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thir10th · 13 hours

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hey lovely! can I request a fic where r is feeling insecure with her body lately and emily shows how beautiful she is? fluff w some smut if you feel comfortable :)

Hi anon! your timing couldn't be better. This has been sitting on my drafts for weeks, i kinda hated it, but you just gave me an excuse to get back to it, so thank you for that and for requesting! Hope you like it <3

will you? - Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

summary: see the ask. I changed it a bit but the main idea is still there tw: insecure reader, face-sitting, oral sex, body image, tiny bit of angst (blink and you miss it) a/n: this one might be a bit messy but i still enjoyed writing it! like & reblog <3

You throw your bag far away when you enter the hotel room. This case was getting hard, nothing was making sense, and you had been working for the past 14 hours none stop.

You need to ether sleep, eat something, a shower, or an orgasm. Or maybe all of them

but that isn't an option right now, because you're mad at her.

You aren't even sure why you had gotten so upset about it, its not like she had actually done anything, but you were still annoyed.

You were actually mad at yourself, more than at your girlfriend, but her words still resonating on your head wouldn't go away.

Emily's arms wrapping around your waist make you jump, getting you out of your thoughts.

Hugging you from behind, she rests her face on your shoulder, you feel her warm breath on your neck, she kisses your cheek lovingly.

Her arms leave your waist to reach your shoulders, her hands massage your arms which makes you close your eyes in pleasure, relying on her touch. Maybe staying mad wasn't that worth it.

"You know what i think you need?" she moves a strand of hair to kiss the curve of your neck "mh- what?" you say, a smile of pleasure starting to form on your lips

"I think you know what" she answers, you can feel her smile against your skin, her teeth brushing against your shoulder, and then you realize what she has in mind

"No, no, Em, absolutely not" You refuse, pulling away from her touch, turning around to look at her, crossing your arms.

"ugh i can't believe you're still thinking about it, after this morning" there it is, you are pushing her away again.

Why is she so insistent though, why can't she just read your mind and understand?

"Ok, ok I'm sorry, I just don't understand. You're always so open to trying new stuff, and that, just... i don't know, baby, i just want to know why you don't want it, that's all" She says, her hand reaching to rest on your arm to comfort you.

You just can't tell her, you're too ashamed. That same morning your girlfriend had suggested you tried something new in bed. She had asked you, boldly, (like she always did) to sit on her face.

She had insisted so much, you had denied every time.

Really, what was there to hate? your beautiful girlfriend was literally asking you to fuck her face, to eat you out, to give you full control. But you just couldn't do it.

"c'mon, baby, i just want to understand" she is being gentle, using her persuasion skills on you, calling you by the special pet name that would only come out in moments of special intimacy or vulnerability

She knows how to get to you, and that only makes you angrier.

You take her hand off your arm, getting yourself away from her, you need to be alone.

"I'm gonna go take a shower, try to keep it in your pants while i'm gone, all right?" you spit at her, and seeing her mouth-opened expression, you regret it inmidiately.

Standing under the warm stream of water helps you get your mind off of things for a while, while you wander what's exactly got you all worked up like this.

Emily doesn't deserve any of this, she had been nothing but sweet. Yes, she has been insistent about it, but that doesn't mean she had to be hit in the face with your own insecurities.

Getting out of the shower you stare at your reflection on the bathroom mirror. God, you hate how it makes you feel, but what you hate the most is how you're paying your own frustrations with your girlfriend.

Wrapped in a bathrobe, you get out, ready to face an angry Emily, instead she lays on the bed, already on her sleep clothes, reading with her book resting on her knees

"Em?" you try, she looks at you from over her book, then gets back to reading

"You're not gonna talk to me?" you ask

"whenever you're ready to actually talk to me, then I will. I'll try to keep it in my pants in the meantime, though" she shoots back in a sarcastic tone.

She's right, you shouldn't have said that, it had been a low blow.

You sit beside her, taking the book from her hands and placing it on the nightstand. She looks at you with mixed anger and sadness.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, you know i didn't, this is just hard for me" you try to explain. "Look, I just don't think it's a good idea, alright?"

"I don't ever want to make you uncomfortable, but i want you to talk to me, i've been trying to get to you, and you just shut me out" she says, sitting upright on her spot on the bed, taking your hands on hers, looking you in the eyes

"it's just... i don't want to... hurt you" her mouth falls open once again "hurt me? that's what this is all about? baby c'mon, you won't hurt me, why do you say that?" her tone switches to full concern now, the previous argument already forgotten

"yes, i will, I will choke you with this big stupid things and you won't ever want to go down on me again" you finally let out

"well... I'll die a happy woman then" she chuckles, trying to downplay it

"Ok, baby, listen to me" she holds your face with both her hands, forcing you to look at her, the tenderness of her gaze deepening into you

"i love every part of you, even the ones you don't like, thighs included" she waits for an answer but you don't say anything.

Emily lifts your your chin with her finger, and leaves a soft peck on your lips, the contact makes you relax instantly

"you are smart" she says, leaving another soft kiss on your cheek

"and beautiful" now getting your other cheek

"and sexy" she kisses your nose this time

"and so, so hot" she moves back to kiss your lips again, and you chuckle nervously at her words

"what can i do to help you believe me?" you shake your head "let me bury myself into you, please" her pleading is getting too much, her thumb caresses your face so softly, so tenderly.

How could you deny her anything when she asks so sweetly? you finally nod, the huge smile spreading along her face

"Em, are you sure?” you ask, biting at your lip as you watch your girlfriend sit on the edge of the bed and recline back, laying face-up atop the covers with an eager grin spread across her face. “I might weigh too much…”

Emily raises her head up and shoots you a look. “Honey, I’m positive,” she says, trying to keep the whine out of her voice.

She wants you on her so badly she can barely stand it, eyes flickering between your face and the bathrobe that covers your thick, delectable thighs from view.

A moment of deliberation passes, then, without another word, you reach down and untie the soft white hotel bathrobe, letting it slide down your arms to fall to the floor at your feet, leaving you completely naked in a matter of seconds

"fuck" you hear her mutter "you're so beautiful" Emily breathes

“Not as beautiful as you” you murmur as she clambers onto the bed.

You crawl up it until you are kneeling beside Emily's head, the mattress dipping slightly beneath your combined weight.

“Is it okay if I…?”

“Yes.” her decisiveness tells you she wasn't joking, she does want this more than you had thought

You take a deep breath in and then lift a leg, swinging it over Emily and settling it on the other side of her head so that you are straddling her, your cunt hovering mere inches over Emily's mouth.

"Promise me you will tell me if i'm too heavy, or if you can't breath" too excited to resist, Emily reaches up to thumb at your clit.

“I will” she says, sliding her free hand along your thigh, rubbing comforting circles into the soft skin.

“I promise you i will tap you twice, but i won't need it" she reassures. "You’re gorgeous—fuck, I wanna taste you so bad.”

Cautiously, you lowered yourself down enough that your near-dripping pussy was just barely pressing against Emily’s face.

You were planning to keep as still as possible in order to resist the urge to squeeze your thighs around Emily or put too much weight on her, but that idea flew out the window almost immediately after her tongue darted out, flattening itself against the lips of your pussy before dragging upward and settling at the soft nub of your clit.

“Oh,” you gasp, giving a shuddery little jerk of your hips before you can stop yourself.

Emily moans in reply, the sound vibrating against your walls and causes you to whimper again.

Her tongue flicks out, circling your clit and applying occasional pressure, whilst two fingers push inside you, crook and rubbing at your sennsitive inner walls.

You shudder and gasp, quickly losing yourself to the feeling.

“Oh, fuck, Emily,” you gasp out, finally giving in to the temptation to reach down and fist her hand into her silky hair.

Your girlfriend lets out another appreciative moan when you give it a rough tug, the vibrations making every feeling intensify.

Losing yourself to the pleasure, you rock your hips against Emily, knees pressing hard into the mattress. She has always been an expert on driving you wild like this.

Her nose rubbing right at your clit and you couldn’t help but moan, gripping tighter on the headboard. God, she has the perfect nose for this.

Emily’s mouth wrap around you, tongue sinking into your pussy as far as she can while she sucks at you, eagerly lapping your juices into her mouth.

Her hands groped at your ass, encouraging you to roll your hips, effectively riding her face.

She keeps up the pace, mouthing desperately at your clit until you can feel yourself letting go.

Hips stuttering and then stalling. Your thighs shook up, inner walls spasming around Emily’s fingers as you fall over the edge and into bliss.

“Oh fuck! Fuck, Em...” You breath out, your chest heaving as you very slowly open your eyes, coming down to earth as Emily leaves little kitten licks on your cunt, sucking up as much of your juices as she could.

Your body shudders when her nose brushes against you again, this time an accident and she chuckles softly, helping you swing your leg over her and drop onto the bed beside her.

Emily stays put, lying face-up as she catches her breath. Then, once she feels able to, she rolls onto her side and grins at you.

"good?" she asks, her fingers softly playing with your hair

"absolutely perfect" You reply with a dreamy smile, pulling her to you for a kiss. You can't help but moan into her mouth at the taste of yourself on her tongue.

"I'm really sorry of what i said, Em" you said, keeping you face close to hers, holding her

"It's ok, I know you were upset. I just want you to know that i love every single part of your body, no exceptions" you kiss her sweetly, her words causing a warm feeling to spread on your stomach

"you're perfect" you say, pulling her in for another kiss

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope you like it! reqs are still open!

#emily prentiss #wlw #criminal minds x reader #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss x reader #lesbian #emily prentiss lesbian #lesbian pride #wlw fanfic #wlw smut #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds smut #criminal minds #emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss fandom #emily prentiss x jj

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svftloving · 2 days

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breakin their heart (pt 1)! yandere knights of favonius ଓ

tw. yandere, obsessive + posessive behavior, delusional behavior, clingyness, stalking, kidnapping, drugging, rumors & being pressured into things (reader)!

notes. rewritten based on the old post (which has been DELETED,, rip 😔 dw though the others are still privated) enjoy loves (and i hope you like this style of my writing!!) ♡

jean:

oh boy. she does NOT take it well. she's literally like :(( the whole time.

girl is trying her hardest to stay calm but it's hard 😔 the love of her life is literally leaving her,, how can someone not expect her to freak out?? she's trying her damn hardest to convince u to stay. it's her busy work schedule isn't it? she'll make time for you, she swears!! you can even stay in her office as she works if it's not possible. just don't go...

(jean doesn't come to the conclusion that no, her work is not one of the main reasons why you're trying to break up with her. it's her freakish obsessive behavior. and no, she probably won't ever come to that fact either. definitely gaslights herself and goes right back to thinking that her load of work is the main and ONLY reason why ur trying to leave).

when the words leave your lips, she's shaking. blunt and icy, jean's not used to u sounding so cold! her hands are trembling and she can't bear to look at you, drowning your words out because archons...she bear to look at you right now. she already knows that she'll break down into tears and start sobbing pathetically.

keeps quiet and most likely let's you leave with only a few pleading words. you deserve someone better, someone that actually has the time to love and care for you, but by the gods...she couldn't (and wouldn't) let that happen! you both belong together, even if you don't seem to see it.

(which is totally understandable, she gets it, she gets u! she'll be better just for you <3)

overloads herself with work, paperwork mostly. duties related outside remind her too much of you. she'll pass by windrise and literally start bawling (that tree over there was the same one where u both had you're first date!). the other knights are extremely worried about her, and it's not too hard to put the pieces together.

(lisa walked into her office once to her literally sobbing while holding a picture of you in her arms,, her sadness is very easy to see)

some of the knights try (maybe even forcefully hint at it too? they're desperate) to get you back with jean,, coming into ur house and informing you of her behavior. if that doesn't work, jean will...eventually take things into her own hands.

gifts and a overwhelming flow of letters sent to you are her ways of getting you back! ur door is practically loaded with stuff and you always end up tripping over something when you walk out the door. her gifts are sentimental and always (attempt) to alick a memory back into ur head.

(the pink roses she leaves you brings up the time she made a whole garden just for you, or the fancy set of jewelry u once mentioned that you wanted. she has a good memory and writes anything you mention you want down in case she forgets <3)

if you even show the slightest bit of fondness in her gifts/letters, jean immediately takes this as you wanting to get back together. and boy,, does she start amping her efforts up to 100%. i can see her also starting to act a little better and the other knights are just like 'jean seems to be getting better! we should try to help out so she's feeling better again!' and start pressuring you again. they, along with jean, are very persistent and won't stop until you get back with her :))

amber:

thinks ur very silly and just kisses your cheek! just another silly moment from her darling partner, you're hilarious! it'll take a while to convince her otherwise that no, you aren't being 'silly' right now and that you want to break up with her because she's an obsessed weirdo.

(and to stop trying to tickle u in an attempt to make you laugh. because she will definitely bounce on the fact as soon as she sees you start to crack a smile. she knew you were joking! you're smiling and everything!)

and even then, after showing her that you actually mean it, she's...laughing. it's strained and slightly nervous, but she's laughing. her lips twist into a (fake) smile and she justs itching to grab you. ur arm or anything! you have to be joking...right? her smile will widen into a grin that makes you uneasy, though u stay quiet.

opposite of jean completely, doesn't even try to hide how upset she is. just starts clinging into ur arm and begging and pleading for you to stay. oh archons, you can't leave her, please! please, don't go! please...? she begs of you...

you'll literally have to drag yourself back home with her clinging onto ur leg /hj. she will NOT let you leave omg 😭 on a serious note though you could probably just push her off (u gotta use your muscles her grip is tight as hell 😔) and just leave her there sobbing. she'll get over it, amber always does! it's for the best for both of your sakes (...mostly for ur sake though).

amber comes to work looking a MESS. eyes puffy and hair all frazzled. everyone's worried for her and wondering what happened, and soon she just starts sobbing again. she's misses you so much and will literally start crying in the arms of whoever embraces her first 😭

once the knights are informed of the situation (because unlike jean, amber can't help herself and spits out everything),, they're going RIGHT to u. you think you're about to be arrested one day when two knights are at your door but they're literally just there to get you back with her lmao

girlie is a mess without u. she can't eat, sleep, work, nothing. all she can think of is you and it's just so hard to get out of bed 😔 she will...someday with the pursuit of getting you back! yep, that's what she'll do and she'll do it well!

boy,, she does NOT leave you alone for even a second. she's all over u and literally acting as if ur still dating. she's buying you gifts, food (tons of food, lots of food), and even writing you letters (even if she's not...all that good at it- she's trying her hardest, okay??). the knights are also helping her too because seeing the energetic outsider so depressed is not something they want to see :(( ...atleast they care??

give her a inch she takes a fucking MILE. thanking her for paying for your food? you obviously want her back omg,, it's a sign!! she's squealing and literally so happy and ur just trying to enjoy the food and just 😐🍕

(she knew you wanted her back!! she just needed to court you again and gain ur love back! she promises she'll never make the same mistake again, she swears!! she knows how much u hate her popping into ur house unannouced and stealing your stuff so she won't do it! ...as much)

kaeya:

woe is him and he is woe... 😔

he's just so hurt, heartbroken even. the love of his life is breaking up with him, just leaving him as if the relationship between you both wasn't anything. he's just so sad,, sniffle sniffle...

...

seriously, though. he's just :)) throughout ur whole breakup speech. you'll be going off on how u noticed he's been stalking you and the way hes been distancing you away from ur loved ones and he's just grinning and shit.

obviously this pisses u off because he's just taking this so...nonchalantly?? archons,, you can't stand him! u walk out steaming and he can't help but grin and watch you walk away. he's confident, that's for sure. like he knows you'll come back.

but how wrong he is, because unfortunately (for him) you don't! he watches you even before the 'break up' and he's watching you now,, and you seem so...relaxed. happy, even. better off without him in your life.

(this won't do at all. don't you know u mean so fondly to him? don't you know he can't live without you? your disregardment for his feelings really breaks his heart, y'know?)

has a very particular plan on winning u back up his sleeves,, just you wait :)) it'll all start with him being so kind and gifting you things you know you want (or need), and being a corny lovey dovey letter writer (shakespeare wannabe). this'll last for a good month or so and if he sees no sign of process,, it's time for the other part of his plan!

(he obviously has layers to this. this is you he's trying to win back, he's gotta put in all the stops!)

this...is the part where things get a little messy for u 😬 he necessarily doesn't want to,, but his other plans revolve him doing worser (hint! hiding you away is one of them!), so this is for the best for both of ya, okay?

people are going to start avoiding you. with some, it's sudden. with others, it's slower, but it's not unnoticeable. it's strange, because you don't remember doing anything wrong to anyone, but everyone's avoiding you! ...except your little secret admirer (who really isn't so secret,, he signs all the shit he's get you proudly 😇)

and who's behind all this weird behavior from the people in mondstadt? well give it up for ur ex, kaeya alberich! he's a snotty little weasel,, and you have a inkling feeling who the perpetrator was (and ur right!! kaeya thinks your a very smart cookie!!). confronting him won't get u anywhere honestly because he won't admit to it, he has nothing to admit! ...unless you get back together, of course :33

it's all up to you really. facing the rumors with ur head up high and avoiding him won't get you much anywhere as he'll just end up snatching you away after a while (he loves and hates how mentally strong you are sometimes!). and giving up will just have you back in his arms, which was he wanted from the start! he won this little game of urs fair and square!

lisa:

she's drugging your ass lmao

joking...kinda. she's not going to start pleading and begging for you to say, though she's obviously going to be upset. she has emotions, can't you see? she's frowning so deeply 😞

lisa doesn't want you to leave her. she loves you! if that wasn't obvious with how keen she is of having you all to herself and throwing off potential rivals in pursuit of u, then she doesn't know what is! won't you atleast share a cup of tea with her first, just before you go?

(DON'T drink the tea. it's drugged and you will fall asleep before even finishing the cup)

and hey, even if you don't wanna relax with her for the last time, then you both can still be friends right? or atleast hang out possibly? she's rather persistent but it doesn't come off as clingy/pathetic because she's just rather calm about it all. and unlike kaeya, she's not faking dramatics and just let's you leave.

(obviously,, this is all just ruse to get u back into her arms. she's saddened, really. she truly is. she truly didn't expect for u to see her...darker behavior but she always knew you were a smart cookie <3)

will give you a week or two before she's slowly inching back into ur life. she'll give you a small wave, a quiet hello, etc etc. it's little things really. short conversations soon start happening again and she'll just ask u how ur days going, that sort of thing. she just wants to see how her favorite person is doing! nothing wrong with that, hm?

it'll slowly come to the point where she's offering you to share a cup of tea with her, just like when she tried to break up with u. you can obviously say no, but she'll still want you to take this special batch she has!! it's rather tasty and it's good for calming the drinker down <3

...

liar.

you'll end u stuffed somewhere. it's cold, so extremely cold and ur night clothes aren't much help (she did say the tea was for calming, and u really couldn't sleep that night!). ur obviously scared, but that immediately turns into frustration as soon as lisa appears and tells you her whole plan. tell her that she lied about the tea being for calming and she'll literally just tell you that it wasn't technically a lie! you were still relaxed in your last moments in your home, weren't you? 🙂

(situation will end up the same even if you don't end up taking in the little baits she set up so perfectly for u to take. she didn't expect you to be so smart! she'll just have to go into your house with the key u never took back from her and put something in ur drink, easy peasy :))

#yandere #yandere x reader #romantic yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere jean #yandere jean x reader #yandere amber #yandere amber x reader #I DELETED THE OLDER ONE SOBBING

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ramblers-lets-get-ramblin · 1 day

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Ninety-Nine Days- Dieter Bravo x OFC

Main Masterlist | Dieter Bravo Masterlist

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Unnamed OFC

Summary: Dieter Bravo pays his estranged wife a visit after leaving rehab.

Rating: M for mature MDNI 18+

Word Count: 2481

Warnings: TAGS CONTAIN SPOILERS: drug abuse and addiction, major angst, character death

Author's Note: I literally have no excuse for this. I'm so sorry. I had a thought in the shower and ran with it. shout-out to @pedgito for beta reading and basking in the sadness with me!

graphic made by me!

Dieter steps out of the building into the blistering Arizona heat. He slides his sunglasses onto his face and lights a cigarette. It's a dry heat, they always say. “Dry heat my ass,” Dieter thinks. Humidity doesn't matter when it's a hundred and seventeen. Garbage cans and car headlights are melting to the ground. Ground so hot you can fry an egg on it.

He blows smoke out of his mouth and nose, thankful this rehab place didn't prohibit them like the last one. Ninety days without his smokes doesn't do anyone any good. A black Escalade pulls up to the curb and Dieter leaves the relative shade of the building overhang and the sun warms his face and neck immediately. The driver exits the SUV and grabs Dieter's rolling suitcase. “Mr. Bravo,” he nods. Dieter grumbles a reply and opens the back door himself, desperate to escape the oppressive heat.

He slides in and the blast of air from the car's a.c is a blissful relief. His shirt sticks to his skin and the black leather of the seat. He slams the door and rolls the window down, flicking the ash off of his cigarette. James, his publicist, is occupying the other middle row seat. He's tapping furiously on his phone and doesn't even seem to notice Dieter.

The driver closes the gate and slips into the front seat. “Is the air cool enough, Mr. Bravo?” He asks, meeting Dieter's eyes in the rearview.

“Yeah, it's fine. Thanks,” Dieter replies. He slips his wired earbuds from his pocket and plugs them into his phone. Lou Reed's voice fills his ears and he lays his head back on the seat and smokes all the way to the airport.

He and James make small talk on the plane while Dieter's leg shakes with nerves. He's been gone for three months. Did the City of Angels forget about him? Did she? A nearly identical black SUV collects them from LAX. They pass by her neighborhood on the way to his. Dieter looks over even though her house isn't visible from the main road. James places a hand on his shoulder, startling him.

“You can't see her, you know.” Dieter nods in agreement but doesn't say anything. He knows he can't see her. But the thing about being rich and famous is that Dieter can do anything he wants. He shouldn't, though. It wouldn't be good for either of them. She's probably been home for a week or two. The rehab she went to was in Maine, but she was able to go before Dieter could get away. He had to wrap up filming, and neither the studio nor his people were willing to put it off for three months. Wonder what they would have done if I died?

James rattles off a laundry list of obligations Dieter has to fulfill. Promotional interviews for the film, a meeting with a filmmaker who wants Dee to be the lead in his new movie, even a podcast. All Dee really wants to do is crawl into his bed and never come out. Not unless she's there to drag him out. Dieter doesn't listen too intently, his assistant handles his schedule, after all. He just goes where he's told. Wears what he's told. Stands where he's told. Says what he's told.

He's got three Oscars in a case at his too-big house that let him, and everyone else, know that he's made it. He doesn't need to do this shit anymore. He's got more money than he knows what to do with, even with the alimony payments to two ex-wives. Soon to be three. He could just quit. Sell his Sherman Oaks mansion and move into her modest two-story suburban house. The house he bought for her when she moved out over a year ago. The same house he overdosed on the floor of three months ago. The memory of the bitter taste of activated charcoal fills his mouth. It wasn't his first rodeo with overdoing it. It likely wouldn't be his last.

“Did she sign the papers?” He asks James. James doesn't answer right away and that tells Dieter everything he needs to know. She's the one who left. Why won't she sign the fucking papers? He knows why, though. The same reason the first thing he wanted to do the second his plane touched down was rush over to her house. They might not be good for each other, but they love each other. Love isn't enough anymore , she had told him. But she still won't sign the divorce papers. She still won't let him go. Dieter doesn't want to let go. Toxic, the kids call it.

“I'll have the lawyer send them again,” he tells him. Dieter thanks the driver and waves to James. Finally, he's home.

He enters his house and it is finally quiet. He hasn't had many moments alone in the last three months. There were doctors and nurses first. Then there were police and reporters and James and his agent. More doctors and roommates. Other junkies. Every fucking person in the whole state of California. Every person except the one he wanted to see. He lugs his suitcase up to his room and drops it on the floor. He begins stipping his clothing away, dropping it on the floor while walking to the bathroom. The walk in shower has a digital display that controls everything from an exact water temperature down to the lights. Dieter punches the button for his saved specifics and turns to the mirror while he waits for the water to heat.

He hardly recognizes the man looking back at him. His body looks much healthier than it did before he went in. His skin has returned to a normal color after months of being pale and clammy. He's softer around the middle he notices with a sharp poke into his gut. The bags under his eyes are gone and his once hollow cheeks have filled out. The wonders of three meals a day, he supposes. The mirror begins to fog and Dieter runs his hand through his messy curls before opening the glass door and stepping into the shower.

He goes through his routine pretty quickly. Shampoo twice and let the conditioner sit for five minutes. Gives his natural curls a fluffy appearance. He soaps his body thoroughly, eager to wash the medicinal smell of the rehab center and the sweat from himself. Once he's finished, he plants one hand on the wall and curls the fingers of the other around his cock. He gives himself a few tugs and tries to work himself up. Just like every other time over the last three months, nothing happens. Not even a twitch.

“Fuck!” He shouts, smacking his open hand against the tile. A sharp pain radiates up to his wrist and pisses him off even more. He hasn't come once in ninety days. Ninety-nine actually. He was hoping it was just the lack of privacy. Clearly, that wasn't the issue. He yanks the door open and shoves his finger onto the button on the shower control panel, shutting it off.

The entire time he’s getting dressed, the whole time he’s sifting through papers on his desk, he tells himself that it's just business. He just wants to get the papers signed, get this chapter of his book closed. He knows it isn’t true, not even that deep in his mind. But that’s what he needs to tell himself. He knows how fucked up it is to go over there, to go see her. To drag her back into his shit. Ninety-nine days without the sound of her laugh, the feel of her fingers running through his hair. Ninety-nine days without the sound of her moaning in his ear or the velvet of her cunt wrapped around his cock.

He curses himself as he gets in his car. He sticks the keys into the ignition but hesitates before turning the engine over. He hits the button that opens the gate to his property and every second it takes to open is another second he has to question his decision. He hits every red light along the way, which he oughta take as a sign. A sign to turn around, go home and forget this stupid ass idea. But he doesn’t.

His car idles at the curb, and Dieter stares at his hands on the wheel. This is a bad idea, he tells himself. Probably the worst idea he’s ever had. She’s probably fine without him. Piecing her life together. A life that doesn’t include Dieter. “Fuck it,” he says aloud, turning off the car. “She’s my fucking wife.” He’s not ready to give up on her, on them. He grabs the envelope from the passenger seat and slams the door behind him. The grass is a little overgrown and starting to yellow in the late July heat. When he gets to the door he raises his hand, takes a deep breath and knocks. When the door opens, Dieter quickly realizes he had it all wrong. This is why James didn’t want him to come over here.

“Hey, Dee,” She says and Dieter’s eyes widen in shock. It’s clear that whatever she’s been up to, she didn’t spend the last three months in rehab. Since it wasn’t a court ordered stay, there was nothing stopping her from leaving any time she wanted. Since they already had Dieter’s money whether she stayed or not, they weren’t very bothered when she left. Especially when they filled that bed with someone else’s money.

“Hey, baby.” Dieter takes in her disheveled appearance. Her eyes are bloodshot and sunken in. She’s wearing a ratty old band tee of Dieter’s, The Replacements, and it hangs off her too slim frame. There are scars from old tracks in the crooks of her elbows. Fresh ones run alongside them. “Can I come in?” She opens the door all the way and steps to the side. Dieter walks into the house and is struck by the smell of food that’s been sitting out just a tad too long and stale cigarettes. She closes the door behind her and follows Dieter into the living room.

“If I had known you were gonna drop by I woulda cleaned up a little.” She gathers laundry from the couch and deposits it into the chair, making a space for Dieter to sit. “I thought after James told you I left rehab you wouldn’t wanna see me again.”

“He didn’t tell me.” Dieter clears his throat and pulls the papers out of the envelope. “We need to get this taken care of, baby.” She sighs and wipes a stray tear from her cheek. She reaches for them but he snatches his hand back. “You don’t have to sign them, ya know.”

“What do you mean?” She picks at the hem of her shirt. His shirt.

“You could always come home,’ he offers quietly. He doesn’t meet her eyes for fear of what he might find there. She might not want to come home. “I’ll call James. We can get you into another rehab, have you there by tomorrow if you want.” She doesn’t answer so he continues. “Then when you finish treatment, you can just come home. We’ll sell this shithole and move forward. Together. ”

She’s quiet for a long time. Too long. Dieter reaches his hand out and this time she takes the papers. She looks at them for a long moment but when Dee reaches for the pen in his shirt pocket she surprises him by tearing them in half. “Let’s go home.” Dieter stands from the couch and wraps his arm around the small of her back. He pulls her close and captures her lips in a kiss. She returns it with the same fervor she always did. Like she wanted to swallow him whole. Dieter grabs her by the hand and tugs her towards the bedroom.

“Let’s get you changed and get the fuck outta here,” he declares. When they make it to the bedroom she drops Dieter’s hand and heads to her nightstand.

“Before we go,” she begins, “how about one last one? For the road?” She holds up a baggie full of white powder. Dieter opens his mouth to protest but she doesn’t let him speak. “I swear baby, this will be the last time. I’ll go to rehab tomorrow for however long you want,” she promises. “Then I'll come home to you and we’ll never have to be apart again.”

Dieter’s eyes flick between his wife’s face and the baggie pinched between her fingers. He shouldn’t. He can’t. The last call was such a close one. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, baby.” Nobody knows better than Dieter the siren call of that first hit after a drought. But it’s been ninety-nine days.

“I just bought this, an hour before you got here. It’s good shit, new shit. I already spent the money, baby. Let’s not waste it.” Dieter sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, sitting on the edge of the bed. “It’ll be like old times,” she promises, climbing into his lap. Dieter’s cock twitches in his pants. The erection he was chasing earlier in the shower finally makes an appearance and Dieter groans when she grinds down on his growing bulge. “One last hurrah, and then we’ll be good. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good for you, baby.” She bites the skin just below his jaw. His favorite place. Her favorite place.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers against her lips. He can feel his self control melting away. Tomorrow will be a hundred days. Dieter hasn’t been a hundred days sober his entire adult life. His will is slipping through his fingers and then it’s gone. All it took was a tug on a zipper for him to cave. “Fuck it, set it up.” She stands from his lap and removes her shirt, his shirt, and drops it to the floor. Clad only in a pair of panties, she bends and rummages through the nightstand drawer. Dieter tugs off his jeans and kicks off his shoes. Finally, everything he wants is within reach. He has ninety-nine days sober, he can start fresh tomorrow.

“Oscar winner Dieter Bravo has died today at the age of forty-five, TMZ reports. He was found unresponsive in the home of his estranged wife this evening by his publicist. There was another person in the home, also confirmed deceased. No identity has been made, but reports suggest that it may have been Mr. Bravo’s wife. Mr. Bravo was released this morning from a treatment center in Phoenix, where he was recovering from a drug overdose three months ago. Friends and fans alike are taking to social media to mourn the troubled but beloved star.”

#dieter bravo fanfic #the bubble #the bubble fanfiction #dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x ofc

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elliespuns · 24 hours

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Okay, someone just accused me (in their anon confession) on one of the confessional Tlou blogs of posting "strange" stuff about young Ellie. Basically, what this person is saying is that they like what I post, but scrolling through my blog feels off to them.

First of all, this blog is about Ellie Williams. I post about Ellie in general; including ADULT Ellie. What I post about adult Ellie has nothing to do with what I post about young Ellie (like, do I even have to specify this here? It's so crazy to me). I'm allowed (same as anyone else in this fandom) to crush on adult Ellie Williams, yanno?

NEVER HAVE I EVER written anything CONCERNING or PERVY about YOUNG Ellie. I literally beg your pardon.

Second of all, you're always free to unfollow or block if you have a problem with what I post, instead of naming my blog and throwing dirt at it to make people who have never heard of it think poorly about its content. To think something that is not true in the first place.

You could've easily slipped into my DMs and asked me about specific posts if something made you doubt them, and I would WITHOUT a PROBLEM explain the meanings behind them because my consciousness is crystal clear when it comes to content I share.

Loving young Ellie for the sweet, freckled goofball of joy she is is considered "strange" and off-putting? Why? No matter your age (I'm 30 if you need to know), if you feel like young Ellie's babysitter who would just love to squish her cheeks, there's literally nothing wrong with it.

I know folks are not used to blogs posting about young Ellie, because it seems that here on Tumblr, Ellie Williams is only known as the hot stuff lesbian everyone yearns to write smut fics about. But I assure you that not everyone is like that, and I also assure you that some of us actually admire her as a character with no intention to disrespect.

Loving the hell out of young Ellie while crushing on adult Ellie (crushing with respect in my case) is completely okay. There's a line that no one in their right mind crosses.

There are A LOT of people who still love to see endearing post about her younger version, you know. If you don't like this blog's content, unfollow and move along without throwing rocks at someone you know nothing about (me).

I'm so disappointed right now. I need a break for a while.

#i understand nothing #has everyone gone crazy?#why does anyone even take time to think this poorly about what i post #i'm done #ellie williams #ellie tlou #the last of us #tlou #the last of us game #tlou game #young ellie #adult ellie

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sweetiebean00 · 2 days

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Hey Bartender

I love my angsty boys as much as the next guy, but I feel like it's Dick Grayson's time in the moonlight! Hope you enjoy!

Dick didn't tell anyone what he did when he wasn't patrolling, when he wasn't in uniform. When being Richard "Dick" Grayson got to be too much. His family didn't need to know, Bruce and Alfred had dealt with a literal demon. Not that anyone else knew it. He pretended far too well at that, he was used to it. To pretending. To playing up the smiles, and the bad jokes. The care that was real for his family, but none quite understood why Nightwing was feared in Bludhaven, in any of the cities they went to. Not that they noticed, not if Dick could help it.

Still, as he walked through the doors of the same old club that hadn't quite been shut down yet. No evidence of any illicit dealings, he did check before arriving. Especially in case he was recognized by being Bruce Wayne's adopted son, his ward. He's been coming to this place for months, wanting to be lost. To be forgotten. It was easy too, gave them his name, his last name as his first. He hated lying, it was part of the job but he hated it at times. Made it easy when everyone who saw him, who got used to the twenty something year old looking like a child soldier (because that's what he was) coming in and sitting at the counter.

Avoiding looking in the mirror behind the bar, the club danced and pulsed with light. With energy. Men and women, teenagers and adults, and everything in between was allowed in and they danced. Had fun in a safe space to forget. Those who didn't take no, received a shot in the head. At least that was the first thing Dick encountered. The girl behind the counter, her hair pinned up and eyes narrowed as she put the gun on the bar. The warning was silent to the man who had been reaching for an abandoned drink. Her threat was clear, and when the gun was fired off at someone who had been trying something fishy, a butcher's knife slammed into the counter. Inches from the hand trying to tamper with the drink inside.

She had looked to Dick, looked at him through the lenses of her glasses that hung on the end of her nose. She nodded once, as if understanding something Dick himself hadn't understood. Only poured him a baby shot, with a half-smile. A silent taunt, a test to see if he could handle the liquor properly and not like the morons about the club. After the next five, she had given him a proper glass, and three more in she looked at him. His hands clasped on the top, his fingers interlocked and told him the rules. Had him sign a contract that was legitimate and he wondered if she drew it up herself. When asked for a name, he gave her his full name and she didn't bat an eye.

That night he woke up slumped on the counter, and the bartender, who he learned was Angel, was shaking him awake. Asking if he wanted her to call someone because they were closing up. He didn't have the conscious thought to respond, and when he woke again he was on a couch. A blanket thrown over him and a bucket by his head, a glass of water and an unopened bottle of ibuprofen next to him on the floor. What was important was that his clothes were still on, there was nothing arrayed with him, his senses. His phone was plugged in, and a sticky note was taped telling him to turn the sound off next time he wanted to pass out else he'd find it broken by a bullet.

"Watch yourself tonight Grayson," The bouncer, Brutus, broke him from his thoughts. He blinked, turning to look at him. He was tall, large. Bald and sporting tattoos from the eyebrows down over every inch of his skin but his back. "Angel's in a mood tonight."

Angel's in a mood? Dick swallowed, brows furrowed as he side stepped those entering the club next. It was a little out of the way place, nothing fancy and apparently the only way people find it is by needing an escape, a safety net to catch them in life. Angel called it Haven for a reason, after all. Brutus nodded his head at the sign by the door, easily missed but Dick knew what it was. There was a tally mark for every scumbag that entered and didn't leave the way they came. In a body bag, missing a finger, etc. His eyes widened, it must be a bad night for it to be hitting ten marks. The sound of a gunshot rang, and he watched as Brutus sighed. Adding another mark to the chalkboard.

Dick turned, turned into the crowd and part of him so badly wanted to fix it. To help. But that's not why he came here, and when old habits kicked. When he tried being the hero once, he had been stopped right in his tracks by Angel. She handled the situation, and when he woke up on that shitty couch she was at the bar. Head in her hands, and he had seen just her back. Seen silvery blonde hair that fell about her shoulders messily, had seen that her skin was sunkissed and golden. That she was covered in ink, with an entire sleeve on her right arm that ended at her elbow on the left. She had what looked like wings on the nape of her neck, and she spoke without her voice being hidden by the base drum. She spoke soft, cool, and calm. There wasn't an edge, there wasn't anger, or anything. Just quiet facts in a soft, but raspy voice. Probably from all the yelling she needed to do in the club at night, but it was.. it shocked him. She didn't look at him once that morning, and when he saw himself out he saw her face hidden by a cup of coffee and fogged up glasses.

This time, he took a deep breath. Side stepping the regulars and the new ones, teenagers and adults wanting to forget. He swears he saw Roy Harper in here once, but like Angel had said. This was the club people came to be forgotten, to forget. To get lost. He promised himself to never approach anyone he recognized in the club outside of it, never bring it up. And despite the detective inside being curious, he didn't investigate it. Didn't even put it in the search engine, didn't look up a blonde woman named Angel. Not even when his fingers twitched, and he burned with wonder.

His shot was waiting for him when he looked down, and he looked up to see a fire in her eyes. She watched the crowd like a hawk, her glasses pushed up her nose and he wondered if they were for show. Babs hated it when her glasses hung too low, got in the way. He didn't ask, instead knocking it back like he had been for months, weeks, days now. A knife left her fingertips in a split second, and he watched it soar through the crowd. Her aim was never off, never wrong, and he wondered how she did that every time.

"Gray." She greeted with a nod, the music was changing to something slower. More somber, but still a rapid beat. He listened to it for a moment, before knocking back the shot again. Sometimes he wondered if this was magic, if it was magic that kept the glasses refilling. If he was in some fevered dream. If Angel was a meta, or a magic user that Batman hadn't sniffed out.

"Angel."

"Why do you come here, Gray?" Angel questioned, taking the glass from him and adding another one next to it. He blinked, she grabbed a bottle from the back pouring it without breaking her gaze from the dancing and the drinking. "To forget, to be forgotten? Maybe both? Maybe neither?"

He swallowed, hands twitching. He caught the glass that slid along the bar top, watching her people watch. What was her aim? What was to gain by breaking her own number one rule? Never address the elephants in the room. She sighed, knocking her glass lightly against his. He heard her muttering, heard the voice blend with the music and he noted it was low enough he could make out the solemn tone of her voice. Was it on purpose or was the music just rigged to some playlist and shuffling?

Dick cleared his throat, mind scrambling for an answer besides 'um'. He didn't know if he wanted to share with her the truth, the reason for his hiding. The way his mind was getting too loud, the eternal battle for Gotham's people growing heavy on his shoulders. He swallowed as she filled her glass again, as she tapped it with her finger until he downed his own and then refilled it.

"I- I want to forget, and not be remembered." He finally admitted, quietly. In the same notes she had spoken in, as if they were sharing their dark secrets. His skin itched and it took him everything to not start clawing at his arm to scratch the itch inside his bones. He downed the shot and then swiped hers, downing it too. "I-"

"Grayson, stop." She said, softly, no room for argument but it wasn't firm. She reached her hand out, palm up to him on the table. "I'm not asking for the story, not even sure I know why I was asking. It's just, you've been coming here for months now. Late, like two in the morning late, you stay until you can barely think straight, talk even. I just, I've seen that kind of thing before. I know how it ends."

He didn't know how to respond, a lump forming in his throat and now he understood what Brutus meant. She was in a mood, a mood for the deep gritty pain of others. Not to cause it, not to revel in it. He's seen her approach customers before, seen her offer her hand and a way to help. Watching those that took it seem as if they became... lighter. Lighter than the traumas and stress, watched as she fixed them with another kind of drink. Watched as one of the people, her helpers, put a blanket over their shoulders and led them outside. He didn't see them again, but he'd notice that she would seem more tired. More run down, and out of it. Like the weight of the world was on her shoulders now... Dick swallowed the lump.

"You need help, Gray, and not the kind of help the glass can provide."

"I-" His voice cracked, and he couldn't bring his gaze from the table. Not as she slowly retracted her hand, offering him another glass. "Thanks, Angel, but-"

"I'm not offering you the help, I've offered others." She said quickly, and he looked up. Ignoring the sting in his eyes as she ran a hand through her hair. "I was just stating, have you considered therapy?"

He laughed. The sound wet, watery, but it was a laugh better than the fake one that has been grating on his nerves. On his ears. He took the shot slower this round, savoring the bitterness that coated his tongue. The burn that followed the drink down his throat. She smiled, it wasn't the same smirk she gave everyone else. It wasn't the same half-smile he's seen her sport when she's snickering at one of his shitty jokes, or Brutus’ begrudging groans. The smile is soft, gentle and almost sad. As if she knows what he's feeling, as if she can feel it, understand it. He didn't know how to feel about that, what to think, or even what to say. Instead, just kept drinking from the glass that kept refilling as the music changed, the dancers returning to their wild carefree behavior as she kept an eye on the crowd and on him. As if worried he would break if she looked away.

He wanted to tell her not to worry, that everything would be fine. That she could do what she did best, make drinks and help her patrons. He wouldn't break if she looked away, if she stopped filling his glass or paying attention. He smiled bitterly; Richard "Dick" Grayson was already broken. She just didn't know it yet. It's okay, his family didn't know either.

He doesn't know how long he spent there, sitting at that countertop. On that old barstool with a cushion jimmy rigged to stay in place. He wonders if it was Angel or Brutus that had the idea to staple it on, and he snickered at the idea of Angel getting pissed and just taking a stapler to the thing. It wouldn't be out of character, not even close to it. He rested his head on the counter, the cold wood soothing to his heated skin. The music, the sounds, all drowning into one as colors merged and swirled into a mosaic. Angel's face, lit by strobe lights, was in his line of vision. A hand gently shaking his shoulder, and he watched her brows furrow. Lips pursed and eyes roll, before the world went dark.

Dick woke to a mild headache, the world far too bright. He groaned, rolling over into his pillow and pulling the blanket over his head. He loved drinks from Angel, the hangover was always mild. He breathed, only to freeze as his brain caught up with his surroundings. He was in his room, in his apartment. He jerked up, hands grasping at his clothes and... he was still dressed. Still fully dressed, even his shoes were still on his feet. There was no glass of water next to him, no unopened bottle of ibuprofen or Tylenol. His phone was plugged into his charger next to his bed, and there was no sticky note reminding him of certain death if he didn't silence the phone, mute the calls, or stop whoever or whatever was pinging his phone despite the silent mode activated.

He frowned, swallowing at the lump forming in his throat as he climbed warily out of bed. Everything was how he left it the night before, his suit on the floor that he very quickly shoved under his bed with his foot. Hoping whoever brought him here, didn't see it. He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to ease his racing heart; and failing. Slipping from the room, he froze.

There passed out on his couch, is Angel. Silvery blonde hair was all over the place, some hanging into her face. The rest pushed back, he saw freckles dusting her cheeks. This is the first time he has seen her properly, in the light no less. He looked away, avoiding the way her noted her lips were pink and pouty. She didn't want others to see her face in the light, in the dark of the club with nothing but neon strobe lights her hair was hidden. Her skin tone, her eyes. There was enough light to see others, to see the faces around him, see the clothing people wore. But the colors were so strong it was hard to tell if someone's hair was black or blonde, freckles, dimples, and moles were gone. Designs on clothes faded, only silver catching light, only the metal of piercings shined clearly.

Dick moved to his kitchen, rubbing the back of his neck and combing through messy black hair. This is fine, he is fully dressed. Everything is intact, he could question how the hell she knew where he lived later. Question how they got in also, much later. Along with if she managed to carry him herself, or drag him, or did Brutus take care of it. He shook the thought off, he'll find out later. Probably when she woke up.

In the meantime, breakfast. For two. Maybe some coffee as well. He could do this, he knows how to cook... ish. Okay, so he had received a ban from Alfred's kitchen, but he can cook! He sighed, really wishing he had asked Alfred for lessons now. It's fine. Scooping the grounds into the filter, he started the pot. Letting the warm smell heat his apartment and hoping it wouldn't attract a coffee addicted brother of his today. Not yet anyway. He loved his siblings, his family, and he normally didn't mind (too much) them crashing into his place whenever (especially when Bruce became too much for them). However, Dick had no idea how to go about explaining Angel, about why she was on the couch, not even how he met her. While he could try and play off another hook-up, her being on the couch bespeaks another story alone.

He took a deep breath, this was fine. This is fine. Everything is going to make sense. Dick heard a groan, heard a soft grunt and could see as the head of silver pushed up from behind the back of the couch. Angel shifted, stretching her arms over her head with a whine that had this mouth growing dry. He swallowed thickly, forcing his focus on the coffee pot still brewing. He could hear her getting up, could hear her moving. Her footsteps barely made a sound on the floorboards beneath her, and if he hadn't been trained by the Bat he was sure he wouldn't have even heard her. As it were, he heard her get closer. Felt her eyes as she shuffled her feet and sighed near silently.

"Good morning," She greeted with a yawn.

He glanced at her slowly. Waiting for her to either hide her face or something, but she did neither. Instead meeting his gaze head on, with a sleepy smile-grimace on her face. She had freckles dusting her nose and the apples of her cheeks. A scar ran from the center of her chin down and another was on the corner of her lips, she blinked green eyes slowly up at him. Running slender fingers through pale hair and waiting until he was done.

"Morning Angel..." There were so many questions, so many things he wanted to say and so little time. What to say first, how did he get here. How did she? What happened? Why were they here and not in her club with him waking on that shitty faded green couch with patches sewn into it where holes formed. "Coffee?"

She hummed, "Yes please, I'd have made some when I first got here but... that was an intrusion I refuse to make."

His lips twitched at the corner, nothing changed. Angel was still Angel, even if he now knew her eyes were framed with dark lashes. If he knew her eyes sparkled at the sight of caffeine. He poured some into a cup, one he was pretty sure had been left by Tim. But it was clean and it would do, even if it was covered in a skull and crossbones saying 'Death before Decaf'. He slid the sugar her way, watched as she dumped several packets into the black liquid. Watched as she gestured at the fridge and didn't open until receiving a nod, and watching as she grabbed his milk carton out to pour some in. He sipped his, long and slow as she stirred hers quietly. The only sound was the metal spoon clinking against the glass.

"So..."

"I know you have questions, but I need to say this first, Gray." She cut off, hand raised as she slowly brought the cup to her face and inhaled. "You are going to drown yourself in whatever sorrows and thoughts are inside your head? Fine, but if you do not deign to talk to a therapist, a friend, family, anyone even, for every shot you get from me? You have to talk."

He frowned, "Excuse me?"

"Did I stutter?" She raised a brow, meeting his narrow stare with another one back. He noticed her glasses missing, could see dark bags beneath her eyes. "Look, the club is there for a reason, and you are welcomed. But if you want help to forget, to be forgotten, I ask that you share it for every shot. Or you won't be drinking a shot, I'll give you shitty ass tap water."

He mock-gasped, hand clutched to his chest as if he had some fancy pearls on. Internally, his stomach was rolling. Twisting and knotting as ice started to build inside his fingertips, and he ignored the way his hands had started shaking. Downing a gulp like it was a shot of the coffee, feeling a different kind of burn. She didn't roll her eyes, like he expected. Didn't even bat one. He sighed, he didn't want to talk about himself. Not.... not like this, not like that to anyone. They didn't need the worry, the stress... the burden was his to carry.

"Grayson."

She crossed her arms, brows furrowed now. Yet her tone never became demanding, never scolding. She was giving him choices, options, and yet... he didn't detect the threat. The warning of anger, the promise of demand. He didn't know how to feel about that.

"I'm not saying you need to go walk out there and do it, to pick up a phone and jump the gun, and I don't know what your life is like outside the club. What I do know is you can't keep drinking yourself into a stupor, I can't help you with that."

He licked his lips, breaking from the intensity of her stare to look at the dark liquid sloshing in his glass cup. It was ceramic, a milk white color with flash symbols dancing all over it. A housewarming gift from Wally, and he knew there was a matching Robin one in there, another to match was Superboy, was Aquaman (they pretended it was Aqualad), and Artemis, and Miss Martian (technically Martian Manhunter). For their morning brunches, they had said when they brought it over. Even if Wally's was the most used.

"What do you want me to do?" He hated how his voice sounded like a broken sound, just barely louder than a whisper. He saw her frown out of the corner of his eye, but not once did pity cross her features. Not once did she show a sign of being disappointed or anything.

"All I ask is this, talk to someone. Maybe someone more licensed than some random bartender you met in a club for people who want to get lost."

For the first time since he's met her, Dick heard the steady, even cool notes of her voice waver. They went higher, a lighter note that sounded... almost nervous, dare he say? He found himself breathing a short chuckle at her joke, her lips twitching at the sound.

"Either you can talk to one of them, and if you do -I will know if you don't, keep that in mind- I won't bug you again. Otherwise, for every shot you get from my bar, from my club, from me? You need to spill something for me to keep spilling that liquor in your cup."

"Why do you care?" Dick blurted out after she had finished speaking, her brow raised. "It's not like me drowning myself is costing you anything."

"Oh, Mister Grayson, don't you get it?” She laughed, a short and bitter sound more akin to nails going down a chalkboard. “You will cost me everything."

He blinked, once, twice. Unsure how to respond to such a bold declaration. She didn't break, her eyes never wavering. Focus never splitting even as she blindly reaches for the cup of coffee on the island counter and brings it to her lips. He swallowed the lump in his throat, it wouldn't be hard to spin her some tall tales. To lie, to try and get out of this entire arrangement.

Except, he knows he's never been the best when it comes to expressing himself. To share his inner bits, the vulnerabilities, insecurities, the fears and memories that plague him. He had unfortunately, after a month of being cooped up in his shitty apartment in Bludhaven, had learned to mask it. The face of Dick Grayson becoming a mask as strong as the domino he wore at night, it... it sucked. Feeling too much and too little all at once. There were times he considered calling up Dinah, asking if she was willing... but then the demons in his head would get to him. Too loud, too nasty, and he'd wind up bottling it all up. Caging everything in once again come sunrise.

"You don't have to give me names, give me details." She said softly, back to that somber tone of voice. To the softness and lowness of an alto with a slight rasp. "Give me anything that can clue me in to who you are when you just want to forget. But, I think you need someone to listen. And if you're going to drown yourself in my establishment, I ask that you let me listen."

"I..." He cleared his throat, tipping back his cup. "I'll think about it."

She smiled, it wasn't like the half-smiles or the smirks, not like that rare grin that lightly curled her lips. It was... It almost looked sad, accepting. As if she knew his answer before it even came to his lips, as if she knew how this would end. As if she could see the train coming off its tracks heading right her way. Or is it his way? He didn't know, and a glance at the microwave showed it’s far too early for that line of thoughts. It's only ten in the morning, way too early for that. Far far earlier for an awkward silence by his standard.

"Do you like cereal?"

She blinked at him, and her smile twitched. In five minutes, they were sporting two bowls of cereal. Her apple jacks floating atop the milk, while lucky charms filled his to the brim. She was seated on a barstool, her eyes crinkling with mirth at the corners as he sat atop the island itself ("You fucking heathen!"). The talk was quiet, the awkward silence having disrupted a debate on what cereal is obviously the best. On whether sitting on the counter is in fact something sophisticated adults did ("I'm not a hoodlum, Grayson!").

She explained that Brutus is the one that helped her get him home, that he had signed the legal document with his address for any tab problems that would arise if he walked out without paying. Apparently, it happened enough times for her to make it a legal thing, and he wants to say he's surprised. Honestly, he's not. This is Gotham for crying out loud.

As time began to near noon, their bowls, cups, and silverware washed in the sink. He snickered at the way her eye twitched at the way he left them to dry on a towel, her glasses being plucked off the coffee table and shoved up her nose with a finger. She stretched, the black leather tank-top-corset thing riding high on her stomach to show off a glittering purple-blue gemstone on her belly button. He ignored the heat that burned at his cheeks when he saw it, immediately directing his eyes to the ceiling. She wore hip hugging blue jeans, the knees worn enough to show her knees and he noticed she was wearing heels. Raising her to his chin, he had to resist making a short joke as rustled her hands through her hair.

The silence returned, suffocating and awkward. It made him want to make a joke, say something or another to make her green eyes roll. To make her snort again. Instead, she beat him to the punch, tugging a tie from her jeans and throwing her hair into a messy bun.

"Hey Grayson, have you considered dancing?"

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minswriting · 2 hours

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Fear Of Loving You - Spencer Reid x Reader

About: Reader is madly in love with Spencer Reid. But rather than confessing her feelings for him, she gets into a different relationship to try and move on from him. When he finds out, he’s quite mad. Cue the angsty ish love confession

Warnings: Angst, love confessions, emotions, slight nsfw, mdni

Word Count: 1,600 words

Note: don’t get your hopes up with this one pookies. i quite literally pulled this out of my ass because i realized i had no one shots of spencer lol. regardless, enjoy!! i have smuttier one shots being planned at the moment heehee

The word love can be very complex. We all have an instinctual desire to love or be in love with something. Whether it be a person, an animal, or an object. It’s why we can love our families, our pets, that random character on our screens that just makes our hearts beat fast. But love can also be hard. Right person, right time. Wrong person, wrong time. Wrong person, right time. Right person, wrong time. There are multiple different ways a relationship can be. And your relationship with Spencer?

Well, it's the right person, wrong time.

Being co-workers of the same age, it wasn’t hard to get close to one another when you joined the team. The two of you became friends fairly quickly. He had given you a random fact when the two of you met and you had responded with “oh wow! i didn’t know that,” in an enthusiastic manner which had led to you and Spencer having a full-blown conversation on the plane to your first case rather than interacting much with anyone else. After that, things just flowed easily.

Days at the bureau or on the case turned into nights of spending time with one another. The two of you have gone to a Korean Film Festival together, the opening of a new bookstore, you cooked him dinner at your place occasionally, ordered takeout at his. It wasn’t hard for the two of you to grow feelings for one another when you’re constantly spending so much time together. With Spencer, you felt complete in a way you hadn’t felt complete before.

But you knew nothing could come of your feelings for him. How could they? In the end, you’re both co-workers, working a dangerous profession. The thought of ever dating Spencer terrified you due to the fear of losing him on the job or god forbid your relationship ends horribly and how that would turn out for the rest of the team. So your feelings for one another remained unspoken, there but never acknowledged.

Eventually, you tried to move on from your feelings for Spencer. You met a guy that you got along with, someone who made you feel a bit lighter. And eventually, you began dating him. But the moment the BAU found out, Spencer had given you the cold shoulder and you couldn’t figure out as to why.

Which led to where you are now, on a case in Vermont, forced to share a room with Spencer after he had been giving you the silent treatment since you told the team about your relationship earlier on in the day. The room was dead silent as you sat on the bed, going through your bag. The silence from Spencer was frustrating you, to say the least. He was most definitely much more talkative and you couldn’t figure out what was making him act so coldly towards you.

Earlier in the day, after you had told the team, the two of you had gone to a crime scene together and he only spoke to the detective that had gone with you guys, ignoring your statements and words. You glanced over at Spencer who was sitting on a chair, reading over the case file.

“Spencer,” you said his name, breaking the dead silence in the room. He didn’t answer, causing you to take a deep breath in frustration. “Giving me the silent treatment is really low of you right now.”

Spencer simply scoffed, not responding to your words. His eyes were glued to the file, though you could tell he wasn’t actually reading it.

“Listen, if you’re mad that I’m in a relationship then that’s fine. You can feel how you want to feel. But I expected you to have a lot more respect and maturity to say it to my face,” you exclaimed, grabbing your pajamas and placing your bag on the floor.

“What about the respect of telling me yourself privately?” Spencer replied back, breaking his silence. His brown eyes were on you as he bit the inside of his cheek. “I thought we were much closer that we could tell one another anything.” He stood up from the chair, walking over to you. “You want to talk about respect and maturity? You should’ve told me when it happened.”

You looked up at Spencer as he towered over you. You felt the guilt, knowing you should have talked to him about it. Because above all else, he is your best friend. However, how could you tell him when you’re also so madly in love with him? He would’ve known easily that you didn’t actually like your boyfriend as much as you may exclaim you did. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” you said softly.

“You didn’t know how or you just didn’t want to?” Spencer said with indignation, furrowing his eyebrows. He was infuriated, to say the least. Understandably so. “Because from my perspective, Y/N, it just seemed as though I wasn’t important enough for you to tell.”

“Spencer, you’re so important,” you said, standing up from the bed so you were almost at eye level with him. “God, you’re so ridiculously important to me.” You said sincerely, tilting your head as you looked up at Spencer.

“Doesn’t really feel like it,” Spencer replied, pressing his lips into a straight line and shrugging his shoulders. “If I am so important to you, you would’ve said something to me. That’s really the bottom line of it. But no, instead I had to find out alongside the rest of the team. I genuinely thought we were closer than that but clearly we weren’t.”

“But we are!” You raised your voice. “We are very close which is why I got into this relationship in the first place!”

Spencer gave you a look of confusion. “What?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows once more.

You took a deep breath, realizing that you can’t just hide your true feelings from Spencer forever. The unspoken words between the two of you must get spoken. And there really isn’t any turning back now. Either way, your relationship with him would be screwed. “I got into this relationship because of you,” you said calmly, closing your eyes for just a moment as you gathered your thoughts. You opened them back up to look Spencer in the eye. “Because if I hadn’t, I’d be spending so much of my time pining after you, someone I cannot have.”

“Who says you can’t have me?” Was his only question, causing your heart to flutter in your chest.

“Me,” you said simply. “I am scared that if we ever crossed the line of friendship into something else, that something bad would happen. I don’t want to lose you, Spencer, I really don’t. And in our line of work, it’s more probable that we could lose one another and that thought haunts me everyday.” You took on a vulnerable tone as you spoke. You could see Spencer’s features softening as he looked at you, finally understanding what you’re saying. “So, to move on from you, I got into this relationship. It isn’t a good thing for me to do. The guy is innocent and likes me for me. But all I care about is you, Spencer.” You finished your confession with a deep sigh, closing your eyes as anxiety began to consume you, not knowing how Spencer would react to such a confession.

What you hadn’t expected was to feel Spencer cup your cheeks as he captured your lips with his own, kissing you so deeply. It took you a moment to process what was happening, the action causing you to tense up and open your eyes. But after a few moments, you relaxed into Spencer’s touch and kissed him back, closing your eyes once more.

The kiss said what was unsaid. That Spencer cared about you just as much as you did for him. It was a passionate kiss with many emotions. His lips were hungry for yours, your tongues exploring one another’s mouths. And after a few minutes, Spencer let go of your lips, keeping his forehead pressed against yours. “I care about you too,” he whispered. “All I’ve ever cared about since I met you was you,” Spencer exclaimed, moving a piece of your hair out of your face.

Soft words with soft looks, kisses upon kisses, all in which led to the both of you naked and on the hotel mattress, pawing at one another in the best sex in your lifetime. It was needy and passionate, the type that conveyed everything you guys needed to know. Nothing else mattered except you and Spencer. Spencer held you close to him, lips on yours, as he thrusted into you. He needed to feel all of you. Just as you needed to feel all of him.

And when you guys finished, laying on the bed in each other’s arms, you turned to look at Spencer. “I’m sorry,” you murmured. “I should’ve just told you my feelings rather than jumped into some dumb relationship but I was scared.”

“I’m scared too,” he murmured back, resting his head on top of yours. “But I’ve read that relationships do best when the couple works through issues together. So, any problems that occur, any fears that we have, we need to communicate them and face them together.”

“Are we a couple now?” You couldn’t help but ask.

Spencer moved his head off of yours, glancing at you with a small smile. “After you break up with that random boyfriend of yours, I will properly ask you out.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #criminals minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds reactions

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jeons-catalyst · 2 days

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Re previous anon, I know we have different thoughts, opinions and upbringings, it’s healthy, but JK ain’t sharing Jimin with anyone. There is no way that would ever happen. He ain’t choosing a song and singing about doing it seven days a week, showing his partner what devotion is (deeper than the ocean is) and not having that exclusively, in fact that’s exactly what the song is about, and JM isn’t flying to NY looking like a newborn baby with his freshly waxed legs to not be with his man. I’m sorry but no.

When JK said in that interview that seven was about the love of his (or my) life, he meant it.

and Jimin didn’t write letter for someone he isn’t committed to. That shit was deep and from the heart. You only have to watch them when JK did the bg vocals. Watch them, watch Jimin bow deeply to JK, hug him like a koala never letting him go. Watch that in comparison to JK recording the Hobi. It speaks.

We don’t know everything about them or anything about the truth of the matter but to deduce they are in an open relationship from what they do show is absurd i’m sorry anon. There is a reason why Jikookers say you can sense they have something real- it’s because of their exclusivity with each other, that sets them apart from others.

JK wasn’t going live and watching Jimin content because he had someone else in his bed, he missed JM with his whole being. That white day live!! It was so devastating and beautiful at the same time. JM saying I miss you on Weverse and JK commenting me too. Watching his videos grinning like a fan girl and kicking his feet. And you think he had someone else to f that night? Really? I know relationships mean different things to different people based on all sorts of reasonings. But to me, these two have never given off those vibes, not ever. Yes they flirt with others (healthy) and the boundaries within the group are non existent (it’s endearing, ngl), but not between them. Satellite Jeon sharing Jimin, is laughable at best, I mean that’s literally what the seven video was about. Even Jimin, who looks at JK as though he is his world (he probably is) doesn’t give off the vibes that he would share. Look at his birthday live in 2021 and say again that giggly bashful Jimin is bedding others but JK. Because that’s what you’re insinuating that somehow they aren’t what? Aren’t fulfilling each other sexually? Because the intimacy is there so why else would they be in an open relationship?. I don’t know them of course. we don’t know them but from what they show us I don’t think that’s the case. (See first paragraph and Goldy’s blog) I think if anything there bond is so deep that to be enlisted together and abstain for 18 months shows that. (side eye to anyone that indicates that queer people cannot be committed and that it’s all about sex) their being together more important to them. They have a deep and intimate connection, as Mrs M says, you have to be mature to see it.

It’s their intimacy with each other, their shared laughs and stories, the quirks in their behaviour, the way you can tell they have spend nights watching shows together, their mirrored mannerisms that come from spending a lot of time together. The way JK cooks for him. The worry JM shows in his bday live about JKs health (and heck, did you see his schedule around then it was madness). JM then drawing him in to rest on him in the airport on their way to spend time together in Japan, precious time before they enlisted- together- when they would be side by side for 18 months. That meant something to them.

With all they went through to be together in MS, the worry they might have had about not getting accepted, the way JMs face lit up so happily when K came into his live (days after they found out they were accepted) and then you think they are in an open relationship? Seriously? JK singing that he will stand in the fire next to you, that he’s testifying this lovin and they will stand the rest of time, no one can deny their love… hmmm

I think to cast any doubt on what they do show us, which seems to be a deeper bond than I think any of us truly release is a bit sad to be honest. Especially with it being Pride this month. I am proud of them and what the do openly show us, screaming in the glass closet so to speak. Hidden in plain sight.

Their beautiful love. 🌈💜

I will leave you with this; food for thought.

https://youtu.be/G4QhLNVkdSc?si=MmH43IDXWv5P70uK

Thanks for sharing your opinion on this anon. I respect it💜

#jimin #jungkook #jikook #my asks #jikook blog

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qeireinier · 3 days

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I think what Original Luo Binghe did to Shen Jiu parallels what happened between Wei Wuxian and Wen Chao. Let me yap.

Look this might sound stupid to you but I just rewatched MDZS and I JUST saw some similarities with PIDW. After coming out of the Burial Mounds, WWX literally tortured WC before his death. The Burial Mounds is a place of literal torture and WWX went through HELL in it without his golden core. Because of what? Because of WC, he's the one who threw him into there.

It's an eye for an eye. WWX must've gotten his organs rearranged, bones crushed by constant attacks from walking corpses, eaten corpse fingers to survive, and many other horrors MXTX didn't mention. So WC SHOULD feel all of that, as payment for his sins to WWX and all other people he inflicted.

With LBG and SJ, the Endless Abyss is almost no different than Burial Mounds except it's festered with demonic instead of resentful energy (I think they're not really the same type?) and various types of beasts iirc. So even with his golden core, it's still harder for LBH because he barely knew how to avoid or fight them, where their weak spots are, etc. And instead of 3 months, it's 5 YEARS so it's enough time for his hatred for SJ to fester like a fairytale witch's soup. In the very beginning, he must've also gone through hell. Maybe the beasts ripped his limbs apart, stabbed his eyes, pulled his tongue out and only because of his Heavenly Demon blood that he recovered himself back (probably). It's very different from running away from resentful corpses because you KNOW just how to fight them off, even though it's just impossible for their number.

So, seeing LBH making SJ into a human stick doesn't surprise me too much. It's the case of an eye for an eye. No, it's still wrong, I'm not justifying it. I'm just making my analysis. THAT'S why it reminds me so much of WC's death.

Even both of the MCs have a demonic object in their hands, the Stygian Tiger Seal and Xin Mo. Both are untamable and capable of driving their holders insane. What differs our MC however—is that WWX has things to lose, and that's why he's often shown to be holding himself back from a killing spree. Hell, he's even the actual most righteous character in the novel.

While LBH doesn't have anything left to lose. He doesn't have a family, friends, all these wives and servants probably don't mean much on him. Also, his demon blood affects his mindset, giving his brain more "predatory instincts" as I'm gonna call it. Added with the fact that he spent more time in the Endless Abyss and how his mind had been corrupted by Xin Mo, LBH would pull a "No More Mr. Nice Guy, Heh >:)". That makes him not so kind as to give SJ the mercy of death. He probably wanted to keep SJ alive for 5 years or maybe forever til his brain finally decides "yep, that's it, go die or whatever idc anymore". Yeah, until BingggeMei extra happened and we could probably assume SJ's death is never gonna happen, but that's for another story nevermind.

However, it does mean that the latter won't hold himself back. The point where he crosses the line is when he burns down the CQMS, kills the Peak Lords, and even went so far as to merge the demonic and mortal realms. That's what differs him from WWX, so much. It's literally canonically said that he's not the nice kind of protag.

SO in conclusion—when I see people talking about how "SJ didn't deserve all that", I'm between agreeing and disagreeing. What LBG did to SJ is terribly inhumane, but that's to be expected from a demon emperor like him. Hey I'm a SJ stan, it doesn't mean my views are completely biased. Especially considering what LBG possibly went through in the Endless Abyss for five years as a mere disciple without a sword like Xuan Su.

I think this is why PIDW readers rooted for LBG, because the story was from his POV. Tragic MC, thrown into the pits of hell by his cruel master. Our perspective is widened through reading SV and we can see the tragic POV of SJ and so we start to root for him too. No, it doesn't mean that either of these 2 are completely right in their choices, the both of them are very flawed and they're trapped in this cycle of abuse, very harmful to the surroundings. We can't fully fault or justify them. Yes, they need therapists, perchance one hidden behind a very powerful barrier in case any of them decides to attack the poor therapist.

But this realization—the parallels between LBG&SJ and WWX&WC—just kind of amazes me. Okay, ted talk ends, thank you for surviving through, if you don't have any nice words to say please scroll away :(

#wei wuxian #luo binghe #original luo binghe #scumbag system #scumbag villain #scumbag self saving system #shen jiu #shen qingqiu #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #yiling patriarch #yiling burial mounds #yapping

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typellblog · 3 days

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Suruga Devil - An Analysis

Something I’ve been thinking about is how even though Oshino disappeared six books ago, some way or another a specialist manages to crawl their way into every arc. Almost irregardless of the circumstances, these kids need someone to explain the problem to them. To bring them face to face with the truth they haven’t quite realised yet.

In Hanamonogatari, though, advice might be the last thing that Kanbaru Suruga needs - despite, or perhaps because so many different people want to offer it to her.

I’ll be riding my arc formula all the way from Bakemonogatari until the wheels fall off, so I think here I want to talk about the title again.

Suruga Devil. Isn’t that odd? It almost sounds like we’re dealing with the exact same oddity as her first arc. Except there’s a different Devil-sama in this one, someone who has more devil parts than Suruga herself. Numachi Rouka is also an oddity, by virtue of being already dead, and by that logic Suruga must be the ‘victim’ of her haunting.

The theory is floated here that all ghosts work similarly to Hachikuji. They hang around because of a certain regret, and people with a similar regret or issue are the only ones that can see them. What, then, is Rouka’s?

I think there’s something to be said for how obviously she wants to play basketball with Suruga again.

Even in a series full of unreliable narrators Rouka is unique in that we don’t get to see her internal narration, just how she chooses to present her life story to Suruga. There are hints that she was spinning it a bit - Higasa mentions that ‘family issues’ Rouka hardly talked about also contributed to her suicide, not just the broken leg.

Frankly I see in Rouka someone trying to put up a strong front to hide how severely something actually affected her. She refers to herself derisively as misfortunate, acknowledges the suffering that it caused her, but still tries to make herself seem distant from it, like it’s something she’s already dealt with. Like her misfortune-collecting has made her happy again.

Her initial attitude is hostile, confrontational. She seems like she’s trying to upset Suruga, describing her own activities in a tone that makes it obvious how unapologetic she is about the scumminess of it all. She wants to feel powerful, in control of the situation, even if it means she has to come off as an asshole.

In their final match Suruga leans into it, matching Rouka’s hostility and desire to compete with her rather than running away from it. I want to say it’s a way of paying her final respects.

Rouka says she didn’t feel like she ever suffered a clear loss in life. Her injury didn’t come from a dramatic final showdown. Losing her scholarship didn’t make it impossible to continue schooling. And her leg’s rehabilitation didn’t make it impossible for her to live on. But at the same time, all of these things ground her down until she didn’t know what to do. Rouka says you can run away from almost every problem, and she did. She ran away from school. She ran away from getting a job. And in the end, she ran away from life.

Kaiki remarks to Suruga that she can’t run away from all her problems. In his case he makes it brutally literal, but in an emotional sense he’s not somebody Suruga can ignore either, this weird older dude that has a history with her mother. Koyomi and Hitagi apparently told her to run away as soon as she met him, but they must not have considered he might have no ill will towards Suruga, not do anything that justifies running away from him.

When Rouka gets on top of Suruga and draws close enough to kiss, she could run. She knows she could run. She doesn’t. Did you want her to kiss you? Some things you can’t run away from, because deep down you don’t want to. Like the dark reverse side of a wish.

For Rouka, the Rainy Devil is a competitor. It actually does something to solve people’s problems, where her method allows these anxieties to work themselves out by having the people in question do nothing at all. Some things are only made worse by worrying about them - in the hands of the Rainy Devil these problems that may have worked themselves out over time instead get escalated into potentially life-destroying issues. Rouka isn’t one to make use of the devil’s arm, Suruga thinks. She would simply run away from the problem, not rely on external means to solve it. She’s strong like that. Strong enough to pretend her problems don’t matter to her.

Only to pretend, though. The phrase “It’s better to regret doing something than regret not doing it” comes up. Rouka is of course on the side of regretting not doing something. A third path between victory and defeat. It has its advantages, Suruga does acknowledge it. But it can’t resolve anything. Rouka’s problems still exist, she just isn’t facing them. What Suruga does is make Rouka confront her and in doing so symbolically confront everything. It gives her a clear reason for her loss. It lets her let go.

I think the reason that Rouka is so confrontational with Suruga, so eager to play basketball again, is because she knew this on some level. She prefers to regret not doing something, but of course that means she still regrets not doing something. She still wants to do it, still wants to play a proper match and finish off their middle-school rivalry.

I wondered what Rouka’s specific regret was, as a ghost, and while that game is about as close as anything, it still feels like I’m missing the big picture. Rouka doesn’t just collect misfortune, she collects devil parts. The things that show up physically on your body to prove you made a wish. The things that remain so long as that wish isn’t granted. The physical manifestation of regret for a choice that still has Suruga checking the news every morning to make sure she didn’t do anything during the night without remembering.

Hachikuji gets people lost because she is lost. Rouka frees people from the regret of doing something because she herself never did anything about the situation she found herself in. It’s why she’s so interested in hearing the stories, along with the devil parts. People who did something she could never do. People who failed and became even more unfortunate than her, thus proving her right.

She takes the devil parts from people who don’t want them anymore. You can’t run away from something if you really do still want it, but Suruga is well over it at this point. Consider how Suruga deals with the devil’s continued presence in her life. Refusing to run out of fear that someone might be faster than her. She used the arm to pursue Hitagi to the point of destruction, but in equal measure refused to do so, and in doing so was unable to replicate Koyomi’s success. In that sense, when Kaiki says you can’t outrun everything, he’s telling her that it’s okay to lose. It’s okay to try, and then fail. It’s okay to just hand the arm over to Rouka and move on.

Higasa remarks that Suruga seems too positive of a person to have heard the Devil-sama rumor - because that’s the type of person Suruga is seen as. Polite, enthusiastic, direct, a star athlete, a hard worker, a rich kid, a goody two-shoes. The type of person who would take issue with Rouka’s methods. Rouka expects a fight, because in a lot of ways Suruga is Rouka’s opposite, someone who would slap her in the face upon hearing about what she’s doing.

At the same time, Suruga is the type of person to immediately second-guess that reaction. She lets Rouka’s hand sit on her chest for an uncomfortable length of time (the symbolic gesture associated with taking her devil arm!) because she feels bad about hitting her. Of course she would. She straps her arm to the wall at night because she’s scared of hitting someone again.

In other words, contrary to expectation, she’s the exact type of person that would encounter Rouka. The correct type of person to hear the Devil-sama rumor. The type of person that’s still burdened by the regret of a wish that turned into an obsession. Exactly the type of problem that can be solved, will be solved, simply by doing nothing.

I said I still wanted to talk about the arc formula, and here it raises an interesting question of where exactly the specialist comes in. Kaiki, of course, is prominent in this novel - but even though he helps, he hardly explains anything. He has a policy, Rouka tells us, of only sharing half his information. It’s a little like Oshino’s rule of balance, but even less helpful. He shies away from the spotlight out of what I imagine is self-preservation - running away from Koyomi and Hitagi in Karen Bee, blatantly subverting their expectations that he explain Karen’s oddity. He does it anyway, but it’s pointless. The fever disappears on its own.

Where Meme’s balance is to make sure he doesn’t interfere too much in others’ problems, ensure his surprisingly impressive spiritual abilities don’t create further disturbances in the course of solving them, Kaiki’s balance is to make sure he always has another opportunity to mess with people in the future, to ensure his practical-minded refusal to believe in spirits entirely doesn’t end up biting him in the ass.

Even so, we’ve come to expect someone to come and clear things up, explain that which our protagonist was too slow to grasp on their own, put a neat little tie on the end of things. Like Tooe Gaen, perhaps? Deceased but apparently no less of an authority on the supernatural. “The motivation for justice is envy of evil,” we’re told, explaining precisely what left Suruga so unsettled about Rouka. Rouka did what she could never do, just like Suruga did what Rouka couldn’t.

It’s a nice enough explanation, putting things into the dualistic perspective that Tooe seems to prefer. “If you can’t be medicine, then be poison, otherwise you’re just plain old water.” It doesn’t matter if you help others or hurt others as long as you do something, act in accordance with your nature, don’t let yourself be bound by the restrictions of society or conscience. Those are the type of people she seems most interested in, and the type of person Suruga ought to become as a result of this arc - someone who acts, as opposed to the inactive Rouka.

And yet neither her nor Rouka seem to fit into Tooe’s format. Rouka, despite being plain water, is still muddy. A swamp. That mud, composed of everyday misfortune, is nothing nearly so interesting as to be called poison. Suruga is even more confused. A flash-flood, capable of clearing up the dirt that Rouka collected?

Suruga didn’t envy Rouka because she was evil. The implication there is that Rouka took pleasure in shattering social boundaries that Suruga felt obligated to stick to. But Suruga has already experienced what it’s like to violently pursue one’s own wishes in disregard of the feelings of others. It’s not fun! Suruga is jealous of, if anything, Rouka’s coolness. Her ability to roll with the punches, accept what happened to her with a laugh, shamelessly use her misfortune and pitiability as weapons.

And Rouka, despite how she presents herself, was quite clearly not evil. Her offered ‘help’ is for entirely self-centered motives, and yet she’s much more concerned with the lives of others than her own. She does act like she doesn’t care about the people asking her for help, but all the same she does redirect those with more serious issues to the correct services. She did say she genuinely wanted to help Hanadori Rouka, the girl she met with the left leg, which is surprising from the perspective of Suruga’s vague animosity towards her, but completely understandable if you just think of Rouka as a normal girl.

Suruga is neither good nor evil, as Koyomi puts it at the end of the book. She didn’t do the right thing, or the wrong thing. Neither did Rouka. They simply couldn’t look away from one another. Looking away, like running away, is only something you can do if you don’t really want to look. Even if Suruga ran away Rouka would have kept haunting her. She had the qualifications for it. Similarly, I feel like Rouka simply couldn’t look away from people’s misfortune, from the devil parts. Oddities arise for a reason, people have to want them on some level, and perhaps that’s true from the oddity’s side as well.

Speaking of Koyomi, though, he’s the last to give advice. He encounters Suruga at her lowest point, where she doesn’t know what to do, and quite literally helps her get back on her feet. His specialist qualifications are a bit iffy, but this is a timeskip - he’s in college, he’s more or less overcome his coming of age stuff. The thing is, his advice is to ignore everyone’s advice. For Suruga to act like herself, act on her instincts. To do neither the right thing or the wrong thing.

Ironically, characteristically, she takes the advice anyway.

She’s immediately less unsettled around Rouka, more confident in how she wants to play it. I think about her bluntly stating she’s an exhibitionist. It’s a pervy joke, something that’s been oddly absent in this book so far. One of the things we realise, looking at the world from Suruga’s benefit, is that her perversion, her exhibitionism, frankly even her queerness and interest in BL was much played up for the benefit of Koyomi. At the same time, though, I don’t think that makes it somehow false or an inaccurate representation of herself. She was able to be more overt with these things around Koyomi, because he was accepting of it, and that’s a largely positive thing.

It’s not a coincidence that her meeting with Koyomi gives her the confidence to be more like that with Rouka, or that this line about exhibitionism actually ties into an important part of her character. You see, right after, Rouka says it must have been tough for her to conceal the devil’s arm.

I think about the arm as representative of the stigma of queerness, as something that paints her desire for Hitagi as animal and violent (even as it’s capable of finding perfectly healthy expression on the flip side), as something that she has to conceal from others. Recall how in Suruga Monkey her being a lesbian is revealed right after the arm itself, and it’s her sexuality that Koyomi finds the more shocking.

From that perspective, you could think about Rouka as helping the devil part bearers integrate into society by removing the outward signs of their queerness, their difference. She takes it all on herself, with her oddly dyed hair, baggy tracksuit, put-on limp. She takes it all on herself because she no longer needs to live in normal society. No longer can.

It kind of explains more of Suruga’s hesitance to let Rouka go. It’s not like she wants to keep the arm. It’s not like it represents the truth of her sexuality in itself. She was gay before the arm and will be after. I think it moreso represents Tooe’s approach to identity and self-change. You can be whatever you want, but becoming is an inherently painful process.

We’d like to think that Tooe’s message was that you should learn to change yourself rather than relying on suspicious magical artifacts, but the fact that she exposed Suruga to that risk in the first place indicates she’s fine with danger as a teaching device. Fine with her daughter becoming poison. Maybe even fine with her killing someone.

In the end, all the arm does is give her an inferiority complex. Her admiration of Hitagi, her graceful running style, is built on the fact that Suruga herself doesn’t feel she can run like that. She’s faster, but also uglier, more desperate. Her admiration of Koyomi, his self-sacrificing nature, is built on her shame over not being able to help Hitagi more herself. She’s self-effacing, but also uglier, more jealous.

Suruga is glad to lose the arm, but she still feels uneasy about Rouka getting it. About being saved by someone else. Aren’t people supposed to just go ahead and save themselves? In this one thing, at least, Rouka is a more helpful specialist than even Oshino Meme.

On that topic, the last person to give Suruga advice is Rouka herself. At the end of their second meeting, Rouka tells her to live a normal life. Do all the things I couldn’t do. She’s a negative example, telling people to not end up like her. Just stay in the closet. This, too, will pass.

That, kinda sucks though. Integrate into society? Drop all visible signs of your queerness? Get a boyfriend? Rouka’s channeling old tragic yuri tropes for the last time she thinks they’ll ever meet.

Is that really what Rouka thinks? Does she really envy Suruga’s potential to be normal? To get a job? Because the opposite is precisely what Suruga envies about her - Rouka’s ability to ignore social expectations. The thing is, after their final match, the advice changes again. Who cares about studying for exams? Just start playing basketball again. This is really the only thing I can imagine Rouka envying Suruga for. It’s the path where she gets to make use of her arm again.

Saying that basketball is representative of Suruga’s queerness here is even more of a stretch than applying that to her arm, but there’s at least one important respect in which the analogy kinda works.

The way she wins the game.

Basketball is a game for more than one player. The phrasing is a little awkward - ideally it would read “Basketball is a game for two players” to make the comparison to romance even more explicit, but - that isn’t true, is it. So the fact that there are exactly two of them playing becomes a little more significant, I think.

They have to combine their efforts to get the ball into the hoop. That’s a disingenuous way of putting it, when they’re on opposite sides, but it’s still true. Rouka, after all, couldn’t get it in alone. That wasn’t her aim in the first place. She was just trying not to lose.

Suruga didn’t just let her lose decisively for the first time, she also let Rouka win. Rouka wasn’t passed to, much, when she used to play. This is the first time she realises that basketball can’t be played alone.

And, well, when you put it in that sense, basketball isn’t just representative of romance, it’s representative of life in general. When you look back on Rouka’s backstory, at this point, one thing stands out. She never relied on anyone else. She never had anyone to rely on. It’s so bad that she ends up in Suruga’s orbit. The anime opening portrays what it might be like if they had a closer relationship, but that’s something that had to be invented in retrospect, because they really didn’t talk much. They didn’t even properly play against each other much. But when it comes down to it, Rouka is drawn to Suruga’s family inheritance of the devil parts, Suruga’s family inheritance of an annoying conman uncle, and in the end, back to Suruga herself.

Suruga’s not the only person who ever truly understood her, as you might expect from a school rivalry situation. Suruga is simply the only person in a position where it’s even possible to truly understand her. The only person that could have drawn that final dunk out of her. The only person who could remind Rouka that she really did enjoy basketball, enjoy life.

In doing so, it serves as a reminder to herself, as well.

Thanks for reading, everyone! Call this the Pride Month special, even though I didn’t discuss the queer themes of this story as much as I would have liked. Next: Otori. Oh boy.

#monogatariposting #hanamonogatari #kanbaru suruga #numachi rouka

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sovamurka · 4 months

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suddenly realised that i don't have any of my epilepsy medication left, fuck

#either I have to go to the pharmacy that has the cheapest lamotrigine...#...or I have to go to the hospital when monday comes and get my meds for free.#because I can. thanks to the law. you know. I'm glad I can at least get meds necessary for me to stay alive.#if I had to pay 2000 rubles every month for a medication I literally can't live without?#MAN I'D FUCKING DIE. I don't have that much money to spare!#but also. it's funny that epileptics are still listed in the same category as schizophreniacs. some things never change I guess.#I mean... if you were born as either of those some 40 years ago then your life would be like 'WELCOME TO THE MENTAL WARD'#and it's actually the reason why both are still stigmatized in our society. but at least we're considered human beings now.#my mom learned so many new things when I got diagnosed. she got rid of so many unintentional biases.#and now she accepted I may never actually get undiagnosed and well...#she herself got two of less stigmatized illnesses. so she understands what I've been through.#but general rule we both established: don't tell about your diagnosis unless it's necessary.#you don't know how people may react. I know several people who would consider me a monster if I told them I am epileptic.#and in my case it's literally the same as coming out.

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toddtakefive · 5 days

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thinking about todd and his resolve toward… not quite isolation, but being alone in a room full of people again. he goes along to the study room to sit on his own and do his homework, he sits at the poets table and follows along with what’s being said while keeping quiet, he goes to the meetings at all but doesn’t necessarily contribute (in fact, if you watch him when cameron is telling the story ‘from camp in sixth grade’, you can see that he recognizes it before any of the other poets but doesn’t voice it until they all have). he’s not alone, necessarily, if you want to get technical about it, he’s just lonely, and he’s generally okay with that. he doesn’t have friends and that’s fine, he doesn’t participate in class and that’s fine, he doesn’t have a relationship with his family and that’s fine—he could live without any real connection and he’d have been, more or less, fine.

the thing about when he says “i can take care of myself just fine!” is that he isn’t really wrong, you can infer that he’s been doing it his entire life anyway, it’s that ‘taking care of yourself’ isn’t the same thing as really living or being happy. todd’s an introvert, certainly, and even as he gets closer to the group he defaults to sitting quietly in the background, but he’s also denying himself community out of fear not introversion. todd isn’t friendless because he’s an introvert, although that definitely plays a part, he’s friendless because he pushes anyone that might want his company away. if anyone has every wanted for his attention in the first place. (neil’s unwavering interest in him is unique (even when it comes to the rest of the poets, who are fine with todd coming along and joining the group, but aren’t really hellbent on him being there in the beginning) and his refusal to accept it is a direct result of being so lonely growing up.)

there’s obviously something to be said about the implications of his parents neglect, and the more than likely fact that he grew up friendless, and how those both play a part in in him being so skilled at dodging social interaction/being so avoidant of it, but by the time we see him in the movie he’s all but accepted his fate as being alone his entire life. he’s already accepted being the family disappointment, and he’s already accepted he’ll never amount to anything, and he obviously doesn’t like it, but he’d have managed living with that knowledge without the confirmation that it was all wrong. would he have been miserable? almost certainly. but he’d have managed. he’d done it for that long already, anyhow.

#and like obviously it’s BAD in the long run and his isolation IS only making his life worse but… genuinely he’d have been alright #all things considered #it’s super interesting to me how it’s neil who starts the domino effect of todd’s life becoming Less Shit #both by beliving in him and putting faith in him that he’s never seen before and refusing to let him hide away #but it isn’t a savior moment on neil’s part #and i find it so odd when people frame it as one #todd is like… actively irritated at him in that scene 😭#neil is right that todd needs to get out of his shell and put himself out there and Believe in himself #but todd can’t accept it yet because he can’t see what neil sees in him yet and doesn’t believe it exists at all #and it frustrates him because unlike everyone else neil REFUSES to give up on him #and as far as todds concerned it’ll be for nothing #as far as todd’s concerned neil isn’t a savior or a hero in that scene he’s an annoyance #a necessary one in the grand scheme of things but an annoyance all the same #i think people forget that just because todd DOES want to break out of his shell (‘don’t you think you could be?’ / ‘no! i… i don’t know!’ +#‘come on you heard keating don’t you want to *do* something about it?’ / ‘*yes* but…’) doesn’t mean he knows how or believes he actually CAN #todds autonomy can be taken away from him a lot (ironic) and he can be twisted into someone with no opinions or thoughts or whims +#outside of neil but that isn’t really the case #and a part of that blame lands on the movie because todd doesn’t get explored a lot but there’s still evidence of him being his own person #he’s not a yesman and he tells neil when his ideas are stupid (keeping the audition from his father) or he just doesn’t personally agree +#(the entire ‘no’ scene) and he functions perfectly well when neil isn’t around and while they aren’t focuses +#there are short scenes where todds alone or scenes that start eith them apart that make it clear they aren’t attatched to each other +#in the way people can often write them to be (that is in the trenches if the other is missing)#this post and all these tags are my long winded way of saying FUCK the codependent anderperry thing some people subscribe to it makes me #mad #neil’s goal is to help todd grow into himself and become his own person and find his identity more than anything #and todd doesn’t need neil to hold his hand to do literally anything and everything he’s a normal guy with anxiety #come on guys #dps #dead poets society #todd anderson

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