#you are telling me that people would not lose their minds

[midnightsxblue]

VIRGINITY (PART ONE)

carl grimes x fem!reader

tags: mentions of sex, mentions of loss of virginity, the talk

masterlist here!

read part two!!!

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You think about sex all the time. It sounds wrong but it’s true, you’re a teenager, it’s on your mind. You often wonder truly what it’s like. What it feels like, why people rave about it so much, why it’s such a huge part of who people are. It always confused you but you were curious. You’ve seen movies before, the classic make out between two people that would cut to them naked with the sheets covering their top half.

You wanted to know if it was like it was in the movies. That’s why, after a while of you and Carl dating, you’d come to the realization that you would soon lose your virginity. As weird as it sounds, the two of you were constantly worked up. Maybe it was the fact you loved each other so much or maybe because you lived in a world where you could die any second. You were genuinely worried to die a virgin.

Anyway, the both of you had countless make out sessions where you both pawed at each other to no end that you believed would finally end up with him inside of you. Every time you were interrupted. It was never the right time, there was just simply too much going on whenever you two tried. There was always someone in the house, God knows how much Rick hates to knock. You guys always had to watch over the baby and you couldn’t leave her unattended because her naps never lasted long.

You talked about it and you’d actually planned on trying the next time Rick and Michonne were out of the house for a while, as long as you were up for it. You’d have Olivia watch Judith, you’ll figure out some lie to tell her.

When Rick mentioned a supply run that they’d be gone for, you two gave each other a look but acted like everything is normal. Inside, you were excited to have a couple days to yourself. But then it hit you.

You’ve never had sex, how are you meant to know what you’re doing? There was nothing you could look at to give you a clue as to how everything worked. Carl didn’t have a clue either, so he went to the one guy knew to ask. You went to the one girl you knew to ask as well.

“Hey, Glenn?” Carl approaches him while he was working on a car near the gates of Alexandria. He didn’t want you to know you were asking how to have sex, he much rather you assume he knew what he was doing and let him handle it. Glenn looked up from the car and wiped his forehead of the sweat. “Hey.” He responds, looking between Carl and the car.

“I sort of need some advice…if you’re able to help.” His tone is embarrassing, he’s obviously gotten the talk but he was never told what exactly to do. “Uh yeah I have some time.” Glenn places the tool in his hand down on the floor, standing up to wipe his hands off. “What’s up?”

Carl looks at him hesitantly but knows he has to do this. “So um…I know like…what sex is but, i was wondering if you could tell me a bit more how it um..how it works?” He rambles, watching Glenn’s eyes go wide at his words. “Uhhhh….” Glenn thinks for a moment, the moment getting increasingly awkward as he stalled. “Well, use protection.” He swallows hard, trying a tone of voice to make the situation less weird. Carl makes an odd face at him, sort of cringing. “W-well do you need one- a condom? Like is that why you’re…” Glenn’s voice trails off when he realizes that Carl is actually asking so he can act on his advice.

Carl looks at him and nods, hesitating to answer. “Yeah.” He responds, his hands fiddling with the hem of his flannel. Glenn stares at him, somewhat uncomfortable. He pats his pants feeling around his pockets and he reaches into his back pocket. He pulls out a condom, a strip falling from the singular one he meant to take from his pocket. He rips one off quickly, shoving the rest back into his pants frantically. “Just take it.” He sticks it out and Carl takes it and shoves it into his own pocket. “Why do you just have these on hand?” Carl asks, sort of in a disturbed tone.

“Well I- forget it just…” He takes a step back and looks back to the car. He can’t look at Carl but he takes a breath to prepare to give better advice. He continues. “Look, just communicate with her, I think that’s the most important thing okay? You’ll know what you’re doing in the moment.”

─── ⋆⋅ ꩜ ⋅⋆ ───

“They never know where to put it so you’re gonna have to show ‘em.” Maggie tells you handing you a glass of water while you’re sat on her couch. She was very open about this which made you feel more comfortable. She settles into the couch next to you and looks at you intently. “You just gotta know that it’s what you want in the moment. You understand?” She has a light but serious tone.

“Yeah, I guess I’m just scared it’s gonna hurt or something.” You giggle awkwardly. “Well it might, if you bleed that’s normal too.” You squirm a tad at her words. “But you might not. It shouldn’t hurt after you get used to it. Just have him wait while you adjust to the feeling.” She gives you a content smile.

“Okay, I really appreciate this I wasn’t sure who else to go to…” You take a sip of your water and she nods. “If you ever need anything I’m here. Just…don’t get pregnant. That’s another thing, wait till you have condoms. And don’t forget to pee after.” She adds.

You thank Maggie and she decides to walk you out. You look for Carl and Glenn to meet up before dinner. You head towards the gates to see them talking which you find sort of ironic, you had no idea he was asking for advice like you were. He notices you and waves bye to Glenn before walking over to you, Maggie walking over to her husband. Sort of like a trade off.

“Don’t tell your dad I gave you that!” Glenn shouts. Carl gives him some sort of confirmation and returns his attention back to you.

“What’s that about?” You question.

“It’s nothing.”

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a/n: IMPORTANT NOTICE: I ADDED TO MY RULES THAT I PRIORITIZE REQUEST COMPLETION ON HOW DETAILED THE REQUEST IS SO TAKE NOTE OF THAT :)

anyway the next part will be banger. trust. ANYWAY I HOPE U GUYS LIKED ITTT :> thank u anon for requesting!!! next part comes out maybe this weekend!!! i’ve got some school stuff popping this week sooo it’ll take a little to come out, also it’s smut and i’ve never written that before SO IT MIGHT TAKE ME A LIL

tags: @zomb-1-egutzz

#carl grimes #twd #the walking dead #carl grimes twd #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes the walking dead #carl grimes angst #the walking dead carl #twd carl #carl grimes smut

[revehae]

i’m not asking you to write for wonbin but if you ever do js know i wiillllll be there !

yall have finally did it yall have won yall have Cracked me i hope youre happy bc i kinda am… i had this idea before he cut his hair now im feeling like that one harry styles fan tweet and i don’t even stan fr

warnings: drug use, addiction, is this dubcon idk

wc. 670

dealer!wonbin x (f) rich!reader.

wonbin knew you wouldn’t turn down his offer. not in the state that you were in, moody and tense as ever. the girl he’d seen around here and there at parties hadn’t come back around, not since he’d first seen her bump a line or two, and she’d been replaced by you.

what you had become over the months, at least.

not that wonbin would have it any other way. he liked having you kind of dependent on him, knowing he was the first person crossing your mind when you needed a fix. but the brief interactions, meeting you at a party or somewhere shady at night, your car window rolling up as quickly as it had gone down, weren’t enough anymore.

“no.”

“no?” you repeated, like the entitled, spoiled rich girl you really were deep down. wonbin had to give you credit, you cloaked it well, but when you were desperate, you showed your true colors. “what do you mean no?”

wonbin grinned playfully, in a way that he knew would aggravate you. “i mean, i set everything aside for my buddy, and i don’t have enough for you right now.”

you rubbed your nose and ran a finger through your hair, exhaling exasperatedly. “well, tell him to wait. i need it more than he does! is he paying you? i’ll pay you twice as much!”

there you went, offering him your pocket money, throwing it away like it was nothing just for a second of your high. but wonbin didn’t need your money. selling cocaine to recklessly needy addicts like yourself was a very lucrative business.

he shook his head. “sorry, that’s not gonna cut it. but i thought of something better.”

you were in the middle of losing what was left of your mind when wonbin said that and your eyes immediately snapped back to him, fixed to him before he could even get the words completely out.

“i’ll give you two grams if you let me fuck you,” wonbin said casually, a wild grin tugging at his lips. “six grams if you let me do it raw.”

you were a little reluctant at first, but wonbin wasn’t surprised when you finally caved, thinking to himself, that was too damn easy.

because he was nice, wonbin let you snort a line before he touched you, but he was on top of you not a second later. in spite of that, he didn’t move like he was in any particular hurry, snaking a hand up your shirt and pressing his lips against your lips. then your neck, your collarbone, your belly. almost affectionately, almost.

it started to work you up quickly, and you even got annoyed, tugging at his hair, but wonbin didn’t care. matter of fact, he could feel his body getting hotter, burning a thousand degrees. he wanted to savor every second of you, every touch of you, every smell of you.

wonbin really liked the smell of you. the sweet scent helped masked the madness underneath when you were like this. he leaned in to sniff your hair, your neck, your clothes, your hands.

it made his dick twitch in his pants and he couldn’t control himself anymore, yanking it free so that he could steer himself between your open, inviting legs, moaning shakily and blowing his hair out of his eyes as he pushed into you. 

knowing that only a few months ago, your dignity would have never let you consent to something like this, wonbin almost felt bad. he may have sold the drugs, but he never touched them otherwise. too many people he had seen wind up like you, selling themselves out for a moment of ecstasy.

but he wasn’t so different. your cunt squeezed and throttled the life out of his cock. sweat was the reason your body clung to his. you were muttering his name, dragging red lines down his back with your fingernails. and for the time being, there was nothing wonbin wouldn’t do for his moment of ecstasy.

#wonbin smut #riize smut #park wonbin smut #riize x reader #riize imagines #dark riize #tw: drug use

[queen-of-the-avengers]

After So Long

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: angst

Summary: You're forced to go back to the one place you tried to hard to get away from. You're forced to contront the memories you left behind.

Between Love and Hate Masterlist

Squares Filled: protection (2023) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Then

It seemed like wherever Bucky went, Steve and Sam followed. You thought it’d be nice to go shopping at your local mall with Bucky since he’d been so busy with work. You put on something cute to wear and did your hair only to feel like you’re being followed the whole time. You tried to ignore them but it was hard when you saw their black clothes in every corner.

“Does this look cute?” you asked and held up a shirt.

“On me or you?” Bucky joked.

“Ha-ha, very funny. Wait, it might look good on you.”

Bucky smiled and took the shirt while you moved to a different section of the store, the dresses. He didn’t mind holding the things you wanted to get. He’d do it forever if he knew this made you happy. It does. You liked shopping. Just not with grown men following you.

“Do they have to be here?” you sighed as you looked at the dresses.

“It’s a precaution, pisică.”

You liked the little nicknames he gave you, especially in his native tongue, Romanian.

“Because of your job?” Bucky nodded. “When are you gonna tell me what you do?”

“I’d rather stay in our little bubble a little while longer, if possible.”

“Fine, but you will have to tell me eventually.” Bucky didn’t respond to that. Once you were done with the dresses, you moved to the jewelry section. The prices in this store were outrageous and you turned to Bucky with a frown. “Are you sure we should keep shopping here? I’ve already spent enough of your money.”

“Pisică, I make more money in an hour than the one hundred grand you’re going to spend.”

“You’re spoiling me,” you grinned.

Bucky pulled you into him and placed his hands on your ass, not caring if anyone saw.

“You’re my girl. Of course, I will.”

He leaned down and kissed you and your heart swelled in happiness.

Now

You always knew Bucky would find you but you didn’t know when or where it’d happen. He truly didn’t know where you were for the first six months you were gone. After you enrolled in college, he found you. In order to apply for it, you had to use your real name which Sam caught when he was looking for you online.

Despite what you may think of him, he really does love you. He just has a weird way of showing it.

Bucky has left his men behind where you crashed your car at while his driver takes you to one of his mansions. You’ve been to almost all of them because he used to take you all around the country for the hell of it. You have a room in every single one of them.

“Pisică--”

“Don’t call me that,” you snap and look at him.

“It took a long time to find you. I thought you had dropped off the face of the Earth.”

“Bite me.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he smirks. He loses it when he thinks about what to ask next. “Why did you run?”

You look at him with wide eyes and a parted mouth. “Did you really just ask me that? You’re a murderer.”

“Well, that depends on how to look at it.”

“There’s no looking at it differently. You kill people. That’s murder.”

Bucky decides to change the topic because he’s not gonna get far with you accusing him of things he’s done.

“Remember how we met?” It’s incredible how this man can jump from one topic to the next. “I do. I even remember the kiss we shared. Care to hear it from my perspective?”

“Not really?”

He tells you the story anyway as if you weren't there to begin with.

Bucky met up with several potential business partners that he thought would benefit him and his company. He’s one of the biggest mafia bosses this country has ever seen and having allies is much better than having enemies. He controls the weapons market, the communication sector, and most of the casinos across the country. These men would give him access to most of the drug trading posts if they’d only get their heads out of their asses and agree to his terms.

He doesn’t let the storm outside prevent him from doing business which is why he took this little meeting to one of the most expensive and high-end restaurants in town. The owner knows him and always gives him a good deal.

“Ma’am! You can’t just run in here!”

Bucky looks up and locks eyes with the most gorgeous woman he has ever seen before. Granted, she’s soaking wet from the rain outside. She looks fearful as if she’s running from someone. For some reason, Bucky would kill anyone who ever made her feel unsafe, and he doesn’t even know her.

She looks back outside and runs further into the restaurant, ignoring the calls from the hostess. She runs right over to him and interrupts the meeting he carefully set up without a care in the world. There’s panic in her eyes. She’s afraid. If only she knew who he was.

“I’m so sorry. Please play along.”

A man comes into the restaurant just as soaked as she is but Bucky doesn’t have time to react. She sits on his lap and kisses him desperately. He wraps an arm around her waist to keep her from falling off his lap and kisses her back. She is getting his nice suit wet but he doesn’t care. This kiss not only screams ‘I’m desperate’ but it screams ‘I need help’. The men Bucky is with chuckle but he tunes them out.

“Sir!”

Bucky can only assume the man had left the restaurant. His mysterious lover tries to pull away from him but he pulls her in closer and continues to kiss her. Only when he is satisfied does he finally let her go. She turns to check that the man isn’t there anymore and visually relaxes.

“I am so sorry.”

“Ex-boyfriend?”

“Yeah. He wouldn’t let me leave and I only managed to get away from him.” something comes over her face and she backs away in embarrassment. “God, that was so rude of me. I don’t know you. Thank you for that. Again, I’m really sorry I interrupted your dinner.”

She leaves the table and checks to make sure her ex isn’t outside looking for her. Once she feels she’s safe, she runs back outside into the pouring rain. Bucky clears his throat and takes out his phone so he can call one of his trusted men. He has Sam working on something in another state so Steve is who he calls.

“Boss?”

“Did you see her run out?”

“Yes.”

“Follow her. Find out about the boyfriend.”

“Yes, sir.”

Bucky gets off the phone and returns to his meeting like nothing happened.

“You came in there dripping wet. You came over to me and kissed me. Do you remember that kiss? How desperate you were for it?” During his storytelling, Bucky pulled you closer to him and slid his hand in your hair. His hand is so big that he can cup the side of your head and still run his thumb over your bottom lip. “Do you remember the taste of my lips on yours?”

“I will never kiss you again much less do anything more than that.”

You push him away and he smirks in amusement. He keeps his hands to himself for the rest of the ride. His mansion is like the one in New York just with more acres. He has the ultimate dream house fit with anything you can think of. Pools, spas, theaters, sports courts, and a ton more.

You dread coming back here not because it reminds you of Bucky but because it reminds you of the good times you had with him. The times from before you knew what he did for work.

You’re escorted inside his mansion and taken to a room with Steve. It’s like you’re being placed on time out because Steve stands by the door as if he isn’t allowed to let you leave.

“Ai grijă la ea, e foarte drăguță, dar e o fire plină de luptă. Ea nu iese din casă.”

Watch out for her, she’s real pretty but she’s a feisty one. She doesn’t leave the house.

Bucky keeps eye contact with you the whole time before leaving the room. Your blood boils.

“Ești un laș care se ascunde în spatele unei armate de oameni!”

You’re a coward who hides behind an army of men!

Bucky doesn’t bat an eye at your words. He’s the one who taught you Romanian, now you’re using it against him.

“I’m leaving,” you say to Steve and storm to the door.

Steve lets you out of the room knowing there are guards posted at every door to prevent you from leaving the mansion. Sam stands at the front door so he must be done cleaning the crash of your car. 

“Sorry, you can’t leave. Bosses’ order,” Sam says and stops you from leaving.

Instead of standing here arguing with him, you figured you get this over with. Your room hasn’t been touched since you left, and you can only assume your other rooms in the other mansions haven’t been touched either. This room is filled with so many good memories of you and Bucky. You hate that you’re looking at them now with such disdain.

Bucky was never one for pictures so the ones he did take were inappropriate to post anywhere. He thought it was funny to print them out and frame them for your room to always remind you who you belong to. Maybe you still do. Maybe you don’t. You’re not sure of how you feel anymore.

It hurts to look at them because you still love him. You’re so damn in love with him and it hurts because you thought you’d never love a murderer.

Bucky returns to the house hours later, well into the night. He finds you asleep in your own bed with dried tears on your cheeks. He looks at the pictures on the dresser and yanks his tie off angrily. He makes sure to be quiet as he walks over to you.

“I love you so much,” he whispers.

He kisses your forehead before leaving your room. God, he wishes things were different. He hates seeing you in pain.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fiction #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes fan fic #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #marvel fan fiction #mcu #marvel fan fic #marvel fanfic #marvel fluff #mcu fanfiction #marvel fiction

[nightgoodomens]

i was neutral on GT and GT/DT until maybe a month ago, and then started noticing GT would post these rather, what i would consider, passive aggressive stories. i commented on a screenshot of one of them on twitter, very politely inquiring as to why she felt the need to put DT down in her posts. i was absolutely bombarded. i couldn't believe it. i was accused of being a hater, of fabricating drama, of seeing things that weren't there. i had to mute the post and unfollow/block a bunch of people because of the reaction. it was horrible.

i came to tumblr instead and when i found your blog, i spent HOURS scrolling through and everything just clicked. that icky feeling i was getting from GT's posts suddenly made sense. im a relatively new 'fan' (just GO and just in the past 2-3 years) so i had had no idea of their history, the numerous snide remarks from GT, the patterns of behavior recently.

it really made me realize hey, this is classic PR. and if you don't take the time to actually research or be open-minded to anything other than the image you are presented with, you will forever be persuaded by a manufactured story.

Twitter/Tumblr antis are basically “Only one opinion is right, get shot dead if you think otherwise, and you must worship without dirtying your mind with any thoughts!”

Reminds anyone of anything…

I never have issues with people not sharing my opinions. But antis just can’t comprehend someone not agreeing with them. They take it so personally. The way they are losing their minds lately is… I think they need to de attach themselves from relationships they worship so much because if people having different thoughts makes them so hateful, so angry, so vile… it’s time to take a step back.

They need to realise that they won’t evaporate if someone thinks differently to them.

The good thing about their obsession is that they ensure DT barely has to move a finger. Antis are persuaded by so little, they’re so protective of their dream ready to tell people to kill themselves if they don’t believe it… that’s why Wordle is enough.

They’re such fucking hypocrites too, it’s hilarious.

Even without the prospect of DT/MS, there is still so much to see about the PR of AL/MS and GT/DT but they’d rather throw fits. Meh, leave them crying in the corner.

Glad to have you here 😁

#NightGoodOmens talks PR

[merbear25]

Playing with fire (Yandere! Caesar x Yandere! fem!reader)

So many had been chased away by the intensity of your adoration, leaving you broken-hearted time and time again. When you started your new semester, you found yourself enchanted by the passion that radiated off the professor. With such charm pulling you in, your old obsessive habits resurfaced, only this time your love interest appeared to be more…deranged than the others.

a/n: Caesar gives off yandere vibes, and it’s one of many things I find fascinating about him. I personally envision the reader getting her Master’s or PhD, but no age is mentioned.

CW: NSFW! MDNI! Yandere themes (stalking, possessiveness, obsessiveness), University AU, some angst, rough sex, vaginal penetration, facial.

Mending your heart took a lot out of you; the mental exhaustion of having to put together the scattered pieces each time someone shattered it was taking its toll. With so many practically fleeing from your love, you regrettably tried to fix yourself, thinking that if you were more normal, you’d finally have your love reciprocated. Despite taking such actions for what everyone labeled as self-improvement, it felt as if you were losing a part of yourself. Would you really have to change how you loved in order to be loved?

Sitting in the lecture hall, you tapped your pen against your notebook waiting for the beginning of the semester to officially start. With the clock ticking into position, the professor made his grand entrance right on time. While the others continued talking amongst themselves, your eyes were fixated on him. The long, wild hair, his intense golden eyes and the way he held himself with such confidence, all of which were a recipe to destroy the progress you’d been making.

A familiar feeling burned inside you the longer the class went on. His charismatic deliveries on each piece of information coupled with the passion he had for his subject were sedatives, numbing you to the dangers you were surely going to be thrown into.

Upon dismissal, the others were gathering their belongings, filing out of the lecture hall, yet you remained in your seat. Infatuation left you blind and deaf to what was happening around you. Only when his gaze fell on you and a smirk stretched his purple lips was your trance broken. Flustered and embarrassed about getting caught leering at him, you fumbled with your things and left as quickly as possible—the heat of your blush searing your cheeks. His eyes followed you all the way out those doors and a faint chuckle chased after you.

As the semester progressed, your desires for him had only escalated: keeping track of where he went, his personal habits, who he spoke to, how often he spoke to them, how long he kept people in office. Fighting against your paranoia was a losing battle. You fretted that these other students and colleagues of his were somehow more favored than you, despite you being at the top of the class—even having you forget about the small bits of praise he gave you all while flashing you that bewitching smile of his.

Why did so many have to talk to him? Because he was the head of his department. Okay, but why did he have to keep them in his office for so long? Your mind scattered to all of the possibilities, each one more soul-crushing than the last. Peering around the corner, your malice burrowed into whoever came out of that room. Anticipating him to pivot, your old habit to snake away behind your barrier took over.

Working on assignments was a fine way of passing the time. You knew he parked on the other side of the building, so it was easy to relax in this sense of security you’d cushioned yourself with. However, with comfort comes slip ups.

Satisfied with what you’d done for your class with him, you closed your notebook. “Please tell me you plan on revising those.” That same alluring voice from just moments ago was now in your ear.

Being caught off guard, you were at a loss for words. All you managed was to squeak out an ‘of course’.

Placing his hand on the backrest of the bench, he leaned down, forcing your heart to pound furiously against your ribcage. “I have a fun idea. Would you like to come with me?”

Such a curious invitation left you hypnotized, having you nodding and obediently following him out to his car. Momentarily halting at the surprise that this involved leaving campus, he was ready with reassurance, “It’ll be worth it. I promise. Just get in.”

A slight twinge of uncertainty was easily overshadowed by your unchaste self-involvement with him. Pleased with how compliant you were only whetted his appetite for what he had planned.

Willingly following him over the threshold of his home, he was sure to lock the door as he projected his voice across the room to you, muffling any signal to panic.

Only half listening to him, you followed the line of photos he had hanging up on his walls. Each one showcasing his achievements, aiding your admiration in him.

“You know, you have a promising future in your field, too,” there was a sincerity to his compliment. When you turned to face him, you suddenly felt bites of bashfulness prickling your cheeks.

He sighed with a hint of affection. “Such a winsome look for one who’s hiding some dirty secrets.”

“What do you mean?” Your faltering tone failed to convince him of your innocence.

Humming in amusement of having successfully called you out on your suspicious character, he used it as a segue to the main course, “You know exactly what I mean.”

His longing became more persistent, itching for him to push forward. “Have you any idea why I brought you here? You would’ve been too loud. I can see it on your face—you’re a screamer.”

Seduction dripped with each word, glazing you with just the right amount for consumption. Your look batted between his eyes and lips while he closed the gap between you. You nodded and enticed him. “Let’s gorge ourselves then, shall we?”

Feeling like his intensity was being met, you were pulled into his arms and forceful lips crashed into yours, desperation to satiate this yearning pouring out of them.

Getting caught in his whirlwind of passion, you wanted to ground yourself for a moment, “W-wait.” You gasped.

Frowning at your sign of resistance, he reminded you of your concerning behavior towards him, “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? What you’ve been after?”

Worrying you’d miss your chance at finally having a partner who’d relish in your intensity, you admitted to this being something that before you’d only dreamed of.

“Then don’t you dare take it away from me,” his words sounded more like a threat but worked wonders on your deluded idea of romance.

Your place in this hyper-sexualized indulgence was made crystal clear: you were to be used as he pleased. Being tossed around by someone who was swelling with as much desire for you as you had for them was a godsend. It led you to believe you would never again have to hide such a disturbing love from him.

Slapping yourself up and down on his now utterly soaked length, your moans filled the room. He ran his hand up your enticing neck, settling it at the back of your head. He huffed from the constant berating on his senses, “It seems that your siren calls have entangled me.”

With a sly grin, he tugged on your hair, forcing your head back and exposing your neck to his hungry fixation. Your breasts frantically keeping the pace of his thrusts was keeping him mesmerized. Licking and suckling on your tender flesh, your body writhed under his touch, which earned you a guttural groan.

Witnessing tears swell up in your beautiful eyes only provoked his brutality. His ego was being inflated with each shriek and tremble he forced out of you, while you both stood at the cliffs of ecstasy ready to take the plunge into the rough waters below. Letting those waves wash over you, he was close behind.

Tossing you on your back, he roughly grabbed your tear stained face and he commanded, “Open that pretty mouth.” 

Such alluring doe eyes fluttering their long lashes at him brought out his carnal need to mark you as his. With his hand gripping your delicate neck, he grunted upon releasing his own pent-up craving for you, coating you in the sin he’d kept hidden all semester.

His obsession for you dripped down the sides of your face, piquing your want for more from this relationship. As his eyes scanned the work he’d done to you, a satisfied expression painted itself on him. Without having to say anything, there was a mutual understanding that neither of you were going to back down.

#one piece #x reader #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece au #university au #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x yandere #yandere!reader #one piece x you #op au #op x reader #op x you #one piece smut #caesar clown #one piece caesar clown #caesar x reader #caesar clown x reader

[starkraivennemad]

Rooftop Confessions

TW: Talk of past suicide thoughts.

Greg Lestrade internally sighed as he stepped onto the roof of St. Bart's hospital and saw Sherlock Holmes already there. He just wanted to smoke in peace and not be harangued yet again that he should quit. It was his choice. 

Sherlock stood near the ledge looking out at the vista of London. The lightly breezy afternoon was taking delight in playing with the man's curls. The dark hair seemed to move as though under water, the smoke of the cigarette he held in his gloved hand at face level swirled around the sharp cheekbones of handsome man. 

Sherlock had a look of concentration. Greg would have thought he was in his Mind Palace again, but that was not quite - right? Greg was trying to decide f he wanted to go a different section of the roof of the roof to smoke or leave altogether…

Then Sherlock gave a different choice.  

"Lestrade come over and smoke or go away but for God's sake stop hemming and hawing at the door. Its squeaks are more irritating than Anderson's voice!" the curly haired genius called out. 

Greg chuckled to himself as he joined the genius for a smoke. The two stood in companionable silence simply smoking. Sherlock finished his cigarette but remained on the roof. Greg has known Sherlock for several years now. Well as well as anyone can know such a man as a Holmes. He and brother were masters of hiding their feelings from people. Greg considered himself blessed or perhaps cursed in being one of the few people who had the fortitude to stay around long enough to begin to see beneath the surface. 

"It's nice up here on clear days like today." Greg broke the silence at last knowing Sherlock was not going to. "I'm glad I chose to stay around and enjoy it." He should have known the ever-observant Sherlock would hear the slight tone in his voice. A dark eyebrow rose curiously. "You, Greg?"

"Yeah me." 

"Do spill the tea as I hear is in vogue to say these days."

Greg sighed, knowing Sherlock won't let it go, and buried memories came to the surface. "I was having a shit time in my life.  In a six month span me mum had died. My shite car had broken down - again. My wife was all on my arse about my hours and never being there. I had a run of cases that were shite, and my superiors were all over me at work. Then came Markell …"  Greg stopped to light another cigarette. He shook one out of the pack and stared at it as he spoke.  "Yeah, they tried to tell me there was nothing I could do. The rookie was determined to go it alone and prove himself and he got killed for it. And I know that now, but just then? Danny Markell was the last straw. I figured I'd blow my brains out. I knew where I could do it. I had done a bust there weeks before, knew how to get in the building. Knew I could score what I needed there to fry my brain. What else I had to lose - right? I was pants at home, pants in the job I thought I loved, and pants at life. Who would fucking care if I was gone? I felt so… So worthless!"

Sherlock looked at him intently for a moment, something subtle shifting in those mercurial eyes, but said nothing, so Greg continued.

"I was on the top landing of the stairwell on my way to the roof that night to toss my life away - literally when I heard a door open some stories below and someone speaking. The voices were kind of warped given the distance and echo, but I distinctly heard him say you have a choice, wallow in your misery and prove the idiots right or rise up above it and prove you have half the brain were blessed with and use them. Use them and show them how wrong they are or let them waste but choose because you can't keep going like this! I don't know who he was or who was being spoken to, but I swear it felt like he was speaking directly to me. There I was a copper in a derelict building known for drug use with enough shit to fry my brain. I knew I was a good cop. I knew I was a good husband. I knew I was a good man, but could all of them be better? Yes. So, I stood, went to the roof and made a choice. I chose to wait a day to see if I would feel better. If I could do better. To BE better." 

Greg smiles as different memories, better memories come forth. 

"The next day I met Linda Younger. I talked her down from jumping off the ledge of her building. Fifteen minutes after she was safe, I went to the loo and flushed the drugs. Had I made a different the night before would Linda Younger be alive now? Whose life will I be saving the next day besides my own because I decided to stay around that one more day?"  Greg reached in his pocket and pulled out his keys. He showed Sherlock a sterling silver key fob shaped like a horseshoe. "She gave me this on the first anniversary of that day. Said her luck had changed after we met. Three years later she was married and had named first son after me. I don't know if someone else would have saved her, I just know because I made the choice to stay one more day, I did. Because I chose to stay, I saved more than one. Because I stayed, I caught killers before they could kill again. Because I made the choice to stay, I met you. It's what gets me through the shite days of this job - like today. Sorry, I got a little maudlin there. And while I'm sure to catch some shite for your barely legal methods - thanks again for your help, last week, a little girl got to see her mum again because of us. It all balances out." He looked at his watch and winced at the time. "Need to head back to The Yard for my press conference for the suicide murders soon. It's going to be a shit show, I know it."

"It would be less of one if you-" Sherlock tried.

"Zip it you. If something changes, I have the new address, I'll come, alright? It's cold, let's go and I'll treat you to a cuppa first?" Greg gestured towards the door. 

"Are you offering me hospital coffee? No, thank you, Graham." Sherlock huffed as he checked his buzzing phone. "Fresh meat? Excellent! You do your press conference; I'll watch. Then I think I will make the choice to run an experiment with a cadaver, Molly Hooper and a riding crop. See how the rest of the day goes…"

"Your choice." Greg laughed. He reached in his pocket and made another choice: he crushed the cigarettes there. He will purchase nicotine patches later and try quitting again. 

"Greg…?"

"Yeah, Sherlock?" Greg blinked and looked at the call of his name. It was the first time Greg could recall Sherlock using his correct first name - ever. Oh, Greg knew once they left the roof Sherlock will go back to pretending otherwise, but Greg understood the importance of it being used then and was honored.

Again, something important shifted in Sherlock's eyes. "For the record, I… I for one am glad you made the choice to stay that night."

"Thank you, Sherlock." Greg smiled up at the man as the. "As am I, mate, as am I."

-----------------------------------

Read on AO3 @calaisreno @MayPrompts2024

#MayPrompts2024 - Prompt 10: Choice

@flashfictionfridayofficial

#mayprompts2024 #flash fiction friday #252 Spill the tea #bbc sherlock #greg lestrade #sherlock holmes

[doodle-pops]

For Pride or Joy

Fingon x reader

Warnings: nothing, it’s all fluff

Words: 700

Synopsis: You make a daring bet with Fingon.

“You really wish to make that bet with me? You know I’ll win, right?” he asked with a mischievous twinkle in his sapphire eyes. Head tilted and lips tugged to form a smirk, he awaited your negative response as expected since the beginning of the argument.

With a lame scoff, you rolled your eyes and looked away from his childish antics. You didn’t understand his persistence when everyone, even Eru knew he would fail from the start. However, failure was never an attribute of Fingon, and you wonder what he would look like should it have happened. Darting your eyes at him with sinister intent behind them, you grinned innocently and held out your hand for him to shake. “Loser has to do everything the winner demands?”

Without skipping a beat, his larger hands gripped you in a firm handshake while his grin mimicked yours. “Deal.”

**

Fingon wanted to drown himself in the vat of wine he stood before as thoughts of his foolishness for agreeing to your bet hurled across his mind. What would he do to have someone take him out of his misery?

You were standing on the opposite side of the room gossiping with your friends and laughing at Eru knows what concerning the latest drama in Tirion. He felt like you were mocking him as you were for the last five hours. Your necklace fell perfectly against your neck; you insisted on wearing the one gifted to you by him at the beginning of your courtship. The way you smiled with your pretty wine-stained lips, batting your lashes at him from the corner of your eyes when no one was looking.

In this moment, you were his agony. And all because of that foolish bet…and his foolishness.

“You’re a very physically affectionate person Finno. I doubt you can survive for five seconds without touching some part of me.”

He scoffed. It grew worse when he realised what ‘no physical interactions’ meant when he came to visit you this morning to whisk you away for the family dinner. You walked past him without sparing him a ‘hello kiss’ or a ‘good morning darling kiss’ and rushed to the carriage. He crumpled to his knees and almost rushed to cling to your legs when you broke the second rule to him.

“No physical interactions mean no kissing as well Finno. You of all people should know that Prince Touchy.”

You were the cruellest person to walk the earth, and to be paired with you as his lover. A curse! A nightmare! The world was coming to an end, and he could really do with drowning himself in that vat of wine at that moment. All his siblings and cousins were busy engaging with their beloveds and placing kisses upon their cheeks and hands while he had to watch like a loser. Many of them had paraded to his side to inquire if he was alright the entire day while he ground his teeth and squeezed out positive responses.

“Pouting does not suit you, darling.” He whipped around at the sound of your voice goading him in the festivities of his family. “It appears as though you might cry any minute for whatever is the matter. Handkerchief?”

He exhaled and rolled his eyes, not the common expression for his mirth personality. “Mock me all you want, I will win,” he declared and took a sip of his wine. “However, I am thrilled to have this competition, for now I know you are far too mean and sly. Tell me, why must you take it so far and deny me what I love the most?!”

“To prove me right when I said you adore physical affection like your existence depends on it,” you sniggered and gave him a smug look. “There’s nothing wrong with losing to me. I’m your lover, so it’s also a plus. Or does your pride refuse your ability to accept defeat?”

“Defeat does not exist in the life of Prince Findekáno, sweetheart. I will win even if today is just day one, I will win,” he confidently boasted with his head high and chin jutting out, refusing to accept your alleged statements about his natural habit.

Though, he was quick to succumb to his losses two hours later after you accidentally bumped your shoulder against his, urging him to engulf you into a hug on the dancefloor and swearing about not giving a damn about the bet when holding you was more important.

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @involuntaryspasms @sakurayaxd @aconstructofamind @stormchaser819 @addaigio @lamemaster @zheiya @elficially-done-with-life

If you would like to be tagged, click the taglist link to join.

#fingon x reader #fingon fluff #fingon imagine #fingon scenario #fingon #findekáno #house of fingolfin #nolofinweans #silmarillion x reader #silmarillion imagine #silmarillion fluff #silmarillion scenario #silmarillion fic #middle earth x reader #middle earth imagine #middle earth fluff #middle earth fic #x reader insert #x reader fluff #silmarillion #doodlepops writings ✨

[maccreadysbaby]

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: gore

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

shaha… nico makes me sad lmao

part forty-three

❝ IMPOSTER ❞

SATURDAY — SEPTEMBER 12 — 8:56PM

THE WORLD WAS MOVING WITHOUT BENTLEY, AND IT WAS THE MOST TERRIFYING THING HE’D EVER EXPERIENCED. 

He couldn’t move. He was pinned to the debris by the massive shard of metal that was protruding from his chest, and all of his pain meshed into one strange feeling of numbness. The only thought that was bouncing around in his head was the last statement he heard from Jason.

That Asten wasn’t breathing.

Asten wasn’t breathing.

Asten couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t. That wasn’t how this was supposed to end. None of this was supposed to end like this. The world could go on without Bentley Whittaker. Everything would be fine without Bentley Whittaker. But how could the earth keep spinning without Asten Evans?

He guessed he should’ve expected it. Nothing he does ever goes right. Only this time it went so, so wrong. Death wrong.

(Was Asten dead because of him?)

There was no one around him. No one that knew where he was except maybe Nico, who was unconscious. All he could really see were the tall buildings and night’s sky over his head, the end of the metal sticking out of him. He couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t really move.

He twitched his fingers on his right hand, which caused a jolt of pain that ran through his entire body and made him whine. 

Was there a point in calling for help if he already knew he was going to die?

His eyes began to water at the half-realization that he was literally living out his last moments alone in a pile of rubble. The thought helped him force his hand up a little more, up toward his pounding head. His muscles were trembling from the effort, and it hurt so bad to move anything… but he didn’t want to die. He didn’t. (But he was going to, he knew. What was one last streak of denial?)

He clicked his earpiece on, and was greeted by a low, constant, staticky hum.

“Help,” He muttered, his voice coming out strangely hoarse and soft. “Help.”

The static continued, melding with the low sounds of the remaining crackling fire and shifting rubble.

“I’m… dying,”

Static.

Bentley’s stinging eyes spilled over down his face, but he couldn’t really cry, it hurt too bad — all he could do was let his eyes water. “Help me. Please. Please, help me.”

Nothing. 

“I don’t… I don’t… I don’t want to die,” He muttered, sniffling lightly, staring at the sky. “I don’t want to die alone.”

Silence.

“Batman,” He tried, wincing when he sobbed a few times anyways. “B, please. I-I don’t want to die by myself. Please.”

The only response he got was a shift in the rubble beneath him, and the twinkle of the stars above him.

He coughed, which sent a ripping pain through his whole body that made him cry out in agony — and now there was blood on his face. Had he coughed up blood?

“Bruce... Bruce, please. Please. I-I want to go home,”

The static in the earpiece didn’t budge.

Bentley was going to die here, and alone.

He would’ve wiped the tears off of his face, but even the thought of moving produced agony, so he didn’t. “Bruce, please. Please, please, please… Dad, please.”

Silence.

(How was he supposed to come to terms with dying? How did people do this? How did Jason…? Damian?)

There was an oddly familiar whooshing sound, and Bentley could’ve swore he heard feet hit the ground not too far from him. If he had the willpower to move his head, he might’ve tried to look at whoever was there to mock him.

Not a second later came a shrill: “Oh my God! Oh my God no way! I did it!” 

The voice wasn’t one he knew, but it wasn’t not one he knew. It was a guy’s, and he didn’t recognize it. (But he kind of did?)

“Screw you, space-time! Barry’s gonna lose his mind when I tell him-“ There was a pause. “Oh, shit, right.”

There were footsteps that came oddly close to Bentley, but he only saw the figure they belonged to when it was practically looming over his head. It was a tall guy -- maybe Jason’s age, maybe Tim’s -- in a bright yellow, white, and red jumpsuit. The majority of it was yellow, with red and white stripes on the arms and legs, accentuating a large white lightning bolt in the center of the chest. The suit went all the way up to his head and stopped, sort of like Tim’s cowl but with the top cut out so his hair was showing. He also had a utility belt around his waist, with only one small, yellow pouch on it.

This guy looked just like Nico. 

Okay, so, yeah, Bentley was dying and probably hallucinating, but this guy had Nico’s eyes that looked so much like Dick’s. Not to mention that he had the same exact dirty-blonde mop on his head, dangling over the edges of the suit.

Bentley really was losing his mind.

“Hey… Hey there, bud,” The Adult Nico Imposter said, kneeling down next to him, his hands hovering unsurely over Bentley’s wound. His blue eyes very quickly turned misty and watery, getting bluer in that weird way only Dick’s and Nico’s did when they cried. “I never saw...”

Bentley’s half-hearted response was a soft, simple: “Huh?”

The Adult Nico Imposter rubbed his hand over his hair, exhaling heavily. “Okay. Okay. Hi. Hi, Bentley, uh, it’s me… Nico, but, uh… not yours. I’m Nico from the future, and I’ve just broken the space-time continuum to be here. So, here I am. God, great job explaining, you idiot,” He muttered to himself, his eyes still blown wide and staring at Bentley’s abdomen. “In the timestream I came from, you died tonight, and now I’m here to make sure you don’t, uh, like Barry did for me. But, uh, I’m not taking you to a new universe, just… yeah. Anyways. Can I pick you up?”

Bentley blinked. He was literally losing his mind.

Since speaking to a hallucination couldn’t really hurt anything, and he didn’t want to die alone (even if his company was blood-loss-generated), he nodded as much as he could force himself to.

With a nod and a deep breath, the Nico Imposter opened the little pouch on his belt and pulled an inhaler out, shaking it and puffing on it a few times with that telltale rattle-rattle-hiss-hiss.

And it was strange, because everything, down to the material of this guy’s suit to the pain caused by movement of the metal piece, Future Nico picking him up felt really… real.

“You’re… from… the future?” Bentley muttered, watching the buildings and stars move above him. Future Nico was really warm, and it felt nice. (Was it even real?)

“Yeah. But saving you is about to make a new one. I’ll have to go back to mine when I’m done here,” He explained lightly, sitting Bentley in his grasp, cupping his head with one hand. 

Bentley hummed. “Did Asten live?”

There was a moment of silence. Future Nico’s gaze fell to the ground, his eyes going distant for a moment.

“No. It was just me,” He replied, shaking his head. “I’m about to run. It might feel weird.”

Bentley said nothing, but closed his eyes and waited. Going super fast couldn’t feel much weirder than being impaled and then picked up by a guy from the future, could it? He was pretty sure his life had reached the maximum amount of weird. Either that or his hallucinations had?

There was a split second (or three) where Bentley couldn’t breathe, and it was really cold. It felt kind of like he was pinned down for a moment, like his whole body stopped moving and then started again.

When he opened his eyes, he was in a medical bed in the Batcave.

The only explanation Future Nico gave was a stammery: “Sorry, Mr. Pennyworth… yeah, hi, um… I’m Nico, but from the future, and I brought Bentley here so he can… Y’know! I… I’ve gotta run, I’ll be right back!”

There was a flash and a gust of wind, and the Future Nico was gone.

Bentley was surely losing his mind.

He was in the cave. (But was he really, if he was just hallucinating?) Barbara was now at the computer, and Bentley very vaguely saw Alfred toss an earpiece to her and abandon his spot at the massive screens to run into the medbay toward him.

“Oh, my dear boy…”

Bentley opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Alfred seemed so real. He touched Bentley’s arm and it felt real. He sounded real. There was no way he… that Future Nico was…?

Maybe Bentley really wouldn’t die?

(There surfaced that unhinged, deep, unmistakable hope and determination again that Bentley Whittaker was so famous for.)

Maybe he really wouldn’t die.

—

Okay. So the worst part about the entire situation at hand actually wasn’t that Bentley had a giant piece of metal protruding from his chest.

It was the fact that Alfred couldn’t get him unconscious enough to start surgery.

He typically had the opposite problem — his body seemed to love passing out at every opportunity, even at the worst times. But right now, Alfred had already administered nearly twice the typical amount of sedatives recommended. And while Bentley was pretty loopy, he just wasn’t going out of it. He’d had two small injections, and was now rocking an oxygen mask with an anesthetic pumping through it constantly to get him in a state where Alfred could help. And it still wasn’t working.

But, even worse than that, was the fact that he had to see Asten.

It wasn’t long (probably three minutes after Bentley arrived) before Future Nico (who had to actually exist because Alfred was talking to him?) zoomed back into view and laid Asten on the bed next to Bentley.

He was limp, and already extremely pale. Bentley wasn’t lucid enough to focus on whether his chest was rising or falling, but he didn’t guess it was, since Jason said it wasn’t. Asten looked… strange. Different from unconscious or sleeping. It was colder. Stranger.

Maybe three minutes (and more sedative) later, Future Nico swooshed back into the cave with Current Nico, who was still unconscious and bleeding at the nose, and put him on the other side of Bentley. But Future Nico was very persistent about Alfred not worrying about him, that he ended up being okay even in his own reality where no one came to his aid.

That was about the time the Batmobile came squealing into the cave, followed by bike after bike with different Wayne’s on them each time. After that, the cave turned into a mess of shouting and yelling and panicking and loud noises and chaos and Bentley still couldn't go to sleep. He couldn’t really comprehend what was going on, but he was awake, which was too awake for the operations he needed.

He didn’t really know what to focus on (or if he could focus) until Nightwing came into his view, over his head, peeling his domino mask off. He was crying — hard. Bentley couldn’t really talk through the oxygen mask (not that he could talk anyways.) but he was able to twitch his fingers and get Dick to grab his hand.

“You’re going to be okay, Babybird. You’re going to be just fine,”

A beat passed. 

“I love you,”

Bentley felt a pinch on his arm, likely meaning someone had injected him with something else.

He couldn’t seem to create any coherent thoughts. He liked that Dick was holding his hand. He was glad to be home, even if he died. At least he wasn’t dying alone.

He opened his mouth in an attempt to speak, but coughed instead, and the inside of his oxygen mask got splattered with something dangerously red.

Seeing that color seemed to spark a wave of panic, and he blinked away a new wave of tears that threatened to come.

“…Dad,” He managed to just barely rasp, coughing again, splattering more red on the mask. “Dad.”

Dick said something, he didn’t really hear it. Someone else said something. 

He managed to turn his head just far enough to see someone (he couldn’t tell who) put a defibrillator on Asten’s chest, and with a loud bang! he convulsed terrifyingly. 

After a moment, someone turned Bentley’s head away. Bruce’s face appeared in the empty space in his vision.

“Everything’s going to be okay, chum,” He said, putting on that same stupid reassuring smile that he loved to plaster on and keep there with his life, even in the worst situations. He touched Bentley’s forehead like he always did.

“You’re going to be okay. Just breathe. Rest,”

Bentley wasn’t going to die alone.

Bruce kept brushing his hair back, smiling all the while, and for the first time since he’d been home, Bentley relaxed enough to let the sedatives take him under.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @flyrobinflyy @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun @xiaonothere @beatyoutothatusernameloser

#oc; bentley whittaker #oc; bentley #oc; nico rockefeller #oc; nico allen #oc; nico #oc; asten #oc; asten evans #batboys #batfamily #batman #mb; a hundred ways to become a wayne #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #barbara gordon #oracle #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #cassandra cain #orphan #tim drake #red robin #stephanie brown #spoiler #duke thomas #signal #damian wayne #robin

[andromedastarrs]

Miguel O'Hara - Random Headcanons, All SFW! :)

✯¸.•´¨•✿ ✿•¨`•.¸✯✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✯¸.•´¨•✿ ✿•¨`•.¸✯

✯¸.•´¨•✿ ✿•¨`•.¸✯✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✯¸.•´¨•✿ ✿•¨`•.¸✯

Y'all enjoyed the other post a lot so here-- have some more of my brain rot! All of these are just fun things lol, interactions and quirks!

✯¸.•´¨•✿ ✿•¨`•.¸✯✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✯¸.•´¨•✿ ✿•¨`•.¸✯

If he spots you and notices that you have bad posture, he'll point it out and tell you to straighten up. Even if others are around. "Unless you wanna live with back pain till the rest of your life..."

Clean cursive would probably be his preferred font to write in. When he prints his letters it's a total mess.

Definitely does not tolerate people who chew with their mouth open. He will glare at you, grab his plate, and move away.

Takes freezing cold showers. Headcanon because every health nut/gym person that I've met says it's the best for muscle recovery.

Doesn't like to watch TV in his free time, he's in front of screens all day. He spends it instead reading books, cleaning up his living area, putting on music and resting on his couch to let his mind relax.

Loud dad sneezes. Doesn't apologize for it.

Likes his coffee black. On his rest days though, he will add a little milk in there to treat himself.

Will order the biggest burger off the menu and successfully chomp at it with no issue. A part of me also thinks it would be in character for him to order a small meal and eat very... Well, he'd eat like a princess. LMFAO.

Is not religious but very respectful of every religion. I think if he were to have a spiritual S/O and they practiced a religion he didn't know much about he'd wanna learn about it by asking them questions.

I am TIRED of the racist Miguel allegations. I am a firm believer that because he is half Irish and half Mexican, if he were to be present in front of a racist, he wouldn't tolerate it. Also headcanon that he's not the arguing type. He'll just throw them out a window (exaggerating).

He loves cats and dogs, very gentle with both. Knows how to treat both correctly too. Doesn't own any pets though, he's scared of losing it one day.

Silently cries. Even when alone he's very quiet. His eyes get very red and so does his face, very quickly. No puffy eyes tho!

No time for skincare, but he's into biotech... Probably assuming too much, but if he could then why wouldn't he; he probably concocted some sort of "one in all" skin product.

On that note his hygiene is on point! He'd probably be so upset if he ever stunk.

Definitely dyes his hair. I do not believe that he doesn't have a single grey strand up there. If his S/O once said they liked the grey hairs, he'd probably chuckle... And then keep dying it anyways.

I think he'd choose to wear shorts over pants when given the chance to... Even jorts. It's ok, he looks good wearing them!

I think he'd like silver jewelry even though gold looks better on him. (He can pull off both *lip bite*.)

Doesn't like designer logos printed everywhere over his accessories/clothing.

Am i the only one that thinks he works out via Pilates AND weight training? Gotta stay flexible and stretched!

Likes to meditate, almost never has time to do so.

Sleep talker!

Very self aware of his size; hates accidentally coming into contact with other people.

Caught up with modern lingo in most places, doesn't participate in conversations surrounding it. "Have you heard what lingo the kids are using? It's absolutely bonkers--" "Yeah."

Try to talk to him in a silly language (think of that skibidi toilet shit), he'll respond instantly. Don't get the wrong idea, he won't be amused by your antics.

If he doesn't show interest in you then he's not interested in you. I'm a big believer that if you were crushing on him, you'd have to wait for HIM to show interest. Otherwise all your flirting will be rendered useless.

#fanfiction #miguel o'hara x you

[notmoreflippingelves]

Why is it that my rare pair tendencies are not limited strictly to my hyperfixations of the moment but in like 99% of media that I consume? It's not fair. I just get a tiny little urge for like a day to read a fic or see an art for a specific pairing before returning to my main interest. Only to find that particular pairing that my stewpid brain had convinced itself "must be huge in this fandom because how could it NOT BE?" barely exists--if it even exists at all and I have clowned on myself yet again.

#this post is specifically about gwydion/achren from the chronicles of prydain #do you know how many fics exist for them? three and that includes both ao3 and ff.net #altho tbf there are barely any for the fandom in general #maybe a bit more for the disney black cauldron specifically #and both characters were cut from the adaptation #but still most of the little books content that exists is either gen or taran/eilonwy #which i guess isn't surprising but like my boy prince rhun deserves some love too #this is why it aggravates me that we 're in the era of a lot of high fantasy tv adaptations #yet you're all still sleeping on lloyd alexander #gwydion/achren would do NUMBERS if a big budget; high production value adaptation of the book of three dropped overnight #like imagine it with like richard armitage as gwydion and natalie dormer as achren #or maybe hannah waddingham as achren and iain glen as gwydion #you are telling me that people would not lose their minds #over this broken bird (and hot) evil queen and this jaded but very very heroic (and hot) warrior prince #who are implied to have *history* and have been drawn to each other against their better judgement #even though they are on opposite sides #and the whole part where she imprisons him and tries to get him to be her consort #(which he might even be up for if she switched sides) #like the cersei lannister girlies would be going feral and i wouldn't even blame them #and then later in the series; where the power dynamics have flipped and he's so gentle with her #and there's this beautiful sense of what perhaps once was and could maybe be again #but also can never be because doomed by the narrative and also by arawn #but idk maybe it would just be me; lloyd alexander (r.i.p. king) and like 3 other people #who's to say #ah well; back to my elena of avalor shipping crimes #gwydion x achren #chronicles of prydain

[detroitbecomeonline]

i just thought of the stupidest headcanon ever: deviant connor now attempts to greet hank with a hug every time ever since the chicken feed hug. he doesn't care. he's a deviant he can do what he wants. and if that means he opens his arms up for hank in the office and hank has to embarrassingly reject and swerve out the way and then get hugged from behind and then push him away-- lmao

second stupid headcanon: connor turns into a hugger after the chicken feed and he attempts to hug everyone instead of a handshake because hand = android greeting and hug = human greeting. he saw some teenage girls on the street hug each other why can't he do it. "captain fowler you wanted to speak with me?" leans in for a hug

#it's not that he doesn't get the picture but he likes messing with people #chris miller would give him 1 hug and the second time it would be weird and he avoids it #“perkins i'm glad you have visited the station today what can i help you with” opens his arms for a hug #gavin would punch him in the throat #tina would feel so awkward #hank would allow it on a crime scene but he'd stand there like a statue #no one can tell him to stop in a way that's effective because he's the best out of all of them at their jobs #ofc this is in a universe where hank keeps his job and connor stays with the dpd for whatever reason #the tracis come into the dpd to testify and connor gives them a handshake each and all the humans lose their minds and snap pencils #“nice to meet you christina warren” opens his arms #his face and tone stay the same #“i'm glad we could crack this case” in a deadpan tone and then he opens up to hug hank in celebration #this is so funny to me even tho it's so unrealistic let me live #dbh #mydbhbrain #mine #connor rk800

[gloriousfemaleworrier]

*I emerge from my long hibernation from fandom activity to write a detailed heartfelt and emotional series about Tedbecca*

#tedbecca #hannah legit said she cannot imagine a world where rebecca exists without ted #jason you can say platonic all you want but...c'mon #ted lasso #god damn it jason sudeikis #there is so much chemistry there and if you tell me it's platonic I will lose my damn mind #they are soulmates #this has been confirmed #BUT NOOOOO #ted x rebecca #honestly either ted and rebecca are in love or jason and hannah are in love because...there is actual real love there. #i have parents who are madly in love with each other and have been for more than twenty years #I KNOW WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE #I would support the heck out of jason x hannah #NOT that I'm fandom shipping real people because YICK #but I just think they would be very adorable together #DON'T COME FOR ME #i just love love man #these tags are a mess #but no one's gonna read them except future me #so... #yeah

[randomwriteronline]

He hears him before he sees him.

That is not something that will ever change - in a sense it is quite comforting, that even in a constantly mutating world one thing can remain the same: the fact that he is still heavy enough to make his arrival sound like an approaching thunderstorm, that he has not lost the peculiar gracelessness of his brand of speed, that he likes to run his mouth just as much as his legs.

"You're a lot thinner than the last time I saw you," Pohatu tells him.

Krika regards him with half-lid eyes: "And my brother's leash is just as tight around your neck still, it would seem."

"Stop that," the Toa shuts him down instantly, his genuine amiable tone gone in an instant to be replaced by a cold vitriol. If the Makuta had a tongue, he might have considered biting it. "That joke has never been funny in the first place."

"It is no joke, Toa."

"Then find something else to greet me with, Makuta."

To say Krika had felt something deeper, once, for such a sad being - to say any of them had at some point been moved towards him by something other than an awkward pity, a half-hearted annoyance, a slight cautious curiosity - would be maybe not a full lie, but certainly an exaggeration. None of them was attached to him enough to pry Teridax's hold off of him until it was too late to even try to get through to him, after all; so perhaps this sudden rush of melancholic compassion is akin to a crocodile's tears after it has senselessly devoured its own young.

It remains that, for a reason unknown, the towering insect-like being tilts his head to better observe the warrior before him.

"You're much more orange than I remembered," he indulges him: "And somehow even shorter."

A booming laugh: "It's the armor," Pohatu replies so wonderfully earnest and open and bright as though he had never once been angry in his frighteningly bitter life: "Too compact."

He drops from the air onto the sturdiest branch he could have found with his entire weight, bouncing on it as it perilously bends towards the swamp waters before struggling to pull itself back up. He dangles his feet in a carefree manner, like a Matoran who snuck away from work. A tentative fondness that was there many millennia ago rekindles for a moment only within the Makuta, to ache with nostalgia: for a moment he can almost picture his old laboratory, and the suspended catwalk that led to the shelves of viruses and carefully preserved failed attempts upon which the Toa would sit just like that so he could watch him at work without interfering.

"So," Pohatu beams: "It's been a while."

"It has."

"I met Mutran on the way here. Most of the others too - the ones up in the sky. They've gone blind, by the by."

"I was aware."

"Of the Matoran, too?"

"Yes."

The Toa hums. Evidently he does not appreciate the shadow leeches too much.

"I passed through him with my Kakama Nuva," he continues.

"Mutran?"

"Yes."

"Riveting."

"It was disgusting, mostly. Oh, and I saw Gorast. I had to knock out Photok before she'd jump on him - ah, you don't know him, right? No, he's from the stalagmites. Resisting against you. So yes, I had to knock him out and fly him to safety and then get back down. A bit of a hassle."

"How is my sister faring, in your opinion?"

"As positively furious as ever. Maybe even worse."

"She has indeed been degrading."

"Hm. Maybe it's the bog air. Or the humidity. Either way I can't really blame her."

Of course you can't, the Makuta only thinks, keeping quiet.

You are becoming ever more like her.

"Ah - watch for Takua- Takanuva. He's arrived too."

"The fabled Toa of Light?"

A nod. "He isn't supposed to be here. They sent him, I think."

"Who would be 'they'?"

"Probably the Order of Mata Nui - the Turaga don't have the means to set a single foot here, let alone send someone. You'll recognize him immediately, he's gotten huge."

"Duly noted."

"Anyhow, how have things been down here?"

Krika shrugs: "Gorast almost killed your sister," he relays. "Bitil had your Earth brother subjugated briefly, and your Fire brother - Tahu, isn't he? - nearly burnt down the entire swamp."

"Hm," the Toa only hums, monotone. "Shame."

The way he says the word causes the other being to stiffen his spine: "Do not speak like that."

"Like that how?"

"Do not be coy."

"I don't understand what you mean."

"You should not wish death upon your siblings."

"Because you don't?"

"The Toa Mata are following the path destiny has decided for them," the Makuta snaps at last. "Teridax has tried to twist and bend fate to his own ambitions, and in doing so he has doomed himself, the entire Brotherhood and you with him. To wish him dead is to wish for the Universe to keep on living - it is far from a childish desire born of an ancient grudge that has no reason to exist."

"Watch it."

The words coil quiet, dangerous, around Krika's neck much like a noose of rock.

The fallen stalactites groan like suffering Rahi as they shift.

One must wonder, between him and the last of the Makuta's sisters, if this kind of taste for cruelty is something innate or if his traitorous brother simply has a talent for driving people to it.

The silent threat is not quite empty. Yes, Pohatu will not kill him: he is a Toa (he takes pride in that for it's all that remains outside of Teridax he can still hold onto to tell himself he is worth anything) so he observes the code like his life depends on it, and it is not at all in his nature to consider inflicting pain fun, or satisfying; but he can trap him with little to no air or agonizingly crush his limbs flat between walls of stone, and his slowly marinating anger will find it endlessly gratifying despite any aversion to torture.

But Pohatu is, fundamentally, a weak being.

Oh, he has all the power he needs. His mastery over his element is egregious and his speed unmatched. But at the end of the day he is nothing but a soft toy, a spineless marionette to pull the strings of; one day - because it will happen, one day - someone will snip at a wire, purposefully or not, and that will be all it takes to send him tumbling to the floor.

His sharp limbs carve holes into the wood.

Slowly, Krika elevates himself from the bog and comes to stand upon the branch, light and graceful like a terrifyingly posed skeleton, towering over the little Toa.

His head bends down to look into blue eyes.

Pohatu simply cranes his neck and stares back, tranquil, unafraid, like a child.

"We will not leave Karda Nui," the Makuta sentences. His tone is low, funerary. "Our brother has planned our demise the moment he decided to betray Miserix. We are nothing to him, as are his Kraata, as are you. He has no need for a court beside him to rule the universe. We will outgrow our purpose soon. He will leave us to die like vermins. This shall be our grave."

A stretch of silence.

The gaze replying to his own is calm.

"Sorry," Pohatu says without even the vaguest trace of emotion.

Krika leans down, down, down, closer, until his mask grazes the other being's and his already rotting breath seeps into the seams of Artakha's armor.

"You are not exempt from this fate, little Toa." he breathes. "You are no different in his eyes from me. We are pawns. Tools to be discarded for the sake of a megalomaniac's ego. Teridax will suppress you as soon as your bones begin to creak. He holds no love for you."

"Do you?"

No answer.

"Do you love me?" Pohatu repeats. His tone holds the certainty of those who are lied to so profoundly that the truth becomes laughable to their eyes. "Do you?"

The Makuta remains silent.

"No," the Toa answers for him, "No, you don't."

There would have been a time where Krika would have scared him with a simple glare. It was the time where Pohatu was only a pitiful being who'd known nothing but fighting and fighting and more fighting, who was too curious to leave beakers untouched and kept almost dropping them.

"None of you do."

"We were fond of you," comes out of the white mask suddenly, a raucous strained sound, like something he didn't know himself.

"Yes," Pohatu replies: "Like my siblings are fond of me now. So nice, and kind, and gentle, because they don't remember they used to be the scum of the world. They've been getting memories, you know?" he pipes up - he smiles, tilts his head, leans it so close that Krika pulls back, looking almost excited. "They've been remembering things."

"Pohatu," the Makuta struggles to speak.

"They don't remember me, of course," he continues, trampling over the words the other tries to wheeze out. His fingers begin to sink into the wood on which he sits. "They have no reason to, of course. I wasn't them. I wasn't worthy of being with them. I wasn't wise or strong or stubborn enough. I wasn't memorable. Despite being there. Despite being there from the beginning just like all of them. Did you know, while we were on Voya Nui - you do know about Voya Nui, right? Ah, doesn't matter - we had to blow up a rock. A rock! A rock. And do you know? Do you know what my brothers did?"

"Your memories are poisoned."

"Tahu, and Kopaka - because they are the leaders, aren't they? They are the ones who take all the decisions and who everybody follows because they are louder than everybody else, aren't they?"

"Your own bitterness has corroded them."

"They started burning and freezing the rock. Burning. And freezing. The rock. Burning and freezing! Because that's what they do!"

"You can't rely on them."

"Because that's what they always do, that's all they can do! And I was standing there, you know, I was right there. Right there, right there next to them! A step away! Maybe two! I had to walk up to them! And blow up the rock for them! And I had to tell them, you know? Remember me? I am Pohatu! I do rock! For them to realize, oh! Yes! There is a Toa of Stone with us! How did we forget! Must have been because he wasn't in our immediate field of vision!"

"You are spiraling into your-"

"SHUT UP!"

The branch produces a ghastly crack as his fingers pierce it.

Pohato heaves, tries to keep talking, then hushes when his throat catches on a knot and the story he was telling stops sounding funny. He exhales out loud, hard, suddenly out of breath. His head feels like it's spinning and the swamp's odor does not help.

Krika observes him silently.

Hasn't this happened before? Something like this?

He'd sobbed too loud and choked on his own sadness, and the room had gone quiet and dozens of eyes had stared at him in a mixture of fear and concern.

When was it?

A hundred millennia ago?

He did not remember being comforted.

"Everybody is fond of me," he manages to wheeze: "Everybody is fond of me, and nobody remembers me."

His arms are shaking.

"My brothers sleep easy because they don't remember abandoning me and the Av-Matoran. They're fond of me because they don't remember hating me. But I know who they are. I know."

"You do not."

Blue eyes pierce through the Makuta: "And you do?" he asks, mockingly.

Krika stands his ground: "I have given your sister the chance to leave this dreadful place behind before her death was sealed."

"How nice."

"She has refused, for the sake of her brothers."

"Give her a minute."

"You have deluded yourself across these thousands of years."

"I am perfectly lucid."

"As lucid as Teridax wants you to be."

"Teridax cares about me," Pohatu says.

It is not a snarl. There is no anger in his voice. He is calm, reassured. Unshakeably certain.

He stares at the Makuta darkly.

"He's cared about me since the beginning. He has never left me to rot in my thoughts like the rest of you. He has never abandoned me." he murmurs.

His booming voice is so quiet, barely above a whisper, and as horribly bitter as Lerahk poison.

"I don't need your forgetful fondness," he speaks softly. Almost tiredly. Maybe he's done it - he's burnt himself thin at last. "Nor my siblings' two-faced kindness."

"Then you will be alone, little Toa. More than you already are."

"Don't push your own grievances onto me."

The branch sways violently.

Caught by surprise, Krika clutches the bark tight between his claws. It takes him a moment to realize he is now the only being still on it as it lashes out wildly: a flash of orange catches his attention at the edge of his vision and he whips his head around.

Pohatu treats him to an empty look, curled up in mid-air, ready to disappear.

Cold bitterness burns in his eyes.

"He is ripping you from your destiny, little Toa!" the Makuta shouts: "He is leading you to slaughter!"

"My destiny is to serve the Great Spirit; his destiny is to become it," Pohatu replies sharply above the sound of his armor's propellers, letting him know his warning has fallen on deaf ears. "If you can stomach to mention my name, tell your siblings I said hello."

His mask glows for a single instant - then he's gone.

Krika only stares at the point in space that the Toa occupied barely a fraction of a second ago, catching for a moment, impossibly slowed in time, his afterimage; for what is merely an instant it looks small and brown and tan, orange eyes gleaming with a guilt he can't let go off and a too focused vitriol that makes his heartlight stutter sickly, hiding behind a shelf in a clumsy attempt at pretending he wasn't poking curiously at the vats brimming with viruses to watch them swirl towards his finger.

#bionicle #krika #pohatu #random writing #orpiment au #pohatu is slowly losing his mind #hes experiencing mood swings potent enough to knock a man flat to the ground #is it the millenia of manipulation taking their toll? being explicitly told the most important person in his life thinks hes disposable? #the struggle between the bastardized version of his sibs he fuels his anger with vs the reality of them being loving if imperfect people? #a defense mechanism against the doubts creeping in his mind after being exposed to ppl who are not teridax and who also care abt him? #who knows! but he is having the worst time of his life #as am i (<- exaggerating) (stuck in a funk) #anyways if yall could FUCKIN tell me what you think of these i would deeply appreciate it

[craycraybluejay]

How many great artists and scientists and iventors dyou think died in slave plantations, concentration camps, and meaningless bullshit wars and genocides?

#i think about it every now and then and feel like crying #you know? #someone who died to the cruelty of humanity could have cured cancer #and their lives matter either way but #it causes me anxiety to think that even with whatever value I have it can only mean so much #people are irrational and cruel. i could invent fucking time travel and in some spaces it simply would not matter #how do you play at stocks and mind games with someone who does not Think in that way #a smart play for power or play for anything else is only useful so long as other involved parties arent insane or stupid #how frustrating is that? #irresponsible stupid people in power make my blood boil more than just the power itself #you cant even concede to someone like that either bc they wont understand compromise or surrender #but also its like telling a bully you'll tell his mom that his dad cheated #but the bully is stupid and beats you up anyway and now you both lose because youre definitely going to tell now #you could have come out both winners if he understood your leverage and backed off #but now youre both losers cause you are still all bruised and bloody and he gets to deal with his parents messy divorce #don't negotiate with stupid people. recognize when they arent understanding and just try something else like running #dont fret sometimes an appeal to emotion will kick em into gear #'ill tell your mom' vs 'your mom will be so devastated and sad when she finds out :(' #obv dont do that unless someones abusing their power over you/hurting you in a situation you cant just run from #because the best solution if possible is almost always run. leave. get away. #but if you have to fight you want to get at any angle you can #you want to corner the other person so they go from being offense to defense #and if youre just digging/prepping for a bigger thing you want to get them frazzled enough to make a mistake #again. this is for self defense especially in long term abusive/toxic situations #people who abuse using their power usually have ego problems. sometimes you can take a gamble and go for the ego #they do this to you. do it BACK. #and preferably have a weapon on hand if they are liable to violence and unpredictability #better to look for a lawyer than check on the status of your life and health insurances #it is never too late to fight back. some people will tell you helplines but they have not helped me or anyone i know #so i'm telling you how to fight back and protect yourself by any means necessary

[ozcarma]

Trying to watch 999 let’s plays is such hell to me - NO ONE PLAYS THE GAME RIGHT just shutupshutupshutupshutup and play the game!! Stop trying to make jokes!!!!

I’m too autistic for this, I cannot bear hearing let’s players doing their own voice acting when I adore the game’s VAs too much. Everyone always fucks up Santa’s and Lotus’s voices especially.

I understand the draw of Let’s Plays are largely the people playing them who have gained their own following, but as someone who just loves the game I don’t wanna hear ur stupid banter 💥💥💥 play the game and be intrigued but not TOO intrigued because give it a fuckin minute it’ll explain what’s going on 🙄‼️

#zero escape #999 #my opinion is that the let’s plays that are alright are half-blind play thrus where one person is knowledgeable about everything #and can keep the blind one on track and properly guide their curiousity #I also lose my MIND when people get stuck on the puzzles on this ridiculously easy game #(<- says the person who has played it numerous times and knows all the solutions by heart) #like you IDIOT just do THIS #(<- also the person who still has to look up the answer to the box puzzle behind door 6) #and don’t get me started on when the LPers hate Lotus #don’t get me wrong - disliking her especially when u get to the hospital room is Good and Correct as it’s what the writing is leading you to #but some LPers get so misogynistic about it I have to immediately tap out cuz its too much #also another reason why I don’t like when they don’t use the in-game voice acting #is cuz so many people play Junpei as Basic Anime Protag when Evan Smith’s voice acting gives him SO much character #and Junpei is my favorite >:( #I have many more gripes but that’s enough for now #I just want everyone to experience how great this game is but ONLY in the way I LIKE #I know I sound so whiny and entitled but please tell me someone else relates #the urge I get to just make a whole channel dedicated to 999 play thrus where I just play the game again and again with a different friend #would they all be identical to each other because I would be directing them all the same? #yes. but what greater autistic joy is that (for me) #I never thought the Joseph Anderson streams would be my favorite playthrus cuz I hated them too at first #but his dynamic with chat and consistent amusement and enjoyment of the game is very nice and soothing

[bumblingbabooshka]

Me reading fics where Tuvok encourages other peoples’ romantic pursuits:

#If Janeway came to Tuvok like 'I have feelings for Chakotay Tuvok and it's tearing me apart' he'd be like 'I understand completely. What you #have to do is completely eradicate those feelings.' #I think if Janeway came to Tuvok (pre that Episode where she gets a Dear John letter) and told him about how much she felt for Chakotay #Tuvok would be like 'hmm.........what about Mark =_=' and it'd send her into a spiral #Given that BOTH Janeway & Tuvok have said in canon that they pretty much consider holosex cheating (this is implied not to be a commonly #held view and I get how others would see it more like consuming porn) #I think Tuvok would 10000% made a comment to Janeway that's like 'wow I just never thought you of all people......well. I suppose that's #humanity for you.' and Janeway would run out of there so fast after being like You're A bso lutely Right Tuvok Tha nk You. #What do you do when your best friend and moral compass doesn't agree with you pursuing a torrid love affair with your first officer? #And when ppl have Tuvok BRING it UP to Janeway?? Specifically to encourage her to go for it?? Could not disagree more #If he's bringing it up ?? In MY mind it's to be like 'cool it with the workplace flirtation. you were on the bridge. Junior officers could #see you.' #and if it was anyone BUT Janeway I think he'd just be like 'I don't need to hear about this....if you don't want to eliminate all your #emotions I don't know what to tell you.' #Bonus: After Janeway gets that dear John letter and Mark's confirmed off the table Tuvok is still unhelpful #'I just don't know what to say to him...!' #'Why not just say you want to be in romantic relationship?' #'It's not that simple!' #Tuvok: (vaguely irritated and losing interest) 'Clearly.' #BUT...bonus for if you're Janeway and no one else....if you come to him with a complaint about your relationship there's a 98% chance he's #going to agree with you and say the other person was being unreasonable #Chakotay & Janeway: -get in argument- #Janeway: WELL. Let's see what Tuvok has to say. #Chakotay: DON'T call Tu- #Tuvok: (before he's even fully in the door) I have to agree with the Captain v_v #this is just my opinion of course...I know why he's used so much - bc he's Janeway's friend and the only high ranking person besides #Chakotay (who she of course is being paired with) who she would consider talking about her romantic life with #so even though Tom/Harry/B'Elanna are much better candidates to fill that role of eager-to-talk-about-romance they can't be used #so basically Tuvok's the only one left and thus is a bit ooc (in my opinion) such is the tragedy of Voyager #I only have such an opinion on this bc to get Tuvok content I must skim through many chakotay/janeway fics to discover he has four lines