#//FOR the sake of letting people know: all of this is ->

[skynoctis]

Legendary Boulder ~ WrestlerCheetah

Next sketch for cheetahgirlmuscles‬ Another entry on the Mia cosplaying as Guilty Gear characters book~ I hope you like it

[rjunhuang]

juliet, o juliet ✰ tim drake

pairing: tim drake x reader

summary: tim gets grounded so you take it upon yourself to get him out. the problem? he doesn't want to leave — he just wants you.

warnings: lowercase intended. fem reader. established relationship. reader is also a vigilante. making out. suggestive. tim is red robin. mention of jason's death. clingy tim.

note: i am his biggest fan. i felt so sinful writing them just MAKING OUT — must be the ace in me. fuck knows how old tim is in current canon but i imagine they're like nineteen in this. also, viet/wasian tim is so real to me — whenever people mention his blue eyes i get jumpscared.

divider by omi-resources | comments & reblogs are appreciated! <3

tim drake had always been the voice of reason.

being reckless was not in his nature. he was wired for precision and hypothesis. out of all his teammates, young justice or anywhere else, he was least likely to mess things up due to carelessness. in fact, tim drake cared too much.

it was exactly why he put himself on the frontlines this time — for the sake of the mission. for the safety of his team. if anyone needed to harmed, let it be him.

and while the mission ended in a success with red robin unscathed, bruce did not like what he came to hear. maybe it was the jason trauma kicking in, but bruce didn’t need his children playing the role of martyr.

so, for the first time in long while, tim was grounded.

no outings. no patrolling. no you.

his brothers took great pleasure in seeing the wayne child, whose image was all about being ‘orderly’, sulk in the confines of his bedroom. tim attempted to slip away many times, but living under a roof filled with security systems and other super-spies, it was harder to escape than arkham asylum in comparison. little damian had no problem reporting to their father if tim’s foot made it even a centimeter past the front door.

lucky for tim, he had a girlfriend who shared a mind of his own. breaking into the wayne manor was difficult — this was batman’s sanctuary, after all. you’d almost gotten your butt fried when hopping past a high voltage trip wire.

truthfully, you didn’t need to be doing all of this. you had access to most, if not every, part of the estate. you even had your assigned room there, whenever you decided to stay over. you were associated to the bats as closely as stephanie brown or barbara gordon. nevertheless, the idea of forcing your way into a place you could practically call your home sounded incredibly appealing for what was a dull wednesday night.

tim only noticed you perched out his windowsill when he heard a small tap on the glass, forcing him to peel his eyes away from his laptop. his personal laptop, of course — bruce knew tim’s biggest hobby was scrolling through the system files to crack any cases.

“nuh-uh.” tim begun to vigorously shake his head. “no. nope.” he pushed himself out of his chair, walking over to the window. “get out.” he hissed lowly, like he was shooing away a stray cat, fanning his hands. to be fair, you did look like one with the cheshire’s grin you held. when he realised you couldn't hear him through the glass, he unlatched it, leaving a crack wide.

tim’s reaction hadn’t faltered you in the slightest. you saw it coming, in fact. if bruce happened to catch you in his room — which was very possible — tim would be blessed to be un-grounded before thirty.

you took the open window as a chance to push your way into his room. your hop was light, feet soundless on the rich wooden floors. it’s been near a week since you’ve last seen your boyfriend. the longest separation since the time you met at the ripe age of fourteen. tim, who had all the strength to do so, doesn’t make an attempt to keep you out. despite all his protests, he was missing you a lot more than he currently let on.

you don’t pay mind to a single word he’s whisper-yelled. instead, planting your hands on his face, diving in to give him a gentle greet on the lips. he couldn’t say a damn thing once your lips landed on his.

his hands automatically found their usual position on your hips, instinctively pulling you closer as he kissed back. he was dying of withdrawal, his body reacted to you like he needed air. the kiss left you giddy, but you managed to pull yourself back before any one of you could lose the plot. staying put in tim’s hold, you asked, “sneak out with me?”

“this is a horrible idea—“ he muttered in a hushed tone. it was evident how badly he wanted to run away with you.

“oh, come on,” you begun, “he’s your dad. he’ll come around to forgive you a lot more easily than you think.” the tips of your fingers brush against tim’s pale face, pining the mere touch of him. it was a deal with the devil — for you were letting your heart get to you and not your head.

but, dammit. how did you making everything so enticing? you were a temptation that he absolutely could not resist.

with a groan, he leaned into your touch. he didn’t want to admit it out loud but he was caving. “he’s already pissed that i went against orders. this’ll just piss him off more,” he protested weakly, despite knowing that he was about to give into you anyway.

“please?” you pleaded, with a weak attempt of what people called ‘puppy eyes’. you leaned in closer to brush your lips against his. “i miss you.”

you had him wrapped around your damn finger — the second those three words left your lips, it was over. his will to resist was crumbling by the second. tim sighed, giving your lower lip a small and playful bite. “you’re the bane of my existence.”

you raised your eyebrows. “isn’t that a bridgerton quo—“ your comment is smothered by another kiss.

tim’s hands shifted to your thighs to lift you up, guiding you to wrap your legs around his waist. he pressed you against the wall of his room, returning the kiss with fervor. his fingers curled into the fabric of your clothes, clinging to you tightly. “shut up and kiss me.” he breathed against your lips.

your bodies are reacting before your brains do. clearly, the days spent apart had been driving tim up a wall as well. “wait, wait, wait.” you giggled against his lips, “we’re supposed to be sneaking out, not making out.”

tim only groaned when you interrupted the kiss, burying his face into your shoulder. he was so close to completely abandoning the idea of sneaking off to just kiss you until the sun came up. “c’mon,” he whined, “sneaking out is overrated, let’s just stay here and make out instead.”

“gods— you are such an introvert.” said the other introvert — yourself. you rested your head against the wall, absentmindedly playing with the black tufts of hair on tim’s nape. his eyes fluttered momentarily at the feeling of you playing with hair, a small, content hum rumbling in the back of his throat. “i really wanted to go for the whole romeo and juliet aesthetic. except, i’m romeo and i’m trying to get you out and have your father’s approval.”

he raised his head to roll his eyes in an overdramatic effect, though a smile pulled at the corner of his lips while listening to your rambling. “you do know they both die at the end, right?” he teased before pressing another kiss against your collarbone, trailing his lips up towards your jaw. “besides, you’d be the worst romeo,” he said with a gentle nip.

“what?” you dramatically yelped, offended. “would not. i’d totally drink poison for you, or however the play goes. juliet, oh, juliet — let down your hair.”

the sudden and rather loud outburst had tim immediately cupping a hand over your mouth, muffling your next sing-song remarks. “be. quiet,” he said with a small laugh. “you’ll get us caught, dumbass.” he couldn’t help but shake his head slightly. “see? terrible romeo, i’m doing all the work.”

but you weren’t really listening anymore, your eyes narrowing into a knowing, dirty-minded look. the smirk you were currently sporting was enough for tim to get the message. the small smile on his face betrayed the false annoyance, “pervert.” he mumbled, lowering his hand from your mouth to rest it on your hip instead.

“you like this pervert.”

“not the words that come out of that mouth.”

“i can think of other ways to use this mouth.”

“oh, yeah?”

“i can use it,” you paused for dramatic effect, and in a blink, you’re swinging off of tim’s grip, “to eat a good ol’ hotdog at our nearest bodega.” you said the line like a narrator straight out a 60’s commercial.

“you little—“ he started, his hand flailing outwards in a pathetic attempt to grab you again. you snickered at his reaction, too busy collecting your backpack that you slipped off in passing earlier. tim was still pouting like a child as he slumped back against the wall. you took a step closer and swung an arm across his shoulder, dragging him with you to his window.

“a shitty pizza slice sounds so good right now.” he couldn’t help but let out a soft snort of laughter at your excitement for shitty bodega pizza.

tim’s only response was to let out a small smile, muttering, “alright, let’s go get our shitty pizza, then—”

[kennedyibenvurdummm]

Dikkat köpek var⚠️

[lottevence]

she's always a woman

⋆⁺₊⋆❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: Steve Harrington finds himself drawn to a fiercely independent, emotionally guarded woman whose contradictions both challenge and captivate him. As he chooses to love her without asking her to change, she begins to unravel the walls around her heart—slowly letting him into the chaos she’s always called home.

trope: messy but tender love

a/n: this song always inspired me to write about complex love (sorry some parts are kinda goofy but steve himself is goofy so.)

ꕥ based on she's always a woman by billy joel

Steve Harrington had never been good with women who confused him. He was great with the ones who smiled wide and batted lashes and let him lead. He’d memorized that game in high school. But her? She played by her own rules, and that scared him more than he liked to admit.

She wasn’t flashy. She didn’t dress up for the sake of being seen. She could walk into a room in denim and combat boots and still make every head turn without meaning to. She had a quiet confidence—sharp eyes that looked at people like puzzles, a mouth that could sting or soothe depending on her mood, and a laugh that always sounded like it belonged somewhere far freer than Hawkins, Indiana.

And yet, she stayed.

She stayed in that small town, in its suffocating quiet, working odd jobs, writing poems in the margins of receipts, reading philosophy in the Family Video breakroom like it was light reading. She’d cut her hair short one week just because she was “tired of being romanticized.” The next, she wore lipstick the color of dried blood and told Steve she wanted to start a punk band just to piss off the churchgoers.

He couldn’t keep up with her. And yet—he never wanted to stop trying.

⸻

He remembered the first time he noticed her, really noticed her. She’d just snorted with laughter at something Robin said and then looked at Steve like she could see right through him. Like she wasn’t impressed by the facade, but maybe curious about what was underneath.

“You think too much,” she had said, head tilted. “Or maybe you don’t think at all. I haven’t decided yet.”

And that was the thing—she was always in the in-between. Always teasing him with affection before pulling away. One minute she’d be curled beside him on his couch, sharing popcorn, her head on his shoulder. The next, she was lighting a cigarette with a smirk, telling him not to get too comfortable.

She could hurt him without meaning to. Sometimes, Steve thought she liked that she could. Like she found power in knowing he’d always come back.

But she could be soft too. She could run her fingers through his hair when she thought he was asleep, whisper things like, “I don’t think I’m built for easy love,” into the night like it wasn’t meant for him to hear.

He heard. Every time.

⸻

Robin told him he was wasting his time.

“She’s chaos, Steve,” she’d said one night, sipping Coke through a red straw. “You can’t fix chaos. And you? You’re… a golden retriever. You want things to work out. You want answers.”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t want to fix her.”

Robin gave him a look. “Then what do you want?”

He didn’t know how to explain it. That when she walked into the room, everything got quieter in his chest. That he felt seen, even when she barely looked at him. That her contradictions made sense to him in a way no one else did.

“She’s… everything,” he finally said. “She’s always a woman.”

Robin blinked. “You’re quoting Billy Joel at me right now?”

Steve smiled, sheepish. “It fits.”

Robin snorted, "God, even started to talk like her..."

⸻

There were moments when he wanted to walk away. When she ghosted him for days with no explanation. When she kissed him one night outside her apartment, soft and slow like it meant something, and then said, “Don’t fall in love with me, Harrington,” before disappearing inside.

He didn’t listen. He was already too far gone.

⸻

It was in the quiet moments that she showed herself.

Like the time her hands trembled while lighting a candle and he noticed the scar on her wrist, old but jagged. She didn’t explain, and he didn’t ask. He just gently took the lighter from her, lit it himself, and didn’t let go of her hand.

Or the night she showed up at his door, soaked from the rain, mascara smudged, and said nothing—just walked in and collapsed on his couch. He made her tea, handed her a blanket, and sat beside her in silence. She leaned against him, whispering, “I don’t know why you stay,” and he whispered back, “I do.”

⸻

Eventually, she came to him. Not in a dramatic way, not with some grand confession.

She just showed up at Family Video during his shift, dropped a folded note on the counter, and walked out.

Steve stared after her, heart thudding. He opened the paper slowly.

“I feel safe when I’m with you. I want to be cruel less when you’re around. I don’t know what to do with that. But I think I want to try.”

No signature. Just that. That was enough.

⸻

And so, they tried. Slowly. Messily. Tenderly.

She still disappeared sometimes, but always came back. She still said things that made his heart twist, but now she also said things that healed it. She’d touch his face when he couldn’t sleep, murmur weird poetry in the dark, and say things like, “You make the world feel less sharp.”

He never asked her to change. She never asked him to understand everything.

And in all the ways that mattered, he loved her.

Just like the song said.

She’s frequently kind and she’s suddenly cruel…

But she’s always a woman to me.

[saphronethaleph]

Love Language

“So, uh… Dad?” Hiccup said, nervously, but that was mostly just normal for him. “I’ve got a… question.”

“What sort of question, Hiccup?” Stoic replied, not unkindly – for him, anyway.

That was sort of how their family relationship went a lot of the time, as it happened. The two of them being at pains to be normal with one another.

“So… how exactly do we know that dragons are, uh… monsters, evil, want to hurt us, want to destroy us?” Hiccup asked, rattling off the normal dragon description from the Book of Dragons. “Extremely dangerous, and so on?”

Stoic blinked, then looked at Hiccup with the sort of look that – normally – would be reserved for a relative who’d said something extremely thick.

He wasn’t used to turning it on Hiccup.

“They keep… attacking us,” he said. “Raiding us. Carrying off our sheep.”

“Yeah, about that,” Hiccup replied. “Because, I’ve been a Viking teenager for a while now and the general impression I get is that that’s how Vikings show that they want to become friends.”

Stoic snorted.

“Not getting on well with your friends?” he asked.

“That plural is assuming a lot, Dad,” Hiccup replied. “That… word is also making some assumptions, actually! Though you did keep telling me that all the punches and stuff were just a way of making friends – but, I wasn’t actually talking about my friends, I didn’t mean them, I was meaning to talk about the dragons.”

“And?” Stoic said.

“The point I’m making, Dad, is that… so, uh, I tried putting myself in the place of the dragons,” Hiccup said, shaking his leg and leaning awkwardly on the door frame. “And I wondered what Vikings would think if we went somewhere and the people there were firing catapults at us and shooting flaming rocks at us, and that sort of thing, and… I’ve met Vikings, dad. I’m pretty sure you’ve met Vikings!”

Stoic paused, to actually consider that.

It was one of the increasingly large number of things about this conversation which was not Normal, but he was willing to give it a go.

“...hm,” he said. “That sounds like a pretty good night out, actually.”

“That’s what I’m getting at!” Hiccup agreed, now leaning over more. “Hold on.”

“What is it?”

“Not you, I mean-” Hiccup said, then gestured at someone Stoic couldn’t see.

Or possibly just nearly fell over, the lad was gangly.

“Anyway – uhm – I think the dragons just want to be friends,” Hiccup went on, speaking very quickly. “And that they’re enough like Vikings that all we’re doing is just making them more interested.”

“Nonsense,” Stoic replied.

“Really?” Hiccup asked. “Because – uh – are you at least going to think about it before you decide that I have to be wrong?”

“I don’t need to think about it to know it’s nonsense,” Stoic said, firmly.

“Yeah, that sounds pretty Viking too,” Hiccup muttered. “Stubborn and unwilling to admit that you might be wrong about something… so, uh… what about an experiment?”

“Is this some of that scientific method stuff Gobber had you learning?” Stoic checked.

It sounded a bit suspect, to him.

“Yeah, actually,” Hiccup agreed. “But if something happens you can’t say it’s impossible, right?”

Stoic carefully considered the question.

If something happens, you can’t say it’s impossible.

“All right, so let’s accept that for the sake of argument,” he allowed. “What kind of thing?”

“So I gave a Terrible Terror a fish,” Hiccup said. “Once. And now I literally cannot get it to stop rubbing against my ankles, making a kind of purring noise, and curling up next to my bed when I go to sleep.”

Stoic blinked, looking Hiccup up and down.

“...there doesn’t seem to be a Terrible Terror rubbing against your ankles,” he said.

“Yeah, because I can’t stop it, but Toothless can,” Hiccup explained. “Because, uh, there’s this Night Fury…”

“A Night Fury?” Stoic repeated, then went back over the conversation and reprocessed this new information through it.

“...are you telling me you befriended a Night Fury?” he asked. “How?”

“I shot it down,” Hiccup replied. “And, uh… since then I’ve kind of been testing the hypothesis, that’s more of the whole science thing, and it took like eight seconds to convince the Monstrous Nightmare in the training pens that I was a cool guy to be around. I just kind of smiled and that was it?”

He shrugged, then finally lost the battle against keeping the Night Fury out of the doorframe, and the Unholy Offspring of Lightning and Death Itself slowly pushed the leaning Hiccup across the doorframe.

Then spotted Stoic, groonked something, and sat on his haunches like a giant, attentive dog mixed with a curious cat possessed of a penchant for pushing things off tables.

Stoic spent several seconds contemplating what to do, then – experimentally – threw his hammer at the beast.

It ducked, letting Hiccup topple over with a thump, then loped off after the hammer. A few seconds later, a Terror sat on the prone Hiccup’s side and curled up before visibly and very quickly going to sleep.

“You, uh… see what I mean?” Hiccup asked.

The Night Fury came back, tail swishing from side to side, and deposited the thrown hammer eagerly in front of the door before making a pleased sort of gronk-chirp.

Stoic gave up.

This was now Normal.

Making that new categorization was going to save a lot of time.

“My working theory is that, to dragons, we’re friend shaped,” Hiccup said, still trapped under the snoozing Terror.

[jester-k4rd]

THIS is how you analyse a character. I will keep playing devil's advocate for this guy to those who just say he was born evil. No, he was not. He was a child.

Donquixote Doflamingo’s reasons and motivation

His motivation is unexpectedly noble for a guy who has suffered brutal violence and was raised by the ruthless killers. We can look into his head for the first time when he has an emotional outburst over the situation in Marineford. When Doffy’s emotions started to outpour, he verbally attacked the World Government.

海賊が悪!!? 海軍が正義!!? そんなものはいくらでも塗り替えられてきた…!!! // Pirates are evil?! The Marines are justice?! Such things have been changed as many times as you want!!!

“平和"を知ねェ子供共と"戦争"を知ねェ子供共との価値観が違う!!! 頂点に立つ者が善悪を塗り替える!!! 今この場所こそ中立だ!!! 正義は勝つって!?  そりゃそうだろ! 勝者だけが正義だ!!!! // Brats who don’t know peace and brats who don’t know war have different values!!! Those at the top decide what is good and what is evil!!! This place is neutral ground right now!!! Justice will prevail, you say?! Of course it will! Whoever prevails is just!!!!

A huge inscription "The Marines” that is shown when Doflamingo is talking about the nature of justice kinda implies.

Justice is the favorite word of the Marines, the World Government army. He directly accuses the Marines of being not very just and defending the world order that brings people suffering. In the pictures from his head, the different values he mentioned are illustrated by the attitude to food. The child soldiers are happy about the canned food they have found (if there were meat on the skeleton, they would probably have gnawed it too), and the rich girl does not want to eat vegetables. Why this particular example is given becomes clear later.

These are the elite officers of the Donquixote Family as children. As can be seen, they all were destitute. The rest of the Donquixote Family members as children are also depicted in a similar way. Doflamingo felt like saying pirates are not always evil and the Marines aren’t always this shining beacon of justice, because sometimes piracy is a lesser evil than…

妻が焼き殺された…!! どうでもいいんどろお前らにゃ // My wife was burned to death!! It’s nothing to you, right?!

お前らに納める[ 天 上 金 ]のせいで…!! 国が飢餓で滅んだんだ……!!! お前ら腹へったことあるか!? みんな骨と皮になって死んだよ!!! // Because of the Celestial Tribute we have to pay, the country has been ravaged by famine!!! Have you ever had nothing to eat?! Everyone died leaving only a bag of bones!!!

...than death from starvation.

At the time of the Marineford Arc, it was not yet fully revealed how terrible the rule of the WG is, but, to put it bluntly, it turned the world into a giant Nazi camp.

Keep reading

[dumplingsjinson]

List of “smartass x dunce (and they fall in love!)” prompts

Requested by: Anonymous Request: “HELLEOEODLIDOWIDLDIXO. may I request ‘smartass paired up with fucking idiot for a project and then they fall in love’ ? I love your prompts kiss kiss”

“Did you even understand what the instructions were?” “Well, not really, but I know you’re smart so I’m just kind of relying on you.”

“That’s not how you’re supposed to do that!” “Stop yelling at me and tell me how to do it, then!”

“If you don’t want to fail this, you might want to do it my way.” “You sound like a dictator.”

“You don’t have to be an asshole to get your point across.” “In what way is calling you out on your shit job done me being an asshole?” “That’s exactly what I mean!”

“Can you stop bossing me around? I can manage to do this without your help!” “Well, you’re not really showing you’re capable of that, are you?”

“You know what, just leave this whole thing up to me.” “No, but I actually want to help-” “Well, your contributions are actually kind of making things worse.”

“…That’s not what that means, look at the dictionary.” “I did! I swear that’s the definition on Urban Dictionary.” “Urban Dic- oh, for fuck’s sake-"

“This is how you do it.” “…Ohhhh-"

“I’m not that stupid, and you’re not that smart. You’re just acting like a know-it-all, maybe that’s why you don’t have friends.” “Well, that- I don’t need friends.”

“Oh… Your writing’s kind of cute.” “Oh? Uh, thanks.” “Yeah, well, I do compliment people when they deserve it.”

“See! I just needed a demonstration so I can do this myself!” “Yeah, I’ve repeated this like… Ten times now but sure, if it finally helps then that’s my goal reached, I guess.”

“Gosh, here, let me do that for you.”

“You know you can ask for help when needed, right?” “Yeah, well, you don’t exactly make yourself approachable.”

“I’m not sure what’s happening, but you seem more patient with me now.” “Oh… Am I? That's false, why would you even say that?”

“I do like being told I’m doing a good job.” “Oh, so I should do that more often?” “…Are you flirting with me?” “No, you idiot- what? Focus on the work, goddamn it, letting one compliment get to your head like that…”

“That… Was decent.” “You know complimenting me more than that isn’t going to kill you right?”

“Do you use your brain to think or…” “Why would I need to do that when I have you here?”

“Your dumbassery is infecting me.” “Well, you know what they say. Great minds think alike.”

“Maybe you’re not as bad as I thought.” “That’s a huge compliment coming from you.”

“We should probably see each more outside of this project.” “…Say that again, I didn’t hear you.”

Join my Discord server: Steaming Dumplings Nation

[guiltyasdave]

marry, kiss, or kill me

pairing: Dave York x Carol York

summary: Dave and Carol's kinky origin story (which is canon, thank you).

word count: ~2.6k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> mdni, young carol and dave, fluff, flirting, dirty talk, talk about kinks and boundaries, unprotected p in v, nipple play, ass and titty slaps, hair pulling, a bit of rough sex, alcohol consumption

a/n: written for @thatcorporategirlie's never have i ever challenge, kiwi babe i'm sorry for being so late and also for stealing @sizzlingcloudmentality's man and prompt lol <3 (and of COURSE thank you daphne for holding my hand through this as always!!!)

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)

dividers by @saradika-graphics 🤍

In truth, Dave feels a little too old to play a game like Never have I ever. But here he is, surrounded by people he barely knows. Sitting in a loose circle on the floor, his legs crossed, Carol leaning into his side. 

They’d only been dating for a couple of weeks and honestly, he was a bit surprised when she invited him along to a housewarming party of one of her friends. 

He likes Carol. He really, really likes her. She makes him laugh all the time. She’s much smarter than him. She wants a family, just like he does. Things feel easy with her. Right, somehow. And maybe it’s too early for that, but he could see himself build a life with her. So, he took it as a good sign and accepted the invitation. 

Most of the people around have been part of her friend group in high school, and he sees her turning into a different version of herself. A little less mature, a little more reckless. Giggling with her girlfriends, sipping on cheap wine, not like the ones that the both of them pick out together now. It makes him wish that he had already known her back then. It has him feeling a little younger himself, makes him forget about the pressure that his life is now shaped by. 

He’s been letting Carol pull him along, letting her introduce him to her friends. He’s been pretending that he doesn’t notice the appraising glances that are thrown his way, the variations of more or less subtle expressions on their faces aimed at her. 

Someone had suggested to play drinking games, for old times sake. The mere idea had been met with wild giggles and enthusiasm. So that’s what they’re doing. 

Carol’s hand is resting on his shoulder with a casual possessiveness that he likes. Sometimes her fingers slide upwards to play with strands of his hair. She’s slurring her speech a little when she whispers into his ear, and he thinks it’s adorable. 

He also has to admit that the game is much more fun now than it was in his high school days. Everyone is a bit older, a bit more experienced, so the most harmless confessions don’t lead to scandalized gasps and embarrassed laughter like back then. 

The guy on his right side thinks for a moment, then comes up with, “Never have I ever had a sex related injury.” There’s a second of contemplating, with no one touching their drinks just yet. Dave’s saying a quiet prayer of gratitude that he hasn’t, because he’s heard stories from a buddy of his, and well— 

Then, Carol pipes up from beside him. 

“Do bruises count?”

There’s another moment of stunned silence, and he feels a charged kind of heat traveling up his nape, where her fingernails are now teasingly scratching over his skin. She exchanges knowing looks with a few of her girlfriends, who are beginning to giggle again.

“Like a hickey, you mean?” a young woman across from them shyly asks, obviously unaware of any other indication. Carol smiles at her warmly.

“Yeah babe, like a hickey.” 

Her lips curl around the glass when she takes another sip from her wine.

It’s late in the evening when they stumble into Carol’s small apartment, both just on the right side of tipsy, enough that they could barely keep their hands off each other on the cab ride. Dave keeps kissing her hungrily as he’s walking her backwards to the bedroom, dimly lit with the yellow glow of a lamp on the nightstand.

He’s paying special attention to her neck, knowing that she likes the way his end-of-the-day stubble scratches over the sensitive skin there. The breathy moans that she responds with are music to his ears. Dave waits until they’re surrounded by soft sheets, with her hands buried in his hair, until his mouth gets more demanding. 

His lips are traveling down, his teeth sinking into the skin beside her collarbone, sucking it into his mouth, his tongue pressing hard against her flesh. She mewls underneath him, nails digging into his scalp, trying to pull him even closer. When he finally lets go, he can already see the purple bruise beginning to blossom under her skin. He looks up to find her looking at him, her eyes glinting knowingly in the low light. 

“What did you really mean? About bruises?” he asks, pressing a softer kiss to the abused skin. 

“Who says I meant anything more than this?” 

Her tone is teasing, challenging him. 

“Me.” 

He pushes himself up until he’s at eye level with her, placing kisses on her mouth, her cheeks. She laughs softly, cupping his face with one hand, kissing him back and holding him against her for a moment. 

“Okay,” she concedes, her fingers gliding over his shoulders and down his biceps. He suppresses a shudder at the goosebumps that follow her touch. “I— I sometimes like it when things are a little… rougher?” She shrugs, her expression just shy of embarrassed. “Rough enough to bruise, I guess.” 

Dave inhales sharply. The suggestion had tugged at the back of his mind all evening, obviously, but to hear her say it… His cock strains hard against the fabric of his pants and he lowers himself down just a little, giving himself just a hint of pressure against her thigh. Of course, she zeroes in on it like a huntress onto her prey. Her grin would be sharp enough to cut him if she tried. 

“Do you like that, too?” 

He gives something between a shrug and a nod, gratefully accepting another kiss when she pulls him down towards her lips again. “I— maybe. I’ve never—” 

“Would you want to try?” 

And fuck, does he want to try. Just— It always left him feeling kinda fucked up, when he jerked off to another porn video labeled rough sex or hard spanking or punishment. Wasn’t he fucked up for getting off to that? And sure, the women in the videos were getting paid for it, but would any of them really… want this? 

“Are you sure?” 

It’s the opposite of how he wants to be right now, his voice all timid and unsure of himself. He wants to be powerful, in control, but in this second, it rather feels like the opposite.

Carol laughs softly and nods, gripping his shoulders and motioning for him to move. He goes willingly, watches her take off her dress and straddle him in only her underwear. The bruise he sucked into her skin is an uneven shape in the semi-darkness, a mark that he left on her. Fuck, he’s gonna leave more if she really wants him to. 

“Okay,” she coos against his cheek, peppering his skin with kisses. “I’ll tell you what I like, and if you want to, you can do that. Deal?” 

He can only nod, his throat bobbing as he swallows. 

“I like being slapped.” Her voice is soft, her breath ghosting over his chest. “On my ass, my tits. Pinched, too.” Dave’s hips buck into her and she moans into his mouth. His hands find her waist, holding her tightly. 

“What else?” 

She grins at the tone, at the way the question comes through his gritted teeth. She leans down, her mouth right next to his ear. 

“I want you to fuck me, so hard that it hurts. So hard that I’m sore the next day.” 

Her teeth nip at his earlobe while her hips bear down on him, a soft moan escaping her when he meets the movement with his own. 

“Okay.” His voice is husky to his own ears, already breathless with arousal. His cock is throbbing in his pants. “You’ll— you’ll tell me? If it’s too much?” 

“Of course,” she promises. Her hands dip under his shirt, gliding over his naked stomach, up to his chest. His muscles quiver under her touch. “Get this off?” The words land on his lips along with her warm breath and he lets her push the fabric upwards, revealing his bare skin to her. He feels like he’s already burning up, his body hot under her fingertips, eager for what’s to come. 

Dave’s own hands find his belt buckle, hastily opening it and pushing both his pants and his underwear down in one quick motion. His cock is already leaking, hot and heavy when he pumps himself once. Carols reaches back and opens her bra, letting her tits spill out and right into his waiting hands. 

He has always liked playing with her nipples. Liked how it made her squirm, how needy it made her moans sound. He starts like this, with what he knows. She shifts around in his lap, sighing his name. The soaked fabric of her panties rubs against him, teasing him. 

With his eyes trained on her face, he scrapes a fingernail over her nipple, watches her mouth fall open and her eyes squeeze shut when he pinches the hard nub between his thumb and pointer finger and tugs. Just a little bit, just to try, but the reaction spurs him on. 

“Again, please,” she sighs, her own fingernails digging into his chest. 

“Yeah?” he breathes, both hands finding her breasts now and tugging simultaneously, a bit harder this time. 

Carol’s moan reverberates through the room and her back arches, pushing her breasts into his hands. It elates him, to be able to make her feel like this, to elicit this reaction from her. 

Impatient now, driven by hot need pulsing through him, he pushes her underwear to the side and thrusts his hips up, sinking into her. She meets him halfway, with a cry of his name on her lips. 

Her slick warmth engulfs him as her tight walls open up for him, making room for how his cock snaps into her. One of his hands is still toying with her nipple, teasing and tugging, and his name falls from her lips in needy little whimpers. He loves to watch her like this. And there’s more, more she allowed him to do, things he wants to— 

He hesitates for a second, taking her in, the bliss on her face, the movement of her body. Then, as if his brain finally short-circuits, he gives in to the desire. His hand connects with her ass cheek in a satisfying slapping sound. A loud, surprised moan tumbles from her mouth, in time with her nails digging into his flesh and her walls clenching around him so tightly that it takes all his willpower to not come then and there. 

“Fuck,” he grits out, his hand coming down a second and a third time before he can stop himself. It’s a strange thrill, letting himself loose like this. And to see Carol take it all, to know that she asked him to do this, that she likes it— 

He thrusts upwards with all the force he has while she bears down on him hard, crying out his name again. He wants, needs more. Gritting his teeth, he anchors her to himself with one hand on her hip while the other connects with her breast. It’s intoxicating, seeing the way her flesh bounces under his touch, seeing a shudder of pleasure ripple through her, seeing her throw her head back in reaction. 

He wants to do it again, see it again, so he does. His hand colors her flesh red, marking her, bruising her, adding to the spot by her collarbone. 

Without thinking, his fingers tangle in her hair, giving it a light tug. She reads the question on his face without needing words. 

“Fuck, please.” 

Her grin mirrors his when he fucks up into her and fists the strands tighter, pulling her head back and exposing her neck. Her nails scramble for purchase on his chest, probably leaving her own red marks on him. 

Her walls are engulfing him impossibly tight, her thighs are trembling, and he feels his climax approaching dangerously fast. With one hand still in her hair, the other trails down her naked body, groping where he can, until his fingers find her clit and press down with practiced ease.

“Wait,” she gasps, and he stills instantly, letting go of her hair like he’s been burnt. Was he too rough, did he hurt her, read her wrong? 

“Are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t—” 

His hands cup her face, searching her expression for any indication of what might be wrong. 

Carol shushes him gently, her lips connecting with his, her tongue slipping into his mouth for a short moment. 

“I’m okay.” She allows herself a grin and a nip to his bottom lip. “I just thought, maybe we could—” She hesitates, a hint of a blush coloring her cheeks. “Maybe you could fuck me from behind?” 

“Fuck,” he murmurs, kissing her back more urgently now, his own teeth sinking into her lip in retaliation. “Move, then.” A playful slap lands on her backside, making her giggle. 

She scrambles off of him and to her knees, taking off her underwear in the process and flinging it across the room. When Dave gets to his feet, she’s already kneeling on the mattress, her bare ass presented to him, her back arched and her legs spread, giving him a perfect view and perfect access. 

“So hard that you’ll feel it tomorrow?” he asks, leaning over her and leaving kisses over her shoulders. 

“So hard that I’ll walk funny tomorrow,” Carol quips back, making him groan. 

Hooking his hands over her hips and holding her steady, he fucks into her in one hard stroke, making her cry out. Pistoning into her, making sure that she feels him as deep as possible, that he’s staking his claim even inside of her. He slaps her ass again as well, a few times in quick succession, mesmerised by the red that’s blooming across her skin almost instantly and the sweet sounds of her moans in his ears.

She has sneaked one of her hands between her legs and he feels her clenching around his cock over and over, covering him in her wetness with every thrust that he punches deep inside of her. 

“Come for me,” he demands when he feels her becoming almost impossibly tight, feels her walls beginning to flutter, his hand finding her bruised skin once more.

Her scream of his name is muffled into the sheets, but the wild trembling of her body and the rhythmic squeezing of his cock hit him with full force, pulling him over the edge right along with her. 

Her hand blindly reaches for his at her back and he links his fingers with hers, spilling his own pleasure into her. His whole body feels shaky, the orgasm spreading through his whole body, down to his fingertips. He already knows that he’s gonna be addicted to this. 

Gently, he maneuvers her body onto the mattress and lets her pull him down beside her. She looks wrecked, but the smile on her face is dazzling, making him want to kiss her beautiful mouth until his lips are raw. 

“Was— was this okay?” he breathes out, his chest heaving and his skin damp with sweat, but his expression probably matching hers perfectly. 

“More than okay,” he assures him, running her fingers through his hair. 

It’s stupid, but looking back later, Dave swears that he knew at that moment that he wanted to marry her.

thank you for reading! reblogs and comments are love <3

[mona-risms]

Also in way less wholesome thoughts about Rumi, I think she has a insane breeding kink.

I don’t even think she would know it until she slept with someone. But I feel like that would send her into a feral frenzy.

Like, all that shame and guilt her whole life from being a demon, and all the other repressed emotions she had to bottle up would explode if she was fucking someone and they told her they wanted to have kids with her.

I feel like for irony sake that may just turn her into a succubus. A simple fuck would turn into a day long feral mating marathon.

Like it would probably work it’s way through the whole living space, starting in the bedroom, for an hour or two until the bed is completely ruined, tears from claws, a broken bed frame, stained with sweat, squirt, and seed.

Moving on to the couch eventually that would get much of the same treatment.

Pressed against those big windows, juices seeping down the glass.

On the kitchen table with claw marks in the wood from Rumi.

Using the cabinets to keep her standing as you rail her eventually pulling them off the walls.

But neither of you care.

It’s not pretty sex.

You’re both flushed, scratchs, bite marks, squirt, seed, spit, and sweating all over. Ran ragged like you just ran a triathlon.

Rumis hole looks like a glazed donut from how much seed has been put in and spilled out of her at all angles.

By the time you are halfway through moans have just devolved into her shrieking from overstim.

But she just can’t stop herself. And you don’t wanna stop either.

People are calling phones… Rumis missing a interview rn.

Eventually the girls just find you both passed out in the middle of the apartment covered in all the fluids that could possibly come from sex passed out from exhaustion.

Sincerely

Tsaritsa Pyro Archon Anon

I have a breeding kink too there we go we're Perfectly compatible! And this is obviously why me and Rumi should be married!!!!

But fr shit would go CRAZY HELLO 😭😭😭😭😭 I mean tbf a demon's gotta have their sustenance somehow 😜😜😜😜 JOKING JOKING maybe not joking shhh you're out here doing my job for me fr though actuallg LMFAOOAAO

Her bedroom must be so fucking wrecked before you two migrate to the balcony, a mix of fluids everywhere as she finally lets out the loudest fucking noises instead of her biting it down and restraining them, and then to the shared living space. Like Zoey and Mira are both out for promotional material they'd probably have to do individually, so they left much earlier and now the penthouse is empty as hell, save for the two of you

NOTHING survives in the shared space though you're right in this—EVERY surface is thoroughly defiled and utilised. Should Rumi care? Yes. Would she care under different circumstances? Definitely yes. But right now the only thing in her mind is making sure she drains you dry, everything else blurs away from the sheer intensity of your coupling

If you're using an ejaculating strap then ugh FUCK yes it makes no difference to her as long as she feels full and thoroughly bred. If anything? She'd probably want you to get the strap with the most capacity. But is it a good idea, if you have a working dick and could Potentially get her pregnant? No, probably not, but the way you fucked her and never let go, the way you were so achingly sincere in the way you'd Want to have kids with Her. Even despite the whole half-demon thing, the main insecurity she's had for her entire life? She'll take the risk for once either way, after avoiding risks on herself for so long

Mira and Zoey most likely got contacted by Bobby in a panic bc "WHERE IS SHE??????" so they come back home.....and SCREAM at the state because JESUS FUCKING CHRIST??????? SORRY didn't REALISE they needed HAZMAT SUITS????????????? You probably get woken up and honestly good luck trying to explain why the Fuck there's so much damage and. Fluids. EVERYWHERE. They're never letting either of you live this down, ESPECIALLY Rumi considering she caused most of the extreme damage (thanks demon heritage!!!!) and how she's stained and dripping nonstop 😭

If you even dare try to explain what happened to Bobby the poor guy might faint. But it's okay it's why they're paying him the 3% right.....though he might need to be compensated via 4% GAHAHAHAHA

[tmodeltime]

Sexy 70's, Whoa baby, Yes Yes Yes.

Seventeen March-1969

ebay

[treeteaofversailles]

Should've Been Me Final Part

MDNI! This is my original work. Please do not post to another site or to AI. Thank you and happy reading!

Summary: All in Zayne's POV. He was friends-with-benefits with you, MC's twin, before things ended badly. Two years later, Zayne returns as your roommate.

A/N: Thanks for reading my first short series!

Tags/TW: Implied smut, angst no comfort, miscommunication (no communication), swearing. Fem!Reader (she/her pronouns used, but mostly "you"). Non-MC Reader.

Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3oUMoiClWMVZu1VXU88Kbb?si=fd029ba8a81d4292

Parts: Pt. 1 | Pt. 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back in their apartment, you were silent the entire time you patched up his hands. You wouldn’t look at him, and the latex gloves hid your warmth from him. 

You wrapped his hands and then yanked your gloves off, snapping them before you threw them into the trash. 

“Your friends are worried about you,” you finally said. You crossed your arms as you sat back on the couch. “You’re distracted, you barely listen to any of them unless—and I’m quoting them—I am in the room and repeat what’s going on,” You looked at his hands and sighed sharply, “And now you’ve fucked up your hands tonight.”

The friendliness in your voice was all gone. His chest tightened. Your eyes held him in his seat before you sighed softly. 

“Normally, that’s your cue to talk, Zayne.” 

He swallowed thickly and looked away. 

The ticking clock was the only thing that broke the silence. 

You were watching him intently before you shook your head and got up. “Fine. You won’t talk. And I’m not going to try and get it out of you.”

Zayne looked back as you pulled your jacket back on, the zipper sliding up with a sharp hiss.  

It was the sharp contrast to the soft hiss of his zipper when you’d spent your nights together. 

“For fuck’s sake, Zayne, don’t make people accuse me of being your distraction because we both know that ship sank to the bottom of the Atlantic and will never sail,” Your eyes were cold on him. 

You stared at him silently before shaking your head and walking away. 

“Please don’t leave,” he croaked. 

You froze. The sound of the clock ticking filled the pregnant silence. 

You slowly teetered your weight on your feet before turning slowly to him. The same dark look was carved in your face. 

“You have no right to beg that of me,” You said in a chilling tone. “Not after you acted like I didn’t exist or refused to pick up any of my calls.” 

“I didn’t call you because—” Zayne stopped, his mind scrambling for an answer. 

You glared at him. “Because?” 

He couldn’t piece the right words fast enough, his head spinning with little clips of excuses for his ignoring you. 

“Because why, Zayne?” You snapped. 

“Because it was for your own good,” Zayne blurted out. 

“Excuse me?” You narrowed your eyes. You scoffed louder. “What the fuck did you say?” 

“I did it to protect you,” he tried again. 

“Protect me from what? What gave you the right?” Your hands shook as you glared at him. You curled them into fists and tried to steady your breathing. “What gave you the right to decide for me what to do?” 

Zayne lowered his eyes and shook his head. “I… I didn’t want to hurt you.”

You let out a bitter laugh and turned away, shaking your head as your eyes shone with your tears. 

“Well great fucking work, Zayne! I definitely wasn’t hurt that you just walked out without saying anything, or at least asking if I was okay. I definitely wasn’t hurt when you wouldn’t even look in my direction or acknowledge my existence. And I definitely didn’t lose sleep thinking about what I did wrong!”

You threw your hands in the air and laughed bitterly again. “But now I know! And it’s because I decided to fall in love with you. Sorry! My bad! That’s on me!”

Zayne looked back at you, and his chest squeezed so tightly that he couldn’t breathe. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

You just stared at him as tears rolled down your cheeks. He never wanted to make you cry. He left so you wouldn’t have to. 

He hated seeing you cry. He hated it even more that most of the time, you did because of him. 

“Did you ever feel anything at all?” You asked, your voice trembling as you tried to hold yourself together. “Did you even see me as a person?” 

“I did,” Zayne replied quickly, “And I still do.”

“So why did you decide for me what was the right thing to do?” You asked him again. “Why did you decide to push me away?”

He pressed his lips together, and you just looked away, exhaling sharply. “I thought you were in love with Caleb,” the real truth danced on the edge of his teeth, but he still chose to spit out another claim. “I thought that you falling in love with me wasn’t what you actually wanted.” 

You gave him a look as if he sprouted another head, “When did I say I was in love with Caleb?” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Since fucking when did I say his name, ever?” 

Zayne tried to answer, frantically pulling back all those memories of your nights together. Not once did you ever say Caleb’s name. You only said his. And you only spoke of Caleb in passing, as friends did. 

His skin went cold as his heart fell. 

You were never in love with Caleb. And you never used him to cope with it. 

“But you…” He began.

“I hung out with Caleb all the time because he's my friend,” You said. “I was in love with you, Zayne. And regardless of what you thought, regardless if you believed you would be saving me somehow by following those stupid rules, you hurt me so badly.” 

He hung his head and let you talk. 

“I thought I wasn’t capable of being someone’s first choice, so I clung to you even if I knew you wanted her instead. It’s because you chose me to come home to, I thought it could have become something real. I’d forgotten what my own face looks like because I let you call me by her name so much,” You said, your lips shaking as you tried to hold your tears back. 

Zayne turned to your piercings. 

“You wouldn’t even—! Am I that worthless you couldn’t give a breath of an explanation?” You cried, your voice broke as more tears fell. 

He dug his nails into his freshly healed hands, quickly drawing blood. Getting stabbed in the heart with a real knife would hurt less. "No. No, you're not worthless." He said.

I was just a coward...

You shuddered a breath. “You hurt me so badly I wanted to hate you. I wanted to hate you so bad because it’d hurt so much less than missing you,” You cried. “But I couldn’t. And I can’t. Because I don’t know what’s going on with you. And I don’t want to hate you for something I don’t know about.”

You didn’t hate him… His heart began to flutter quickly. You didn’t actually hate him. 

“So just tell me why you did that to me? And why did you think I would have been okay with it?” You asked in a voice barely above a whisper. 

Zayne forced his lungs to take a breath and his mouth to move. He needed you to hear the truth. And if you did hate him for real after, he deserved it. 

If you didn’t…

“Because I was scared of falling in love with you.”

You silently let him continue, your rosy cheeks shiny with your tears. Tears that he was the reason for. 

“I was scared of falling in love with you because that meant I’d give in to everything just to be with you. I was scared that if I became so obsessed with you, I’d get possessive and I’d trap you. I was in love with your sister, and I was already obsessed with the idea of her. So, when I had you, when I had all of you, I got scared I’d actually die without you.” 

Your eyebrows pulled back a bit. But Zayne needed you to hear everything. 

“I was so scared of falling in love with you that I’d suffocate every second of your life with me. I’d follow you around like a piece of shit on your shoe. I’m greedy and I want all of your attention, your time, and your love only for me.”

His heart was shredding to bits in his chest as he forced himself to open up. 

“I lost your sister already to… to someone else… and I refused to let the same happen to you. I was scared I’d never leave you alone. I’d never let you have the time of day to yourself. I didn’t want to hurt you like that. So I left. I thought that you’d be able to fall out of love if I left early enough.” 

He took a breath, “But I was wrong. Because I did end up falling in love with you anyway, but I lost you, too. And I knew I didn’t deserve to ever tell you that because of what I’d done.” 

You could only stare at him silently, tears still streaming down your red cheeks. For a moment, Zayne thought that he would be able to step forward and embrace you, to pull you in and tell you that everything was okay. 

Instead you took a step back, and he watched you wipe your face, and then sigh deeply behind your hands. 

The clock was the only thing filling the silence. 

“Even with those fears… You still had no right to push me away like that.” All of your anger was gone, and it was replaced by that familiar guilt that Zayne saw in himself every morning when he woke up. 

“And I’m also at fault because I let myself believe you’d love me if I were the one you chose to go home with every night. But I was wrong,” you said quietly. “You still chose her. Until it was too late.”

You looked at him, your eyes shining with fresh tears. “My whole life, I believed I was the second option after MC. Because she was the youngest, the prettiest, the smartest, the…” You shrugged. “Whatever… My whole life, I was second to my younger sister. And I used you so I could pretend I was someone important… That because you chose me to spend your nights with, I was finally better than her. And I'm sorry for that too. For using you, so I could feel important.” 

Zayne’s hands felt colder than they’d ever been before. 

 “I’m choosing myself.” You said. “I’m going to work on myself. And I’m going to be around for Greyson’s sake. But you need to pull your act together too. Don’t run after me,” she turned and walked out of the apartment, leaving Zayne alone in the dark. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list (open):

@sylusgirlie7 @cockiiess @moonlight-dream54 @abejaruby

[chongoblog]

what's your opinion on the online vs patch in mario kart world? i've heard a lot of doom and gloom surrounding it but like... it still looks like a really fun game

So for those who don't know, originally people in Online VS matches found a way to make it so you could play on a 3-Lap track if there weren't any available (if all options are Intermissions) by selecting Random, which autoselects a random course (usually a 3-Lap). The new update makes it more likely for Random to select nearby locations and intermissions.

See, I fucking love the intermission tracks and I truly believe that most people complaining about intermission tracks are just cowards shouting "NEW THING BAD" whenever possible and would rather have a run through the same lap three times instead of an intermission where you still get a lap on the course in question for the sake of "keeping with traditional Mario Kart". If you want a traditional Mario Kart experience, there's nine games of that. One of them has almost a hundred courses. Go play that.

At the same time, I do understand some of the outrage. I love intermission tracks, but I still enjoy the occasional 3-Lap every so often. Fortunately, VS mode still provides these. I do feel for the people who just want to race 3-Laps all the time and Nintendo isn't letting them do 3-Laps for every single online race they do.

But I also don't really care <3

[copperbadge]

SAM!

I love the Chicken Salad War, but it's been a bit of a week so I have not commented. But it is very good. Which is funny, because I don't actually like chicken salad itself... Anyway, I have two(ish) questions about the Shivadh-verse! Back in one of the earlier books, you mentioned Gregory hung out (or at least knew) Princess Mia of Genovia. So are we talking about the Disney version of the Princess Diaries, with the awesone Grandmere? Or the book version, where Grandmere was pretty awful? My headcanon is that it's the Disney version, since (IRRC, as I said, long week, family emergencies, hospitals and all that) the Shivadh-verse started as Hallmark Channel Romance type movie script. So the happier version of the PD would make sense. Okay, second thing... When there is an election, is it basically "first across the finish line" style voting? Or is it ranked choice voting, where the votes for the non winning persons are redistributed ? (I know that's a massive over-simplification, but I'm sending an ask, not a theoretical essay.) I am assuming there's none of this stupid electoral college nonsense going on. (I am USian and I hate the electoral college system. But that's a rant for another day!)

I honestly love when people ask world building questions about the Shivadhverse, and I'm so glad you're enjoying the latest one!

I wasn't even aware the Princess Diaries HAD a book version. I won't lie, I've enjoyed the movie both times I've seen it but neither was like, intentional, I didn't seek it out. I'm not very well-versed in the canon, so yeah if the movies are happier lets go with those!

As for voting, that's an interesting question. I looked up how old ranked choice is as a methodology, and I think probably for royal elections in the Ask it's majority rule, but I have some really detailed reasoning as to why :D

Mainly, it seems that ranked-choice was generally known, but also not very popular, around the time Gregory II was democratizing the country in the early 20th century. That being the case he probably went with majority rule, which mostly matters because a lot hinges on how he chose to structure the elections.

There have, at least at this point in canon, been only five elections since the country went to democracy: Gregory II, Nathan IV, Jason I, Michaelis I, and Gregory III. I might write Jason or Michaelis facing a recall vote at some point but I don't have plans to right now. I find politics stressful :D Anyway, the history goes like this:

Gregory II was a birthright king and took the country to a democracy but then was elected king, which I think probably dismayed him a little but what can you do? He died in office, so parliament ran the next election, and they wouldn't have changed the still very new system.

Nathan IV was both incompetent and dictatorial so he was the first real test of the elected royalty system, where there are no term limits, simply the ability to call an election if people didn't like what the king was doing. A recall election would have been a really ugly time to change the system. Plus the whole thing was engineered by Jason, so he would only have allowed it to change if it benefitted him against Nathan. In theory it would have, since if you're voting for someone running against Nathan your vote would probably go to Jason next, because this was mostly about "get Nathan out of office", but Jason also knew he could win without it and he had to consider optics.

Likewise, Jason wanted his son Michaelis to be king. It's not so much that he wanted power for its own sake, but more that he felt that his family were the right people for the job (Jason was a competent ruler but he was arrogant and also not someone who let ethics get in his way). So again he would only have changed the system if he felt it would benefit Michaelis, who was so clearly going to win that he didn't need the help. That election had a number of people running, but nobody was giving Michaelis a real challenge.

Michaelis would have been willing to change to ranked-choice if the people wanted it, especially since he thinks it's a fairer system. Despite his dad, Michaelis is concerned with ethics and he wants to make sure everyone has the same power in the ballot box. So it's possible he held a referendum about it, perhaps well before he was thinking of retiring. If he had just decided to push it through parliament, there were again optics to consider, like whether he was doing it because it would benefit Gregory, so he put it to a public poll. But while Shivadh are generally very liberal they can also be a little set in their ways, and I think if he did hold a referendum they'd vote to keep things as they are. The system elected them three good kings and only one bad one, and those are decent odds.

And Gregory is open to the idea of changing the voting system, but unless there's a push for it from the voters, he's not going to bother, he has bigger fish to fry. He is concerned about the fact that three generations of his family have held office and now it's looking like they're bucking for a fourth, even if Joan is new to the family, so he's more focused on making sure that other young people who are interested in politics get opportunities similar to Joan's. Both because they deserve it, and so that it doesn't seem like Joan's getting undue favoritism.

I might write a political-themed Shivadh novel one day -- we know very little about Michaelis's election and nothing about Gregory's. I have distant plans for the election after Gregory announces his retirement -- Joan obviously is going to run, but I think Serafina will too, and they won't be the only ones. :D But we'll see. There's enough scary politics in the world right now that it won't be for a while in any case.

[richard66paul]

Hmmmmm I like it.....

Suited Men : http://teasingbrat.tumblr.com/tagged/suit

[motherofpirates]

Eddie in Drag

Steve had never been to a gig before; he and Robin had been invited to The Hideout to see Corroded Coffin that evening by Eddie as he dropped in his late (as always) videos that he had rented the previous week.

The three had become fast friends after the traumatic they had experienced earlier that year and had spent the summer in each other’s company trying to have some semblance of normality. Eddie’s friends Jeff and Danny were back in town for the evening from college to visit family and had agreed to play a gig with Eddie and Gareth for old times’ sake.

Eddie had come into Family Video nervously chewing on his thumb nail, almost tripping over the flannel shirt that he had tied around his waist that had come loose. He had approached the desk where Steve was glumly rewinding returned videos, Robin was stocking shelves. Eddie had refused to meet Steve’s eye when he asked if he and Robin were free that evening to come to The Hideout to see him and his band play.

“You know we are, Munson, you know our working pattern better than we do.” Steve laughed. Eddie had lit up at that, and his warm brown eyes shining as he grinned at Steve’s response. “Why so coy, Eds? You’re not normally afraid of little old me.” Steve reached across the counter to playfully tap Eddie’s shoulder with the back of his hands. Steve had been trying to match Eddie’s flirtatiousness over the summer, becoming more confident with over the time he had gotten to know Eddie. He enjoyed seeing how far he could push it before Eddie blushed. Steve was surprised at how much he liked seeing Eddie’s cheeks glow in response to his words.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, hot stuff, you’ll have to wait until tonight to find out.” He gave Steve a wicked grin and a lascivious wink and turned tail to head out of the store. “See you at eight, babe!” He called waving in Robin’s direction.

“Later, honeybun!” She called back with a cackle. Robin mooched over to Steve; her hands still filled with the candy she was restocking. She dumped them onto the counter and opened a pack of Milk Duds. “Sooo, what was that about?” She asked faking nonchalance.

“We just scored an invite to the best show in town.” Steve grinned at her and knocked her shoulder with his.

“You mean the only show in town.” She corrected him.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Rob, it’s not every day we have plans after work to actually go anywhere.” There was hardly anything open in the evening nowadays in Hawkins, a lot of the small family-owned places had struggled to reopen after the devastation Vecna had wrought on the town, even the local cinema hadn’t yet reopened which meant a lot of very bored young people with nowhere to go.

“We need to go out in Chicago, Rob, that way we can find somewhere for you to meet someone.” Steve worried that Robin was lonely, she’d never had a date with a woman, let alone kissed someone and Steve had felt he was rubbing her nose in it before the spring break as he never struggled to get a date. However, he had lost interest since all the trauma they had experienced after Chrissy was murdered, feeling safer with their closeknit friendship group.

“I’d like that, Steveie-boy.” She smiled warmly at him.

“We should really dress up tonight as we haven’t had they chance to look good in ages.” He suggested.

“Great idea, Dingus!” Robin brightened at the prospect, “you can help me choose my outfit. We get off in an hour and have over two hours before we need to be there.” She finished her Milk Duds and threw the box in the direction of the bin, missing widely. She huffed as Steve clipped the box with the toe of his shoe, getting it in first time. “You and your innate jock abilities.” She grumped, taking her wares off the counter and back to the snack section. The rest of their shift was relentlessly slow, it felt like forever before Kevin and Keith came to take over for the after-dinner rush.

They stopped at Robin’s place first where they spent over an hour helping Robin decide what to wear, most of her wardrobe ended up on the floor. She finally settled on a pair of thick black stockings she was going to throw away because she had laddered them, some shorts and an oversized Cure t-shirt. She chucked some brightly coloured beads over her head and a few chunky bracelets on her wrists, redid her eyeliner and then posed for Steve to show him the end product.

“You look amazing, Robs, you’ll fit right in. Look out ladies of Hawkins!” He kissed her forehead and pulled her catastrophe of a room and out of the house. He still needed to get ready and had far less time than he usually would allow himself if he was going out. They pulled up outside his empty house and went straight to his room where he immediately jumped into the shower so that he could get on with making sure his hair was just right for tonight. He spent the next hour using his hairdryer and products to give it the volume and artfully tussled look he liked. Robin was listening to Cindy Lauper and dancing around his room with a rum and coke she had made herself.

He took a sip of her drink and rummaged through his wardrobe until he found his only black item of clothing. A black button-down shirt, he left the top two buttons open exposing his chest hair that he knew the ladies liked and wore his favourite slightly too tight Levi’s. He rolled up the sleeves until they were three quarter length and checked himself out in the mirror on the back of his closet door.

“What do you think, Rob?”

“I think you’re gonna steal all the ladies from me.” She pouted, throwing a pillow at his head.

“Watch the do! I’ve just spent an hour getting it how I like it.” He checked himself in the mirror once more to make sure she hadn’t ruined his hair and popped his collar as she cackled like a witch. He loved it when she laughed like that. He checked his watch and informed her that they best be on their way if they wanted to see the start of Eddie’s gig. She downed the last of her drink as he pulled her from his room by her hand.

*

The Hideout was busy when they pulled up down the street. Eddie had been lying about Corroded Coffin’s popularity or the fact that this was the first live gig the town had seen in six months had pulled in a larger crowd than usual. Steve suspected the latter, but if Eddie asked, he would say the former.

Steve used his fake ID to get himself and Robin a bottle of beer each, they managed to get reasonably close to the stage. He caught a glimpse of Jeff and Gareth peeking through the green room door and waved. They grinned back and disappeared. Dave, Jeff and Gareth appeared on stage and introduced themselves.

“Thank you for coming out to support us here tonight! We’ve never played to a crowd this big before, we hope you like what you see here tonight.” Jeff said, Gareth snorted a laugh, and they began to play the opening chords of Dude Looks Like a Lady. Eddie sauntered on stage wearing his chunky boots, some fishnets and a tight silky dress with a slit that came up to his hip. It clung to his slim build in all the right places, his curls framing his pretty face as he began to sing the lyrics.

Steve could only gawp at Eddie, electrified sparkly butterflies filled his stomach as he took in Eddie in drag, shining with confidence as he pranced about the stage filling it with his personality. The moment Eddie walked on stage Steve realized that he really liked Eddie. Like, liked, Eddie. All that time he had thought he had been teasing his best friend by flirting with him when in actuality he had just been flirting with a boy he liked. He knew he would give up his trust fund, he’d sell his beemer if he could just have Eddie. He had no blood left to blush with at the realization of his feelings for one of his best friends, as it had all rushed south giving him a semi.

He had always been a ladies’ man, and that was no brag, he had had no problems getting girls, but if he could only spend the rest of his life with one other person it would be Eddie in drag or in his street clothes. He was the only person for him. Stick Eddie in a dress and he would be the only boy he’d shag; he’d pine away forever more if only he could convince Eddie to have him. Steve took in more details of Eddie’s eyeliner, black nail polish, the way his make up framed his huge doe eyes. He was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. He couldn’t tear his eyes away even though he knew he must have been staring.

The song ended and Eddie winked at him, before the band started the next song. Steve thought he might faint, he finally understood how all those girls at Beatles concerts fainted at the mere sight of their crush.

“Err, are you ok, Dingus?” Robin’s voice filtered through his mind. “You’ll catch flies if you leave your mouth open any longer.”

“I think I might have a crush on, Eddie.” He wheezed out.

“You’ve only just noticed? I thought you knew and that’s why you were blatantly flirting with him.”

“No! I’m having a full-on gay panic, Rob!” He yelped as Robin cackled.

“Do you want to go out and get some air?” She asked when she finally stopped laughing.

“No, because then I’ll miss seeing Eddie dressed like that! Is it wrong to think he looks hot?” He confessed.

“Of course not, Eddie is objectively hot.”

“Do you think he could ever like me?” He asked with a waver to his voice.

“Of course, he likes you, Dingus! Are you blind? He’s been flirting with you and flinging himself at you like a moth on a lamp since spring break.” She rolled her eyes. “I thought you’d been rejecting women because you were coming to terms with your sexuality.”

“No! I just didn’t realise I was keeping myself free for Eddie I thought I was being mature and dealing with my trauma.” He whined, Robin snorted.

“Well, now you know you’re queer, you’ll just have to speed run the realization, unless you want to leave, because Eddie knows we’re here. He hasn’t been able to take his eyes off you since he took to the stage.”

“There’s no way I’m leaving when he’s dressed like that! I might never get to see him dressed like that ever again, so I’m going to drink my fill.” He turned back to the stage. Robin slung a protective arm over his shoulders and moved to the music.

The next song Corroded Coffin sang was My Boyfriend’s Back in a punk style, the crowd began to move and bounce against one another. The music Eddie and the band created filled Steve’s body as he danced along with the butterflies that filled his body with a glittery warmth. He simply couldn’t look away from the stage even if he wanted to. It was the best night out he had ever had, dancing with Robin singing along to metal and rock covers of pop songs he liked and that he had sung to with Robin and Eddie over the summer as they drove around Hawkins in the humid evenings.

Corroded Coffin were on stage for just over an hour, filling the dingy club with a fun and manic energy. The air was filled with sweat of people exerting themselves and having a good time. The music died down and Eddie came to the front of the stage.

“Thank you, Hawkins, you’ve been amazing. Your enthusiasm has been much appreciated. We’ll back around Christmas time we look forward to seeing you then. Once we’ve cleared the stage Death Weasel will be taking over as the entertainment. Enjoy the rest of the evening.” Eddie saluted the crowd with the devil horns and the crowd cheered and whistled as Corroded Coffin began to take their equipment off the stage. Steve elbowed his way to the stage. He caught Jeff’s shirt and asked if he could help them pack up. Jeff nodded and tugged him up onto the stage pointing out what needed to be brought backstage. He picked up a kick drum and followed Gareth into the green room where Eddie was pulling on a pair of ripped blue jeans under his silky dress. He tugged the dress over his head revealing his bit bite scars and numerous tattoos. Steve’s breath caught in his throat; he couldn’t look away until Danny walked into the back of him on the way out the back with yet more kit.

“Like what you see, princess?” Eddie asked as he pulled his softest Judas Priest t-shirt over his head. Steve gulped and nodded his head. Eddie blushed and a soft smile played across his lips. Eddie grabbed his hand and pulled him out the exit to where his van was pulled up close by. He tugged him round the side where no one would see them, and they would have some semblance of privacy.

“You were amazing up there, Eds. I’ve never seen you look so beautiful, not that you don’t look pretty everyday.” Steve rambled, taking Eddie’s hand in both of his.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Stevie.” Eddie beamed. “You really think I look pretty every day?”

“Of course! Have you seen yourself! You hot as fuck.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, big boy.” Eddie cupped Steve’s face gently in both of his hands and looked at him like he was the most precious thing he had ever seen. Eddie slowly brought his lips to Steve’s giving him plenty of time to pull away if wanted to. Steve leant into the kiss wanting to feel the crush of Eddie against him. He tangled one hand in Eddie’s hair and the other held Eddie’s hip. Eddie snuck his tongue into Steve’s mouth, which made Steve groan at the taste of him. If Eddie was the only person, he ever kissed again he would die a happy man. When they pulled away, Steve grazed Eddie’s bottom lip with his teeth making Eddie mew like a kitten. Gawd, he wanted Eddie to make that sound again.

“Can I keep you, Eds?” Steve whispered into his ear. Eddie practically glowed in response.

“I’m all yours, Stevie.” He smiled.

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I was supposed to be beta-ing my fic but this one wanted to be written instead. It was inspired by the Magnetic Fields amazing Andrew In Drag.

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it

[caricarnations]

Imo I don’t like Ociel and Lizzie romantically, but I love their overall dynamic and what makes me sad is that I think lizzie genuinely likes Ociel’s personality, even if she doesn’t realize it yet.

I watched this show called Behind Her Eyes. One of the main characters is the wife and the husband. I forgot their names so let’s call them that for convenience sake, now moving on[spoilers] The start of the story shows that their marriage is crumbling. You can immediately tell that they have zero chemistry, zero love on the husband’s side, yet the flashbacks show that they were happy together and very much in love. The plot twist is that the wife’s body was actually hijacked by her best friend, so in the present, the friend was pretending to be the wife all along so he could have the husband all to himself. The reason the husband straight up hates his wife now, was not because his feelings changed, but because it’s LITERALLY not his wife anymore, even if he never realized it.

I find myself comparing it to Ociel and Lizzie's dynamic, and how is it not quite the case for them? They do have their strained moments when Ociel’s having his so-called memory problems, but for the most part, Ociel and Lizzie actually get along. They are actually bonding and having memories together.

Not to mention they both love cute things. It’s implied that Ociel confides to her about his new ideas for Funtom. Lizzie even treasured his bitter rabbit, the rabbit that represents Ociel’s true self. Which is why it hurts even more when she abandoned it later.

Lizzie must have spent a lot of time thinking about Ociel’s feelings, because she notices things about him that most people don’t. Everyone else was wondering why he would impersonate his brother, yet only she was able to empathize with Ociel and understand why he lied to her.

That’s why their relationship makes me sad. I think Ociel and Lizzie are actually compatible in some ways. They were just never given the chance to bond normally. If things were different, would they work out romantically? who knows, maybe not, but as friends? as a family? absolute yes for me. It’s been several years so I hope we see Lizzie again. I want to see how she’s processing all of this. I don’t expect her to forgive Ociel that easily after what he did, but the story spent a long time making us care for their relationship, so I will be very sad if none of that meant anything.