#my brain likes making connections when sometimes There Are None but like.

[madlori]

The Claw is our master.

I've had a few folks in DMs ask me how/why/when my shipping did such a completey 180. It's a fair question. I am, after all, someone who spent the last 2 years fervently Buddie shipping, writing fic for them, doing the same hoping/analyzing/searching etc that everyone else (well...not exactly the same, I've always been skeptical of most of the theories and such because I don't believe in a production's ability to be that sneaky, covert or mischievous).

And yet, here I am. I can't really even pretend I'm still a Buddie shipper anymore. Initially I said sure, I still hope for it. I...can't in all honesty say that now. I've firmly decamped for BuckTommy Land. Is this a recipe for heartbreak if they eventually breakup? Sure, but that's always a risk. No more than shipping a non-canon pairing, anyway.

And there's nothing wrong with shipping a non-canon pairing. People do it every day. Hell, it's practically the backbone of fandom. Obsessing about ships being canon is a one-way ticket to dissatisfaction and sometimes total unraveling. I've seen it happen more times than I can count over 30 years in online fandoms.

But if that's the case, why didn't I stay on Team Buddie? Why did I defect so thoroughly that I'm at the point now where not only do I not think Buddie will ever happen, I don't want it to, because I now want to see something different from those two characters, something I believe we will actually get from the writers.

The answer to that question is: I have no idea.

People ask this like I'm somehow in control of it. I'm not. The Fandom Brain is like The Claw in Toy Story. The Claw is our Master. The Claw decided who will go and who will stay.

Fandom Brain is my master. It decides what I'm going to ship, what I'm going to be fannish about and what I'm not, and when I'm going to stop feeling fannish about something. I have zero say in the matter, I'm just along for the ride. At some point in every fandom I have ever been in, my Fandom Brain has, usually with no provocation, decided "Ok we're done with this fandom now." And nothing I can do will make that not true. I can't force it. I can't cajole it. It just is.

Similarly, Fandom Brain has decided "Welp, we're done with this pairing now. We like THIS pairing now. Proceed." Are there reasons? I'm sure there are.

Is it just that it's a canon pairing? Possibly. There is something very seductive about a canon pairing after so long of looking for crumbs and tiny hints where there (mostly) none to find. But I've shipped plenty of non-canon pairings before.

Is it that I prefer Tommy/Lou to Eddie/Ryan? Absolutely not. I love Eddie, always have. I admit to being slightly more of a Buck girlie, but that doesn't mean Eddie means nothing to me.

Is it the immediate gratification? Maybe. Is it just how the relationship's being written? Possibly. Is it just a mental adjustment for my belief that Buddie will never happen, and Eddie will always be straight? Likely. But that doesn't change the outcome.

So here I sit, just...yep. Sometimes it just be like that. I didn't choose this, it's just what my brain decided was going to work for me going forward. If this goes up in smoke, my brain will choose something else, whether it's to run back to Buddie, or be done with 9-1-1 entirely, or who knows what else?

The good news for any of you who follow my writing is that I'm still working on the next Husbros installment. That universe is removed enough from the canon that it almost feels separate to me now, and I'm still feeling connected to it. Yes, I've written a few short BT fics, but so far I've not had any lengthy or involved plot bunnies for it.

So there you have it. I didn't choose the thug life, the thug life chose me. I don't know if I'd have chosen this if I could, but tbh I'm having a pretty good time with it so far, so. That's probably a big part of the reason.

#fandom thoughts #bucktommy #9-1-1 #evan buckley #tommy kinard #eddie diaz #buddie

[chaosgenasi]

thinking about all of the laudna & ashton paralells and losing my mind about it actually

#basil.ramblings #i had an idea for a set before their conversation and then the conversation happened and now i'm. AH #my brain likes making connections when sometimes There Are None but like. #dying. something about you responding to strange magic. being brought back but different. broken. #your life not being your own. having to work with the woman who killed you. wearing your brokenness like a badge of honor -- using your #change in brain & body to your advantage in battle. saving/helping someone who actually wants to be your friend -- who has their own #problems but ones that have solutions. they're not beyond fixing. you can protect them & give them something you never had. #lying to yourself & others about how much everything fucked you up. putting up walls & wearing masks of joy and rage. #'the worse thing that has happened to me has already happened.' 'shit happens. worse has happened.' #i am rotating them in my mind. now i just have to find the right scenes to gif lmao

[matrixbearer2024]

Vox x Reader Headcanons: Fiancé Edition

Fiancé!Vox x gn!Reader

A/N: MY BRAINROT IS BRAINROTTING OKAY I JUST NEEDED TO DUMP THIS STUFF SOMEWHERE AFTER SEEING ALL THE WIFEY ALASTOR AND LUCIFER STUFF- LIKE I LOVE THOSE TWO BUT LEMME YEET IN MY BELOVED SAMSUNG TV NOW YALL- THIS COULD MOST LIKELY BE OOC COMPARED TO CANON BUT LIKE- LET ME DREAM I WANT THIS FLATSCREEN SO BAD P L E A A A S E-

A/N: This little thingy would have both an SFW and NSFW portion, mostly because I'm a depraved little shit and I am downbad for a 7ft bipedal television with issues-

SFW HEADCANONS:

Now first off, y'all probably would've been dating a long long while before this mans would pop the question.

I feel like he'd know that he wants to marry you, but he's so unsure of it plus he's concerned about how that would affect you in all of it.

Like, oh great if this gets out suddenly you've got one of the biggest targets on your back because you're the technology overlord's fiance and soon to be wife/husband.

As if you hadn't already when you both started dating-

Vox is a perfectionist so I'd imagine he would try so so hard to get everything completely flawless for his proposal.

But nothing goes his way that day, none, nada, zilch-

That's just his luck, totally not because it got screwed over by a certain radio demon for shits and giggles.

But he ends up asking you anyway, though a bit indirectly because it slips during his irritated rant.

"I can't believe they managed to spill wine all over me back there! All over one of my best suits as well!"

"Hun, we could always send your suit to the professional cleaners. It's okay! We can always just go someplace else next time too-"

"No! That- ugh! I had all these plans today and they were just ruined! I wanted everything to be absolutely perfect for when I was going to propose to you-"

"You were gonna what-"

Vox immediately shut up once he realized his screwup then.

So much for keeping it a surprise!

That's kind of how you ended up with a diamond ring on your finger that night.

And that's how Vox ended that really stressful day with an extremely satisfying night.

He ditched work the next day and just spent it being all over you.

Yes he admires the ring on your hand from time to time, this man just stares.

You can betcho ass that ring is expensive as fuck too.

Like as if this man didn't kiss your hands enough, that new accessory marking a new chapter of your afterlives just makes him do it more.

He's actually kinda housewife material if you squint-

This man can cook and clean, and as a bonus he's filthy stinkin RICH.

Bro I need me one of these holy shit-

If he wasn't clingy enough before, oh boy get ready for this.

He will always have an appendage on you at all times, a hand on your lower back, your hip, in your hand-

Or he'd just have you in his lap while he worked on stuff in his office.

Also, Vox being possessive as all hell if someone so much as just stared at you too long-

Please that goes straight up to 1000% when you agreed to wear that ring.

You guys planning to get hitched doesn't stay secret for too long though.

With Valentino and Velvette sticking their noses in Vox's business as a daily pastime anyhow-

Hence why a lot of sinners started shipping you two.

And oh goodness the ship wars.

Sometimes Vox wishes the internet wasn't really connected to his brain-

The magazines went wild with that one too-

Cuz imagine, the richest and the pride ring's probably most esteemed bachelor-

Aside from Lucifer probably, Vox's marketing and PR team are insanely good at their jobs-

Was now off the market and due to get hitched with you.

I'd imagine even if Vox doesn't post anything on social media, you or Vel would-

Literally like those married couples on TikTok or something with a whole bunch of cute shit.

You can best believe the most cracked out shit happens while you're both engaged though.

"Oh this is Vox, he's my ex-boyfriend."

"... You have got to stop saying that. I'm their fiancé."

You did not stop saying that.

Actually you wouldn't stop saying that even when his title upgraded to husband.

Not that Vox cares, your shenanigans were what caused him to gravitate towards you in the first place.

And until now they're what keep your relationship fun and interesting.

"Hey hubby, ooooh~ you're looking like the hottest thing in all of the pride ring despite having just rolled out of bed."

"Hahaha, good morning to you too doll."

It doesn't register what you called him at first until he's had his coffee and then it clicks.

You play it off attempting to be coy until he replays the video of you greeting and calling him that on his face.

His. Face.

Sneaky little shit that's what-

He doesn't really respond to any other petname now, you've dug your grave.

"Vox."

"Vox."

"Vooooooxxxx-"

"What? What?? What do you want???"

"Can you peel this orange for me?"

"Really? That's it? Why don't you peel it yourself?"

"Because it tastes better when you do it?"

He does it eventually, hell if he's in a particularly good mood he'll even feed you.

That's always kind of how it goes when you ask him for things.

If it's something you want/can buy though?

You're already in possession of his credit card, just get whatever tf you want HAHAHAHA-

He's still a busy bastard though so it's not really much different from how it's like when you guys were dating-

But he genuinely tries to balance his work a little better to spend more time with you.

This man is such a workaholic though you end up having to drag his ass out of his office to rest anyway.

Again, nothing new from when you were just dating.

You guys jokingly throw around your soon to be marital titles in private.

Vox kind of feels like a kid in a candy store when you do, just giddy and excited for what's to come.

Not to mention he now has a partner in crime when he riffs on Alastor!

He'd be over the MOON if you just joined his chaos.

The radio demon probably wouldn't give a shit, he's just built different like that-

You both get so comfortable that you almost forget that you have a wedding to plan and set a date for.

Until Velvette asks about it and you're both just: "Oh. Right."

Your fiancé's schedule is so fucking packed though it was nearly impossible to.

This guy was going to work himself to death before you could tie the knot lmao-

But eventually you both got a date and venue settled, so that was one step closer.

NSFW HEADCANONS:

Okay so like, I know sinners can't actually copulate unless you're Lucifer but that's besides the point-

And Vox isn't really a family man at all-

But boy oh boy if he didn't have it before-

This man would have an insane breeding kink after you both got engaged.

This man wants to see you stuffed.

Literally doesn't matter if you're riding him or he's just impaling you on his cock-

This guy just wants to fill you up so bad.

I'd also think that you guys would be screwing around a lot more often after he popped the question-

Something about emotions constantly running high and dopamine being one hell of a drug.

I think Vox is a switch, so I'd also imagine he'd be more inclined to let you dom him every now and then.

Or when he just wants to be a bratty little shit please go ahead and tame him, he likes it.

You can kind of get away with more stuff when you're both engaged.

Like tease him a whole ton and he just bites hook, line and sinker.

It's already gotten to the point where the power in the tower would die often enough that Velvette herself has gone through some crazy lengths to cockblock her colleague.

Speaking of, Vox would probably use you as a stress reliever after work if you let him-

Like he will just fuck you stupid until all you say is his name because this guy is addicted to hearing it.

Or he'd let you fuck him stupid until he's so far into sub space he forgets about his shitty day.

Cuz if it's rough, it's rough with you two.

But on the gentler side-

It's just as addicting and if not probably a little worse.

Though you would probably be the one taking initiative/domming whenever you both have gentle rounds.

I'm all for Vox being able to switch some of his parts cuz he wanted to/can.

So y'all have fucking choices when it comes to wrecking this idiot.

Like a multiple choice exam, literally shotgun the fuck outta those answers like you deteriorate his mental.

And consequently the entire city's power grid.

"GODDAMNIT! VOX! (Y/N)! NOT AGAIN!!"

#hazbin hotel #vox x reader #vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x you #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #vox headcanons

[teamatsumu]

Can I just say how much I love you??? Okay, that sounded weird, I love your work. It's immaculate, beautiful, and I absolutely love it. Thank you for writing, and I genuinely mean this.

Nowwwwwww.......

Can you write a Time Skip Iwaizumi x Reader where he just, like, loves your ass? Like he can't stop squeezing it and fucking you from behind? If you can't, that's okay, and if you can, I appreciate it.

Have a good day!!

a/n: first off, thank you sooooo much! you’re so sweet xx and not weird at all! your ask made my day. im sorry if this is a bit late :(

worship. (iwaizumi hajime x reader)

word count: 689

warnings: fem!reader, body worship, a lot of detail about asses lmfao, smut

Iwaizumi Hajime is a proud ass man.

He has no qualms admitting that fact. Some guys are into tits, and some guys are into asses. He appreciates a nice bottom, what’s the big deal? It’s not like he is excessively enthusiastic about it- until he meets you.

There’s just something about you. While he connects with you emotionally almost instantly, he is also hyper aware of how physically attractive he finds you. Every curve and dip of your figure is something he hungrily runs his eyes over, but none more so than your perfectly shaped ass.

Iwaizumi Hajime is not a dramatic person, but he swears he could sing hymns about your voluptuous butt. He can’t help himself when his gaze strays straight down to it when you walk into a room. He especially loves it in jeans or yoga pants, where the cloth hugs it so fucking perfectly. And when you two start dating, he is gifted with the sight of them in your silk sleeping shorts. All bets are off then. No power in the universe could stop him from reaching for you, feeling the soft silk and warm flesh give way under his hand as he squeezes it appreciatively. Your surprised yelp is merely a bonus.

When Iwaizumi fucks you for the first time, he has to physically hold back.

He takes you from behind, mind foggy and overcome with arousal, nearly going cross eyed at the sight of your ass bouncing on his cock. He has to slow down or he knows he will come embarrassingly quick, and he has to hold back from smacking your ass black and blue because it looks so delicious, so juicy. God, he needs to bite into it, but fuck, that would definitely freak you out.

Over the months, Iwaizumi realizes there is very little that could freak you out, and you encourage every one of his wild fantasies regarding your ass. In fact, you love it just as much, because when Iwaizumi has you bent over his knee, slapping the flesh over and over, your moans and tear filled eyes keep begging for more. And when he dips his fingers into your slit, it comes back so wet and shiny, it makes his own cock jump and throb.

And so Iwaizumi feels no obligation to hold back when he pounds his cock into your poor pussy, going harder and harder just to watch your ass bounce on his pelvis when it smacks into you. His grip is harsh and his smacks are even harsher, but you tighten around him so deliciously that Iwaizumi can’t help but let out a broken groan of his own. You are wrecking him, ruining him for anyone else, and he swears he can never, ever let you go. That’s the recurring thought in his brain as he empties his balls into you, pulling out to let the last few spurts coat your reddened asscheeks. And fuck, the sight might be enough to make him cum again.

Iwaizumi Hajime is nothing if not a gentleman.

He lays you down on your stomach after he’s done fucking you, shoves a pillow under your hips to tilt your ass up. He runs a warm, wet cloth over the sensitive skin, listening to how your breath hitches at the feeling. He bought a nice, flowery scented lotion as well, which he rubs in his palms to heat up, and then massages into your asscheeks, movements slow but firm, soothing the angry skin. You hum in approval at the action, and his lips twitch up into a smile.

Sometimes he thinks this aftercare is for him more than it is for you, because he is really taking his time to truly worship your ass, letting the smooth glide of the lotion move his hands, squeezing and rubbing at just the right places, every part of it getting attention. He bends forward to brush his lips over it too, tiny kisses that have you giggling under him. And if he playfully bites at it a bit, he knows you don’t mind.

He is the luckiest man in the world.

#iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi hajime smut #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi x y/n #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu smut #hq smut

[ghouljams]

I think Price has this tendency to just call the witch sweet nicknames but like in a condescending manner.

Like sweetheart but while being a menace. Maybe while he holds her face and strokes her chin with his thumb.....making her shy away from him, ignoring how his touch makes her melt......like ufff

Like!!!!

Price - "Oh sweetheart" *hands stroking her face softly, his eyes dark with something she cannot decipher, and then he just springs something on her she's not necessarily ready to handle*

Witch -.....(cue the 'I don't find you funny' meme)

[apologies if my ask seems incoherent. im sleep deprived, and i forget how to articulate myself sometimes. feel free to ignore it if you wish :)]

Every goddamn day. How does it feel to be so right anon? Sweetheart is definitely Price's favorite condescension, and it makes Witch melt every time (stay strong witch)

His fingers hold you still, thumb swiping against your lower lip as you look up at him. He hums quietly with a small smile, eyes so clear and dark they make you press your legs together involuntarily. Every time you tell yourself you won't let him touch you again you find yourself in a position like this. You can't stay away from him, it's getting harder and harder to rationalize your fears when he makes it so difficult to think of anything but his touch.

"Sweet girl," He purrs, all cruel condescension. You shiver, your brain fuzzy as your eyes lid. What had you been doing before he'd caught you? "You're getting lazy with your wards." He reminds you.

"If you would quit burning through them," You try, your tongue sluggish, and limbs heavier the longer you look in his eyes. That's right, you'd come out to the woods to gather nettle and grass for your new broom. You've never had trouble in these woods before, they're not supposed to have connections to the wild.

"Then how would I see you?" Price asks, leaning close. Your eyes dart to his mouth as his tilts his head, your tongue swiping against his thumb as you try to wet your lips. There's salt on his skin, you resist the urge to taste it again. Not while he's looking at you like that.

"I don't want you seeing me," You lie. He clicks his tongue admonishing, scolding you.

"It's not polite to lie sweetheart." His lips ghost closer to yours, you press up on your toes to try and meet them. Price straightens back to his full height, you whine before you can stop yourself. "Now, now, none of that," He lets you go, breaks his spell over you, "bad little witches don't get rewards."

You take a step away from him, wipe your hand over your mouth, ignore the shaking in your fingers. Your skin feels like a live wire when you touch it, every nerve buzzing for his touch. Your shirt rubs your skin wrong, and you're uncomfortably wet. Price smiles at you, like he knows exactly what you're aching for.

#fae!Price #captain price cod #captain john price #john price #john price x reader #john price x you #captain price x reader #x reader #f!reader #he's such a tease #he wants her to beg for him and she fucking will #god I want him #I want him bad

[digital-domain]

Curiosity, the Killer

Mahito x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Synopsis: You went out tonight hoping to connect with a stranger. And technically, you did… after you got home. After he broke into your apartment and cornered you in the bathroom. Good luck getting rid of him - he’s not one to control his impulses. Especially when he’s feeling curious.

Tags: dark content, noncon, death threats, talk of murder, extreme possessiveness, general rough handling, biting, hair pulling, painful sex, creampie, mahito being a pervy lil pantie sniffer

Note: Might do a part two…my brain is rotting.

You slip through the front door of your apartment, kicking off your shoes the moment it shuts behind you. Tonight did not go as you’d hoped - although to be fair, you had an active imagination, and tended to set your hopes too high. In your mind, each time you went out was a potential first chapter to one of the guilty-pleasure novels you read (and sometimes, even attempted to write) in your spare time. A beautiful stranger would compliment your dress, offer to buy you a drink, dance with you where everyone could see, kiss you on the floor, take you home…

None of that had happened tonight. The closest you’d gotten was when a ridiculously drunk college student had thrust a shot of vodka in your face. You’d dodged, but you can still smell the splash of liquor that had landed on your dress.

You’d been with a crowd of friends - maybe that was the problem. None of them had been approached either, although a couple had left with guys they’d met on dating apps earlier this weekend. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe the idea of meeting someone in the real world had become a fantasy long ago. Maybe you were stupid to still believe in it.

In any case…the night is over. And with nothing to excite you, nothing to capture your imagination, sleep is beginning to take hold. You don’t let it catch you just yet - you make your way to the bathroom, and scrub at the makeup on your face until you’re back in your bare skin. The bathroom light flickers, and you make a mental note to change the bulb tomorrow. Not tonight - you’re too tired, and with your luck, it would probably end up shattered on the floor.

For a moment, you stare at yourself in the mirror. The simple, form-fitting black dress you wore tonight is one of your favorites. It makes you feel confident - beautiful, even. You let yourself appreciate it for a while before you finally reach for the zipper, contorting your arm to pull it down your back. A second later, the fabric hits the floor with finality, and you turn on the shower.

While you wait for the water to warm up, your eyes briefly flutter shut. Before you open them, before you take off your bra and underwear and step into your warm shower, you allow yourself just a moment to imagine what might have been. You sigh with longing, and wrap your arms tightly around your waist.

Then, at your weakest moment - a second pair of arms envelops your own.

You try to whip around, but they hold you fast, allowing you to turn just enough to get a glimpse of the intruder in the mirror, and to see a third hand clamp down over your mouth, dampening your scream before it makes it out of your throat. It’s a man, you think, but nothing about his appearance makes sense. The face you saw in the mirror isn’t right. It’s human, but covered in very un-human stitches, a patchwork that doesn’t quite add up when it’s all put together. When you look down, you see that his hand and arms are covered in them, too. And the hands…you saw three. You feel three digging into your skin. That doesn’t make sense. It’s not right. Again, you try to cry out, thrashing wildly in his arms as he presses into you.

He leans down, and flicks his tongue over your ear. “Hi. You just let me know when you’re done, okay?”

A fresh ripple of terror runs through you, because he sounds nothing like you expected. His voice is high-pitched and gleeful, far too casual for such a terrifying situation. You squirm against his grip, but it holds fast. You try to scream, again and again, until you finally accept that the seal on your mouth isn’t going to break, that the shower will obscure any sound that you do manage to make. You breathe shallowly, a black haze begins to obscure your vision. His palm is warm, damp, and smells worse than the stain on your dress.

“Are you done?” He laughs - actually giggles, like what he’s doing is nothing more than harmless fun. “Well, I guess you can’t really tell me. But you can nod your head if you are.”

You shake your head vigorously, trying desperately to tear your face from his grasp.

He sighs, exasperated. “If you don’t cut it out soon, I’m gonna have to kill you.”

At this, you freeze, too petrified to move an inch more.

“I don’t want you to die,” he continues, a petulant tone slipping into his voice. “I’ve got other plans. But I can’t just stand here covering your mouth all night.” He presses his face into the crook of your neck, lips scraping against your exposed skin. “I know you don’t really know what you’re dealing with,” he mutters. “But trust me… you would be really easy to kill. I just have to do this.” A fourth unseen hand juts out from behind you and wraps around your neck. The fingernails on this hand are long, and unnaturally sharp. Sharp enough to break your skin with ease. “It’s easy from here. All I have to do is squeeze, or slice…either way, you’ll die!”

What is this thing? You’d like to believe that you’re hallucinating, but the nails tapping against your skin feel far too real.

“If I let go of you,” he explains, “I need to know that you’re not gonna scream or try to run away. I want this to be a nice night for us. It’s not gonna be nice if I have to spend it killing the people that come running to save you. I don’t wanna be distracted.” He kisses you gently on the neck, and a chill runs down your spine.

The way he’s talking…it sounds like he actually thinks he’s being sweet. You’d be less terrified if he was self-aware. If he knew what a terrible thing he was doing.

He nuzzles his face against your hair, inhaling deeply as he raises a sharp nailed finger to caress the line of your jaw. “You looked so lonely tonight,” he sighs. “I noticed it right away.”

You stiffen. He’s so deep in his delusion that he seems to have lost all grasp on reality - but he’s right about the loneliness. What, and how, does he know?

“Even with all your friends around you,” he sighs. “So miserable. Like you were waiting for someone special, and they never came.”

Everything. He knows everything. He’s had his eye on you for hours…if not longer.

“You won’t be lonely anymore if you’re good for me,” he murmurs. “And you’ll be alive.” His teeth grind into your neck, gnawing away like a dog on a bone, and your body tenses at the sudden pain. “Come on,” he whines, his voice muffled by the pinch of skin still locked between his jaws. “Just promise to be good - just nod your head…”

What choice do you have? Even if there is some other choice, your mind is too scrambled to think of it. Too confused by all the impossibilities you’ve just witnessed, still reeling from the revelation that he’s been watching you all night. Later, you’ll try to work out how he managed to enter your home, but that’s not on your mind right now - not when your life depends on a single quick decision. You nod, and when his hands slip from your face and neck a moment later, you don’t make a sound.

“Good job!” The arms around your waist squeeze you tighter, and you hear the other pair clapping in celebration behind you. “I was worried you were gonna do something stupid. I’m glad you didn’t…I’ve got such exciting plans for you. I’d be so sad if I didn’t get to use them.” He drops his arms from your waist. “Turn around. I wanna see you.”

Slowly, stiffly, you turn to face him. The third and fourth arm have somehow disappeared - he looks human now, save for the stitches running across his skin. He’s got long hair, colored a light blue. For some reason, you don’t think it’s dyed. With everything you’ve just seen, unnatural hair doesn’t seem out of the question. His eyes are mismatched - one is blue, the other grey. They’re striking, shining with a bright intensity that almost makes you want to look away.

His left hand latches onto your waist, and the right twists through your hair. “You’re pretty on the outside,” he whispers, bringing his face so close to yours that you go cross-eyed. “On the inside…you’re the same as the rest. But I don’t care about that right now.” He pulls on your hair, practically humming in excitement as you cry out. “Or maybe I do. All your silly, stupid little human desires…they’re the reason you looked so miserable tonight, aren’t they? You wanted something - or someone.” He yanks your head up and down, forcing you to nod in agreement. “I know I’m right. You were looking for another human to…how do you phrase it? To sleep with?” He smiles, his eyes stretched grotesquely wide. “So many of you have that same desire…I’ve been trying to understand it. It’s been killing me, all the wanting, the not knowing. But then I realized - if I want to understand, all I have to do is try it out!”

He pulls you into a rough, sloppy kiss, and your eyelids shut, squeezing out the tears that have gathered beneath them. You don’t want to do this. The way he’s been talking makes you feel like a specimen under a microscope - or a lab rat in a cage. When it ends…will he let me go? For a split second, you see an image of your body lying cold and lifeless beneath your bedsheets. Your eyes snap open, and you see that his already are.

“Mmm.” His eyes are narrowed, his lips pulled into a grin just a bit too wide for his face. “I made a good choice…I like you. You get even prettier when you’re scared.” Without warning, bends down, grabs both of your ankles, and yanks you off your feet. Your ears ring painfully as he drags you out of the bathroom, across the hall, shouldering open the door that leads to your bedroom. He kicks it shut behind him. Then, he pulls you into the air, dangling your body carelessly in front of him. You squirm and thrash, caught like a fish on a line.

Carefully, he makes his way across the room, and deposits you on your bed, laying you down on your back. Before you can sit up, he’s kneeling on top of you, one leg on either side of your stomach, his body pinning you to your mattress. He pulls off his shirt, drops it to the floor, and tumbles forward, his stitch-covered chest slapping against yours as his tongue darts into your mouth, exploring every inch of the space inside. When he pulls back, he’s panting like a predator at the end of a chase, eyes lidded, tongue lolling from his mouth and coated in drool. “I like this. I can’t believe I waited so long to try it.”

A whimper escapes from your lips as he slides his hands across your chest and rips your bra down the middle. He gropes you freely, squeezing and pinching until you’re crying out in pain.

“You make such cute sounds,” he whispers, taking a break from his assault to brush your hair back from your face. He squeezes your cheeks between his hands, forcing your lips to pucker, paying no mind to the glare in your eyes. “Adorable.” He grabs your wrists, pinning them to your side, and slithers down the length of your body, settling between your legs. You feel an unwelcome rush of heat to your core as he buries his nose and lips in your panties, his grip on your wrists tightening painfully as he inhales. “You even smell good,” he sighs, his muffled voice vibrating up your spine. “Do you smell like this all the time? Or is it a special scent? Does it mean you want me inside you?”

“I don’t want you.” The words spill out before you can reel them in.

“Sure you do.” His tongue darts from his mouth, and slides greedily over your cunt, the thin fabric stretched over it doing nothing to dull the sensation. “I know how your body works. I know what it means when you get all warm and wet…” He raises his face, and grins up at you. “You’re ready for me. And I’ve been ready for you for a very long time.” He grasps your panties in his teeth, and jerks his head, tearing a massive hole that leaves your cunt completely exposed. “I’ve been so curious. So desperate to know what it feels like. Why you all want it so badly…”

His body slides up over yours; he gathers your wrists in one hand and pins them over your head. The other hand yanks at the waist of his pants, pulling them down just enough for his cock to spring free. “Keep your eyes open,” he hisses, the tip of his cock already pressed to your entrance. “You’re mine. My favorite little experiment. I wanna know how I makes you feel.”

Your mouth falls open as he thrusts into you - it’s too much, too big, too fast, and you hear yourself cry out in pain as your eyes involuntarily snap shut. A second later, a rough pair of fingers tug at your eyelids, forcing them open. The face of your captor bears down upon you, eyes alight with sickening pleasure.

“Does it hurt?”

You nod quickly, tears already building up in the corners of your vision.

“Awww.” He stares shamelessly into your watery eyes, the tip of his tongue sliding over his front teeth as he presses into you. “You’re pretty when you cry, too.” His thrusts are erratic, each one pushing deeper inside you, as if he’s testing how far he can go. As you stretch around him, the pain begins to fade, replaced by a sensation that sends your eyes rolling back, even as your stomach sinks with dread. You don’t want to enjoy this. You can’t. In vain, you attempt to free yourself, squirming desperately beneath him, contorting your trapped hands to scratch feebly at the back of his palm.

“You wanna fight? That’s so cute.” He shoves the full length of his cock inside you, cackling at the way your eyes widen in response. “So, so cute…makes me wanna keep you. Wanna see how long it takes for you to stop fighting…for you to like it…”

You try to tell yourself that he’s babbling, that he doesn’t mean any of it. That he’ll leave, that you’ll never have to see him again, that your life will go on just as it was before. It all feels like a lie. He’s insane, but he believes every word that he says. If he says he’s not letting you go…

“You feel so good.” He groans, and presses his face against your neck. “I don’t think this is gonna last much longer…but that’s okay. We’ll try again. We’ll practice until…” He gasps. “Until forever. Yeah. I’m gonna keep you forever.” His cock pulses inside of you. His hand slips from your wrists and slides under your back, locking you in a deadly embrace - as soon as your hands are free, you try to push him away, but he’s oblivious to your efforts and impossible to move, nestled securely against you as his cum gushes deep into your cunt. He stays where he is for many, many painful seconds, only pulling away when he’s gone soft inside you. Then, he turns you onto your side, and wraps his arms around your waist.

You let your own arms go limp. It’s too late to struggle, useless to try. Much easier to lay your head down, and surrender to the kisses peppering the back of your neck.

“All mine,” he hums, dragging his hand in loose circles over your stomach. “All mine.” He lifts his head, peers over your shoulder. “Oh, come on. Don’t look so sad.” You turn your head to look back at him, a tight knot forming in your stomach as he wipes a stray tear from your cheek. “You should be happy. You got what you wanted!” He cups your face in his hand, and smiles. “You belong to me now. And that means you’re never, ever gonna be lonely again.”

#tw: noncon #tw: dark content #jjk x reader #mahito x reader #mahito #jjk mahito #mahito x you

[h-c-u]

Teacher's Pet

Summary: It's your first time being a TA, but you're pretty sure some of the areas your professor needs help with are not in the job description. 

Pairing: professor Toto Wolff x TA fem!reader

W/C: 3.1k

Rating: +18, age gap, dom/sub, exhibitionism, creampie, oral sex, praise kink, aftercare

A/N: Filth. Pure filth. Absolute filth. As always on my smut - YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME. 

Masterlist | List of tags

By this time in the year, you knew the students' habits and schedule well enough to know what you did and didn't have time to do between lectures. Sometimes you had enough time to go the library to do research for your dissertation, sometimes just enough to barely make a fresh cup of tea, and sometimes - like right now - you had enough time to get absolutely railed by the professor you were under - both literally and figuratively.

You were sure that by now there had to be at least some rumors, but none reached your ears. Although there was no way that there were none, considering all the times the door to his classroom or office was magically closed when you were there together (mechanical failure of course, it was an old building after all). And if on top of that, you added the smudges in the exact shade of your lipstick ending up on few papers he graded, the fact that (at least in your mind) the scent of sex clung to you all the time, and all the hickeys and bitemarks taking deeper color over the course of a single lecture, meaning that they were fresh... There was just no way no one connected the dots yet. But officially, you were never caught, and with every time you got away with it, you got even more brazen.

That's why today he waited just a little bit longer to grab your wrist, turn you around and push your face into the pile of papers because the thrill of finishing closer to the start of the next class was too enticing. He quickly pulled down the panties you were wearing, let them fall to the floor, and threw the hem of your sundress over your waist, so he could see everything. Without saying a word, he placed a soft kiss on your left ass cheek, a complete contrast to what he was about to do. He run two fingers in between your folds, while his other hand was unbuttoning his pants and freeing the already hard cock. Both of you were expecting this to happen since the day started, you just weren't sure exactly when it would happen. So, every time your eyes crossed, every time you accidentally touched each other, every time you said each other’s names, it was almost like edging, but on a completely different and surreal level.

Sure, he could prepare you more, but he knew you loved that moment when the burn disappeared and suddenly there was only pleasure consuming your body, that's why he run his cock between your folds just enough to lubricate himself and slammed all the way in one swift move. You didn't have time to mentally prepare yourself for the familiar sensation, even though it was seared in your brain forever by now. He didn't wait at all before setting a brutal pace and pushing your hips into the edge of the desk, while you tried to hold onto the crumbs of balance you had left in your body, so you wouldn’t become a ragdoll in his hands.

His fingers were painfully digging into the skin on your hips and pulling you deeper onto his cock with every push, causing your whole body to jolt across the desk and making an absolute mess of the exams the previous group finished taking about 15 minutes ago, but that was the last think on your mind. He knew your body like the back of his hand by now, which came useful in moments like this because he knew exactly what he needed to do, to make you cum as fast as possible; when to thrust, what pace you enjoyed the most, what angles made your toes curl, and he was making use of it all, trying to force a whole goddamn opera of moans from your throat. And if not the fact, that you could already hear the students gathering in front of the door, you would have let him. But instead, you reached back for one of his hands and moved it to your mouth to at least try to muffle the whines you weren't able to stop.

What you weren't expecting was him putting more pressure and pulling you closer by your head, so you were standing up, flush against his torso, with his hips still hammering against yours, the material of his trousers and your dress preventing loud slapping from completely filling up the room. He moved the hand that was still on your hip to the neckline of your sundress and pulled it down, freeing your breasts. He gave each of them a squeeze, which made you throw your head back and rest it on his shoulder. With just your nose to breathe through, you were slowly getting a little lightheaded, so when he rolled your nipple in between his fingers and squeezed it tightly, your eyes almost instantly rolled back. You were so close, yet so far, but the hum of a small crowd gathering outside made it harder for you to lose yourself in the sensation of... him. Him inside you, him surrounding you... He was everywhere, haunting every atom of your body and your every thought, and you were helpless against the power he held over you.

- Either you're cumming in the next 10 seconds, or you're not cumming at all. - he whispered straight into your ear, just as there was a sound of a bell coming from down the hall. You lowkey expected him to start counting down, but he just added - I know what I'm choosing... - after which he sunk his teeth into the place where your neck met your shoulder, and that was the missing puzzle piece that finally completed a full picture of you falling apart in his arms. But you didn't get to enjoy that feeling for long, because he quickly pulled out after finishing deep inside you, pulled up his trousers, and put your panties that were currently on the floor in his pocket, while you were still trying to catch a breath, leaning on the desk in front of you.

With your walls spasming and clenching around nothing, you didn't even realize when he forcefully guided you to your usual seat in the first row, sat you down, and pulled the neckline of your sundress back up to hide your breasts behind the patterned material. Before he moved away, he placed one last hungry kiss on your lips and wiped the smudged lipstick from around your mouth. You should really consider stopping wearing it because it was leaving marks everywhere...

At first, you didn't even register the other students slowly filling up the room after Toto opened the door for them because your mind was still frozen in that moment of blinding pleasure. Even though your body was no longer uncontrollably twitching, your breath was still quick and shallow, your cheeks were flushed, and you were sure anyone who looked at you would be able to tell that you just got absolutely railed, but you underestimated under-slept and under-caffeinated students, who worried more about their grades and exams, than the insignificant TA.

Only about ten minutes into the lecture, your brain started comprehending reality once again, and what brought it back was a quiet question from one of the students you became friendly with over the last eight months.

- Sorry, could you repeat that...? - you whispered after quietly clearing your throat.

- Is everything ok...? - she asked. You couldn't tell her the truth, so instead you gave her a confusing look. - You look a little bit sick... Maybe you should take a day off or something? - she proposed, and you prayed for the floor under you to open up and swallow you whole. She meant well though.

- I'm fine... I just can't handle this heat well. - you lied, hoping that your words would be enough to convince her because the almost-summer temperatures were abysmal lately.

- Do you want some water? I have iced one... - she offered and the look of relief on your face told her more than your words because she bent down and took a thermal bottle covered in stickers from her bag and passed it to you. - You can keep it till the end of the lecture. - she added quietly and went back to making notes.

- Thank you... - you replied, opened the bottle, and took a big sip. It was colder than you expected, but it was your savior, allowing you to calm your body once again. You took smaller sips over the next few minutes, but then you just had to look at Toto, and you almost choked seeing how he looked at you. You didn't, but a little bit of water still dripped from the corner of your mouth, and down your cleavage summoning goosebumps over your skin.

He stopped mid-sentence for a moment, his eyes drilling into yours, but he quickly regained his composure and continued the lecture. You couldn't comprehend how he could look this put together after fucking you so hard, his giant, heavy desk was currently on a slight angle. Not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle on his shirt, not a stain on his crotch. And then you felt it...

You were no longer wearing underwear. And he came inside you. It's not like it was the first time he did, but he never did that in the middle of the day, when there was no chance of plugging you or for you to clean up. You clenched up, trying your best not to let any of it leak out and stain first your dress, and eventually the chair under you. The panic and fear of finally being caught slowly coiled around your thoughts, but when you looked at him again... You realized that was exactly what he planned. He took his phone out of his pocket, and you just knew that the phone call he was taking was a complete and utter sham.

- I apologize, I have to take this. Y/n, could you please introduce the group to the concept of homo economicus...? - he asked, moving the microphone away from his mouth, his face all worried. He should get an Oscar for that performance. And you would have to work hard on yours because currently, your mouth was drier than sandpaper. You quickly nodded, took a sip from the bottle, and stood up, while Toto was leaving the room.

It took all your self-control to keep your voice leveled and steady when gravity was actively working against you while you were speaking on a fortunately familiar topic. You tried to move as little as possible, but you couldn't just stand there motionless, trying to will a large drop of cum from sliding down your thigh, with your mind.

Eventually, it did slip out of you, and you had to make a quick decision, so you started walking around the slightly raised podium, rubbing your thighs together as much as possible and smearing your mixed release all over your skin, just so it wouldn't fall below the hem of your sundress or just straight onto the carpeted floor. The sensation wasn't exactly pleasant, but it was much better than the potential humiliation you would have to face if someone realized what happened. You just hoped that if any of that panic showed in your body language or on your face, the students would assume it was because you were stressing about speaking in front of them.

But finally, Toto came back to the room. He didn't take over straight away, though; he let you finish your thought first, while he attentively watched your every move under the pretense of listening to your words. When you ended your short lecture, he apologized again, and you could finally sit back down, and pray that the heat you felt on your face didn't translate to the redness on your cheeks. You took another sip of water, eternally grateful to the girl who gave it to you, because it was the only thing currently keeping you from bursting into flames. After a very long moment, you were finally able to focus on the stack of exams you were supposed to be grading, and you did just that until the lecture ended. You gave back the bottle to the student and sat still where you were until the last person left the room.

- You're evil... - you mumbled much quieter than you originally intended, and Toto just smiled and walked closer to you.

- And yet, you loved every second of it. - he leaned down to kiss you, and you couldn't even pretend that you were mad at him, because he was absolutely right. Without breaking the kiss, he turned your chair, so he would be able to kneel in front of you, spread your knees, and roll your dress up, so he had free access to your thighs and what was in between them.

- The door... - you said quietly, and he just grinned, pushed your chair a bit further, and followed, so his whole body was hidden by the bench in front.

- No more lectures. And if someone will come for a consult... I trust you will be able to handle it. - he said and placed a gentle kiss on the inside of your knee, and another one a little bit higher. When he got to the mess of his own doing, he dragged his tongue across your skin, cleaning the stickiness that didn't dry out only because you kept your thighs closed since you sat down.

He was slowly getting higher and higher, licking every marked patch of skin, making sure, there was no more cum on your thighs, and leaving the pleasant coldness behind. But then he moved his hands to your hips and pulled you down in the chair, so he would have easier access to your pussy.

- Relax... - he whispered almost directly against your skin and licked the outside of your folds. You didn't have any other choice than to just lean back and enjoy what was happening. You were already turned on, but this... this was different. The intimacy of his actions made you feel all soft and warm, and you slowly run your fingers through his hair, causing him to look up. You wanted to say something, but you couldn't find the right words with his tongue slowly circling your clit and finding its way to your opening from time to time. The mere look of him kneeling in front of you was intoxicating, and the fact that he was slowly summoning another wave of pleasure to wash over you was only adding to the all-consuming intensity you felt toward him.

He didn't stop until he felt your walls clenching around his tongue, and even then, he didn't retreat right away, prolonging that searing pleasure you felt all around your body. Even though your orgasm was less intense than the one he gave you during the break, your legs still felt as if they were made from cotton. You had to grab him strongly by his hair and pull him away from your core, for him to actually stop and let your body process what he just did to it.

You were physically and mentally exhausted, and if not for the fact that you were still in the classroom, you would probably just fall asleep, because the emotional drop that suddenly came over you was strong.

- I need a break... - you whispered, with your fist still clenched around his hair, and it was the only part of your body that had even a sliver of strength left in it. He gently traced his fingers down your forearm to your fingers and untangled them from his hair...

- Come here... - he said quietly and pulled you down from the chair straight onto his lap, changing the positions, so he would be able to sit on the floor with his legs straightened, and you on top of them. - You were perfect today... - he whispered, pulling you closer and wrapping his arms around you, and you couldn't help but hide your face in his shirt in search of familiar comfort. Sure, you two could do absolutely blasphemous things together, but in the end, he was able to take care of you in any way you needed. And after the whole day of sitting and walking on needles, you needed... this. - Absolutely divine... - he added quietly, placed a soft kiss on your temple, and kept his lips there. He allowed you to process everything that happened today at your own pace, so your brain could slowly catch up with reality and you could feel like yourself in your body again.

It took you a moment, but he was there to praise you and guide you through that path.

- You're staying with me tonight. And I'm cooking... - he stated, when you were finally able to look at him again, and you knew that disagreeing now would be a bad idea, so you just sheepishly nodded and let him help you up. - Words are still a bit hard...? - you needed a moment to think about the answer, and eventually, you nodded again, but there was no shame or fear behind your eyes.

Technically today wasn't even a hard session, but the sub-drop didn't choose, and all the emotions you were exposed to eventually had to spill over. First denial and anticipation, which already gave him control over you, then the physical overpowering when you weren't able to do anything but submit... And after that, there was fear and humiliation during the lecture, and in the and - he chose to take even more pleasure from your body, and it just became... too much.

You talked extensively about your boundaries, needs, and expectations as soon as you both realized that you wanted to pursue this type of dynamic, so you knew that if you truly wanted to stop, that option was always available. With time he learned you well enough to know what you could and couldn't endure at the moment, just by looking at you, which was both a blessing and a curse because he could push your boundaries further from your comfort zone than you thought possible. And yet, you knew that one word or gesture, and he would immediately stop. You couldn't get that trust, that feeling of safety from anyone or anything else. That's why you welcomed his arms around you; you knew that even though you couldn't find your voice at the moment, he would still be able to hear it. 

A/N 2: Please don’t feel obligated/pressured to reblog, because I write mostly for myself. A comment would be appreciated though :) Love, G.

#my writing #Toto Wolff fanfiction #Toto Wolff smut #Toto Wolff x reader #🖤 #🧸 #🥪 #💋 #😛 #🔥 #🍦 #👓

[ellzilla]

Laughing Jack Headcanons!

I have so many things about this rewritten clown in my brain n' I don't think I've ever like Listed ALL the headcanons in one spot? individual posts but never a hoard of them, soo. Here's all on my mind rn but i've probably forgotten some! - He can't feel pain or temperature and struggles with texture. The best way to explain it is imagine wearing super thick work gloves all the time and trying to touch a cactus and then a fur pillow, only difference you're gonna feel is that you can push into the pillow. - He also can't sleep or smell, but he still yawns when he's exhausted and sneezes when there's visibly a lot of dust or whatever in the air. -Also he can't eat food or taste. If he tries, he'll throw it up along with black sludge after an hour or so. He can drink and feel the effects of alcohol, but it makes him fucking reek because he doesn't have any organs and it just kinda absorbs into his stuffing. - He's a huge kleptomaniac! He has entire tents in his carnival dedicated to shit he's stolen from people he's killed, but he keeps his favourite items in his trailer. -His skin is a combination of plastic and rubber, despite initially being made with fabric. There's a few parts on his body where left over seems are still visible. -The only part of his body that's white is his head and most of his torso, the rest has been stained black with a faint branch pattern connecting the colours together. -His makeup isn't makeup, it's just how he looks! And he hates it! -If he wears coloured clothes they'll eventually turn monochrome and won't regain colour. -Huge egomaniac! Part of his kelptomania fuels this as he hoards things that are rare/thought to not exist anymore -Only thing close to a friend he's ever had is his relationship with Zalgo and Will. -Doesn't remember how he came to be or why he loves violence. He sometimes dwells on it but not for too long or else he gets upset. -Holy items can tranquilize him/subdue him on prolonged physical and can send him into a state akin to sleep but with none of the benefits. Having a holy item nearby simply makes him mildly less agitated and a lot more tired. -He can turn into smoke and do mild shapeshifting, mainly changing sizes or stretching things by an impossible amount. -Extremely quick to anger -Loses track of the year a lot -Has no clue why he has such a familial bond with Will and struggles with it as all he's done for hundreds of years is be either an asshole or kill people, so his nice gestures and affection sometimes comes with implied threats

-Extremely overprotective and controlling of Will to the point Will doesn't feel like he has a life of his own [Will used to love it as a kid, but now he's in his mid 20's/early 30's? Not so much] -Can use his pullstring as another limb, being able to grab things or life himself up with it. -Sometimes literally hangs around by cradling/hammocking himself with his pullstring

#creepypasta #laughing jack #laughing jack headcanons #headcannons #creepypasta headcannons

[oddballwriter]

Good Smells

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Summary: A nice little blurb involving Marc enjoying certain smells because they remind him of you.  

Warnings: There's reference to Marc's past and childhood but it's not entirely front and center. This is still hella fluffy. 

Author’s Snip: The reader's gender is never specified but they do have traditionally feminine smells like flowers.

Notes: Something for Marc, my little stress ball of a man. <3 

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

"Did you know that out of all of the senses in the human body, smell is most effective in sparking a memory?" Steven mentions as you two walk through the candle aisle of the home decor store.

You don't actually need candles, you came here to get a new desk chair after the previous one was no longer functional or comfortable. But you had a pretty good coupon for the candles here that was going to expire soon. So that's how this topic emerged in Steven's head.

"Does it now?" you reply, "Where'd you learn that." you ask. "Was watching some psychology show while waiting for what I usually watch on that channel we always have on." he answers. "I forget the exact details but apparently when it comes to smells, the neurons in the brain just connect the smell that the nose is picking up with the memory." Steven explains. You hum in response.

"Do you have any smells that make you remember something?" you ask as a means to keep conversation. Steven thinks for a moment before answering, "Whenever I smell that plain room smell, the one's you usually smell in a waiting room or something," he says, "It actually reminds me of storage back at the museum because it had that same smell." Steven correlates. You nod along.

Steven tries to think more on if there are other smells that make him think of something and you sort of wait, but he draws blanks. "I can't think of anything else. I'm sure there's more smells that work for me but right now I'm just getting Marc's." he muttered, sounding more like he was thinking out loud.

"Marc has smells that make him think of things?" you ask. "Yeah, but that's not really something for me to talk about." Steven remarks before continuing to walk along the rest of the aisle. "How about you, love? What are some that you have?" Steven asks, slightly changing the subject to go another direction.

That was a good move of Steven in Marc's opinion. He knows you meant well by asking about the smells that he has connected to memories. It's just that none of his smells are good smells.

No, not like they are things that smell bad. It's that the smells remind him of things that are bad and not so pleasant.

The damp smell of the tunnel.

The smell of the common flowers braided into a grave reef.

Marc had no good smells.

They never really caused the whole immediate remembering thing to be honest. That only happens when he actually lets his mind make the connection. So even then, he had nothing that made him think of anything.

That was until Marc, and the rest of the boys by default, started having certain smells that would just have a memory come up.

And it was all because of you.

You had this hand lotion from some store that smelt like apples. He can smell it on you whenever you cup their face. Sometimes the smell gets on him if he holds your hand long enough or you touch a part of his clothes before it fully settles into the skin of your hands, leaving a small spot with the faintest smell of it. Now whenever he smells anything apple related he just sees your image form in his mind. He literally ate a bear claw donut on a mission once because he missed you and the smell of the apples inside of the pastry made him think of you.

How about that gentle flowery smell that's in your shampoo?

No, it wasn't that artificial smell like the reef. Your shampoo actually smelt like wild and authentic flowers. Like if you stood still long enough a butterfly would mistake the smell of your hair for a patch of flowers. Which is why he buys you flowers from the farmers market. Sure, they're better looking and selling than the artificial ones, but also because he know's you'll put them in a vase somewhere in the flat and when you're away he'll have that same lovely flower smell.

If you were to ask if he had any smells that sparked any memories now, he would have an actual answer. A good answer.

Good smells.

#moonknight #moon knight #moonknight x reader #moon knight x reader #marc spector #marc spector x reader

[andy-wm]

How to explain JK & JM and their endless coincidences?

Easy really, none of them are coincidences.

I'll admit that I'm not the quickest at reacting to what's going on around me. My poor ND brain takes a while to absorb it all and put the pieces together, but then I can't stop thinking and thinking and thinking about all those puzzle pieces.

Gotta get those thoughts out of my head to make room for new ones LOL... so here they are.

Everything is not a coincidence 🎶

I hear Jimin singing this in my head.

No, of course its not.

We've seen how intricately they plan their cocepts, outfits, stages and releases. We saw it in detail with the Artist Made Collection and the Photo Folios. The processes they went through were thorough and thoughtful. They considered everything.

For Jimin and Jungkook, aligning their message is nothing new. For years they've been coming out in matching clothes, jewelery, and accessories - including the cute and silly matching Pororo bandaids at the puma fansign in 2016 when neither of them had an injury (JK's idea, according to JM).

Sometimes the matching outfits are identical...

Other times the alignment is more subtle....

But it's so frequent, we barely comment these days.

When they aren't matching, they're swapping. Their shared wardrobe is legendary - especially for someone who doesn't like other people wearing his clothes (JK) and someone who has assured us they have different clothes (JM).

But I digress....

The gist is, we know they pay attention to the mesage they send with their clothes and styling.

AND...

They know WE we pay attention too - they know we notice it all. Every.Single.Thing.They.Do.

AND...

They tell us they know all the ARMY jokes and memes. They do and say things that correspond too closely to ARMY's conversations on socials to be a coincidence.

Everything is not a coincidence 🎶

So with the visual themes of their solo releases being so astonishingly similar, anyone with eyes in their head (and a moderately functional brain and heart) can't think it's accidental. And JK and JM can't possibly think they're being subtle either.

And I honestly don't think they're trying to be subtle. Not at all.

I think they are demonstrating very clearly that even when they're apart, they're together. They're always aligned*.

They share ideas, they work together (they certainly don't work in secret) and they agree on what they, together are choosing to show.

Everything is not a cooincidence 🎶

We know they've shared ideas for this because at no point has either of them shown suprise at seeing the other wearing a similar outfit, holding a similar pose, or adopting similar aesthetics. They're hyping each other's music and promo work, and sharing their pride and enjoyment with us. (JM posting on insta to celebrate JK's #1 on the hottest 100 was NOT for JKs benefiit. It was for ours 💜)

It's not a matter of who did it first or who copied...all of this they created together.

They're showing us their individual strengths and telling their own stories, but using an aesthetic framework they've planned together. The visuals overlap is enough to to unmistakablly link their narratives together without restricting their self expression.

It's genius really.

They're living their 'I am you, you are me' dream right now, but in such a way that they are also without a doubt independent individuals as well.

Personally I love this. I love them.

I love that they can contribute to one another's creative processes, each produce something wholly unique to themself, and still have visually connected stories.

One day this will become their shared history. With a brief glance, anyone who looks will be able to see how much they supported and cooperated with each other, and that they chose to reflect their personal relationship in these works.

This would be a very conscious decision - to be visibly connected, not just for the few months their solo work is on the charts but for as long as the record of BTS's existance remains.

And that will be a long, long time I am sure 💜

*They're always aligned, i believ, with regards to their goals. For their work but also in terms of their relationship.

I think they trust one another implicitly, both professionally and personally. I think they're honest but kind, and they have each others backs. They are each other's highest priority and I hope it will always be this way for them 💜

#park jimin #jikook #kookmin #jeon jungguk #국민 #jungkook seven #true love #relationships #jimin face #shared aesthetic

[lewmagoo]

black butterflies and déjà vu | b. bradshaw

description: in which bradley bradshaw finds himself at a loss for words

warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, marriage proposal

pairing: bradley "rooster" bradshaw x nondescript fem!reader (she/her pronouns used)

notes: yet another idea i stole from myself. also, this is 100% inspired by the maine's song, which bears the same name. if you follow me for long enough, you'll learn that the maine is my favorite band and many of their songs inspire what i write. anyway, carry on. enjoy some head-over-heels-in-love rooster trying to propose to the love of his life

He'd always thought he was good with words.

He enjoyed making conversation, and he had a knack for capturing everyone's attention, whether he was telling a humorous anecdote, or simply recalling a story from his childhood. It just came natural to him.

But then she came along, burning bright as a setting sun, crashing into him like a rolling wave, and suddenly, Bradley found himself at a loss for words.

He realized this when he came to the conclusion that he was in love with her. Painfully, irrevocably in love. But how could he ever say it? Mere words were never enough to show her how much she really meant to him.

He'd never had such a deep connection with anyone before. It was entirely new for him, and he felt a bit out of his element. Maybe even intimidated was a good description for it. He was afraid of losing her, afraid of saying the wrong thing when trying to tell her how he felt. He was always hoping, waiting for the right words.

Some might call it pathetic, and maybe they'd be right. But he didn't care. He'd found his soulmate, something he never thought he'd find. He didn't deserve her, really. But there she was, the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, bright eyes gazing at him as if he'd put the very stars in the sky, and he was at a loss for words.

But she taught him that words weren't always needed to express feelings. She made him see things in a different light, made him feel things he'd never felt before, things that were indescribable. She truly had him wrapped around her little finger, and he didn't mind one bit.

As the months passed, and eventually years, he found that she knew him better than anyone else. She knew the most intimate parts of him, the vulnerable parts, the gentle parts, the intense parts, and everything in between. Sometimes it was almost like she knew him better than he knew himself.

And because of this, he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. The decision wasn't something he struggled with, or debated. When he came to the conclusion that he wanted to marry her, he had complete peace about it. It was the one thing he was sure of more than anything else in his life.

He didn't tell anyone he was going to ask her. None of his friends. Not even Maverick, who he'd grown especially close to. He kept it all to himself. He wanted this sweet, intimate moment to be shared with her and no one else.

The only problem was, he had no idea when he should do it. He'd already bought the ring, and it was tucked away somewhere safe, far from where she might accidentally stumble upon it.

Then came the time when he wracked his brain, thinking of what he could do to make it special. A dinner date, where he put the ring into a glass of champagne? Too cliché. A walk on the beach, where he waited until sunset to get on one knee before her and finally popped the question? Too...romantic.

While Bradley was a romantic guy, he didn't want to do anything too cheesy or predictable. The scene had to be just right. But he was entirely stumped on what to do. The entire time, he thought she was oblivious to it all, but in reality, she knew him all too well, and it wasn't long before she picked up on his distantness.

She caught him one night when he was deep in thought, a million miles away from the bed they were currently laying upon.

"Hello? Earth to Bradley?"

Her soft voice jarred him from his deep thoughts, and he blinked. eyes flickering to her own. He hadn't realized how zoned out he was. He attempted a smile. "Sorry. Just thinkin'."

"Uh, yeah, I noticed."

He sighed, fingers running circles over her arm as he held her, bodies entwined beneath the covers. "Hey," she said, propping herself against his chest so she could fully see his face. "What's going on with you? You've been really distracted lately."

He paused, suddenly feeling his heart quicken. He was a terrible fibber when she was involved. Surely she'd know if he brushed her off and made up some excuse to appease her. "Nothing," he answered, a little too quickly.

She quirked an eyebrow, running her hand over his warm, bare chest. "You sure?" She could feel the quick thud of his heart beneath her chest.

He fell silent, meeting her curious gaze. She looked so beautiful right then, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth, and her chin perched on her forearm. Then, his heart seemed to pick up speed again as the realization dawned on him. Somehow, some way, he knew this was the right moment.

If only he could get the words out, but couldn't find the sound under his tongue. What followed was a string of half-sentences as he searched for the right words. Finally, a frustrated Bradley very gently pushed her off of him as he decided he should probably grab the ring first.

But she pulled him back, gentle fingers smoothing through his sandy hair.

"Babe," she hummed, "it's okay. You can tell me anything. You know that."

"Yeah," he replied, letting out a breath as he glanced down at his hands. "I just don't know...how to say it."

She took his jittery hands in her own, stilling him. "Humor me."

Where could he start? Should he profess his love for her, go on a spiel about how much she meant to him and how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her? Or should he just present her with the ring and let everything else fall into place?

"Baby, I..." Hoping for the right words, waiting for the right words.

She took his face into her hands, leaning close to kiss him on the lips, hoping to calm him. She'd never seen him this way before, and it was odd and unfamiliar. "Roos, it's okay."

He brought his hands up to rest against hers, and he closed his honeyed eyes for a moment before gathering his thoughts. "There are only twenty six letters in the alphabet."

"What?" She giggled, only for him to shake his head, sighing softly

"Twenty six letters. Not enough to tell you all I need to say."

"Twenty six letters, and an endless amount of words to choose from."

"Yeah, but suddenly I can't think of any. I lose my voice when I look at you."

Mulling over what he'd just said, she gave a short not. "Okay then," she conceded, "how about you show me?"

"What?"

She carefully slipped her arms around his strong shoulders, settling comfortably against him. "Yeah. Show me. I don't care how you do it. If you can't find the right words, then show me them. Make me feel what you're feeling. Make me see it."

In order to do that, he'd have to pull her into the throes of intense passion and overwhelming love, which was what he was feeling right then. At first, he hesitated. In his head, things had gone differently. He'd asked her to marry him, she'd said yes, yes, a thousand times yes!, and then they made love. But here they were, and nothing was going according to plan.

Maybe that was how it was supposed to be. He had to show her how much he loved her first, and then he could seal the deal with a ring. So that's exactly what he decided to do.

Bradley let his eyes flutter shut for a moment, breathing in slowly and deeply, arms encircling her waist as he did so. She was patient, waiting for him to make a move, wondering what he would do. And then, those kind, warm eyes were opening to meet her own, and his soft breath was fanning across her lips, and she knew.

He didn't have to say anything. He simply pulled her into his lap, hands clutching her hips as he moved to kiss her. She let herself relax, muscles loosening and shoulders falling. Bradley had that affect on her. He knew how to calm her like no other.

His lips were slow and soft, conveying everything he felt in that moment. Kissing him was comforting in ways she could never begin to explain, but could only experience by the feel of them against her own.

The kiss was gradually broken, and Bradley pulled back to look at her, hand coming up to rest gently against the side of her face as her rushed breaths intermingled. The look he held in his eyes was so tender, and her heart ached at the sight. Oh, how she loved him.

Her hands wandered beneath his shirt, fingers brushing over every plane of his torso. Her touch made him feel whole, and he found himself leaning into her, needing more. So much more.

He pulled her back, joining their lips again. She let her hands roam, sliding over his skin. She could feel his pulse, and it was racing. But hers was too, so it was okay.

Bradley copied her actions, his own hands slipping beneath her thin sleep shirt. His were much larger than hers, and they covered more ground. When he cupped her breasts, she arched into his touch, wanting to feel more, to feel everything.

Their kiss ended with him catching her bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently before pulling away.

It was then she knew that she needed him. All of him. "Bradley, I-"

She didn't have to finish the sentence, for he already had her on her back, placed right against the mattress. Her eyes flickered down to the hem of his shirt, fingers fiddling with it before she tugged at it. Bradley was quick to remove it, carelessly tossing it aside. She then spread her hands across his sun-kissed skin, admiring his beauty.

Bradley lowered himself, pushing her top halfway up her body in order for him to access her abdomen. He pressed a sweet kiss just below her belly button, ever so slowly making his way up with an endless amount of tender kisses.

Halfway through, she stopped him in order to remove her shirt, wanting to be skin to skin. Once it was gone, he was against her again, leaving kiss after kiss.

Then his hot, wet mouth was against her breasts, kissing and sucking and biting. She could feel the rush of arousal between her thighs, body responding to his administrations. His hands replaced his mouth, squeezing the soft flesh while he moved up, nuzzling her neck with kisses, teeth grazing the heated skin.

She reached down then, hand coming down to palm him lightly through his sweatpants. He faltered for a moment, deciding that he wanted to move things along. So, he hurriedly tugged her own pants down her legs, underwear and all, before he rid himself of his own.

He snaked a hand down between her legs, which she willingly parted for him. Those nimble fingers of his trailed through her slick, right before he dipped his middle finger into her. He had to get her soaked for him, of course.

It most certainly didn't take long, her wetness soon enough heard above even the sounds of her breath. "I-I'm wet enough," she breathed, "need you inside me."

He stroked his fingers through her hair for a moment, gazing down at her as if she were the most beautiful creature on earth. Then he joined their lips, kissing her deeply to muffle her moan as he finally pushed inside, filling her whole.

She moaned into his mouth when their hips met, hands tightening around his shoulders. Bradley let out the softest of groans before he began rolling his hips into her, slowly at first, savoring the buildup.

This was it, just what he needed to to communicate what he was trying to get across. As they say, actions speak louder than words. And if this action could speak, it would be a deafening scream

That night, Bradley held her in his arms, and he made love to her. He treated it like this was their first time, like they were only just discovering each other's bodies, despite the fact that they had long since been acquainted.

Beneath him, she was quaking, clutching onto him for dear life as he thrust into her, brushing up against all those wonderful spots within her. He could feel her muscles shift and tighten around him, and he swore it was the best thing he'd ever felt.

He buried his face against the side of her neck, letting out the quietest of moans, hardly able to contain them. She slid your hands down his back, one hand coming up to tangle in his hair.

His entire body engulfed hers, creating a feeling of safety. Right here, wrapped in his arms, nothing could ever harm her. The cold, sharp fingers of the world couldn't touch her. She was entirely shielded in his love and protection.

She could feel tears spring forth, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to steady her breathing, though that was nearly impossible.

"What's wrong, baby?" His husky voice filled her head, and her eyes fluttered open to find him looking at her. She hadn't realized her tears had begun to spill down her cheeks. "Do you want me to stop?"

She shook her head, pulling Bradley closer, kissing him delicately. "N-no, no. I'm just...just...d-don't stop."

He let his forehead rest against hers, hot breath rushing across her face as he continued. His fingers brushed away any tears, and his lips hushed any whimpers. He was being so gentle, so sweet. But she wanted more, she craved more.

"Faster," she managed. "Please..."

Sucking in a breath, Bradley picked up his pace, pushing her legs towards her chest to give him a new range of motion. He watched her beneath him, her face contorted in beautiful agony.

There wasn't a sight in the world that was as breathtaking as her, he decided.

He wanted to capture this moment, save it in a photograph to be able to look at forever. The way she looked at him was something he'd never been able to comprehend. How could a soul as wonderful as hers care for him so deeply?

Yet he knew that she loved him something powerful, just as much as he loved her.

"Oh, god," he moaned, driving his hips deeper, faster. He could already feel that familiar, pleasurable ache deep within him, but he was trying desperately to stave it off. But with the way she was tightening around him, he wasn't sure he could last much longer.

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him to her, wanting to feel every single inch of him. His moans filled her ears, surely the loveliest song she'd ever heard. Words weren't necessary. Physical contact, the joining of their bodies in fiery harmony, was all they needed to express what they felt.

Bradley poured everything he had to offer into her, fucking into her until she was trembling, gasping, incapable of coherent sentences. Her skin was sticky with sweat, her head was spinning, and tears were endlessly spilling down her cheeks. The angle he was hitting spread such an intensity through her, she could hardly handle it.

"Oh, oh, Bradley," she squeaked.

He gritted his teeth, one hand clutching her thigh, the other clawing at the sheets. He was desperate to hold out, to quell that overwhelming need to release. But then he was gazing down at her, writhing on his cock, and he wasn't sure that he could control it any longer.

"Good girl," he gasped, hips moving just a little faster, "such a good girl, you take me so well."

She was burning up, skin hot to the touch, every thrust of Bradley's hips only intensifying it. He tried to bring his hand down, intending to stimulate her button of nerves with his fingers to get her off faster, but he was shaking too badly.

His breath grew rushed, desperate. His abdomen tightened, and currents of delicious pleasure began to spark through him. He placed his mouth against hers, an involuntary whimper slipping out into the air between you.

"B-baby, baby, I can't...I'm not gonna last. Oh, fuck. I don't think I can-"

"It's okay," she breathed against his mouth, "come for me."

And with one more deep thrust, he let go, surely coating her spasming walls in his pearlescent release. She shuddered, having always loved the feeling of him filling her in such a way. It was oddly comforting.

After a moment, Bradley fell still against her, desperately trying to catch his breath. Then he slowly withdrew from her, though he wasn't finished with her just yet. He kissed her lips deeply, bringing his hand back down to pleasure her. Two fingers slipped into her soaked cunt, sticky with their shared arousal. With his forehead resting against hers, eyes never leaving her own, her finger fucked her until she was violently shaking, clutching onto him as if her life depended on it.

He didn't stop until she was crying out, gripping his arm hard enough to leave bruises as she came for him, releasing all over his hand as he praised her for being so good for him.

And then she collapsed in a heap, still trying to catch her breath. Bradley kissed her feverish skin, soothing her as she came down from the intensity of it all.

As she relaxed into his body, they basked in the afterglow, both of them so incredibly satisfied, and so in love. Her brunette lover was caught up in the moment, and as his arms tucked around her waist, he whispered two words in her ear that caught her off guard.

"Marry me."

It came out of nowhere. He hadn't even intended to say it in such a moment, and he hadn't even grabbed the ring, but the words were out there now, hanging in the air, unexpected, but welcome. And then her face broke into the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen in his life, musical laughter leaving her lips as she realized what he'd been trying to tell her all along.

"Yes," she whispered, eyes sparkling with immeasurable joy, and unshed tears. "Yes, I will."

His face mirrored her own as a brilliant smile spread across it. She'd said yes. She was going to be his wife, his forever best friend, and in that very moment, his loss for words was no longer an issue. He'd finally found those letters lost under his tongue.

#bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw smut #top gun maverick

[areyougonnabe]

I know nothing about polar exploration! Or Shackleton! But you seem excited about it!

Have a favourite fact you'd like to share?!?

well my two favorite facts have already been shared which are the cautionary tale of the toxic polar polycule and the story of the antarctic lovebirds !!!

but here is a contender for #3... the tale of jessamine.

let's start with our homies Deb (left) and Griff (right), aka Frank Debenham and T. Griffith Taylor, the geologists of terra nova's cape evans shore party:

they would both later go onto impressive careers in academia, start families, basically be well-liked hard-working guys (also participants in 20th century imperialism but let's take that as given based on our starting point of this expedition lol)

BUT we are meeting them here, in antarctica, aged 27 and 30, "Early Career Researchers" as we might call them now. trying to keep busy with SCIENCE during the long antarctic winter night of 1911!!!!!

these guys go way back btw. Deb was born and raised in Australia and and Griff moved to Australia when he was a kid, and they both attended the fancy-schmancy King's School near Sydney, the Australian equivalent of british public school (e.g. Eton). according to griff they were family friends at that time although they would have been a few years apart at school.

later around 1908 they both studied at the University of Sydney under leading geologist Sir Edgeworth David, who had been on Shackleton's Nimrod expedition and reached the South Magnetic Pole with Mawson. They both ended up being hired onto Scott's expedition through university connections, Deb via Professor David and Griff through a scholarship to Cambridge where he met Wilson.

okay. backstory established. now one thing you need to know about Griff is that he was a total freak. like Racovitza, he was a Poster before there were online platforms to Post on. if you had that kind of brain back then, and no access to adderall, you had to just sit around inventing new kinds of science instead of deep-frying spongebob screencaps. he was a consummate edwardian memelord who would read a novel per day and still have time to write 20 pages of diary in which he would floridly record the silliest things that happened since the morning, the various quirks and quotes of expedition members, and then complain about captain scott in shorthand.

to say nothing of his passion for CREATIVE WRITING! vitally, Griff was one of the main contributors to the Cape Evans hut magazine, the South Polar Times edited by Apsley Cherry-Garrard. there were 3 issues of this during the winter of 1911 and 1 issue during the winter of 1912, the latter of which included much material written/submitted during 1911 before the polar party met with tragedy.

Griff was a versatile writer, and his pieces (which would sometimes cumulatively make up nearly half an issue of the SPT by page count) ran the gamut from expository nonfiction to speculative poetry to comedic epistolary to magazine pastiche. he had certain motifs that he frequently returned to—none as compelling, in my opinion, as that of Jessamine. or Jasmine, or Jessie, or Jessica, as the case may be...

it all began, according to Griff's diary, early in the austral winter of 1911, when Deb was "christened Jasmine by Titus [Oates]."

where this nickname came from is unclear—many of the men had picked up female nicknames on the voyage down (see "Jane" Atkinson, "Marie" Nelson, "Penelope" Pennell) but Deb had not been on the voyage down because he had gotten picked up in Australia, so this may have been a belated attempt to correct that omission. Griff wrote in his book about the expedition, "We were short of female society—which lack also accounts for Jessie Debenham as an alternative to Deb."

in any case, the name clearly caught on: on midwinter day, a little under two months after the nickname's debut, Griff recorded that during the gift exchange after dinner "Every second present or so was a necklace or earrings for Miss Jessie Debenham."

(deb and titus at midwinter dinner)

THIS GOT REALLY LONG SO CLICK READ MORE IF YOU ARE INTERESTED!!

in the second SPT issue of 1911, Griff's 17-page narrative "The Bipes" describes the inhabitants of the Cape Evans hut from the perspective of a rabbit who lives in the stables. you can read the whole thing here and please do!!! (you'll need a VPN outside the US) BUT here is the relevant bit dealing with Deb:

U. PULCHERRIMA. This Bipe inhabits a strongly defended Bungkh in the Ubdug burrow. It is supported by mighty baulks of timber and can only be reached by means of a dangerous ladder. The Bungkh is supplied with heavy hammers, piles of stones and other offensive weapons. These precautions are, I believe, necessary in the Bipe courtship, for she is often called upon to repel members of other burrows who approach her balcony with blandishments. Her time is chiefly occupied with a primitive quern or handmill, and at this she grinds for long hours every day. I judge that this merely satisfies some primitive habit, for no flour seems to be produced. But it is pleasant to see how strong is the feminine instinct.

the species name "Pulcherrima" is also the species name of the pointsetta flower, and can be translated to "beautiful woman" (i think??)

here's the illustration produced by Bill Wilson (based on Griff's sketch) to accompany the above - yes that's a portrait of Griff in her bunk and Birdie below attempting to woo her:

it must be noted that Meares, nicknamed "Mother," also gets cast in a female role in the Bipes piece, but does not receive the privilege of being drawn in a skirt, rip.

anyway, the next issue of the SPT, vol 3 issue III, is the last one to be produced before the end of winter. Griff decided to one-up himself and write a piece in which Jessamine takes center stage. The Ladies Letter is a pitch-perfect parody of the "Ladies Column" sections that appeared in many periodicals of the era—full of french fashion terms and simpering style suggestions. Griff brilliantly adapts the format for a pastiche on the subject of Antarctic fashion; not free, naturally, from general whiffs of period-typical misogyny, but as those being mocked in specific are fellow expedition members and not any actual women i forgive him.

written in the form of a letter from Jessamine to her absent friend Cynthia (whose identity i'm unsure of BUT i'm tempted to say is supposed to be Priestley, away at Cape Adare), the piece again features multiple expedition members in female roles, including Silas as "American" Sally Wright, Cherry as "Madame Chérie - that dear delightful person - who builds her beautiful creations on strictly scientific principles of hygiene and aesthetics" and Birdie as Madame Berdé, who "finds that for well developed figures it is most distinctive to use a cross-gartering well above the ankle. She herself is naturally a consistent exponent of this latter fashion."

and then of course there is Jessamine's star turn. she is wearing the newest fashion, "a modification of last year's 'tube skirt' [which] even more closely swathes the lower limbs, and it is necessary that the wearer should be rolled along by her maid."

Jessamine reveals that she is planning to induce Titus Oates to bring her a proposal of marriage through the clever use of themed charms on her chatelaine.

All the smartest girls have wreathed chains of mascots around the skirt, and a pretty idea, which I commend to you, is to have silver model made of those articles which interest THE ONLY MAN WHO COUNTS. Breathe this to no one! But Mappin & Webb are making me such a choice set. The cutest little pony; a horse snowshoe (this is very lucky); a dead rabbit; a popgun; and a silver blazon PER MARE PER TERRAM PRO TITO; this will be attached to my 'tube', and then I really do expect to bring him to a proposal.

this scenario was illustrated hilariously by Bill, complete with Jessamine being rolled along, and Titus ignoring her as could be expected, in favor of a pony (Christopher?):

now, Deb is on record saying that Titus was his best friend on the expedition, but it may well be a classic case of "you are not your best friend's best friend," because per other accounts Oates was much closer to Meares and Atch than he was to Deb. that's just an observation to add a little flavor to Jessamine's desperate pursuit as portrayed here...

and not to look a gift horse (ha) in the mouth, but i do feel that Bill's illustrations don't quiiiiiite do the genderfuckery of Griff's text justice—Jessamine describes herself as wearing a frock inspired by the aurora, but Bill instead draws Deb in normal sledging gear plus some non-dress-shaped colorful streamers. a missed opportunity...

also, lest you think that Griff was the only one partaking in the Jessamine joke in the SPT, there is also a sneaky reference in the anonymous feature "My Favorite Book":

(J-SS-- [JESSIE]: "Not like other girls")

BUT WAIT. THERE'S EVEN MORE.

viewing the handwritten drafts of the SPT held at the SPRI (because all of this is going to be an actual academic paper someday hopefully lol), i learned that there were a fair handful of references omitted from the final version, presumably thanks to Cherry's editorial oversight.

one "answer to correspondents" written by "Marie" Nelson went as follows:

Jessica: A single lady cannot be too careful about the respectability of her lodgings or the character of her companions.

(referencing Deb bunking with Griff and Gran, two of the more annoying/messy people in the hut)

and an unused entry in "Songs And Their Singers" by Teddy Evans was:

Oh What’s Womans Duty - Jasmin

lastly, and most importantly, the drafts contained the one instance i could find of deb firing back about this whole thing.

vol IV of the SPT consisted of one issue released during winter 1912, when a lot of people had gone home (including Griff), and everyone left behind knew the polar party was dead and they'd have to go look for their bodies in the spring. it was not a fun time. vol IV contained a lot of material written the previous year but not included, since for obvious reasons folks weren't really up to being silly. one of those pieces was "A Day's Doings, Told By Our Diarist," written during winter 1911 by Deb as a parody of Griff. it's pretty funny in published form (p. 72 of this pdf)—Deb is on-point mocking Griff's dislike of eating ("Breakfast is an unintellectual meal, so gave it a miss. Better a bit more bunk than a bite more breakfast.") and his never-ending theorizing ("Thought out a new theory as to the origin of debris cones: yesterday’s wasn’t good enough").

however, the draft is exponentially more hilarious. Cherry, damn him, cut the absolute BEST BIT:

Made a genre sketch of Jasmine brushing her (his) hair – it’s a fool nickname anyways, mixes up the genders. 

knowing Deb—quiet, patient, chronically non-confrontational—that's about as explicit as he was willing to get, as far as revealing how he felt about the nickname. writing Griff realizing that it's a bit silly, he reveals to some degree his own discomfort. now, was it a "protest too much" situation or had he genuinely gotten fed up with being the Designated Girl Of The Hut? we shall never know!!!!!!!!

however the draft of the piece ends thusly: "[I] got paralysed at chess by the wily Jasmine, it’s a mud game, if ever there was one. Hinc illae lacrimae!"

so despite all the aspersions cast on her honor, and the failure of Titus Oates to accept her proposal, Jessie still triumphs in the end :)))

#polar exploration #now with more gender

[rmd-writes]

'tis the season

@stereopticons tagged me to share my winter/holiday fics because 'tis the damn season! I love a winter/holiday fic despite the fact that I live in the southern hemisphere and today is 1 December and the temperature hit 35C today 😰

Schitt's Creek

and then one day, everything changed | T | 9.1k | canon divergence

All David wants to do is sign Marcy Brewer on to sell her amazing fudge at Rose Apothecary. Unfortunately for him, her very snippy, business consultant son gets involved. In an effort to win both Marcy and Patrick over, David invites Patrick to spend some time in the store and on a vendor trip. There’s snow forecast for the day of the vendor trip, but it’s Schitt’s Creek and it never snows. Right?

it's just for snow | E | 18.1k | coffee shop / fake dating AU

When David gets a last minute wedding invitation and Stevie refuses to go with him, he needs to find another date - he needs to show his so-called 'friends' (and Sebastien Raine) that he's thriving now. Enter: David's new favourite barista... — aka the coffee shop / fake dating / road trip / snowed in / there was only one bed fic no one asked for

since we've got no place to go | E | 6k | canon compliant

Patrick books a winter weekend away so that he and David can connect.

Red, White & Royal Blue

you're all that i need | M | 3.9k | coffee shop/book store AU

“Alex.” Henry leans against the wall behind the counter with his arms folded, wearing a pale blue cable knit sweater with the sleeves pushed up and navy chinos. Alex wishes he wouldn’t because it only emphasises his forearms.

He crosses his own arms in response. “Henry.”

“Are you actually looking for a book?” Henry asks with a sigh. “Or are you just wasting my staff’s time?”

“That staff member is my sister.”

“I’m well aware,” Henry says drily. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re probably wasting her time. Which book are you looking for?”

“Oh.” Alex grimaces slightly. “I’m not actually–” He exhales. “Hunter is in the coffee shop, so I got the fuck out.”

yours for the afternoon | T | 4.6k | coffee shop / fake dating AU

Henry is quietly minding his own business in his favourite coffee shop, when he’s rudely interrupted by an insufferable man attempting to flirt with him. He’s rescued by none other than Alex – a fellow cafe regular who he’s long admired from a distance – posing as his date.

Snowed In? Snow Problem | E | 7.3k | college AU

Henry and Alex get snowed in at their dorm for the holidays, whatever will they do?

911 Lone Star

Make the Yuletide Gay | M | 19.6k | college / fake dating AU

"I'll be your boyfriend for Christmas."

Carlos stares at him like his brain is struggling to comprehend what TK is offering. It's a shared feeling, given that sometimes TK's brain engages before his filter does, and this is definitely one of those times. There’s no room for regrets, though, and he’s not really sure he regrets making the suggestion.

“TK,” Carlos starts softly. "What you're suggesting is— Well, it's a little crazy but also very generous. I can’t ask you to do that for me. It’s really too much to ask of anyone."

TK gets up off his bed and crouches in front of Carlos, his hands on Carlos’s knees. “Firstly, you're not asking, I’m offering. Secondly, consider it a social experiment, like the ones you learn about in class. Except this one directly involves you and me...as your fake boyfriend. You know, for science." --

Fake boyfriends. For science.

Your Place or Mine? | E | 4.5k | college AU

(the sequel to Make the Yuletide Gay)

From best friends to fake boyfriends to real boyfriends, it’s been an eventful few days for TK and Carlos, but now they’re finally back home and alone.

Whatever will they do?

Tagging @welcometololaland @liminalmemories21 @strandnreyes @three-drink-amy @everwitch-magiks @indomitable-love @cha-melodius @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @inexplicablymine @lemonlyman-dotcom @carlos-in-glasses @alrightbuckaroo @iboatedhere @reyesstrand @lightningboltreader @indestructibleheart @lilythesilly @maxbegone @mostlyinthemorning and anyone else who wants to play to share their own winter/holiday fics!

#'tis the season #winter/holiday fics #rwrb fic #firstprince fic #tarlos fic #911 lone star fic #sc fic #schitt's creek fic #rmd writes: ls #rmd writes: rwrb #rmd writes: sc

[pandemic-info]

At Yale’s Long COVID Clinic, Lisa Sanders Is Trying It All

excerpts:

Since the beginning of the pandemic, she — together with colleagues in the pulmonary and neurology departments — had been seeing long-COVID patients at Yale but often in an ad hoc way. Some of the doctors had become so flooded with people seeking help that they were having difficulty scheduling and treating their regular patients who came to them for everything else ...

Long-COVID patients, generally speaking, have been very miserable for a very long time, and because the illness attacks their brains, their hearts, their lungs, their guts, their joints — sometimes simultaneously, sometimes intermittently, and sometimes in a chain reaction — they bounce from specialist to specialist, none of whom has the bandwidth to hear their whole frustrating ordeal together with the expertise to address all of their complaints: the nonspecific pain, the perpetual exhaustion, the bewildering test results, the one-off treatments. “These are people who have not been able to tell their story to anybody but their spouse and their mom — for years sometimes,” Sanders tells me. “And they are, in some ways, every doctor’s worst nightmare.”

...

Long COVID has been pushing the limits of hospital systems everywhere, not just at Yale. As Americans emerged from the most acute phase of the pandemic, as mask and vaccine mandates lifted and life returned to a semblance of normal for the people who had contracted COVID and recovered, primary-care physicians started to say, “‘I’m not interested in long COVID,’ or ‘I don’t treat long COVID. Let me refer you to a specialist,’” said David Putrino, who runs the new chronic-illness recovery clinic at Mount Sinai. For their part, Putrino added, the specialists were saying, “This is not what my practice is. This is not an emergency anymore.” Patients all over the country reported monthslong waiting times for appointments at long-COVID clinics. All the while, scientists and pundits heaped skepticism on the very notion of long COVID, arguing that infection made people stronger, that new variants posed no threats, that the danger of long COVID was overblown — implying that what patients were suffering from was all in their heads.

Forgotten in this debate are the 65 million people worldwide for whom the pandemic remains a torturous everyday reality.

...

In the late 1990s, patients with a galaxy of unexplained chronic symptoms — including fatigue, sore throat, joint pain, insomnia, dizziness, brain fog, and depression — began to gather into activist and identity groups, calling themselves sufferers of “chronic Lyme.” They had something, they argued, related to a previous infection from the bite of a deer tick, but their doctors were dismissing them as whiners and neurotics. This was in an era when the medical Establishment was rolling its collective eyes at patients who were querying whether diagnoses of “chronic fatigue syndrome” or “fibromyalgia” might fit their symptoms — ones that looked very much like those linked to chronic Lyme.

Sanders joined the chorus of debunkers. These patients had real symptoms and real ailments, she asserted in Every Patient Tells a Story. But the collection of symptoms was “hopelessly broad and overinclusive,” she wrote. “These are some of the most common symptoms of patients presenting to a primary care office.” She concluded that chronic Lyme was a “phantom diagnosis.” 

“I completely regret that chapter,” she says now. “I would like to rewrite it.” Sanders explains that she was reacting to the doctors who were preying on suffering people by prescribing interminable courses of antibiotics that were not helping them: “But I completely misunderstood it. The patients were making the connection between their symptoms and Lyme disease.”

...

“We’re not paying enough attention,” she said. “We’re not. Doctors are still dismissing this disease as something that’s in your head. I have seen the exchanges on Twitter: ‘Long COVID is exaggerated, not real.’” Women are diagnosed with long COVID at roughly twice the rate of men, Iwasaki pointed out: “I think if the situation was reversed, we’d pay even more attention to this disease.” - Akiko Iwasaki, immunologist at Yale [also known for her work nasal vaccine & long covid research]

...

But even Sanders was not prepared for how little doctors and scientists know about long COVID. There is no blood test. Health officials can’t even agree on how to define it. The CDC describes long COVID as “signs, symptoms, and conditions that continue or develop after acute COVID-19 infection” — or, in Sanders’s paraphrase, “You got COVID and then something bad happened.” Under the CDC definition, patients have long COVID if they are symptomatic at least four weeks after initial infection. The WHO defines it similarly but with a different time frame: occurring or lasting at least three months after initial infection. This discrepancy matters to Sanders because, as much as possible, she wants to identify patients who have long COVID and not those who may take a little longer to recover from their original illness. In her clinic, she uses the WHO definition.

...

Sanders, more than ever before, is dependent on the patient’s account — on detailed specifics — to establish her diagnosis. It’s a process of elimination and deduction. So she has “learned just to shut the fuck up and listen.”

#covid #long covid #article #medicine #ny mag #yale #re: 'I don't know anyone with long covid' #re: 'JUST get treatment' #lyme #me/cfs #mecfs #fibromyalgia #akiko iwasaki #womens health

[thatmaxcontent]

East Blue Polycule, yeah? Let me headcanon-dump onto you, stranger who didn't ask for it!

They overall love one another equally (in their own unique ways), but they do have favorites (keep it a secret though 🤭🤫🫡).

Luffy doesn't favor anyone in particular, but he has the most fun with Usopp and the most 'emotional' (big quotes on that) times with Zoro.

Speaking of the Lettuce Demon, his favorite is obviously Luffy, I need not elaborate on this point. He was the first and he will be the last.

Sanji's favorites are Nami and Usopp, Nami in the more silly yet beloving sense. She'll often tease him for being such a simpy simp, but will happily give him some love every now and then. Usopp is constantly around, not just Sanji but the whole crew, and through that Nicotine Kicker kind of just got used to him being THE first one he'd go to (aside captainly stuff and such). They behave more like married folks who've been together for around 10 years most of the time, but this doesn't take away from Sanji's simpyness. Sanji simps for all his partners, but he only visibly does it with Nami and semi-visibly with Usopp. The other two are far more casual.

Nami's favorite is Vivi (surprise! I got this idea from another post, I don't remember the poster, but aaaugh I love it!!!), but out of the crew it's Usopp. Vivi and Nami are one-to-one, the blue gurl isn't dating anyone else. They keep in contact by constantly sending each other letters and SNÄILIN'!!! Usopp is Nami's crew-favorite because... well... they're besties. They bond over so much, and they're the most open in the relationship with one another (close second being Luffy and Zoro tied with Sanji and Usopp, followed by Luffy and Nami, ect ect).

Usopp's favorites are Nami (because of stated bonding) and Sanji (because of their incredible connection), but Luffy deserves an honorable mention as Usopp spends a lot of time and has a blast with him!! Sometimes they also take two-on-two time, rarely it can turn into a little bit of a quiet session, but usually they rave about future adventures and plans. Sometimes Luffy makes Usopp come up with a 'bedtime story', but it's just an excuse to see the sniper get so passionate and think about another adventure!

(This is also from that other poster, aaaaa thank you for infecting my brain with this incredible rot) Aside Vivi, Kaya is dating both Nami and Usopp! They rarely manage to talk, but when they do their sessions are long and if someone disturbs them it's game over for them!

Now onto the funsy headcanons!

Nami and Usopp browse magazines together on a daily basis (sometimes Robin joins them as the cool mother of the group), and they plan some cool and absolutely ✨️SLAY✨️ outfits none of them can ever wear.

Zoro and Sanji have a little bit of a play-competition going on constantly. They get genuinely pissed off by the other often times, but sometimes they make something a competition as an excuse to angrily make out against the kitchen wall (they definitely 'sword'fight about who tops)

Luffy doesn't completely process the relationship as a, well, romantic relationship. He's more in it for the good times, and because he loves the peeps! He's overall fine with more strictly romantically-viewed things, but sometimes he just doesn't want to. One second he will say "Zoro, crush me with your arms", the next he sees Franky and Robin (the cool parents) kissing and he goes "BLEUGH I'm going to need a shovel to transport this bullshit out of my mouth BLEHHHHHH"

Usopp is the most insecure and unstable in the relationship. He's very people-pleasery, while also trying to keep up a persona. If he ever emotionally talks it's usually to Nami, sometimes to Sanji within the relationship, but outside of it he confides in Franky (the awesome dadster) and Jinbe (the ultimately best grandpops). He tries to get better, but fails to realise how. He has fun with everyone, seeks to be around them at all times, but sometimes he can't help but disappear. If you don't see him at breakfast give him until lunch, at that point it's suitable to check-in. Who knows what the thoughts in his head have made him do.

Sanji has a dedicated notebook/ramblebook about each one of the peeps. Sometimes when he can't sleep, or someone just did something he found notable, he whips out a book and starts going "September 1st, 1989, dear diary-" oh shit, wrong fandom.

Zoro is the one that has to be dragged into things the most, he does go willingly as well but his solitude is important to him. This being said he usually doesn't mind Luffy or Usopp chilling around if he's laying back, sometimes they can ramble and do their own thing as well. A lot of the time it's just sitting and silently contemplating on things, with Usopp at least. If Luffy doesn't have stimulation for five seconds he'll gomu-gomu the ship.

Nami absolutely loves physical contact, but sometimes feels bad that she can't see her girlfriends and feel them around. In these cases she'll request some physical space until things have settled, but sometimes that can make her even more clingy. She usually seeks out Usopp, but will cling onto someone else if he isn't to be seen.

Luffy found a new appreciation for various relationship through the polycule. This also helped him think more healthily about his past, those who are gone and those who are alive. He's managed to settle some feelings, but a lot of experiences still hinder his head. He doesn't think about those things that much, and besides if he feels down he will quite literally start deflating. A quick munch of food, mention of stories or a good song will always cheer him right up.

Usopp actively leaves gifts for everyone around the ship (to the ones outside the relationship as well, but extra for the peeps). They're handmade, and they range from silly notes/drawings with cheesy jokes to actual equipment/tools and sometimes even clothing and jewelry.

I COULD GO ON FOR SO LONG, BUT IF YOU READ THIS FAR THANK YOU FOR BEING AN ENJOYER!!!! And drink some water, you're dehydrated you fucking amazing dewdrop angel baby

HAVE A GOOD TIMEZONE!!!

#one piece #god usopp #black leg sanji #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #usopp one piece #vinsmoke sanji #one piece luffy #cat burglar nami #one piece nami #text post #east blue polycule #headcanon #shipping #long post

[tarjapearce]

Hey, I wanna say i really really like the way you write fics. It feels??? Natural?? To read it?? Always an adventure everytime I read a fic of yours.

How do you write so good?? I'm a writer as well and I'd love to hear your tips and tricks ^^

First of all, I wanna thank you for liking the crap stuff I write. (Cause I'm genuinely amazed some times that people just like it and I'm not saying this because.)

⚠️⚠️LONG AND POSSIBLE CONTROVERSIAL ANSWER AHEAD ⚠️⚠️

It's kinda funny, ngl. Lemme tell you something, I don't know if you guys struggle with Impostor Syndrome a lot like me, but everytime someone gives a compliment like this my brain just goes into self sabotaging mode.

In the outside its :

But in the inside, my brain immediately goes:

Cause I'm aware that I can do better. (And we will ~) it's weird. I'm always striving to do better.

As for the tips and tricks, I'm surely not the right person to ask advice from 😅, but Imma just tell you this from what I experience and from my perspective (Hopefully won't get backlash from this, if not, R. I. P. me jsksj) Be warned though, it's kinda contradictory cause writing is hard yo!

1. You gotta read. Either books or whatever your favorite genre is, but you gotta read. I consume fan fics and non fanfics cause you learn from other people too. I read fanfics mostly to know new words, how the character develops and the like.

I read more spanish stuff than anything. Which I try to transfer to what I write.

2. I try to keep it as simple as possible. With that I mean to not over embellish words cause it gets boring and weird. Sure, everyone wants to make their fanfics pretty (nothing wrong in that) but sometimes I feel that less is more. Like, nothing wrong if you wanna poet the f- out of your fic. (THIS IS A DOUBLE EDGED ONE SO BE CAREFUL!!)

I mean there is a huge difference in reading:

"The anger and frustration on her way of living was taking a toll on her mind"

and:

"Her nemesism had muddled her mind into an endless spiral of what ifs and what not, and frankly if her mind could speak, it'd beg for a break."

It's hard to pick one style, but as long as you keep it consistent, I guess it's all good (?) (Funny cause I always aim for the second one and end up in the first jsksj and I dont even know myself if I'm keeping it consistent)

3. Get yourself a beta reader that doesn't coddle you. It helps alot!!!! Cause again, compliments sure are nice, but they don't tell you where you could get better. ✨( Unless the reader provides puntual feedback on what they liked and what not. Those are my favorites and a rare gem ❤️)

4. I know this one is hard because everyone at some point have done this. But IF YOU COMPARE yourself to other writers? You'll lose yourself. Not only you'll lose motivation cause you seem unable to write like them, but you will fall into this... vicious circle of self deprecating and burnout. And the self doubt sky rockets nonstop.

Everyone is different. Everyone learns in a different pace. Trust me, I wanted to make great stories with a good looking writing when I had the slightest idea of what I was doing (Still do!) 😂. Writing fanfics is not a competition to who writes more beautiful/good/professional than others. Or who has more notes or the most canon-stuck character, or the cause let's face it, none will get a character's personality to a 100%!!! (And that's ok cause it's fanfiction and we all have a different approach to the character either emotional or mental) .

Personally for me, the cockyest thing someone can do is to claim to know a character more than the creators themselves. Kinda rude for me, if you ask . Like, sure feeling a deep connection with a character doesn't mean it'll grant us instant access to their whole self. Characters just like us evolve. Either for the good or the bad, but they don't remain the same, so knowing them completely is a big fat lie. Unless stated by the creator. (But we're delusional in this site, so~)

I mean, sure characterization is something we all struggle since we guide ourselves by some of the character's most prominent traits and make them their default personality. (I've sinned in this jsksj so don't worry)

5. HAVE FUN AND TAKE BREAKS. I mean it. The favorite things I've written is where Im genuinely having fun writing it. But also after a well deserved rest. Cause if something doesn't feel right, it won't be right. And burnout is easier to get at than we actually think.

6. I recently started to follow writing advice blogs, one of my favorite @heywriters.

@she-who-fights-and-writes. (They have amazing writing resources, so does Pinterest and YouTube. Seize them!!!)

But yeah, I'm still an amateur on this, I make emphasis in the 5th one tho.

Hope this helps you? ;w;.

Love you❤️✨

Thanks for stopping by. ❤️

#talking with t✨ #personal takes #thoughts on my writing