suddenly seeing all the bits that are wrong

definitelynotaminion  asked:

Is it wrong of me that of all the grief and badassness and everything, my favorite bit of writing that was Mito seeing this dirty, cut-up, burned woman breathing hard and covered in blood and she's like "Oh!" ? Because that's just. the most relatable thing I've probably ever written? I think all sapphic women have had the moment where a gorgeous fearless (preferably sweaty or otherwise badass) women has appeared and suddenly everything makes sense. That moment of: oh! (So this is why)

YES. That’s absolutely a relatable thing, and that moment is so memorable when it happens the first time. 

(I totally married the woman who gave me that feeling too, so I absolutely agree with Mito here. Her instinct [and I adored that little Kushina-like moment, it fit so well] was dead-on and perfect.)

anonymous asked:

i understand ignoring drama because it sucks literally all the fun out of being in this fandom but the mentality *some* people have adopted of suddenly saying that NOTHING is shady and that everything is normal and that we're imagining things by being negative.... rule of the thumb: if antis, houies and ex larries are reblogging your posts you can count on it being wrong. especially when you're saying louis's promo of all things was good and completely normal.

i’m not seeing anyone doing that we can still acknowledge the shadiness but unclench our buttholes a little bit it’s the art of multitasking

Can we just take a minute to appreciate something about the Malec kiss? So obviously there is the moment where Alec pulls back and Magnus chases his lips but my favourite thing about this bit was that Magnus’ face suddenly goes blank as though he had this moment of horror that he’s pushed Alec to far or he’s done something wrong: that he’s pulled down all these walls because he’s fallen for Alec and now he has a moment of panic that he’ll be heartbroken again. But then Alec leans back in and you can see the start of a smile on Magnus’ face because he realises Alec hasn’t suddenly changed his mind, he does still want Magnus and that little moment of horror Magnus had really hit me because this is the first time in a long time someone is showing him they care about him.

You wake up one morning, and for once you don’t feel overwhelmed by the day ahead, you don’t feel crushed by the desire to go back to sleep and not know anything. You get up, and you get through the day, and it seems a bit easier than yesterday. You even find yourself humming in the kitchen as you’re making lunch, and you smile when you walk out the door and see the sunshine. The day goes by, and you think it’s really getting better. And then, suddenly, you feel it. No warning, it just comes, like an unexpected wave when the sea is calm. It’s hard to describe. All I can say is you know there’s something wrong. You feel it in your chest. It’s like you’re crying on the inside. It’s cold. It feels as though your lungs and heart were slowly freezing, and your soul was shedding flows of tears. And then, those few hours you spent thinking it was getting better, are just worthless. And you have to start all over again.
—  Does it really stop one day, or do we just get used to it?
I Need

I need to tickle you. I know, it comes across as rather basic. But I want you to understand what that word really means when I say it. Let me walk you through.

When I say I need to tickle you, I mean I need you to start strong. Such a tough girl. All up for what’s about to happen. A little back chat. We chuckle at how you say I won’t win. We chuckle at how wrong you are. You’re so sure of yourself. So damn confident it borders on arrogant. I take it all. A few witty retorts, a couple allusions to what’s about to happen, but you don’t let it phase you. Suddenly though, you’re a little tied up at present, and that cockiness seems to have dampened a bit. Such a shame. You’re stuck now. I need to see the feeling of helplessness begin to descend on you as I circle your delicate form like a vulture. Slowly drinking it all in. The situation. Your eyes watching me with such apprehension. You mouth trembling so slighlty you’re sure I won’t notice. I notice. And that right there is the starting gun.

I need you to jump just so slighlty as my hands suddently clasp on your sides. The palms rub up and down gently as I peer at you. But before you can enjoy any of it, by index fingers flick down softly. Just grazing your skin. Your entire body tenses. Another two fingers join, just scraping by once. Then more. Then all. As soon as my hands appear closed next to your sides they open again like a springtrap, all of my fingers pouncing on your skin. Then they curl again. One by tortorous one. You’re resolved not to laugh. But my light tickling of your sides is just step one. The fingers begin to glide at the base of your ribs now. So teasingly, like it’s accidental. But you twitch a little. Your compisure’s starting to slip. I think now’s a good time to try and get a little reaction out of you.

“Not much to say now, huh? You were such a big talker a second ago. Wonder what happened?”

I need you to try respond, but as soon as I see you’re about to I move my fingers up to the sides of your ribs. The words catch in your throat as you shut your mouth as mach speeds to prevent the inevitable. As I count your ribs over and over, I search for the tell-tale signs of repression. Turning your head from me. Not making eye contact. A few mumbles. Doing anything to get your mind away from the situation. But I won’t let it. The second I think you become used to the sensation I switch. Fingers crawling up your underarms and making such soft circles in their hollows. Round and round they go, exciting your skin. Now you’re really struggling. Your lips so harshly pressed together, they could forms diamonds. I hum to myself as I cock my head, seeming inquisitve as I carress your sensitive skin. Suddently it stops. I’m changing things up. I need you to be tickled everywhere. And I’ve been terribly neglecting your lower body. My mistake. I need you to have a breahter now. A little respite. Just to clear your mind. Because I need you to see how quickly you can go from totally fine, to utter hysterics. As I settle by your feet, I need you to feel as helpless before the tickling starts as after.

“Going to be a good little girl and laugh? Or is someone too stubborn?”
“Come on, let’s see a smile! No? Guess I’ll have to work on that.”
“Don’t suppose these cute little feet are… ticklish? Oh I bed they are!”

I need you to feel yourself start to slip away as soon as a single finger begins to gently trace from your heel, along your arch, all the way up to your toes. And down again it goes. You can’t even help it now, you’re lips curl into a small smile. I drink it in. It’s the sign of better things to come. My fingers tracing up and down, so slowly, so lighlty, so gently is only made worse by my constant reminder of how at my mercy you really are.

“Awww, such a lovely smile.”
“Cootchie coo, let’s hear a giggle”
“I bet this tickles just so much! Bet you really want to laugh, huh”

I need my fingers dancing on your soles, your arches quickly, but with such grace a ballerina would feel shame. Their light strokes and wiggling tips excite every nerve after the other so each movement feels like a new sensation. It’s maddening. It’s unbearable. It’s laughable. That such contact, such child-like games could make you want to beg for it to stop. Could make you lose your mind. I need you to laugh. And you’re more than ready to oblige. Just a giggle at first. Barely audiable. But it builds. And each attempt to silence it is met with more bubbling up. It overflows like a broken riverbank. It’s volume rises like the ties. It’s musical. It’s melodic. It’s perfect. Pure. My fingers teasing your toes, one by one then all at once. Slowly then quickly. Softly then with pressure. They adapt as your laugh betrays you once more, letting me know your most sensitive spots. The places to really let loose. It goes on and on. But your calves get their own attention. Soft stroking right up until the backs of your knees. Playful wiggling turning into hungry kneading as my hands move around to tickle your thighs. Their outsides, their backs, their insides. I watch as you thrash and laugh louder than before. It’s clear your control is gone. I need to see it in your eyes. Admission of defeat.

“Tickle tickle tickle! Such a ticklish little girlie, aren’t you?”

My fingers knead your hips. Your whole world is spinning wildly out of control. Your laugher is mixed with heavy breathing. Dizziness takes over as you melt completely into ticklish ecstacy. My fingers at your feet and your hips. Your thighs and sides. Your knees and belly. They run and play and tease and exploit your weakness like experts. The cruelist tools of the kindest torturer. Everything that led to this doesn’t even register. Whatever happened before of happens after this moment is beyond even fathoming. All that’s in your mind is my words bouncing around your head, echoing like a mantra told for eons. Tickle, tickle, tickle. You can’t stop it. You’ve given in. It’s all your know now. It’s all you want now. For it to never end. It’s agony and the height of pleasure all rolled into one. Your begging for it not stop now. I need to hear it in your voice. Through the laughter and the strain, through the moans and the sharp intakes of breath. The hunger. The desire. For this to be your everything. For this to be forever. Peaks and valleys of ticklish delight. Slow. Fast. Playful. Dastardly. Innocent. Evil. A torment for all eternity as your skin is teased by tools of all kinds. New materials bring new senstations. It never becomes stale. It’s always building up. It’s all there ever will be, and all you’ll ever want. Tickling. Until you’re nothing more than a thrashing, moaning, laughing, broken, begging, excited, helpless, little girl.

So hopefully you understand. Hopefully you appreciate it. Hopefully you feel your stomach drop and the adrenaline start to rush and every muscle begin to tighten when I say:

I need to tickle you. Now.