#and i hate him for it because i love his character so much

[emmyrosee]

Pls pls pls help a girl out!!

Its shark 🦈 week and whenever I’m in shark week I crave angst full on body angst ne you write it best 😭 pity me

I write it the best…? 🥺🩷 also no specific character in mind for this, but yall are married so 🫶🏻

————-

You’ve been yelling at each other for hours.

The circles of verbal assault haven’t slowed its pace, vile, cruel words flying from one mouth to pierce the heart of the other, only for the other words to come harder, meaner, louder. The throes of anger keep you both pinned in place, unable to stop, think, and see the damage you’re causing each other.

Your hands are swollen from your fists being so tightly balled, migraine forming from your scowling. His brows are stuck pinched in the center of his forehead, so deep you’re convinced they’ll stay there for days after you’re done. His teeth are grit so tight together that you want to massage his jaw to make them loosen before he shatters his pearly whites into pieces.

The culprit? A cold cup of tea, that now sits to the side dejectedly.

Because of that cold cup of tea, you’ve been screaming for two, going onto three hours, with no end in sight.

But, it’s not about the cold tea. It’s about the fact that the urgency in your love is gone, the quickness and determination to be with each other has dissolved into nothing but sugar melting in a mug of tea. Your time together has been awkward, it’s been minimal, and in your search to do something nice for him, like a warm cup of tea, he allowed it to get cold, and… what happened next?

There’s boundaries being crossed, lines of truce being broken as you cast vicious words against each other, the use of insecurities to make the other crumble and conjure a look of hurt, only to morph to disgust and yell back something even more heinous.

And yet…

“What did I even marry you for?” He snarls, throwing his arms out. “I’m certain it wasn’t for this! So why are we wasting our time right now?”

Your world stops.

In an instant, all words die on your tongue. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish as all you can think about are his words. They repeat in your head, almost in slow motion, as your heart sinks in your chest.

“What…?” you croak. Your throat is dry, mouth cottony, and you silently pray to anything, holy and not, merciful and malicious, that you didn’t hear him right. Your mind is lying, so tired of fighting you’re seeing the worst in him as a defense mechanism.

“You heard me,” he barks. “Your life is so miserable? You hate it here so much? GO.”

You heard him right.

You wished you hadn’t.

Your arms come up to cradle yourself in comfort, the fire swirling in your chest now extinguished, the once lively fight now being reduced to a ringing in your ear.

You’d… when did he…

“You don’t get to sit here, call me a cheater, a loser, a liar, all for your own good mind. Not when I’ve put my whole LIFE into you. I gave you my WHOLE. LIFE.”

“Why…”

“What?” He snarls.

You sniffle. Your bottom lip wobbles, and you blink a line of scalding tears out; you’re surprised they don’t sizzle your flesh from being so hot with frustration.

“Why… are you being so mean?”

“Mean?” He snaps. “Mean, you’ve called me some of the cruelest shit I’ve ever heard in your vocabulary, but I’m being mean? Do you even hear yourself, IM THE MEAN ONE?”

“Do you really wonder why you married me…?”

Your voice is so quiet, you wonder if he heard you.

He opens his mouth to spew his venom, only to stop dead in his tracks. His brows soften as his eyes widen, jaw slacking subtly. For the first time tonight, the room is quiet; still thick enough to cut the tension with a blade, but it’s quiet enough where you both can gather your thoughts.

You wipe your nose with your arm, “do you really think I want to stay here and fight with you? Is that how you think I want to spend my night with you?” You sob softly, “because it’s not. I don’t want to fight with you over cold tea… I don’t want to…”

You can practically see the lightbulb over his head light up. That’s right, you think to yourself. This is about tea.

“I…”

“I don’t question why I married you,” you whimper. “I know exactly why- because I love you. But the man I know would never, and I mean never, verbally assault and question his love for me over a cold. Cup. Of. Tea.”

“I don’t…” he shakes softly. “How did we get here…?”

“You started this war,” you hiss. “I didn’t.”

“Baby…”

“Don’t you fucking baby me,” you snap. “No. You don’t get to do that as a way to weasel out of this. You’re not going to guilt me with pet names to forgive you.”

“No, no, baby- damn, no, I mean-“

“You know what?” You pull your lips down into a frown and throw your hands out in defeat. “You want me gone so bad? I’m gone.”

“No, no, wait,” he begs, reaching out for one of your hands. You whip them back like he’s made of fire, and he reels away, as if keeping you safe, “no, I don’t want you to leave. I don’t question my love for you, I’d rather die than ever have you wonder if I love you-“

“Then you’d better have a goddamned good explanation for this,” you hiss. “Because right now? We’re done.”

“No!”

“I’m…” your strength is gone. Your lip quivers and your hand comes up to cover your mouth, and you wail as you make a dash out of the room, darting for the bedroom. You lock the door and slam your fist against the wood, screaming, howling in agony at the heartbreak of potentially losing your husband over a cold cup of tea.

Things spiraled so far out of control, that he questioned his love for you. How are you to come back from that? Angry words are truth shrouded in cruelty, and you are not going to let him berate you in such a manner as to wonder if this marriage was a good choice. You deserve far more, far better, than that.

On the other side of the door, you hear a soft poomf, then a thump. You stop crying to try and figure out the noises and their purpose.

“I’m here,” he says quietly, a far different tone from how he was speaking to you not three minutes ago. “I won’t try to come in. I won’t make you talk to me. But I’m here… and I love you. And I’m sorry.”

“Bite me,” you choke.

You hear him sigh through his nose, “I… I know why I married you,” he whispers. You don’t say anything. He continues regardless, “because you’re you. And on our first date, you were late because you hated the outfit you had planned, but you looked so fucking good, I couldn’t handle it. And it was that day, I decided I wanted to wait for you, forever. You are more than worth waiting for. And…” you hear him clear his throat, but there’s an emotional block in his voice, “I’ll keep waiting for you. Right here, on this floor. I’ll sleep, I’ll eat, I’ll piss I’ll die here, I don’t care, I’m right here. And I’ll stay here to prove that you’re worth waiting for.” He shudders.

“I’m happy to wait for you.”

———

haikyuu: daichi, kageyama, tsukishima, kuroo, yaku, iwaizumi, mattsun, hanamakki, oikawa, kyotani, ushijima (different font), kita (also different font), atsumu, osamu, suna, sakusa, meian

bnha: bakugou, dabi, hawks

jjk: gojo, geto, nanami, sukuna, toji, shiu

tokyo rev: baji, draken, mikey, hanma, rindou

[satorusugurugurl]

heya! I have a req - imagine Gojo tears up when yn kisses his forehead. he’s never felt so vulnerable 🫠

take care :)

Rest

Summary: After a long day of being Gojo Satoru— the strongest sorcerer of the modern age, your boyfriend gets to come home to your loving embrace.

Characters: Gojo Satoru x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: sweet flufffy goodness, mentions of sleep deprivation, stress, overworking, but overall it’s really sweet!

Word Count: 1.6K

A/N: Nonnie thank you for your request! I had so much fun writing this, Gojo deserves so much better! 💚💚💚

It was late, two thirty in the morning, to be exact, when the door to the bedroom finally creaked open. You stirred, wincing at the stiffness in your neck as you sat up, the book you read lying against your chest. But your neck didn't matter, not when Satoru was wincing as he slipped his shirt off and placed it in the hamper. His blindfold hand was loosely wrapped around his neck, giving you a perfect view of his dark circles.

“Toru?” You hesitantly asked, drawing his attention towards the bed.

Though you could see the exhaustion in his eyes, he smiled a little on the side but still smiled for you. “Hey, Sweetpea, I didn't wake you, did I?” He walked towards the edge of the bed, kissing your cheek.

“No, I had a stiff neck, so that woke me up.”

Cerulean eyes darted towards the book that was still resting on your chest. “I told you you didn’t have to wait up for me. Just because I had to work late doesn’t mean you have to deprive yourself of sleep.” Even when he was talking, you could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

Being the strongest sorcerer of the modern age was a curse in itself. Satoru was constantly on the move. Whether yanked away for missions or meetings with the higher-ups, he rarely had a break. Time for himself was a rarity. You hated seeing him so drained. Even if you confronted him about it, he would deny it. Putting on some arrogant, cocky attitude that he was the strongest and handling some extra meetings or taking on a few more missions wasn’t going to hurt him.

Your boyfriend could put on that kind of act for himself, his students, or even the higher-ups themselves. You knew he was tired, though. He could deny your accusations all he wanted. You, however, were fortunate enough to know him better than he knew himself. That facade was see-through when it came to you looking at him.

You wanted to tell him it was okay to be tired and set some time aside for himself. Deep down, you knew if you were to bring that up, Gojo would try to ensure you that everything was peachy. So, given the circumstances, you did the one thing you were able to do.

You would support him, be there for him when he needed to vent, and help him out as much as you could or as much as he would allow you to do.

“I was just reading; my book got really good. I just dozed off.”

“Mmm, you should put the book down and get some sleep.” Long ivory fingers caressed your cheek. “I don’t want you having a crooked neck because you were up reading your smut.”

“Leave my books out of this~” Satoru snickered, rolling his eyes as he pulled back, unbuckling his belt. “Go take a shower, then get your ass in bed.”

Satoru gave you a dorky salute as he headed into the bathroom, removing the rest of his clothing as he walked. You knew he was exhausted from the shower he took. Enough to wash the white tufts of hair and wash his body thoroughly. When he finished his shower, his mind was fuzzy with sleep deprivation. Finishing getting ready for bed was a blur, but he found himself climbing the sheets next to you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he rested his head against your breasts.

Your warmth and the smell of you relaxed every muscle in his body as he rested his body weight against you. Satoru was so tired. He needed to think about going on vacation sometime soon. Getting away from the bustling life he was living sounded like a dream. One where you would join him, and the two of you would stay in bed, talking, watching movies, and enjoying each other‘s company for hours.

Thoughts of that had him snuggling his face further into your soft breasts. You could see the dark circles under his eyes from where you were propped up. Your poor boyfriend was being tugged in every way possible, which would take a toll on anybody. Just because he was the strongest didn’t mean everyone had a right to take advantage of him and use him as a weapon.

Gojo Satoru was human, and he deserved some praise and recognition. Normally, he provided that recognition for himself, occasionally giving himself a literal pat on the back. But it was nice to hear it from someone else, too. He deserved the world—nothing but happiness.

Sensing your body's tension, Satoru turned his head to look up at you. As he did, his soft white bangs moved with each turn of his head. You reached out, brushing some strands away, only stopping to push them back as if he were wearing his blindfold. His eyes glanced to where your hand was pushing up his hair, cerulean eyes almost crossing to get a glimpse.

No words needed to be said. You gave him the faintest smile before pressing your lips against his forehead. As your lips pulled away his skin, you could feel the tension in his body; fearing you may have crossed the line, you quickly pulled back, looking down at your chest with tears staining the thin fabric of your top.

“Toru?” Your voice was soft as if your words themselves would shatter him.

“W-What was that?”

“A forehead. a kiss, a little token of my appreciation for all your hard work.” You weren’t sure what to expect—maybe a thank you or a smile in return. What you met with instead was tears in his eyes. Tears that made the blue of his Iris stand out even more.”Toru! Baby, what’s the matter?”

“I just—that was different.”

Growing up as the strongest and as an only child had been rough. It didn’t matter that he was filthy rich. The staff at the house was constantly on him. His parents rarely came to see him or talk to him. Gojo was alone most of the time, and he found many of his favorite memories from that time when he snuck out of the estate and went exploring Tokyo, being held like this and having kisses planted against his forehead with something he had never experienced with anyone, even his mother.

And he liked it. Scratch that he loved it. Being able to rest in your arms to have you petting his head, and playing with his hair always had him relaxing. This was how he liked to spend his rare moments at home with you. To be in your arms, to have your fingers running through his soft hair, and to have your lips pressing against his forehead made everything he did worth it. He put so much time and effort into helping the next generation of sorcerers, trying to make this world a place he wanted to live in. The hours of the hard work he put in was worth it.

At the end of the day, he got to come home to you.

You were one of the only people who treated him like a human being rather than some tool to be used. So, after a long day of being pulled around, told what to do, and scolded, this was precisely what he needed. Gojo’s mind, body, and soul knew that, and they all worked against him and caused tears to well up in his eyes to make him feel vulnerable. Thiswas a feeling he somewhat liked as long as it was with you.

“Oh, I’m sorry, baby. I hope I didn’t insult you or make you uncomfortable.”

“No, I like it. I like it a lot, Sweetheart.” He slowly shut his eyes, his full white eyelashes resting against his cheek as he exhaled through his nose. “Could you do it again?”

Hearing him a king for you to kiss his forehead again had your heart swelling with a certain pride as you hummed happily, pressing your lips against his forehead while your nails gently scratched at his scalp. “Thank you for all of your hard work, Toru.” Your voice was angelic, easing Satoru further into the mattress as his body relaxed more, his mind slowly turning off. “Thank you for everything you do.” He hummed softly in response as he slowly began drifting to sleep, tears welling at the corners of his eyes before slowly streaming down his cheek.

Seeing the tears slowly sliding down his slightly flushed cheek had you abandoning one of your hands on the top of his head, your thumb quickly brushing the stray away. Once you were sure that the tears would stop flowing, your hands slowly drifted back up to the top of his head, continuing to scratch lazily at it as you shut your eyes, yawning, as Satoru hugged you tight, wrapping his arms around you not letting you out of his grasp. It was such a comforting and warm hug that left you feeling safe even when he fell asleep. Your nerves melted like snow on a spring day.

“I love you so much,” Satoru mumbled against your chest. Any other thoughts failed to reach his mouth; he began to breathe much deeper, falling into REM sleep.

But he didn’t have to say anything else. You simply priced one last very long kiss against the center of his forehead. When you finally managed to pull away, you found yourself cradling his head to your chest, allowing him to listen to your heartbeat because he fell asleep.

“I love you too, Toru.”

Yeah, all of his hard work was definitely worth coming home to this.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree

[3x15eddie]

"to understand eddie diaz you have to understand growing up latino." really hit me because that is, in big part, why i do love eddie diaz so much. i grew up latino and i can so clearly see myself and some of my family members in the diazes. and the fact that our culture's strong relationship with religion and machismo is going to be explored in one of tv’s most popular procedural drama shows, is so important to me. and i fucking hate that it’s not even being fully focused on because some people can’t get past how “white” he is in comparison to to another character and using that as some weird form of leverage.

like. he’s eddie diaz and he’s mexican. he is going to make eddie being mexican a staple of who he is. he is going to show his racist boss where he stands. he is going to have his own version of religion and spirituality that he’s going to lean into. he’s unlearning hiding his feelings and not talking about his struggles. he’s eddie diaz and he’s an actual complex character. can we fucking focus on that instead of bringing up shitty white characters that have absolutely no place in this conversation? please. just don’t fucking talk about eddie diaz if you’re not even going to pretend to actually try and understand him.

[originalwinnerfanfish]

And here is the last part

Predaking - Oh, my fiery boy! I have so much to say about him…

He was probably the main reason I got into the Transformers fandom when I was a kid. My thoughts were like: It's a dragon! And a robot at the same time!? And he turns into a hot looking man!?! *mind blown*

Of course, over time I realized that behind the beautiful cover, he was a rather naive and very foolish character with a storyline too much like Dreadwing's. But despite all this, I still love him. Predaking is a real gem of the third season, and perhaps the coolest character in the entire series, and you can’t deny it!

In the WOF version, he is a resurrected dragon from the extinct skywing tribe. Being the largest dragons in this AU, their tribe was the most powerful on the continent until it completely died out due to a wave of cataclysms.

So, Predaking is a real giant compared to other characters. And, in the final addition, he is firescales! Because it’s BADASS!🔥

(and actually, because he gives me pretty strong Peril vibes)

Unfortunately I couldn't give him a bright color, so his firescales nature is shown through glowing areas on his body, creating the effect that he is literally burning from the inside. I also just noticed that his face looks very much like a skull, and I tried to pay attention to this in the design by giving him dark spots around the eye sockets and nostrils

Hardshell - I don’t wanna draw some random insecticon, so I chose this guy. Here I will be short. He’s appears in only two episodes and died almost immediately. He’s more of a plot tool than a real character

His stripes look cool, but drawing them wasn’t easy at all (I hate floating shapes). I wanted to make him look more like his beetle form, adding a big front horn and green plates on his neck. I also think that insecticons should be more different in coloring in this version

Skyquake - Same story - appeared in one episode - died in the same episode. Most of the fandom remembers him only as a zombie from the shadow dimension, and it's kind of sad. I believe he had potential. I always imagined Skyquake as the "brawn" in a duet with his brother, while Dreadwing was more of the "brain". And it would be great if we were shown this contrast, giving Skyquake a chance to prove himself in at least a couple of episodes

His design is, as expected, almost the same as his brother, but I still decided to add some small differences in details to make it more interesting

Vehicons - STEEEEEEVES!

I like these silly dudes)

I didn't want to make them actual clones or something, so here they're just regular nightwings and icewings, but they may look the same because of the iron masks that hide their faces. Like many other dragons, they are victims of a war they may not have wanted to participate in. Actually, in that case their deaths don’t seems so meaningless and even give the autobots actions a darker subtext (although I believe in the theory that they could simply pretend to be dead on the battlefield (I really want to believe in that))

I know there are still a few possible undrawn characters left, like Skylynx and Darksteel or Unicron, but that's probably enough for me. I'm happy with my closed gestalt)

[anniflamma]

This isn't a question, but rather a love letter to your art<3.

Thanks to you, I've started enjoying Greek mythology and the Bible again (I mean from a point of artistic, mythological, historical, and theological analysis; my status with any kind of religion is being agnostic XD).

And I already enjoyed Epic the Musical, but I really love the designs you make, how you empathize with the symbolism and lore of the Gods when designing them, and how you make Odysseus so human with his crude expressions that makes me empathize with him (And he's one of the characters I hated the most from Greek mythology lol)

And then there’s your art about the bible, I have to admit that I tend to avoid the biblical religion because of the weight it still has on our daily lives, the damage it has done from the past to this day, and how they deny it with current hypocrisy (I live in Spain, there the official religion is catholic), but your lgbt drawings have really encouraged me to open the bible and see it from an objective and neutral point of view, and just enjoy it as another book and not as something I’m forced to follow.

Also I didn’t know there was so much LGBT content in the bible XD Seriously, thank you so much, if you had a patreon, I would pay you for the amount of happiness and culture you have given me (^///^)

By the way, reading your posts I found out that you recently experienced an internet drama that has become so popular lately. I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry that both you and that poor artist had to go through this, that human hypocrisy has no limits or shame, and that I agree with everything you say. Just because we like a character or an author doesn't mean we agree with their crimes or ideologies.

I hope you have a nice day<3

Hi! I’m sorry it took me a while to respond! I mean it, I’ve read this over and over, and it makes me so happy. I’ve been thinking about how to respond, but sometimes it's hard to get it out into words.

It makes me so happy that my biggest interests make others interested in it too. Heck, when people ask questions, I get all giddy!

Talking about biblical/christian saints, greek myths, history, different cultural views and changes was kind of the whole point of why I started this tumblr blog. I have so many drafts filled with random info about LGBTQ+ saints..... Now… I post mostly thirsty drawings of greek gods with hairy chests... T.T

And I sympathize a lot when it comes to religious trauma. I consider myself lucky in these matters, my mom is Catholic, and she has her views that I don’t agree with and hurtful. Yet she still supports me in her way and watching my bible retelling animatics, everytime I post a new bible animatic, she writes me: "What have you done to Daniel..."

I also have my hurts and anger towards hypocrisies too, and I guess this is my way of countering that?

LGBT content in the Bible is something that really fascinates me. I think it's important to keep in mind that people from about 2,500 years ago had very different views when it came to gender and sex compared to how we see it today. In a way, the Bible does have strict social gender expectations, and if you didn’t fit in, then you weren’t considered part of that gender. But at the same time, it acknowledges that your sex. I think it’s in the Talmud were it discusses the fact that, throughout the Bible, there were about eight genders:

Zachar: male.

Nekevah: female.

Androgynos: having both male and female characteristics.

Tumtum: lacking sexual characteristics.

Aylonit hamah: identified as female at birth but later naturally developed male characteristics.

Aylonit adam: identified as female at birth but later developed male characteristics through human intervention.

Saris hamah: identified as male at birth but later naturally developed female characteristics.

Saris adam: identified as male at birth but later developed female characteristics through human intervention.

Some scholars even believe that Abraham and Sarah were Tumtum. A Tumtum is not considered to be very distinct but rather flexible between male and female sex/gender—"sometimes he is a man, and sometimes he is a woman." The simple fact that God said Abraham had a womb and from it, he would have children. Some say that this is why he is a Tumtum, while some historical linguists argue that ancient Hebrew didn’t have the vocabulary for male genitalia yet. Both arguments are valid, and I like them both!

There’s tons of stuff I could bring up—Joseph with his princess dress, Naomi and Ruth, David and Jonathan, and the discussions around whether Daniel was a Saris Hamah or a Saris Adam. We know he was called a saris, but we’re just not sure which. And then there's Jael, whose story is filled with a lot of phallic symbolism, and even her name is very gender-neutral.

I think I’m going to end here. I could yap about these things forever! But thank you again taking your time writing to me and I hope you also have a nice day! <3

[hyukakisses]

ohshc txt au but they’re all emo >:))

-emo ohshc au! (request)

pairings: emo txt x reader

plot: random txt headcanons as separate ohshc characters from the anime/manga

warnings: !pervy mean soobin, cursing, smut & fluff, (characters are in college), jealous soobin, sweet reader, enemies to lovers troupe, size kink, use of pet names

soobin as kyoya 𓆩♡𓆪:

-you two were definitely enemies to lovers; soobin often shooting you death glares whenever he found out he had the second highest grade to you, often shoulder bulging you each time he walked past you. not wanting to admit he thought you being smart was really attractive

-completely obsessed with his father’s approval and patriarchy. so when he found out you were raised by farmers he definitely poked fun at that

-soobin tried his absolute best to hate you but couldn’t; he liked that no matter how cold he was towards you, you were always in a happy mood each time you seen him. “soobin did you study for the exam today?” “you know you look so cute when you’re all moody!” “i really like your glasses matches with your hair!”

-after his many failed attempts of ignoring you, soobin finally just accepted your clingy nature and dealt with it. his harded glaze softening up when you’d bring him coffee knowing he was up studying for an exam, or comforting him when he was dealing with his insufferable father.

-doesn’t really like when you call him out for his soft spot for you; saying he has a reputation to uphold and you’d just huff playfully as you respect his wishes because he was still a good boyfriend even if he didn’t like your teasing

-always buying you the most expensive gifts, knowing you couldn’t get much of it growing up. enjoying the squeals and hugs in gratitude you’d give him

-had a thing for face-fucking you. fisting his cock so hard before finally giving in and letting his member slip into your mouth. soobin begins hissing in pleasure at the warmth as you quickly suck him off triggering his long awaited release

-soobin would sigh in relief once he climaxes but quickly regains his composure once you reach up by his tie and pull him into a needy kiss. pushing his glasses up as you giggle about how much you loved him ):

huening kai as mori 𓆩♡𓆪:

-huening kai definitely has a size kink; always comparing his hand size with yours loving the feeling of your much smaller hand against his as weird as that sounds. relishes in the fact that you’re no over than 5’6 meanwhile he was 6 foot

-would carry you around everywhere, bridal style or piggy back rides. reminding you that you’re a princess who shouldn’t have to let a finger even if it came to moving around

-never spoke unless it was necessary; the whole guy was a mystery. only speaking up when it was to remind you to eat or sleep, or to defend you against people who didn’t really like you ):

-hyuka would smile when you’d let him cup your face with his hands, loving the sight of his large hands swallowing your body

-wouldn’t let you do anything by yourself, carrying your books around campus and mouth feeding you as if you were a baby which was fine to him because you were his baby after all

-uses his strength against you when it came to sex. tossing you around like some type of rag doll; huening kai trapping you in place as he attacks you with kisses. swiftly discarding your clothes as he hurriedly ruts into you as if he was going to die if he didn’t fuck you soon ):

-even during sex your boyfriend wasn’t much of a talker, only letting out soft grunts of pleasure as he felt your pussy spasm around his length. your sweet whines pushing him further to his release, the feeling of his ropes emptying inside you triggering your climax. this action making huening kai smile weakly muttering a ‘i love you’ in your ears <3

yeonjun as tamaki 𓆩♡𓆪:

-very flirtatious from the get go, which surprised you to say the least you didn’t think anyone as attractive as him could possibly wanna date you. you were often questioning if that was some type of dare from yeonjun’s follow host members

-you fell for yeonjun very fast due to his charming nature; he was like a real life prince. your boyfriend often leaving love letters and roses in your locker you just didn’t understand how you got so lucky with dating him ):

-yeonjun’s impulsiveness was rather endearing to you as sick as that sounds, you also supported his delusions. “you’ll stay with me forever right y/n?” “i want five kids when we’re married do you think you can do that for me?”

-behind his charming nature, yeonjun was very anxious about losing you. doing grand acts to make you feel loved and win your love over; you’d reassured him that his gestures weren’t really needed since you already loved him but still! he just wanted to make sure you’d never leave him :(

-yeonjun definitely had an oral fixation; constantly needing something in his mouth. if it wasn’t your pretty pussy it was ggum or candy

-“please? you don’t even have to do anything this time baby i just wanna make you feel good i just need a taste” the jet black haired boy pleaded with you giving teary eyes followed by forcing you down on his mattress. “j-junnie im still sore from yesterday” you’d let out a whine the sound only fueling yeonjun’s desire more. “that’s why you i said you don’t have to do anything baby! please just let me make you feel good please let me make it up to you” the emo boy grins when you sigh with a nod

-yeonjun loves eating you out through your panties for a second before he finally slips his greedy tongue into your wet folds, enjoying the sound of overstimulation you’d make when your boyfriend’s lips and tongue was rapidly lapping around your cunt

-definitely makes you cum quickly once he founds your cute cilt, smiling once he feels his lips soaked in your juices. “feel better now?” you’d weakly ask “yeah i do think you could keep laying there while i fuck you dumb now?” yeonjun gives you no time to reply before freeing himself from his suffocating sweatpants

taehyun as kaoru 𓆩♡𓆪:

-very mature and serious unless it came to you, often showering you in kisses and telling you that were just a baby who couldn’t do anything on your own

-definitely a lot of gym dates with him; and by gym dates i mean you just sitting on a bench as you watch taehyun perform his workout routine engaging in a few makeout sessions time to time

-around campus taehyun is kinda like your bodyguard; always at your aid whenever you need physical or emotional support like a good boyfriend would provide ):

-in class taehyun is always handsy with you, his big hands placed lightly on you thigh as his fingers dance closer to your clothed core making your head spin

-you whine to yourself once you feel your boyfriend’s digits slipping inside of you; taehyun’s black painted nails curling at places you couldn’t reach on your own. your climax near and your walls closing up tighter and tighter before taehyun pulls away making your eyes widen in shock

-taehyun loved edging you and you hated that about him. “if you’re good i’ll let you cum tonight okay baby? now pay attention” he points to the professor giving another boring lecture as you sigh in defeat

beomgyu as honey 𓆩♡𓆪:

-out of all the hosts, beomgyu was the sweetest. taking the time out of his day to bake your favorite treats and gives you head pats. “i really like the cherry pie you made me gyu” “can you make me brownies next time?” “more head rubs and head pats please!”

-definitely watches you do your daily skincare and makeup; asking if he could join you with his best puppy dog eyes which didn’t make fail to make you fall for everytime :(

-very sensitive; always crying and you give him head rubs as in attempt to comfort him

-always making you bake treats with him; stealing kisses and giving you nose rubs during the process

-prefers for you to sit on his face; he says he likes being on his back while still maintaining some type of control of you. gripping your hips as he directs you over his glistening lips

-beomgyu basically makes out with your soppy cunt; rocking your hips so much at a quick pace you could feel your cute clit bump against his nose

-doesn’t let you go at all, his chin dripping from your sweet nectar he swears he could live off your pussy for the rest of his life :( groaning deeply at how sweet you tasted. his thoughts screaming ‘how did i get so lucky?’

a/n: im going to be real i havent watched this anime since middle school please forgive me

[phone4pills]

dad!Chris blurb

if you have daddy issues, this one may hurt a little but no other warnings

———————————————————————————————

Chris followed the trail of hushed giggles down the hallway into the living room where Nick and Matt were opening a package from Lego. You sat next to Nick, reading the back of the box that showed all of the pieces and told you more about the Lego characters. Your glance panned up to find your daughter toddling swiftly across the kitchen, Chris trailing behind her.

You turned to Matt, who was already grinning at the sight while Nick whipped out his phone to record, before your head spun back around to face the hilarious scene. Chris’ eyes caught your gaze, almost pleading for your assistance as your daughter stood at the far of the table with a vlog camera in her hands. A devious smirk settled on her lips, teasing Chris who waited at the other end of the table with heavy breaths.

He took off his hat for a second, wiping the sweat on his forehead before placing it back over his brown waves. “Daddy tired?” The little girl opposite him cooed, causing the laughter you tried so hard to force under the surface to boil angrily and bubble up your throat. Still you bit your lip, wanting to let it play out.

Chris’ lips however, pursed tightly as he exhaled a harsh breath from his nose. “C’mon baby girl, you know me and your uncles need that to film our video.” She nodded innocently, despite her grip only becoming more intense. “And if you give it back… you can get a sweet.” The second that last word left his mouth, he darted around the table, reaching out for the girl. But he missed as she quickly ran under the table, her minuscule figure making just the perfect size for her to fit underneath without hitting her head.

Chris huffed, gritting his teeth before he descended onto all four and crawled after her. By now, the whole room had erupted with laughter from you, Nick and Matt. All three of you struggled to catch your breath as you watch the scene unfold. You never imagine the father of your child crawling under a table behind her. You never imagined he’d struggle to keep up with her little legs that only took her a few metres a minute.

Her little chuckles echoed through the room as he snuck away from her Dad, running towards you, grabbing onto your shin with one hand, still holding the camera in the other. She laid her head on your knee, wheezing slightly from all the running.

Within a few seconds, Chris was up again, he snuck behind your daughter, tickling her waist to surprise her. She jerked about as giggled bubbled out of her throat before Chris picked her up by the armpits and carried her to the sofa. He placed her down on the end, next to Matt and kneeled down in front of her. “Okay, I got ya. Can I have the camera back?”

She pouted, her teensy fingers loosening up on the tripod little by little until she let go so it dropped on her lap. He took it gently, giving her hair a ruffle before kissing her face repeatedly so it scrunched up. And she couldn’t help but smile with each peck. Neither could you, he was so perfect.

Every day she got older, you only saw more and more of Chris in her, like they shared a soul. Maybe it was why you loved her so much. Because she was such a huge chunk of the man you were in love with. The man you were infatuated with. And you wondered if when he stared into her blue eyes, he saw himself for a second as though he were looking into a mirror.

By the time you had snapped out of your trance, the boys were already setting up at the kitchen table while your little girl sat on it, fiddling with Matt’s keychain. You pulled your phone out of your pocket, snapping a quick picture before sending it to Mary Lou. Then you turned off your phone and got up, ready to help the triplets film their video.

Thanks for reading, I hope your enjoyed. Also we reached 300 followers a day or so ago so thank you guys so much!

I hate to break the news that I’ll be changing my theme soon. Let me know if you guys think it’s a bad idea. Love you guys… not as much as I love dad!Chris. If you want more you can request or go comment on my masterlist.

-phone4pills

[wannabehockeygf]

I know it won’t work - Quinn Hughes

“And part of me wants to walk away ‘til you really listen,

I hate to look at your face and know that we’re feeling different,

‘Cause part of me wants you back but,

I know it won’t work like that?”

part 3, quinn hughes // gracie abrams fic trilogy

part 1 part 2

summary: back at home, you both feel different.

word count: 6.2k pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader warnings: cheating, characters in depressive states of mind. pls take care loves <3 notes: - it's finally here! - before anyone asks, i am not doing a part 4. i ended it this way on purpose! - check out my other work i recommend if you liked this, and i'm always open for requests! - is it clever that i did the whole "talking to a stranger on a train" thing again??? someone pls say yes - not really proofread!

The smell of garlic and herbs filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of music playing in the background. You stood at the stove, stirring the pasta sauce, your focus on the way it bubbled gently. A warm smile tugged at your lips as you felt a pair of familiar arms wrap around your waist from behind.

“Smells amazing,” Quinn murmured into your hair, his voice low and content. He rested his chin on your shoulder, swaying slightly with you, his chest pressed against your back in a way that made you feel safe—like nothing could touch the two of you when you were like this.

You laughed, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “You’re just saying that because you’re starving.”

“Well, yeah,” he admitted with a chuckle, “But I mean it. You know I’m not great in the kitchen, so this is like… magic to me.” He squeezed you gently, his hands warm on your stomach, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart against your back, perfectly in sync with your own.

The apartment was quiet, the kind of peaceful that only seemed to happen when it was just the two of you. It wasn’t much—just a small, humble place, with mismatched furniture and a creaky floor that always groaned when Quinn walked over it. But in moments like this, it felt perfect. The soft, yellow light from the kitchen cast a gentle glow over the room, making everything feel cozy, like you were wrapped in a blanket made of love and laughter.

“I could get used to this,” Quinn said softly, his voice full of warmth. He kissed the side of your neck, and you leaned into the touch, feeling the happiness bubble up inside you like the sauce on the stove. “Coming home to you, having dinner together. It feels right.”

You turned in his arms, your heart swelling at the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered in the world. His blue eyes were soft, filled with a quiet adoration that made your chest ache in the best way. You reached up, cupping his face, your thumb brushing against the stubble on his jaw.

“You’re pretty easy to cook for,” you teased, grinning up at him.

His lips twitched into a smile, and he leaned down to kiss you—soft and sweet, like he was savoring the moment as much as you were. It was perfect. He was perfect. And for a second, you let yourself believe that this moment would last forever, that the warmth of his embrace and the tenderness of his kisses would never fade.

But then, suddenly, the room around you seemed to dissolve, the warmth of Quinn’s arms slipping away like sand through your fingers. The comforting hum of the apartment vanished, replaced by the cold, hollow sound of your own breathing.

You woke up.

The bed was empty.

Quinn was gone.

Your heart pounded in your chest as the dream faded, the sweet memory of that night together dissolving into the harsh reality that had been haunting you ever since you found out. Your fingers trembled as they gripped the sheets, the lingering warmth of his embrace still fresh in your mind, but now it felt like a lie—like everything you had built together had been a lie.

He cheated. He cheated on you, and no amount of sweet memories or perfect nights could take that away.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears as you stared at the ceiling, your mind racing with the weight of everything that had happened. The night before, the way he’d held you at the station, the way his voice had cracked when he said he missed you—it all felt tainted now, like there was an invisible stain on every memory you had with him.

How could he do this? How could he say he loved you and then turn around and betray you like that?

You closed your eyes, the tears slipping down your cheeks despite your best efforts to hold them back. Your chest ached, the pain sharp and unrelenting, as if your heart was being squeezed by invisible hands. The trust you had in him—the bond that had felt so strong—was shattered, scattered like pieces of glass that you didn’t know how to pick up.

The room felt cold, suffocating. You could still smell his cologne faintly on the pillow beside you, and it made your stomach twist with a nauseating mix of love and anger. You hated how much you missed him, how even now, after everything, your heart still ached for him.

How had it come to this?

With a shaky breath, you sat up, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. Your chest felt tight, the weight of Quinn’s betrayal pressing down on you like a stone. Every part of you wanted to scream, to cry, to throw something—anything—to make the pain go away. But instead, you just sat there, staring blankly ahead, the silence of the room wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket.

The dream had felt so real—so perfect. You could still feel the ghost of his arms around you, the warmth of his breath on your neck. But now, all that was left was the cold, hard truth.

And no dream, no memory, could change that.

He had destroyed what you had, shattered the trust you had placed in him. And no matter how much you wanted to believe that things could still be okay, deep down, you knew they never would be. You knew it didn’t work like that.

You were awake now. And the dream… it was over.

The chill of the room seemed to seep into your very bones as you reached for your phone, the screen lighting up with the time: 5:48 AM. You hadn’t been getting much sleep these past couple weeks, so you were at least glad you got an amount–but what really stuck at you were the notifications. A few from Instagram, a text from your sister, but then… a missed call. A missed call from the United States, four hours ago. They hadn’t left a voicemail, so when you clicked on your call logs to take a better look, the name read ‘Maybe: Jack Hughes.’

What the hell was Quinn’s brother doing calling you?

It had been two weeks since Quinn dropped the bomb on you, which was when you didn’t give him any more of your time and flew back home. You hadn’t cried, not really, not until you landed in Richmond and asked your mom to pick you up for the first time since you were eighteen. And although the tears flowed, you couldn’t help but feel some nagging remorse when you saw the Canucks surrender to the Bruins in five. You didn’t care though–at least you didn’t want to.

But Jack? Why did he call you at one in the morning? Scratch that, four in the morning for him. Was he trying to get you to try to forgive his brother? Was Quinn seriously that desperate? You stared at your phone, his name mocking you.

Your finger hovered over the call button, hesitating. You didn’t know Jack that well—barely at all, really. Quinn had introduced you once, in passing, during one of those family gatherings where you tried to fit in with the chaotic but tight-knit Hughes clan. Jack had been polite, maybe a little cocky, but there hadn’t been much more to it. He was Quinn’s younger brother, and that had been enough. Now, though… now everything was different.

You took a deep breath, your thumb brushing over the edge of the phone. Why would he be calling you in the middle of the night? Was this some misguided attempt to fix things for Quinn? Your stomach twisted at the thought. The last thing you needed was another reminder of everything Quinn had shattered. But curiosity gnawed at you, pulling you toward the unknown, making you wonder if Jack’s call had been more than just a plea for his brother.

Before you could overthink it, you hit the call button.

The phone rang, and your heart pounded louder with each passing second. What if he didn’t pick up? What if this was a mistake? What if—

“Hello?” Jack’s voice, groggy and confused, came through the line, snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts.

You swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. “Jack… hey, it’s me.” Your voice sounded small, like you weren’t sure of yourself anymore.

There was a pause, and you could practically hear him sitting up, becoming more alert. “Oh… hey. I didn’t think you’d call back.” His tone softened, the usual bravado gone, replaced with something quieter. “I, uh… I didn’t mean to wake you earlier. I just… I didn’t know who else to talk to.”

That caught you off guard. You sat up straighter, feeling the weight of his words settle in. He didn’t sound like someone trying to defend his brother. He sounded… lost. You hadn’t expected that.

“It’s okay,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I saw your call when I woke up. What’s going on?”

There was a long, heavy pause. You could hear the faint sound of him shifting around, maybe running a hand through his hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. When he finally spoke, his voice was raw, like he was struggling with what to say. “I, uh… I know this is probably weird. I mean, we don’t really know each other that well, but…” He trailed off, the weight of the silence almost unbearable.

You waited, your pulse quickening as you wondered where this was going. The city outside was slowly waking up, cars starting to hum along the street, but inside your apartment, everything felt still, suspended in this strange limbo between you and Jack.

“I’m sorry,” Jack finally said, his voice breaking the tension. “For everything Quinn did. I know I’m not the one who should be apologizing, but… God, I feel like I need to. You didn’t deserve any of this.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you blinked, taken aback by the raw sincerity in his voice. You hadn’t expected this. Not from Jack.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you murmured, your chest tightening with a confusing mix of emotions. Anger, hurt, and something else you couldn’t quite place.

Jack let out a shaky breath. “I don’t expect you to say anything. I just wanted you to know that… I get it. I’ve been watching Quinn these last few weeks, and… he’s a mess. Not that it makes anything better, but he hates himself for what he did. And I hate him for it too, because… because you deserved better.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. The sincerity in Jack’s voice tugged at something deep inside you, but it didn’t ease the ache in your chest. “It doesn’t change anything, Jack,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I loved him. I trusted him, and he just… he threw it all away.”

“I know,” Jack replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know, and I wish I could fix it, but… I can’t. No one can.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. The weight of everything—of Quinn’s betrayal, of Jack’s unexpected apology—pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. The memory of your dream, of Quinn’s arms around you, the warmth of his presence, felt like a cruel joke now, a reminder of what you had lost. You wanted to scream, to cry, but all you could do was sit there, numb, as Jack’s words sank in.

“I don’t know why I called,” Jack said after a while, his voice quiet. “I guess… I just wanted to tell you that Quinn’s not okay. Not that it makes a difference, but… he really screwed up, and he knows it. I think he just… he didn’t know how to handle things, and he panicked.”

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh in the quiet of your apartment. “That’s an understatement.”

Jack sighed, and you could hear the frustration in his voice. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence felt different now, less tense but still heavy with unspoken words. You leaned back against the headboard, staring up at the ceiling, your mind racing. Jack was the last person you had expected to hear from, and yet here he was, apologizing for something that wasn’t even his fault.

“I appreciate you calling,” you said softly, the words surprising even you. “I didn’t expect it, but… thank you.”

Jack let out a breath, the sound relieved. “Yeah, of course. I just… I didn’t want you to think that no one cared. Because I do. We do, at least me and Luke.”

The sincerity in his voice stirred something inside you, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, you didn’t feel so alone. You didn’t know what would come next, or if this conversation would change anything, but in that moment, it felt like a small sliver of light breaking through the darkness.

“I’m not ready to forgive him,” you said quietly, more to yourself than to Jack.

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Jack replied, his voice gentle. “But if you ever need someone to talk to… I’m here.”

You closed your eyes, the weight of everything finally settling on your chest. “Thanks, Jack.”

As the call ended, you sat there for a moment, staring at your phone, the words you’d exchanged still hanging in the air. You didn’t know what would happen next, but at least now… now you didn’t feel quite so lost.

Quinn did, though. 

As Quinn lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually slept. His mind had become a storm of regret, guilt, and shame, swirling so violently that closing his eyes only made it worse. The silence of his empty apartment felt oppressive, pressing down on his chest, making it harder to breathe.

He had never thought it would get this bad—had never imagined he’d be the kind of person to ruin the one good thing in his life. But he had. He’d destroyed it all, and now he was left with the wreckage.

Turning over in the sheets, Quinn let out a long, shaky breath. The memory of your face the last time he saw you kept replaying in his mind. The way your eyes had welled with hurt, the way your lips had trembled as you fought to keep it together. It haunted him. He had expected you to scream, to yell, to throw things—anything but that quiet, broken disappointment that cut deeper than any words could have.

He had been a coward.

Quinn scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling the stubble that had started to form along his jaw–a five-o-clock shadow, pushing six. He hadn’t bothered shaving. What was the point? He could barely look at himself in the mirror.

The worst part—the part that made his stomach twist with nausea—was knowing that no apology, no amount of regret could fix this. You had trusted him, and he had shattered that trust, not with one impulsive mistake but with a series of decisions he could never take back. And for what? Some fleeting moment of confusion, some stupid impulse he hadn’t even understood at the time.

He groaned and sat up, unable to bear the suffocating weight of his thoughts any longer. The clock on his bedside table blinked back at him. Too early, too late—time had lost meaning. All he knew was that he needed to move, to escape the prison of his mind, if only for a little while.

Without thinking, Quinn swung his legs out of bed and grabbed the first pair of running shoes he could find. The cold air hit him like a slap when he stepped outside, but he welcomed it. Anything to clear his head.

The streets were empty, the city still sleeping, save for the occasional car passing by. Quinn set off at a slow jog, his breath coming out in exasperated puffs. He focused on the rhythm of his feet hitting the pavement, the steady thump of his heart in his chest. For a moment, it felt like the weight lifted—like the physical strain could drown out the emotional turmoil. But as the minutes passed, his thoughts returned, each step bringing him closer to the memories he was trying to outrun.

He had never been the best with words. Expressing how he felt was something that had always tripped him up. But with you, it had always been different. You had a way of pulling things out of him, making him feel safe, seen. And yet, he had thrown that away, too caught up in his own fear and insecurities to see what was right in front of him.

The rhythmic pounding of his feet became erratic as his mind spiraled. He pushed himself harder, faster, as if he could outrun the shame, the self-hatred that gnawed at him.

“Idiot,” he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the sound of his shoes hitting the pavement. He didn’t care if anyone heard. The streets were still deserted, just him and his regrets.

He had no idea what Jack had said to you—whether his brother had tried to make excuses for him, to smooth things over. Quinn didn’t want that. He didn’t deserve to be let off the hook. And God, he didn’t want you to think for a second that any of this had been your fault.

But the damage was done. He had messed up in ways he could never take back, and now… now he was alone with nothing but the echo of your absence.

Quinn’s hands clenched into fists, the cool air biting at his skin. He couldn’t stand himself right now. The weight of everything was suffocating. He had never wanted to be that guy—the one who hurt someone they loved. But here he was.

He glanced up at the sky, dark and endless, a sharp contrast to the chaos inside him. For a fleeting moment, he wished he could go back, that he could rewind time to before everything fell apart. But there was no going back. There was only the aftermath.

And you were gone.

Quinn swallowed hard, his chest tightening as the reality of it all settled in. He wasn’t sure what hurt more—knowing he had lost you or knowing that he was the reason why. He bent down, hands on his knees, the steady thump of his pulse in his ears as he tried to ground himself. But no matter how hard he pushed, no matter how fast he ran, he couldn't outrun the one thing that haunted him the most: your absence. It clung to him, an ever-present ghost reminding him of every mistake he'd made.

Straightening up, Quinn glanced around. The world felt so distant, like it was moving without him. The city was slowly waking up, the quiet hum of early-morning traffic starting to build. He hadn’t realized how far he'd run, his legs carrying him on autopilot. His apartment felt like another world entirely, but the thought of returning to it—to that suffocating silence—made his stomach turn.

He exhaled, his breath shaky as he scanned the empty street. In the distance, the soft rumble of the skytrain reached his ears. Maybe that was what he needed. To just… drift for a while. Let the city move him, take him anywhere but back to the memories that gnawed at his insides.

Without thinking, Quinn jogged toward the nearest station, a beacon of escape. As he approached, he tapped his card and climbed the stairs, the rhythmic hum of the escalator filling his ears. He kept his head down, avoiding the curious glances of the few commuters on the platform. He didn’t want to be seen, didn’t want to be recognized. He wanted to be invisible, just another lost soul in the early morning haze.

The train arrived with a low hiss, the doors sliding open. Quinn stepped inside, his footsteps echoing in the near-empty car. He slid into a seat by the window, pressing his forehead against the cool glass. The city outside blurred as the train began to move, and for a moment, the steady rhythm of the rails beneath him offered a strange sense of comfort.

Quinn closed his eyes, the weight of everything pressing down on him once again. He could still see your face, the way you’d looked at him that last time—like he had shattered something precious. And he had. He had taken the one good thing in his life and broken it beyond repair.

The train rumbled on, passing through station after station, the sun beginning to peek over the horizon, casting a soft orange glow over the city. Quinn didn’t move. He didn’t know where he was going, but he didn’t care. As long as he didn’t have to think, didn’t have to face the reality of what he’d done.

The memory of Jack’s words from their last conversation drifted back to him, unbidden. You’re a mess, man. You need to fix this before it’s too late.

Too late. That phrase had been circling in his mind for weeks now. He wondered if it had already been too late from the moment he’d made that first mistake. The thought gnawed at him, tightening the knots in his chest.

A quiet voice broke through his thoughts. “Hey, uh… are you Quinn Hughes?”

Quinn’s eyes snapped open, and he blinked, startled. A man, probably the same age as him, was standing a few seats away, looking at him with a mixture of excitement and hesitation.

“Yeah,” Quinn muttered, not in the mood for fan encounters. But he wasn’t rude enough to brush the guy off completely.

The man smiled, but it was more subdued than Quinn had expected. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you. Just… I recognized you, and I’m a big fan.”

Quinn nodded, feeling the weight of his own misery creeping back in. He wasn’t used to people seeing him like this—disheveled, lost, broken. The Quinn Hughes fans admired was confident, composed, in control. Not… whatever this was.

The man hesitated, glancing at the empty seat across from Quinn. “Mind if I sit?”

Quinn shrugged. “Sure.”

As the guy sat down, there was an awkward silence, the train’s steady hum filling the space between them. Quinn stared out the window, watching the city blur past, but he could feel the man’s eyes on him.

“So, uh… you alright?” the guy asked, his voice soft.

Quinn stiffened, not expecting that. “What?”

“I don’t know,” the guy said with a shrug, leaning back in his seat. “You just… you don’t look okay. Sorry if that’s out of line.”

Quinn let out a dry laugh, running a hand through his messy hair. “Yeah. That’s one way to put it.”

The man didn’t push, which Quinn appreciated. Instead, he sat quietly, as if waiting for Quinn to say more if he wanted to. And maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the loneliness that had been eating away at him, but Quinn found himself talking before he could stop.

“I screwed up,” he said, his voice low. “Really, really bad.”

The guy nodded, not looking surprised. “Relationships, right? They’re complicated as hell.”

Quinn shot him a look, narrowing his eyes slightly. “How’d you guess?”

“Lucky guess,” the guy said with a small smile. “Plus, I’ve been there. Maybe not exactly the same, but close enough.”

Quinn leaned back, staring at the ceiling of the train. “Doesn’t make it any easier, though.”

“No, it doesn’t,” the guy agreed, his tone more serious now. “But you know, people make mistakes. It’s part of being human. What matters is what you do after.”

Quinn let out a breath, his chest tight. “I don’t think it matters what I do now. I already lost her.”

The guy tilted his head, studying Quinn for a moment. “Do you love her?”

Quinn’s stomach twisted at the question. “Yeah. I do.”

“Then maybe it’s not too late,” the guy said quietly. “If she meant that much to you… maybe you owe it to both of you to try. And if it doesn’t work out, at least you’ll know you gave it everything you had.”

Quinn swallowed, his throat tight. It wasn’t that simple. Nothing about this was simple. But there was something in the guy’s words that struck a chord, something that made the weight on his chest feel a little lighter, if only for a moment.

The man smiled again, this time more brightly. “You got a picture of her?”

Quinn hesitated for a second, but before he knew it, his phone was in his hand. He scrolled through the gallery, his heart aching as he landed on a photo of the two of you, taken months ago. You were smiling, your arm around him, the sunlight casting a warm glow on your face. Quinn handed the phone over, the image making his chest tighten painfully.

The man glanced at it, nodding appreciatively. “She’s beautiful. You two look… happy.”

Quinn couldn’t hold back the bitter laugh. “We were.”

The guy handed the phone back, his expression softening. “Hey, for what it’s worth, I think you’ve still got a chance.”

Quinn sighed, pocketing the phone. “I don’t know, man. I really messed things up.”

The man reached into his jacket and pulled out a small notebook and pen. “Well, if you ever get things back on track… and even if you don’t… mind signing this? I’ll tell people I met you on a rough day, but you’re still one of the best players out there.”

Quinn blinked, the unexpected request catching him off guard. He took the pen and scribbled his name in the notebook, handing it back.

“Thanks,” the man said with a grin. “And good luck, Quinn. You’ll figure it out.”

As the man stood up to leave, Quinn watched him go, feeling a strange sense of gratitude settle over him. Maybe things weren’t as hopeless as they seemed. Maybe there was still a sliver of light, buried somewhere in all the darkness.

The train rumbled on, and Quinn leaned his head back against the seat, staring up at the ceiling again. He wasn’t sure what would happen next, but for the first time in a long time, he felt like maybe… just maybe, he could find his way out of this mess.

It wasn’t much. But it was something. And he had to try, even if it made things worse.

Quinn’s heart pounded harder with every step as he approached your apartment building. His breath hitched as he stood outside the familiar entrance, his mind replaying every moment that had led him here. The conversations, the fights, the silence. And worst of all, the empty spaces in his life where you used to be.

For a moment, he hesitated, staring up at the building, the early morning light casting long shadows across the street. He could turn around. He could walk away, leave it all behind, and pretend like he hadn’t just spent the last hour convincing himself that this was the right thing to do.

But something inside him, something raw and desperate, wouldn’t let him.

With a shaky breath, Quinn crossed the threshold and made his way up the stairs. His legs felt heavy, the exhaustion from the run settling into his bones, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. He couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when he was this close.

Your door stood in front of him, an unassuming barrier between him and the possibility of fixing everything… or breaking it beyond repair.

His knuckles rapped against the wood, harder than he intended, the sound echoing in the hallway. Quinn’s chest tightened as he waited, the silence that followed feeling like an eternity. What if you didn’t answer? What if you weren’t home? Or worse—what if you were home, and you refused to see him?

His pulse quickened, panic starting to creep in, but he forced it down. He couldn’t think like that. Not now.

“Please,” he muttered under his breath, leaning his forehead against the door. “Please just let me explain.”

For a long, agonizing moment, nothing happened. Quinn squeezed his eyes shut, his heart sinking as the silence stretched on. Maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe Jack was right—he really was a mess.

But then, the sound of the door unlocking cut through the quiet, and Quinn’s breath hitched.

The door opened slowly, and there you were, standing in the doorway, your expression unreadable. Quinn’s heart stopped for a second, the sight of you making the air leave his lungs. You looked tired, your eyes puffy like you hadn’t slept, and Quinn’s chest ached with the realization that he had caused that.

You didn’t say anything. Just stared at him, waiting.

Quinn's heart felt like it was lodged in his throat as you stood in front of him,  your silence more suffocating than any words could have been. For a long, agonizing moment, neither of you moved. His breath came in shallow bursts, his chest constricting painfully as he struggled to find the right words—any words—that could undo the damage. But standing there, face to face with you, everything he had rehearsed in his mind vanished, like smoke in the wind.

He could see the hurt etched into the lines of your face, in the way your eyes didn’t shine the way they used to. There was a rawness there, a kind of vulnerability that made Quinn want to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness. But he knew—he knew—that wouldn’t be enough.

“Hi,” he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper. It felt ridiculous, small. But it was all he could manage.

You didn’t respond right away. Your eyes searched his face, like you were looking for something—an answer, a reason, an explanation. Something that might make sense of the chaos he had caused. But whatever you were looking for, Quinn feared you wouldn’t find it in him.

“I…” He swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep talking. “I’m sorry. For everything. I know I messed up, and I know I hurt you. I… I just need you to hear me out.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning against the doorframe as if bracing yourself for whatever was about to come next. Your posture wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t welcoming either. Quinn felt the distance between you two like a chasm, one that he had dug with every mistake, every lie, every selfish decision.

“Quinn, I—” you started, but he cut you off, the desperation in his voice spilling over before he could stop it.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me. I just… I need you to know that I love you. I’ve always loved you. And I—” His voice cracked, and he clenched his fists at his sides, trying to steady himself. “I can’t stop thinking about what I did. Every day, it’s like this hole inside me gets bigger, and I can’t fill it. I know it’s my fault. I know I ruined us. But I just—” He paused, his breath hitching. “I can’t let it end like this.”

The silence that followed was crushing. Quinn’s heart pounded in his ears as he waited, his pulse a steady, anxious thrum in his veins. He could feel his words hanging in the air between you, fragile and trembling, like they could shatter at any moment.

“I don’t know if you understand what you did, Quinn,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper, but every word cut through him like a blade. “It wasn’t just one mistake. It wasn’t just the cheating. It was everything that came with it—the lies, the way you acted like you were the only one hurting.”

Quinn flinched, the guilt gnawing at him again, the memories of those dark nights when he’d pushed you away, drowning in his own self-pity. He had been so caught up in his own spiral that he hadn’t realized he was dragging you down with him.

“I do understand,” he said, but his voice wavered, unsure. “At least, I’m starting to. I’ve been… I’ve been trying to figure out how I could do something so—”

“Cruel?” you interrupted, and your voice cracked, the first sign of emotion slipping through your stoic exterior. Your eyes glistened for a moment, but you blinked it away quickly. “You shattered me, Quinn. Do you even know what that felt like? To find out like that? To hear it after I came to fucking Boston for you?”

You lowered your gaze, your expression softening but not in the way Quinn had hoped. It wasn’t anger or even sadness—it was something worse. Resignation. A quiet acceptance that made Quinn’s chest tighten painfully.

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I have it in me to keep getting hurt.”

Quinn’s stomach dropped. The words hit him like a punch to the gut, but he forced himself to nod, even though every fiber of his being wanted to protest. He knew this was coming—had known it for weeks, months even—but hearing it out loud made it real in a way that nothing else could.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I know, and I don’t blame you. I just… I thought maybe if I tried, if I showed you how much you mean to me, you’d—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. It was useless. He couldn’t make you stay. He couldn’t make you forgive him. And trying to push you would only make things worse.

Your eyes met his again, and there was a softness in them now, but it wasn’t hope. It was sorrow. “I loved you, Quinn. I really did.”

Quinn felt his heart shatter all over again, each word landing like a blow. He wanted to reach out, to touch you, to pull you close and tell you that it didn’t have to end like this. But he knew—he knew—there was nothing left to say. Nothing that could fix this. You were done, and he could feel it in the way you stood, like you were already halfway gone.

“I’ll never stop loving you,” he said quietly, the admission spilling out of him like a confession. “Even if you never take me back. Even if I never see you again.”

You blinked, and for a second, Quinn thought he saw your resolve waver. But then you shook your head, the movement so small, so subtle, that it was almost imperceptible.

“I’m sorry, Quinn,” you whispered. “I just… I can’t go through this again.”

The finality in your words hit him like a brick, and Quinn felt the last shred of hope slip through his fingers, cold and unrelenting. He nodded slowly, his throat tight with the weight of everything he wanted to say but couldn’t. This was it. The end.

You glanced down at your feet, biting your lip before looking back up at him. “I hope… I hope you find peace. I really do.”

Quinn’s breath hitched in his chest, and he swallowed hard, his eyes stinging with the effort of holding back tears. He nodded again, unable to trust his voice.

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, caught in the heavy silence of everything that was left unsaid. Quinn wanted to stay. He wanted to linger in your presence for as long as possible, even if it was just in this painful, heartbreaking moment. But he knew he had to let you go.

With a shaky breath, Quinn took a step back, his body feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds. He forced himself to turn around, each step away from you feeling like it was pulling him apart at the seams. But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

As he reached the stairs, Quinn paused, glancing over his shoulder one last time. You were still standing there, watching him, your expression unreadable. He wanted to say something, anything that would make this less painful. But all that came out was a hoarse, broken whisper.

“Goodbye.”

And with that, Quinn turned and walked away, the cold morning air biting at his skin as he disappeared into the street. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t.

Outside, the city was waking up, the streets beginning to fill with people going about their lives, unaware of the devastation that had just unfolded in that small apartment. Quinn stood on the sidewalk, staring up at the sky, his chest tight, his heart a mess of broken pieces.

He had lost you. For good this time.

And yet, amidst the sorrow, there was something else—something he hadn’t expected. Closure.

It wasn’t the ending he had wanted. It doesn’t work like that, and he knew it.

But it was the ending he deserved.

[rey-jake-therapist]

"Sauron is not enough evil and scary in Rings of Power"

Because he was scary in LOTR?! That thing is scary to you?

I'll tell you what : Sauron's eye in the movie NEVER scared me. Not even a little bit. I remember that the first time this big ridiculous eye appeared on screen, we all chuckled because... "That's it? that's Sauron?" . And the least that we can say, it's that in terms of personnality... Well he has none, right? The conversations must be nice:

"Hey Sauron, how are you today?

Sauron: RING! RING !!! AHHhrhzjjjjjjj RING!!!!!!!

Oh yeah, the ring, sure Boss. Anything else you need?

Sauron: RIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGG!!!"

Fascinating.

I hate to break it to you, but movies Sauron is BORING. He's boring because he's hardly an entity. He's more a concept, and at the end everything about him rests on what the characters tell us about him: that he's extra evil, very cruel, a tyrant, obsessed by the One Ring, yada yada. But since he's no more than this giant eye on a tower, he never becomes tangible. We believe he's evil because that's what everybody says and also because of what his unpaid employees do, but he never gets to do anything himself, so we don't really see it.

Shelob scared me. The Nazguls terrified me. Heck, I was more afraid than Gollum than I was of Sauron. Don't laugh, did you see his teeth? I would be at least afraid to catch an horrible disease if he bit me...

In ROP, however, Charlie Vickers nails it as Sauron. He may not be literally on fire, but his evilness and his cunningness are palpable in season 2. I mean, the way he treats Celebrimbor?! If that's not sheer cruelty I don't know what it is, and it will get even worse in the episodes to come. Sauron doesn't take no for an answer. He tortures Celebrimbor, not physically but psychologically to bend him to his will. Since day #1, he lies constantly to Celebrimbor, flatters him, tells him what he wants to hear, gaslights him, isolates him from his people, nearly drives him to madness and only at the end, threatens to destroy his city if he doesn't do what he wants... That's not evil enough for you?? Oh, and add "creepy" on the list too, for this poor girl he keeps being weird with.

And as for the scary side of Sauron: Charlie proves to be an excellent actor when he manages to express his moments of contained rage through his micro expressions. For example, every time Celebrimbor resists him, his face changes enough for the audience to see he would tear the poor man's eyes out if he could, but it doesn't last long, blink and you miss it ! Same in the last episose 6, when King Durin refused to deliver more mithril to him; it was so obvious he wanted to kill the old man on the spot, but he's patient, he'll let the Balrog do it for him. Because yes, he's vicious and likes to keep his hands clean, so he tells animals do the job for him when he can!

But it's there, and we already got to see a glimpse of the sheer fury that can possess him when he loses control : in Numenor, when he beat the shit out of the men who had mocked him, and on the raft when Galadriel rejected him. That was probably just a forestate of what we can expect from the next seasons, folks.

By the way, I wrote all this with love. I love that TROP made Sauron tangible. I can see the threat he is now. I understand why everyone during the LOTR is terrified at the idea that he may come back. And I don't want anyone to fix him, mind you...

TROP Sauron, stay as you are, get much worse, PLEASE!

[pyeonghongrie]

Anything You Could Do, I Could Do Better!

Summary: You and your academic rival do what academic rivals do, trying to one-up each other in grades. But the thing is, both of you are teachers.

Characters/Pairing(s): Hongjoong X Reader

Genre: humor

AUs/Trope info: Reverse Academic Rivals,

Word Count: 500+

Warnings: none??????

Rating: 16+

A/N: for @cultofdionysusnet's reverse trope event! Thank you to @kwanisms for helping with this!!!

It’s a new school year, which means, it's a new opportunity to crush your rival, Kim Hongjoong, in a battle of wits. 

You see, that would’ve been much more appropriate if both of you weren’t high school teachers. And if you both weren’t vicariously continuing this feud through which class could get a higher grade point average.

"My God, Hongjoong! You’re delusional if you think your class is going to get the higher GPA this quarter! It’s impossible,” you yell at him from across the faculty parking lot, your anger reaching a boiling point after he provoked you with yet another bet for this school year. “You suck at teaching and everyone knows it!”

“Oh, get over yourself,” he yells back, slamming the door of his car shut. “You’re just salty that my students love my class while they drone over your miserable little classroom that feels more like a prison cell,” he continues, power-walking in your direction. “You won’t even let them bring snacks, you Karen!”

“Oh, please!” you retort, rolling your eyes. “The only reason they like you is because you let them slack off! And Besides,” you continue, narrowing your eyes as he draws closer. “My classroom has these fuck ass linoleum floors that basically adheres food crumbs to it. I don’t want my room to have rats, especially if they look like you.”

He gasps, dramatically so, one hand over his gaped mouth and the other over his chest. “This has to constitute a hate crime, this is rodent discrimination. Everyone knows I’m a squirrel.”

You roll your eyes, “Save the ‘woe is me’ cries for someone who cares, Kim. I’ll see you after this quarter when my class destroys yours!”

Hongjoong’s class was, in fact, not destroyed by yours.

The final results came in and in fact, both your classes had the same GPA down to the decimal point.

Of course, from that confrontation, the both of you stormed over to the guidance counselor, demanding a recount, or at least a reason for this “impossible” tie.

“This is ridiculous!” You said, slapping the flimsy piece of paper over her desk, “There is no way that this guy’s class got the same GPA as mine!”

Hongjoong scoffs, “You act like we weren’t in the same education classes in college. You’re no better off than I am.”

“Well,” The counselor started, “Both of you were being really annoying about this feud, it was funny at first, but both of you need to get over this. You’re adults, not only that, you’re responsible for the education of the future professionals of this country. I’d expect both of you to prioritize the students’ education over this silly competition.”

The counselor clears her throat, “Enough,” she said as she stood up from her chair, “There is no mistake in the transcripts. Both of your classes scored the exact same, down to the decimal.”

Both of you look at each other. “But, how is that possible?” Hongjoong asked, just as confused as you were.

Both of you lower your head in shame.

“Now, this feud ends today. No more trying to live your rivalry through these kids.” She sits down again, waving both of you off.

You stand in front of the door to the driver’s side of your car, as did Hongjoong. With a silent agreement to end this rivalry, and call for peace.

Which only lasted until the next school year, much to the chagrin of everyone else.

[kirbybecomesastarwarrior]

Why doesn't Marx want Kirby to forgive him, is it just the guilt thing?

Long story short, this is a combination of "the fear of getting hurt/rejected" & "shame and guilt," which results in self-sabotaging, but the main reason is...

HAMELIN REALLY MESSED UP MARX!

So, like Kirby with Cappytown... Marx was Hamelin's hero, but they betrayed him and thus turned to the dark side.

This all ties into his initial hatred for Kirby... he's very much angry at his former self for being so foolishly naive, and Kirby's good nature is too reminiscent of his former self.

That also makes it the main reason he could never truly hate Kirby... a younger self that he can't help but connect with. Leading to his "fake friend act" to accidentally grow to care for him and actually want him as a friend.

However, Marx knows he deceives Kirby the same way the people of Hamelin did to him... "pretending they cared for him." Using the very same methods, the townsfolk did to him... ("became what he hated")

This is why Marx doesn't have the heart to forgive himself... even though Kirby was always ready to forgive him and welcome him back with open arms. Because he knows he can never forgive the people of Hamelin... Why should Kirby? And, of course, he does!

The restoration of a friendship between Marx & Kirby happens~, But unlike the people of Hamelin, Kirby has this unconditional love for Marx and wants more than anything to have him back in his life.

I'd say these events happened after Planet Robboot... Marx finally makes his return and "saves Kirby?!" (I'm not gonna reveal from what because of spoilers)

With my interpretation of Marx, I wanted to take him into a sympathetic route (to make him stand out from the others). He still has the sass and mischievous charm, but I wanted to give him a proper reason why he is the way he is. It's a more heartfelt version of Marx that Kirby would want to be friends with and him in turn.

Marx represents "self-worth"; if people don't appreciate or treat you the way you deserve, then they don't deserve you. (Minus the piping all the Dark Matter back into the town as revenge...) KNOW YOUR WORTH AS A PERSON PEOPLE!

And he stands as one of the main reasons why Kirby ultimately chooses to become a star warrior. Moved out of the Popstar to travel and pursue his aspirations & dreams.

Please keep reading for spoilers & quick bonus comic~

So Arthur pretty much reveals Marx's backstory to the rest of the Kirby gang... and needless to say, they're speechless!

He still doesn't want to be forgiven, so he stays with Magolor (which I cover here with Magolor's lore), but yeah, of course, Marx opened up to Mags about Hamelin. And that's why Mags is there, while Kirby & Marx are back in his place telling his story to Kirby. (Kirby saw it because of "empathic touch" but didn't know the exact details of it..)

And Dragato, yeah, he was already on his redemption arc (Falspar's already went through his with Fluff, so he's there for moral support, plus it's the reason why Arthur partnered up together).... he already knew he messed up. But now, hearing the full story that he was, not only did he fall for the people of Hamelin's lies, but... MARX WAS THEIR HERO. (I know kinda of shoehorned the crew for the sake of missing the gang, I just missed them I had to...)

There's actually a small bit of tragedy... while the adults sold Marx out, the children who really loved him would've vouched for him... it'll tie back into his character later.

And I know it seems like I'm painting Dragato in such a bad light, but it's part of his character development. And for those of you who don't know... HIS MENTOR WAS DAME MORGAN (LE FAYE)! So yeah, high standards, little affection, never impressed~

Which is why I still need to establish her a bit more! More Morgan coming up soon

I'm trying to get to the old asks I wasn't able to answer before (since I was still developing the lore...) And I just need a little break from the tournament plus, I've been working on some Kirfluff stuff for Oct.: Kirfluff week!

Also, little funny side notes and gags' "Hero to Zero... Hercules" reference and Mag's little side comment. Based on the meme, "you ruined a perfectly good child..."

So, hope you guys enjoyed it!

[steddiebang2024]

I was a teenage dirtbag  |  Mature  |  75k

Author: @hellfireloserclub

Artist: @academic-clown

Beta Reader: @kaypie91

[Link to fic]  |  [Link to art]

Pairings: Eddie Munson/Steve Harrington

Characters: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington , Erica Sinclair, Dustim Henderson, Nancy Wheeler. 

Tags: Slowburn, Future Fic, Year 2000, Post-season Four, Bisexual Steve, Bisexual Eddie, Comedy /angst, Long distance friendship to lovers, Radio Host Eddie, Hairdresser Steve, Wedding fic.

Trigger Warnings: Sex, Alcohol, and Recreational drugs

↳ Keep reading below for a summary!

“So…” Dustin started.

“So what?” Eddie asked, fixing his eyes on the side of Dustin’s face, trying to work out what way this interrogation was going to go.  

“I don’t have my own ringtone, Wayne and Mom don’t, but Steve does?” Dustin avoided looking at him, staring at the overhead signs pointing to the short stay parking, acting like they weren’t at the airport at least twice a month with the family coming and going. 

“I thought it was funny,” he said in his own defense. 

“And I totally believe you.” It sounded like a question. 

“But?”

“But are you sure there's not more?” someone shouldn’t look so smug as they reverse in a multi story, yet here was Dustin excelling at it. When Eddie didn’t answer he cut off the engine turning to look at him, all signs pointed to the next few minutes being incredibly uncomfortable.  

“Spit it out, I have to get to the gate,” Eddie grumbled, he felt like he was under a microscope, his little brother's eyes boring into him.

“Are you sure there's nothing going on between you and Steve?”  Eddie wanted to yell- yes, I just don’t know what? But he bit it down, this wasn’t the time to trigger a Dustin intervention. 

“Just because you can't procreate outside of the close knit circles you were dragged up in, doesn’t mean we all have to hook up within our little friend group.  You gotta stop trying to pair us all off dude, it's not cool. Remember when you used to keep trying to pair off Steve and Robin? How did that work out for you?” Eddie questioned. 

“In my defense-”

“No. Say less. Stop. I broke up with Yumi two weeks ago, I don’t need you to help, I don’t need your psychoanalyzing me with Max over the phone. I don’t need you to try and set me up with a rebound. I’m a big boy alright. I’m going to Boston to get stupidly drunk with Steve, talk shit about you all lovingly, and lament the fact that both me and him are probably gonna die old and alone.” He reached over the back of the seat and grabbed his duffle bag, before reaching over and tapping Dustin on the cheek. “But look at the plus side, if me and Stevie don’t bring a plus one to the wedding that will save you two meals and a headache with seating plans.”

“You make my resolve to not meddle in both of your love lives impossible, you know that right?” Dustin asked, leaning over the center console. 

“Cause you were doing an absolutely stellar job of it before this conversation?” Eddie closed the door behind him. “Dusty, I love you like you’re my own flesh and blood. But please, let this one go?” 

Dustin looked poised to say something else but Eddie didn’t have time for it. “If the words curiosity journey come out of your mouth, I’m not speaking to you for a month.”  Dustin snapped his mouth shut. “That’s it, save it for Applejack, I don’t want to know.”

Eddie gave the car a courtesy wave as he went through the doors of the airport, but he didn’t look back. He was pretty sure Dustin had hit the nail on the head with his observations, but as far as anyone was aware Steve was just his friend, and letting go of any control on that narrative was like letting a fox off in a hen house. It would be chaos. Although Eddie was starting to think it was a lost cause. This was so much easier when he and Steve hated each other, enemies to fuck buddies was a much easier story arch, with a lot less emotional baggage.

[v-h-lupin]

Maurauders Era Characters if they were Demigods (with explanations)

ive been listening to Epic and rereadng my harry potter writing (really trying to work on my fanfic, im just stretched kinda thin)

edit: here is pt. 2

anyway

this is pt. 1 because I will be doing more, and golden trio era characters too

Remus Lupin:

This boy is the most Son of Athena kid i have ever seen in my entire life look at him He is so smart in so many different ways I just he's so quick witted and brave, and he was so ready to throw himself into battle. strategizing to use his unique attributes even when his superiors (who had political leanings) told him otherwise. But his intellect doesn't mean he has a lack of empathy he's also really crafty but not in the "hot gluing pieces of felt in the basement" type of crafty he's just got such a good mind

James Potter:

Ok ok so hear me out Hermes. Hermes Hermes Hermes. Hermes is the god of so many things-- Jack of all trades, really, and James is just so damn good at everything he does. He's also incredibly fast on a broom. He makes friends wherever he goes (pretty fitting if your father is the god of travellers) and is mischevious without dipping into the villain area (most of the time).

Sirius Black:

Aphrodite. Hands down. Did not have to think when I said this. Everyone at school is fully aware that he is attractive and he can charm almost anyone. he is very charismatic. He can speak French and I BELIEVE Italian... ok it just... makes sense to me... (btw regulus will be in pt. 2)

Peter Pettigrew:

Also Hermes. Let me explain-- Beyond the fact that it would justify him feeling closer to James, we can use the other side of the Hermes coin for this. Hermes is the god of pretty much anything you encounter on the road. Hermes is not evil or anything-- but he does technically protect thieves and liars. Peter and James have parallels that make me believe both of them would be sons of Hermes, but their hearts were different.

Lily Evans:

This one was hard. I was thinking Demeter- then Apollo- then Athena- Hestia isnt an option but like, it might fit if it was-- I'm gonna say Athena because while YES, she does learn healing magic, she's also just incredibly bright in general. She and Remus are both brainchildren ok She's also very witty in her comebacks and stubborn-- im referring to her behavior in general, not just when it comes to james. For example, even though Petunia hated her, she still was so determined to have a good relationship with her sister.

Mary MacDonald:

OO, oo, i want to say Aphrodite, but then I remember that sirius is aphrodite and that would be WEIRD but if sirius was anyone elses kid, mary would be an aphrodite kid, i just, like? look at her. she celebrates her femininity, she's so confident in herself, i love her

other than aphrodite, I might say... Hebe. Seems like a deep reach, but she's the goddess of youth.

Marlene McKinnon:

APOLLO. Apollo. Apollo. Marlene has always wanted to be a healer. She's also a great flyer. I don't know what else to say about it but like- Apollo? yes, yes

[masterqwertster]

I so agree, with your thoughts about Ashton!

It's odd, to me, that Ashton in particular has garnered so much hatred. If you look back on all of Taliesin's characters across every campaign, he's ultimately not that different in personality from the others, save maybe Caduceus. Percy, Molly, and Ashton are all people who have been deeply beaten down by the circumstances they were forced into, and they gained a rough exterior to protect themselves because of it.

They're snarky, and try to act aloof to keep people at an arm's length, but at their core, they still have bleeding hearts that love much more deeply than they probably wish they did. In other words, they are interesting, multilayered characters, that don't just have one note. It's strange then, that these same characteristics are so widely celebrated with Percy and Molly, but are treated as reasons to hate Ashton in the same breath.

Taliesin is a master at making characters that make you think, and I think Ashton deserves to be celebrated as such, just as much as the others!

To be honest, I can't speak much of previous PCs' reception since I only got into CR Tumblr around Bells Hells arriving in Yios, but I think the difference is framing.

Taliesin has stated that his through-line on his PCs is the characteristic Confidently Wrong.

I would guess that the reason Ashton is catching flak is because:

a) they've got shit Charisma and Taliesin plays that as Doesn't Know What to Say and/or Doesn't Know When to Shut Up. Which on a disillusioned/cynical punk is... abrasive to say the least. They tell their truths with little to no filter, or much thought at times about how true those things are for others. Meanwhile, Molly and Percy are charming in carny and nobility ways respectively, while Caduceus has a calm, homey charm. Ashton is semi-intentionally off-putting, and pretty constantly cranky to some degree from chronic pain.

and b) Recently, Ashton is Confidently Wrong about a subject any attentive watcher can tag as being wrong and has major consequences on the world if acted on. Like, yes, you don't want a heartless, powerful murderer to push the Doomsday Button. But your group of caring, weak(? not really anymore) chucklefuck friends pushing the button doesn't change its doomsday nature or really make it any better. Also, all your information on what the Doomsday Button does exactly is suspect. I don't think any of the other's Confidently Wrong subjects were so potentially devastating for more than themselves or their parties rather than the globe. It's easier to grant grace when you're fucking over less people.

Now do I wish Ashton would get a clue that releasing Predathos is bad, period? Absolutely. But I also have been watching him and when they get an idea in their head, he tends to stick to it until proven wrong (think the Spark mess. Fearne hesitated last second, Ashton didn't). And the idea in their head right now is: The gods need to leave, their thrones need to be destroyed.

I think part of Ashton's rage at the gods that fuels this idea is wanting someone to blame that isn't himself for his shit life, and finding the gods a good target for blame, as Taliesin has mentioned on 4-Sided Dive before. And I think part of it is that FCG did a lot of proclaiming to be on the anti-Ludinus/Predathos stuff to save his goddess, and then he died as part of their missions, and then Ashton was shown a video about how the gods absolutely will sacrifice their followers to save their own asses. Which is kind of the situation FCG died in, if you slant it a bit and act like FCG wasn't mainly choosing to save their friends in the moment rather than the gods long-term. So it probably feels better to Ashton to throw some of that anger about FCG making the sacrificial play that he's been trying so hard to prevent at the gods who FCG was trying to serve.

And I get that not everyone wants to do the analysis on why Ashton is picking the path he is. That they don't want to take time to acknowledge his lack of social graces and the bias of his views, and would rather just get to attacking the faulty, insensitive rhetoric Ashton's spouting at the moment. But like, there's reasons Ashton is the way they are, and it doesn't hurt to acknowledge them even as you hard disagree with what's being said or strived for.

[valentine-cafe]

Hi there! I normally walk just past this place, but something smelled particularly good. The croissant, maybe? Chocolate? (Dark content, smut)

Yeah so like this is a bit of a weird ask and I know that... but the aesthetics of your page just made me think of an enigma whose body was like that of taffy? Squishy, soft, sticky, and most importantly, stretchy. I was thinking reader would be a man, who was working for the Resistance but ended up in the clutches of some very nefarious people.

Maybe they can start out with just invasive physicals, but it slowly worsens and... yeah. Do as much as you feel comfortable with, please!

Yours truly, Hush~

. ˚◞♡ 𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓 𝒙 𝒃𝒕𝒕𝒎 𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ꒰ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒏𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 ꒱◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ 209 jingyi / bttm male reader ꒱ you caught the mad doctor's eye. he hated the idea of feeling attracted to an experiment. and no matter how much he tried to sate it, he needed to get his hands on you

𖹭. content warnings◞  dark content . experimentation on reader . implied torture . dub con . mind control . explicit content . rough sex . penetrative sex . 0.7k

𖹭. receipts◞  glad that you decided to stop by dear customer<3 one croissant coming up! this honestly was so much fun to write and quickly became my favourite request because I have been itching to write some dark stuff with the herrera husbands<3

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 ꒱ m.list . guidelines . characters . lorebook ⊹ ۪ ࣪ 

𖹭. the mad doctor of valence has certainly seen many peculiar enigma around, but you by far were quite the special case. he is well aware of the classification of “body morphers” under the enigma hat, but you caught his eye in quite the special way.

𖹭. jìngyí had seen you around his brother a few times. he was uncertain why the depths of his soul burned with bitterness. he assumes it was the idea of an enigma type being out there that he had not quite explored. in reality it was you. the fact that a lowly enigma had sparked his interest in a way he never thought it would.

𖹭. he was disgusted, yet thrilled. like a snake eager to sink its fangs into new prey. one can imagine his excitement when his husband admitted to the same dark desires.

𖹭. lucky them. you’d found yourself caught in the last hunt and now found yourself along an examination table. jìngyí did well in exploring your limits. how far your body could go. viscosity? durability? compressibility, torsion, extensibility and temperature? oh he was salivating like a kid in the candy store.

𖹭. he especially loved the way that you would scream. how your voice would change depending on the shape and condition your elastic body was in. he found himself especially fascinated with how you’d cry when his hand would bury into your squishy side or around your sticky neck. even your tears tasted sweet.

𖹭. no matter all his experiments, he couldn’t rid himself of those dark desires that plagued his very being. so what better than to offer you a place in his circus? to perform, to live - while he induced you with a mind control mechanic?

𖹭. oh how you begged for him. how he adored the way your body would wrap around him and cling like a lovesick fool while he pounded your tight, gummy walls. one strong arm wrapped around whatever amalgamation your figure took while the other palmed at your squishy ass.

𖹭. you felt amazing. his mind would swim with pleasure every time his thick cock buried and throbbed into your warmth. he’d cream you so many times an over. it mattered how much or how long he fucked you over whatever surface he could find — he’d always end up cum drunk.

𖹭. jìngyí would be in a state when you started wrapping around him more intensely. extending your hands to provide him more pleasure as well. he’d bite down on whatever soft, messy flesh he could and buck his hips into yours like a feral animal.

“god you are so tight,”

a pant. a ragged groan. snake pupils constrict and his lips part. displaying fangs extended and blood on his tongue. soon to be more when he buried his cold face into your chest and bit again.

“h-hngh fuck -” your hand reaches to cling onto his hip. feel the way that he’s pounding your poor ass raw. filling it to the brim and fucking out his cum onto your thighs from the sheer intensity of his thrusts.

“d-don’t stop - dontstopdontstopdont -”

you choke out when strong fingers squeeze around your dick. a calloused thumb rubbing messy circles around your tip.

“you are disgusting.” the deep hiss finds your ear. followed by a hiccupping moan. his brows crease and he messily thumps his hips against yours as he tenses and squirts your walls white once more.

“d-disgusting little creature. but ah, d-damn. . . do you feel so good.”

he’d hoist you up. twisting your limps into whatever way he wishes as he presses you up against the examination table and goes for a third round. a fourth. a fifth. anything to ease this insatiable sweet tooth.

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. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒔 ꒱ tip jar . masterist ⊹ ۪ ࣪

[lulu2992]

Greg Bryk was in episode 25 of Podcast141, co-hosted by Marwen Heni, Mars Lipowski, and Jim Boeven, to talk about his acting career in general, but also and mostly his role as Joseph Seed in Far Cry 5.

Since he’s already shared a lot of anecdotes in interviews and live videos on Instagram, I thought I wouldn’t learn anything new... but I did, so here’s a summary of what he said about his experience playing the Father.

We knew that the dev team (he specifically mentioned Dan Hay and Drew Holmes) had struggled to find the “right” actor for the role, but what I don’t remember ever hearing before is that, after two years of unsuccessful search, the project was almost cancelled for this reason!

Thankfully, that was when Greg Bryk auditioned. He had already said the script they gave him (and that he thought was “amazing”) was what became Joseph’s monologue in the mission “We Must Be Strong”, but he gave more details about what was originally in it. In this early version of his backstory, Joseph was 23 years old and working two jobs to support his family. One night, exhausted, he fell asleep on the couch as his pregnant wife went out to get ice cream. He was then awoken by a knock on the door, told she had been in an accident, and taken to the hospital. The rest of the story is what he says in Far Cry 5: when he arrives, his wife is dead, their premature daughter is “stuffed with tubes”, he hears God’s calling, and understands he has to make this sacrifice.

So he got the role, and when they called him again to record a sermon (my guess is it was this one, but I’m just speculating), he saw what the game looked like and thought everything and everyone was “incredible”. Over time, as they got to know him, they even changed the character and partly rewrote the Father specifically for him.

The team was also very accommodating. For example, the scenes are usually shot in the huge performance capture studio, but for the Heralds’ eulogies, which are much more intimate, they built a small room so he felt like he actually had something around him instead of a big, empty space.

A day before the game came out, the cutscenes were already available online and he watched some of them. He was very impressed by the last eulogy (or, as he calls it, “snot monologue”) in particular because of how “vivid” and “human” it felt. It brought tears to his eyes and he recalls his wife was “blown away”; it was “special”.

As for the fans, he thinks they’ve been very supportive and welcoming. Some have told him they felt heard and seen by Joseph, and he believes it’s because he’s a character who loves people for who they are. At this point, he and the co-hosts agreed that being an actor was a gift because it gives an opportunity to make people’s lives better, especially in video games because there’s a unique connection that doesn’t really exist in movies or TV series.

Marwen Heni mentioned that, while most villains want you to hate them, Joseph, on the contrary, wanted you to reflect and think that he might be right. Greg Bryk admitted that he believed everything he said, especially about family and technology. Sometimes, people are isolated or only have online connections, so having someone tell them, “I see you and I love you for what you are” is powerful. In his opinion, this message resonated with a lot of players because it’s a simple truth and we all want to be part of a family.

Joseph doesn’t control his followers with fear, Marwen Heni commented, but with devotion, and that too makes him compelling. As he was playing Far Cry 5, he started questioning whether or not he (as the Deputy) was right for opposing the Father, which is something Greg Bryk says he saw a lot in comments. He believes there’s “an intimacy to the relationship” between Joseph and the player, a “seduction” in the sense that we all want to belong. He’s humbled by the impact his work had on people.

When asked if he would be open to reprising the role, this time, he answered, “Absolutely”. In fact, and this is news to me, he revealed there were discussions about turning Far Cry into a TV show, and the different games would have been standalone seasons. That said, he added that, at a certain point, it’s necessary to let characters go and that he was grateful for what he had already experienced playing the Father.

Marwen Heni then asked if Joseph, who is very complex, was entirely fictional or if it was Greg talking through him. He answered his characters are always him, to a degree, because he wants to connect with the material so he never lies and can work from things that matter to him. He never judges them and tries to think about what he wants to express through them. He’s interested in their humanity and what motivates them. “We’re all broken,” he said. “Some are much more broken than others, and sometimes those broken pieces are very sharp and jagged, and they lash out.”

He also revealed he had “very specific rituals” to help him become a character and then let them go. He mentioned a few prayers that one of his friends, who is a Wiccan, taught him. In fact, and all the co-hosts agreed, it can be very hard to “disconnect” from a character sometimes because actors aren’t just pretending; they’re using real emotions.

He had already said his son Dempsey had done the mocap for John and Jacob in the Collapse DLC and that he felt carrying Ethan’s body in New Dawn was a way for him to honor his “boy”, his dead dog Lucky, since he deeply regretted that he couldn’t be there to take him to the veterinarian the day he passed. What I didn’t know, however, is that it was Greg himself who had asked if Joseph could carry Ethan, and the team made it happen. He also explained that, when it was time to play this scene, he tried to imagine what it would be like to actually lose his son.

But who is Greg Bryk’s favorite Far Cry villain? Well, when he auditioned and started researching the franchise, he was interested in Vaas because of Michael Mando’s performance. He still doesn’t know him personally but has a friend who worked with him and who spoke about “how electrifying his talent was”. There’s something “unhinged” and “primal” to him as a performer; he’s a “wild” and “special” actor.

Finally, when told he was born to play Joseph, he confessed he felt he was indeed “called” to play this part but wants to give credit to Dan Hay, Drew Holmes, and Jean-Sébastien Décant for creating such a “terrifyingly human” antagonist in the first place.