding mina, sorry!!) as a band, metal concerts: loud sounds, crowds, mosh pits, etc., swearing, side ships: kamijirou and kirimina, bakugou calls reader “sweetheart” and i think that’s everything

analysis: you attend a metal concert for the first time with your friends. and while you don’t usually listen to rock often, maybe the drummer can change your mind.

———

you like to say you have a wide variety when it comes to your taste in music. music is beautiful, after all—it could bring people from all over the world together, whether they understood the language of the songs or not.

you listen to a bit of everything; a bit of the usual stuff that plays on the radio to pass time in the car, a little bit of pop, some rnb, a hint of rap, a dash of country, etc.

though—the only real exposure you have had to the rock and metal genre was through your current roommate.

but when said roommate nearly screams the roof of your shared apartment off one day, you barrel into her room thinking she had seriously gotten hurt—only to be met with the news of something else.

“jirou kyoka!” you scold her after heaving out a sigh of relief when you find her just sitting on her bed, laptop in her hands. “you scared me half to death! i thought something happened!”

“something did happen,” the short-haired girl retorts giddily as she displays the screen towards you. “one of my favorite bands is having a concert near us!”

and when she thrusts the screen towards you, you catch sight of some somewhat familiar faces—there’s a spiky redhead with a contagious smile on the bass, and a guy with short black hair on the keyboards. there seem to be two blondes, but the difference between them is that the one playing the guitar, who also looks like he’s the singer, has a flirty look on his face while the red-eyed man on the drums has a handsome yet threatening scowl twisted on his lips.

the only reason you’re able to recognize them is because jirou’s has shown you some of their music before. “oh.” your unenthusiastic reaction has her rolling her eyes as she faces her laptop back towards her.

you chuckle a little and sit beside her, making yourself comfy on the mattress. “no, seriously, that’s exciting, jirou!” you declare with a nod, “i’m happy for you! you just screamed really loud.”

she touches her fingers together, still looking away in embarrassment. “ah, right. sorry about that.”

you coo and bring her in for a side hug. the onyx-eyed girl can be a little shy sometimes, and it had taken a while for her to open up to you despite living together. “no, no- it’s okay! y’know i don’t listen to a lot of that kinda stuff but.. when’s the concert? did you buy tickets yet?”

when jirou visibly brightens up, you grin to yourself. she’s so passionate about music sometimes; it’s endearing to see. “concert’s in a couple of weeks. and no, haven’t bought tickets yet.”

you blink and laugh. “well, why haven’t you? you should before they get all sold out, right?”

as if you had reminded her, she yelps and her fingers start tapping away on the keyboard. “ah, you’re right. they can sell out pretty fast.”

you eye the screen once again, tracing your stare over the band members out of curiosity as she gets ready to buy said tickets. really, you have no idea where you’re going with this but— “how about i come with you?”

her fingers freeze and she stares at you in surprise. “really? are you sure?” she questions, tilting her head. “like you just said, you don’t really listen to this kind of music.”

you shrug. “well, it’ll be a new experience for me. you only live once, right?” and then you quickly add, “and i can help you pay too!”

kyoka genuinely seems thrilled by your decision, but her fingers still hover over the mousepad. “are you sure?”

before you can change your mind, you insist with a laugh. “jirou, i’m positive.” you fish out your phone from your pocket to go over a calendar. “we’re both free that day, i can help pay for the tickets, and you won’t have to be alone during the concert—so it’ll be safer for you, yeah?”

jirou starts twiddling with her fingers again. “i was actually gonna invite mina with me. she doesn’t listen to them as much as i do but she’s got a thing for the bassist.” she rolls her eyes with a fond scoff.

you glare at her playfully. “hey, i barely listen to them but don’t you got a thing for the blonde guitarist?” you tease.

when you see her blush and start to deny you, you laugh. “relax, jirou, i’m teasing. and we can still invite mina. i’m sure she’d love to go with us.”

jirou nods, smiling. “alright. it’ll be the three of us then.”

she clicks and confirms the purchase, sealing yourself a metal concert in a couple weeks.

except.. it doesn’t turn out to be the three of you. trust me, mina had been overjoyed to receive the news that the two of you had gotten her tickets. in fact, she had been so delighted that she had invited some of her other friends, and then their friends were invited, and- yeah. (you’re not too entirely sure how everyone managed to get tickets in time but you deduce not to question it.)

it’s the night of the concert, and after a thirty minute drive, you finally arrive at the designated arena. (jirou and mina had played some of the band’s music to familiarize you with some songs—there were a few catchy ones.)

the rest of your party had come in separate rides, so as the three of you exit mina’s car, they wave you down in excitement.

“it’s loud,” you state bluntly as your friends start their way to the arena entrance. you’re not even in the damn arena and it’s loud—the concert hasn’t even started yet.

“it’s only gonna get louder, babe,” mina says with a good-natured grin. “too late to turn back now!”

“i know, i know!” you laugh, trying to relax your nerves. you’re a bit nervous, sure—but you can’t deny that you’re also a little excited. “i’m not backing out, don’t worry.”

jirou tugs at your arm from her spot beside you. “if anything, you can leave early. wait for us in the car. metal concerts can get.. intense sometimes. i won’t be offended or anything.”

you shoot your roommate a relieved smile. “i’ll keep that in mind, thanks. but hopefully it doesn’t come to that. this’ll be fun!”

your optimism remains even as you file into the arena, looking for a spot. part of your group wants to score a place in the potential mosh pit, but with jirou and mina knowing it’s your first time, some decide to linger somewhere on the side. with this, your group decides to split up.

“don’t you guys wanna head into the- mosh pit?” you ask the two girls, feeling a bit guilty. “isn’t that closer to the stage? i feel really bad holding you guys back.”

mina waves a hand at you in dismissal. “no, don’t worry about it! i want a spot closer to the bar. and while being the mosh pit is fun, i’d rather not get ‘accidentally’ groped tonight.”

you blink at her and simply nod in acknowledgment. “ah, right, okay.” jirou nods alongside you.

the three of you grab some drinks and chat around while the arena continues to fill up. you had been eyeing the rest of your group making camp on the floor until you lose them once more people flood in.

the opening act starts and it’s another rock band. definitely a lesser known group, but their music is a good mood starter for the concert, it seems.

another thirty minutes pass by and it’s finally time for the main act of the band everyone’s been waiting for to make an appearance.

there’s the sound of the music starting and it’s as if it shakes the entire building—the crowd roars in anticipation.

a rough voice echoes throughout the arena and then the beat of drums pulses through the floor.

“LET’S FUCKING GOOO!”

and just like that, fireworks burst from the stage and the lights are on, focused on the band and you can spot the four members playing their respective instruments.

before you know it, you see jirou and mina jumping with the rest of the crowd, screaming their throats alongside the singer as he strums the strings of his guitar.

you find yourself enjoying yourself too! it’s amazing to see them play the first few songs back to back with no break—they’re quite the entertainment.

after the third or fourth song though, they seem to take a breather. “hello everyone!” the lead guitarist speaks into his mic. “you all having fun so far?”

the crowd answers with cheers and you can’t help but laugh as your two companions join them.

“i’m kaminari denki!” the singer introduces himself. jirou lets out a few cheers as the blonde lifts a hand up to his ear as if to bask in the crowd’s noise. and then he continues on to the other members. “our bassist, kirishima eijirou!”

“hey, everyone!” the redhead plays a few notes on the bass as the crowd cheers again—you and jirou share an amused look when mina squeals at the top of her lungs.

“on the keys, hanta serooo!” kaminari whoops out, and the fans join in again in another roar. the short-haired man plays for a bit, laughing a greeting, “good evening!”

“aaaand on the drums…” kaminari finishes up, imitating playing the drums with his hands with a grin, “our amazing kacchan!”

“it’s bakugou katsuki, dunce face!” the drummer snaps, his voice booming on the mic—and you recognize his voice from the beginning of the concert. there’s a few snickers and laughs from the crowd—you included—and bakugou plays for a few seconds.

displayed on the large screens behind and next to the stage, you can see the drummer’s features a bit despite the somewhat darkened lighting. “alright, fuckers!” he yells out once he’s done, “you ready for more?”

this time, you find yourself screaming alongside your two friends in eagerness and the concert continues as they play some more songs. during the short intermission, you head out for a quick bathroom break. when you return, you see jirou is the only one left in your previous spot.

“mina went into the mosh pit!” jirou explains as one song transitions into another. she points over to the rushing crowd and you look to the sea of people jamming out more aggressively, a few crowd-surfers here and there.

“oh, okay!” you answer back. you go back to jamming with your friend, genuinely enjoying yourself. (any time you see the drummer on the screen for a few seconds, you can’t find it in yourself to look away.)

and the night rages on. there some people headbanging so hard to the point where you were sure they were going to fling their heart out of their throats, but all in all, you were having fun.

it’s nearing the encore when you decide the pounding and rumbling of the arena is starting to become a bit much. “hey, jirou!” you shout over the music, “i’m gonna head back to the car!”

kyoka looks to you with slight concern. “want me to walk back with you?” she offers in a raised voice to match yours. her eyes flicker from the stage to you.

“no, no!” you’re quick to protest and decline, “enjoy the end of the concert- i know you don’t wanna miss it! i’ll be fine on my own, don’t worry!”

hesitantly, she gives you a thumbs up. you give her a quick hug before you start trudging away from her and through the rows and rows of people.

music continues to blast through the arena, and you’re sure that your ears are going to be ringing for the remainder of the night. but you suppose that’s what happens when you attend a metal concert out of all things. (it had been fun, for the most part, but you think that’s enough metal for one night.)

the blinding lights from the stage are flashing everywhere, probably more intense since it’s almost the end of the concert. it’s a bit difficult to see your surroundings very clearly for anything longer than five seconds, but you manage to stumble out of your section of the crowd on your own two feet, save for a few bumps into some people here and there.

you don’t know where the rest of your group is—though, you’re sure they’re probably getting trampled over in the mosh pit running circles in a certain area of the floor space in the peripheral of your eye. (yeah, there’s no way you’re taking place in that. hopefully mina’s alright!)

you continue following the signs that supposedly lead to the exit. getting out early can give you a head start and avoid any more crowds that would definitely get messier on the way out.

you follow down the railing and that’s when the arena darkens suddenly. they must be getting ready for the finale—so you whip your phone out to act as your flashlight to keep walking.

wait a minute. there’s only few people back here, so that must mean you’re heading in the right direction, but then—hold on. you’re backstage.

the security isn’t at its best, it seems. or maybe they’re slacking. who knows—either way, you’re not where you’re supposed to be, that’s for certain. you can see the back of the stage set up from here; there’s a few uniformed people working on what seems to be the lighting and shit. oh yeah—definitely not the exit.

maybe you can ask for directions? oh, how embarrassing… maybe you should’ve stayed with jirou until the end of the concert and walked back with her.

just- just follow the sound of yelling and screaming! obviously—that’s where the crowd is, so you can easily find the actual way out by listening to the roar of the fans.

and then they get louder and—the sound of the last of the commercial fireworks sizzles through the air and the closing music comes to an end. oh shit. the concert has ended.

that seals it for you: you’re going to head over to some staff person and—oh yeah, that one right there, standing near the small stairs, and ask politely for the actual exit.

and then the lights go out again—plunging you in darkness, save for the few lights from above and flickering from the side, and then you walk right into a solid chest.

“the hell?” a gruff voice erupts from in front of you, and it sounds familiar. the lights return and it takes you less than three seconds to register that you’re staring up at the drummer.

“fuckin’- goddammit, kiri!” the blonde scowls, turning his red glare to the guitarist coming down the stage stairs, “some fan got into the back again!”

kirishima is wiping the sweat off his brow when he catches sight of you, and he seems surprised. “huh? oh shit-”

you panic. what if you get into some serious trouble for this? what if they sue you? so you splutter out frantically without thinking, “i’m- i’m not a fan!”

bakugou brings his gaze back to you at your words, all confused, judging by the way he raises a brow at you. and when his stare lingers, you realize he’s actually taking the time to look at you.

he clicks his tongue and repeats your words. “not a fan, huh?”

fuck, that sounds rude, doesn’t it? “no! i mean- yes! i mean—i’ve never really listened to your guys’ music but i came along with my friends! but then i decided to leave a little early and just ended up getting lost and-”

the redhead comes to stand next to bakugou with a laugh. “relax, relax. we hear ya,” he reassures you with a toothy grin. “mistakes happen!”

you let out a sigh of relief, smiling gratefully at kirishima. “right. i didn’t think wandering backstage could happen but.. sounds like it has before?” you laugh, referring to bakugou’s previous words as you look to the drummer.

oh god. the tank top hangs loosely off bakugou’s broad shoulders as his skin glistens with sweat. you can now see his legs that are clad in black ripped jeans, not hidden behind the drum set. a screen, no matter how huge, doesn’t do him justice. he’s so damn beautiful up close.

what makes matters even worse is that he’s staring right at you.

you nearly let out a squeak of surprise from the sheer intensity of his gaze, instead glancing back to kirishima nervously since he continues talking anyway.

“ah yeah, sometimes,” the guitarist chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “not too often but- it definitely happens way more than it should. you’re okay though, really!”

you nod with a small smile, fiddling with your hands. you sneak a look back at the drummer, and you realize with a start that he hasn’t torn his eyes off you.

“not a fan?” bakugou repeats again in a drawl, cocking his head to the side and taking a step towards you.

you blink at him, a little confused, a little flustered. “um, well-”

“alright, sweetheart,” bakugou then huffs, catching you by surprise—are you hearing him right? but then the smirk he gives you makes you wanna melt into the floor. “let’s see if i can make you a fan before the next concert, yeah?”

———

the roar of the crowd is something you welcome, relishing in the noise the eager fans make as they wait for the concert to start. you don’t have a good view backstage, but there’s something you need to do first before you head to your reserved section.

sero and denki are the first to head up. the blonde adjusts his guitar and dashes out onto the stage, blowing jirou a flying kiss to which she rolls her eyes at but catches nonetheless.

kirishima strolls after the two of his band mates onto the stage, but not before he gives mina a squeezing hug paired with some laughter.

bakugou is the last one to walk up, and he approaches you with that same damned smirk of his that had made you give him your number not too long ago.

“i’m waiting, sweetheart,” katsuki snickers at you, raising a brow expectantly.

you glare at him playfully, and before he can sneak in another word, you grab the front of his stupid tank top and pull him down for a kiss.

(yeah, he had made you a fan.)

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silvyslayer42 · 10 months

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saiki k headcannons (very very long post)

-kurumi + kuusuke have weird unnaturally sharp teeth that are lowkey scary if you look at them for too long. kusuo also has it but he hides it.

-if you think at kusuo, he can hear you no matter where you are. the psychickers (+ his family) know this and use it against him.

-kusuo is an unwilling empathy crier. if someone starts crying near him, he will at least start to tear up. he finds it an extreme inconvenience and does everything he can to hide it. this only really happens with people in his direct vicinity though, so no movie characters or random people in his telepathy radius.

-too many characters have similarly colored eyes, so here’s a lightning round with some eye color changes

akechi: periwinkle. it just makes sense to me ok?? a silly color for a silly goober. it grows on me more the more i think about it.

aren: dark magenta with a hint of red. i think it represents his personality better

toritsuka: dark grey. i like it and have no explanation for it. honorable mention goes to pink because it makes him match with saiki

also aiura has neon yellow eyes not green they are not green her eyes are not gre

-kusuo gets a pretty normal amount of sleep all things considered, in fact he probably gets maybe an hour or so more than average most nights because he just loves sleeping so much. kuusuke does not even go out of his way to get a bed for himself because the only sleep he gets is when he forgets to take his bi-hourly injection of whatever he’s using in place of caffeine and passes out on top of whatever he’s working on for ≈3 minutes before jolting himself awake and going back to work. if he really has to nap for whatever reason he claims the floor is plenty comfortable.

-kusuo has sedatephobia (fear of silence). while the peaceful tranquility of putting people’s thoughts on mute with the ring is nice, if he were to somehow be put into a situation with no noise at all or even just very little noise I think he’d be pretty freaked. he’s never had a truly quiet moment before, so it’s only a natural reaction to be uncomfortable with it. he would avidly deny it if asked though, even if he gets visibly anxious from it.

-kuusuke has never used bugs against kusuo directly because he thinks phobias are a cheap and uncreative tactic. the birthday card thing doesn’t count because that was only psychometry images.

-it’s not really a psychic power but all of the pk psychics have extremely strong intuitions. like they just Know things sometimes. this is basically canon for at least kusuo but that besides the point. the jury is still out on whether akechi also has the psixth sense or if he’s just weird but he is definitely on the same page as everyone else most of the time because of his near psychic analysis of his situation and surroundings

-kusuo can use transform on other people but it never comes up bc why would he do that when hypnosis is so much easier? something something genderbend episode

-kusuo had a very bad no good week like right before he got his limiters where his hair became uncuttable and he was forced to have a mullet until it culminated in kusuo willing himself into developing heat vision and cutting his hair with it to mixed results.

-each of the saiki’s think they’re the more normal one balancing out the rest of the family’s weirdness but no. all of you are weird there is no balance

-more of an opinion than a headcanon, but being average/“normal” was never really what saiki wanted. what he’s actually after is peace, and he just happens to associate those things with it. that’s why he changed the world to perceive his unusual attributes as normal when he was younger instead of changing himself to appear normal, what he truly wants is a world that he can be himself in and be at peace at the same time. the reason he refuses to admit this, even to himself, is because of his own lack of self-acceptance. you guys don’t understand he’s such an angsty and tragic character actually ! a poor little meow meow even ! listen to me !!

-kusuo and kuusuke NEED to have a “let’s take ibuprofen together” moment i will not be explaining further

-kuusuke works above board a lot, but he is definitely doing some “under the table” stuff when it comes to selling the shit he makes because he just does not care and wants money to fund his games. he is confident he will never get caught and even if he’s wrong kusuo is reversing that shit to avoid the trouble it would cause him.

-kuusuke does love robotics (specifically with making weapons but he does indulge in the gadget or two), and that is definitely his favorite to do stuff with and the thing he is most passionate about, but don’t be fooled, he does everything. any science under the sun and he is probably an expert on it. special mentions of things he knows a lot a lot about go to neuroscience, physics, biology, first aid/general medicine, pharmacology (technically canon because of that muscle relaxent from the cattank arc) and anything that you could realistically make a psi pun with.

-sometimes kuusuke randomly decides that a random ass guy is the person of the week he wants to piss off (to him it’s like being annoying to an animal, very amusing ^^). positive things about this: it’s normal a really bad person he decides to be a menace to like a rich guy or a corrupt politician. bad things about this: he has had to deal with hired hits on him before

-aiura can get a very accurate read on someone’s personality near instantly and has an encyclopedic knowledge on everyone. she knows your birthday and she knows what you want. teruhashi too but not because she’s psychic she’s just also weird.

-aiura has a very bad sleep schedule because she gets woken up in the middle of the night by visions of disaster. this is NOT THE SAME as kusuo’s visions !! kusuo is tormented in his sleep, she is kept awake. aiura also sometimes has visions of shit right before it happens and if it’s a bad thing she has to think quick on her feet to stop it.

-aiura does not stop helping people she just gets a little bit better at being discreet. eventually she goes freelance and owns her own shop for occult stuff good for her

ok that’s all i got for now. tune in whenever i decide to do this again for more bangers

#this is almost organized #not really #please ask about any of these if you are interested i can talk for soo long bbg you have no idea #saiki k #uhh #im not tagging everyone i mentioned #saiki kusuo #saiki kuusuke #saiki kusuke #the rest of the saikis #aiura mikoto #character headcanons #headcannons #how the fuck do you spell that word #both ways of spelling it do not look right

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ponds-of-ink · 7 months

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The Certified Pond Analysis of Scraptrap Voicelines

Because I haven’t talked about this rabbit’s voice lines as much as I should.

Buckle up. This is gonna get wordy.

So, going in the order of this video, we have:

“I always come back!”

The most quoted Afton line. And understandably so. This is the man at his most triumphant, even with his.. questionable suit-repair choices. The emphasis on “always” as well as the moderately louder volume really sells that confident air Springtrap continues to have in FNAF AR. Though, as we’ll soon see, this is not the only emotion he feels as Scraptrap.

(Also, before we continue: This gives me the first point on the “I can hear the smile in his voice” scoreboard. It’s a surprise tool that should help us later.)

”Bittersweet, but fitting”

…And by “later”, I apparently mean now.

There may be a smirk at the end, but it’s not a strong one. The overall line read is much more reserved here. Maybe even somber, if I’m inferring correctly. The choice of words is interesting here too. Whoever’s the owner of the Pizza Sim building, he may not be as fond of jumpscaring them as one would think…

”What a deceptive calling! I knew it was a lie the moment I heard it— Obviously, but it is intriguing nonetheless…”

Ah, yes. The big monologue post-Salvage. Couple of things I noticed here that aren’t debatable lore implications:

(1) Man’s rushing through that second half for some reason. Don’t know if that was an editing error, an intentional line read, or Scraptrap trying to.. reason with himself? Sound smarter than he thinks he is? I dunno, something about the pacing is off here.

(2) Oh, hey, first line with a “snake hiss”! This isn’t a consistent trait with his lines, but it’s a key feature that I use to differentiate Springtrap and Scraptrap during voice impressions.

(3) This man puts so much emphasis on words sometimes. So much so that I can not only hear the smile near the end, but I can also feel the eye roll during “deceptive”. And PJ Heywood never voice acted before FNAF apparently? H u h.

Anyway, moving on before I start implying that Scrap-Trap might’ve been lured in by a newspaper or something…

“Fascinating! What they have become…”

Another point to the “I can hear the smile” board. We’re on three points now; three and a half if you count “Bittersweet”.

This one I’ve already brought up before, but the abridged analysis is: This guy (unlike Glitch-Trap in that one Security Breach trailer) actually compliments his.. uh.. teammates? Workmates? ..Just realized that the relationship dynamic between the Salvage Gang doesn’t have an official term. Bummer.

That aside, it’s genuinely interesting that he doesn’t diss them at all. You think he would given his reputation, but no. He just has this twisted sense of “oh wow they’re so cool”.

…Come to think of it, has he directly dissed somebody in the games specifically? I’m not even sure if the “Deceptive Calling” monologue or the AR Springtrap lines count. AR Springtrap tends to boast about himself more than put the player down and Scraptrap was having an ‘I’m smarter than that lol” moment.

If I’m right, then I think I may have found a proper difference between a pretend Mimic Afton and the real one. Huh.

“How can I resist a promise such as this?”

Getting back to the main topic, we’ve got a return for the snake hiss and the emphasis on certain words. Also, add another point to “I can hear the smile”— Except it’s more of a smug grin than a bizarre, wide-eyed look of wonder.

Not sure what that promise is post-jumpscare, but I do know that this has a chance to play during the office sections. So the promise is either Henry’s lure or seeing his son Mike one last time. I dunno, dude, it’s all vague to me.

”That was easier than I thought it would be…”

AKA The line that makes me wonder “Dude, you good?”

No seriously. The quick halt in-between the second and third word. The sudden choke that happens at the end. Like his voice just properly broke for the first time in ages. The overall somberness of it all. There is literally no smile here and I’ve checked. There may even be tears starting to well up, but I obviously can’t be sure.

It’s even implied that he thought he’d had a tougher time fighting the owner! He actually assumed he wouldn’t win this easily!

Something about this feels.. unnerving. He’s not supposed to sound this upset. At least, not usually. So what, pray tell, is going on with this voice line?? Why was this the take Scott used??

“You may not recognize me at first, but I assure you: It’s still me”

Well, that’s one more point for the “I can hear the smile” board. Also, I believe this is confirmation of that ‘Springtrap switched suits after FNAF 3’ theory? That’s what it sounds like, at least?

But, hey, at least Scrap-Trap is canonically aware of the sudden shift in appearance. Let’s hope his potential FNAF World 2 version isn’t as nervous about it as I assume FNAF 6 him would be… If he had access to the internet, of course.

Also, for the one person who may or may not care about this: He’s using contractions here. I think it’s been established that he only uses these at certain times, but I can’t remember where exactly I read that analysis. Anyway, he’s unafraid about “slipping up” at this point.

One more thing…

Compared to AR Springtrap, Scraptrap is much more.. casual in tone, if that’s the best way to put it. Much more low energy, though his antics are anything but.

Like, yes, he’s still coming for you if you keep letting ads play on your computer. But maybe he’ll let you live for a few seconds longer just so you could turn the ad off? He’s not in a rush, as far as I can tell.

Maybe that’s another reason why my brain jumps to Scraptrap more than Springtrap. If he wasn’t tied to this “attacking the guard” business, he could probably chill for a second and give advice on paperwork. Wouldn’t last for long, of course, but at least one could potentially die knowing that you drank coffee with a much more business-savvy Spring Bonnie… Grungy though he looks. Springtrap, on the other hand, wouldn’t give you the time of day.

TL;DR:

PJ Heywood put more nuance into this guy than even I was expecting. Big round of applause, genuinely.

#william afton #scraptrap #fnaf 6 #overthinking #voice acting #pj heywood

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after-witch · 2 years

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And the Doctor Said [Yandere L Lawliet x Reader]

Title: And the Doctor Said [Yandere L Lawliet x Reader]

Synopsis: You’re sick. You’re sick and he won’t admit it, and what, he just wants you to die here?

For Horrorfest request: L Lawliet + Hypochondria

Word count: 963

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, reader is a hypochondriac, emotional abuse

You stick the thermometer in your mouth for the third time that morning, and ignore the way that L’s frown deepens at the gesture. You don’t much care for what your captor thinks, anyway, and especially not about important matters like these.

“And why are you measuring your temperature again?” The words come out measured and calm, but you--having been around him for too long now--detect the edge of irritation in them.

“You know why,” you say, words half-garbled through the plastic on your tongue. “Stop pretending you don’t.”

He hums and watches and waits for the thermometer to beep. When it does--beep, beep, beep--you pull it out and grin at the reading, despite the thin thread of fear slowly unraveling inside your belly.

“Aha! I told you! See! See!” You thrust it towards his face, and he takes it, careful not to touch the part that’s slightly damp with your drool.

“37C,” he reads. “That’s not a fever. I don’t know why you sound so triumphant.”

“Because,” you retort, snatching the thermometer back from his grubby little hands. “It’s above the normal temperature, which you know is 36 to 36.8 exactly. And if it’s above the normal temperature, that explains everything else that’s going on with me.”

The note of triumph in y our voice is trimmed with anxiety. Because while being right when L is wrong is one of the few things left gloating for in your sad compact little life, if you’re right, it means… well. Something far more serious than a simple cold.

L stares at you, blinking.

“Don’t tell me you’re still stuck on that. I already told you, your self-diagnosis was faulty and filled with errors. It wouldn’t hold up to a nervous first year medical student’s analysis.”

Your grip on the thermometer tightens, before you slam it down on the counter. You whirl, fuming, even though your stomach and your head hurt, and stomp into the living room to retrieve your laptop. The top opens fluidly--you don’t want to break it--and you bring up your latest search results.

“There,” you say, resolute, bitter, terrified but stubborn as hell. “See? All of my symptoms are there. The headache. The stomach ache. The dizziness. The insomnia. The fever--” You don’t even look behind you when you retort to the look he’s surely making--”It’s going to be a fever soon, it counts.”

Your fingers tremble as you scroll down the page, noting how every symptom lines up with your current state. Yes, you do feel more anxious than usual. Yes, you do feel a sense of impending doom. Yes, you do feel like you can’t sleep. Yes, your appetite is affected… it’s all there, black and white, easy to see

Easy for you to see, while he ignores what’s right in front of him.

You hear L move, hear the creak of the stool in the kitchen, before you see him settle down next to on the sofa.

He calmly puts his fingers on the bottom of your laptop, and you let him, because if he would just read the symptoms then he would know that you’re right. And he would take you to a doctor, instead of forcing you to sip tea and take cold medicine every few hours.

“You do not have,” he starts, before turning the screen to face himself. His voice maintains its soft monotone expression as he continues. “One of the rarest blood disorders in the world that can cause cold-like symptoms which may be a sign of impending organ failure.” The only sign of his agitation is the sigh that he lets out as he closes the laptop, much to your annoyance.

“I’m taking away your laptop privileges,” he says. He sets the closed laptop next to him, where you can’t reach, unless you want to try to fight him for it. You don’t.

“You’re what?” Your fingers itch to reach for it, but then--might sudden movements trigger your condition? Was it like a blood clot, in that way? Maybe you had a blood clot, your leg was feeling strange lately, and surely you’d been sitting down too much in the last 24 hours. “You can’t do that.” Your voice is tinged with the helplessness you feel, raw, thready.

“Of course I can.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I should have done this sooner. It’s only contributing to your condition, really.”

You freeze.

“My condition? So you admit it?” Your heart thumps and there’s a jittery sort of triumph in your stomach, but it’s so overrun with worry that you barely feel it. Has he known this whole time? Was he planning on just letting you die? Maybe that was what he got off on, making you fret and worry, watching you get sick, half-ass nursing you while you slowly faded away.

He chews on his thumb while your brain chews on itself. “I suppose I’ve been in denial about it. But it’s clear that you are suffering.” He sighs again. “I’ll have Watari send over some modules on how best to treat it. But I think taking away your ability to research every disease known to mankind is a good starting point.”

He reaches out and, as if you’re some sort of timid cat, pats your shoulder reassuringly.

You don’t flinch, exactly, but it’s not often that he bothers touching you without asking first.

“I…” The words come out slowly. “I don’t understand. What can Watari do about my blood disorder?”

L quirks his head to the side. And then his eyes widen, when he realizes where it all went wrong.

“You don’t have a blood disorder. I told you that.” He smiles, just a little one, but it digs right into you like a sharp hook. “It’s called hypochondria. Would you like me to look up the symptoms?”

#yandere l lawliet #yandere death note #l lawliet x reader #yandere #afterwitch writes #aw horrorfest #wasn't on my list this week but that's how the cookie crumbled!!

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pyode-luar-ke · 1 year

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Can we get a yautja and a reader with dental braces?

teething problems | gn!yautja x gn!reader

A/N: everyone please just assume that the yautja in this story is like hyper-new to earth, like a first time scout or something, bc i know realistically there’d be no way a yautja wouldn’t know anything about braces 💀 they’ve studied humanity for like centuries or whatever, they’ve gotta know more about us that we do at this point lol

also, the “sand fish” thingies? made em up. think of a sea squirt.

enjoy!

summary: who knew that having braces could be kinda fun?

word count: 895

content: 18+, gn!reader, gn!yautja, pre-relationship, discussions of dentistry, arguing, warming up to each other, play fighting, my attempt at comedic writing

—

"So they are purely corrective?" Your alien... visitor asks, and you once again bat their clawed paw away from your mouth. They click, mandibles quivering in a manner you've come to learn as: Amusement. The ass.

For whatever reason, they've found your braces to be incredibly intriguing.

"Yeah, I guess. I certainly don't wear them for comfort." You laugh dryly, swatting away their paw once more before focusing on your work. Lately, they’ve been much more grabby, a far cry from when you first interacted with them when they wouldn’t even breathe near you for fear of contracting some “ooman virus”.

Whatever. Two could play that game. You avoided them like the plague— saying they had Space Yautja Flu— until they inevitably stopped being ridiculous.

Now they’re touchy and frequently invade your personal space. Recently the fascination has become your mouth. Double-edged sword, you suppose.

"Such an archaic form of medicine." The Yautja snorts, crossing their arms over their chest. They shake their head, pitying, "Yautja technology would remedy your teeth in a matter of minutes.”

"Well, it's too bad we don't have that, do we?" You snap, and it definitely strikes a nerve in your companion, because they literally roar at you— Mandibles flaring, ivy green tresses raising, and all. You flinch, even though you don’t mean to. Yautja get nasty when you show weakness. They back off with a low growl.

The only reason, really, that you are currently harboring a Yautja in your dining room as you try to type up a report for your boss is because their ship got stolen. A huge embarrassment for them. Maybe they shouldn’t have landed it in fucking Yosemite.

“Sorry, geez.” You mutter, clacking a bit harder at the keys of your laptop. It’s not your fault that Big Brother seized their ship, but it is a sore subject for them. You feel a bit bad. Shouldn’t’ve used that jab.

The Yautja says nothing for a long enough time that you nearly completely focus on your report again. Only the clock on the wall ticks, your keys clicking, and some light shuffling from the Yautja makes any noise. It’s peaceful— A rarity these days.

Halfway through the analysis section, you hear a door open somewhere in the house, followed by lumbering footsteps. Confused, you look to see that the Yautja had abandoned their spot next to you. Before you can call out, you hear a clatter quickly accompanied by a trill that tapers into rapid clicking.

“What the Hell are you doing?” You shout and the heavy footsteps fall closer and closer until the Yautja comes barreling around the corner. You jump when they leap next to you, their tresses swing wildly. Their green eyes are wide and bright, and their tusked jaws click together.

“What is this?” They ask, seemingly breathless, and you can barely process the question through their excitement before they thrust an object in your face. You have to stare down the bridge of your nose, and recognize the white metal contraption immediately.

“... My Waterpik?” You ask slowly, a quizzical look crossing your face as you stare at the device you use to clean up sometimes if the toothbrush or flossing missed some spots.

“The device plays like sand fish!” The Yautja exclaims, and they make that drawling, warbled trilling noise again, and it’s so strange, but you can’t help but smile. It must be the Yautja equivalent to laughing— to expressing joy. You tilt your head and ask, “Sand fish?”

“From childhood. As pups, we hunted the sand fish at Yautja Prime riverbanks, and when you grabbed them, they would squirt water at your eyes! Then we fileted and ate them. Very fun, very tasty.” The Yautja clicks so rapidly that you almost can’t follow what they say, but then they decide to make a case in point.

Before you can stop them, they’ve clicked and aimed the Waterpik at you, and the tiny jet stream of water hits you smack dab on the center of your forehead. You yelp, shielding your face with your arms only to get hit on the cheek and then on your side.

“Stop!” You can’t help but shriek in laughter, scrambling up from your chair to try and flee the unrelenting spurts of water. Big misstep. Yautja are hunters. You make it three steps— not even past the dining room table— until you’re seized by the arm. The large hand with its sharp claws wrap firm around your forearm, and your visitor all but pulls you back to them.

It’s a very... compromising position. The Yautja holds you against their body, their very toned thighs below your legs, your head against their chest. You look up at them, they look down at you. Your cheeks start to feel warm. They click their tusks together, and you catch sight of the forked tongue behind their secondary row of sharp teeth.

Then they start to purr. Then their mandibles relax, spreading wide and pink.

For a second, you expect the evening to take a very different turn...

... Which is then ruined when they spray you with the Waterpik, directly in your eyes. You shriek, closing your eyes, your hands blindly swatting at the Yautja’s reptilian-esque hide.

They take the opportunity to stick their clawed fingers in your mouth, victoriously trilling.

The fascination is lost on you.

#the predator #predator #aliens vs predator #avp #yautja #yautja fanfic #predator x reader #predator x you #predator x human #yautja x reader #yautja x you #yautja x human #gn!yautja #gn!reader

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