#and then you have those... task that you're truly suppose to do..

[yourfriendlyshapeshiftermonsters]

Kinda vent warning?

Sometimes,everything can feels like it was all screaming at you. Your works, responsibility, And all that. Its all feels super overwhelming.

Yes,you are responsible for your feelings and your works. but it's okay,Take a break,

Because you are still trying. Even if you're still stuck in that one spot,your mind is still trying it best.

You are trying your best.

Despite all the circumstances you faced

And you are somehow still there. Standings.

So really,take a break. You deserve it even if you don't think so

[unproduciblesmackdown]

with the recent like self-analytical framework of [putting hand on own shoulder] "are you looking for the external validation of value in this which would never be guaranteed, and you don't even think it should be contingent on this anyways" it's like, that also speaks more to like "yeah i did really enjoy live performance / theatre-adjacent and -overlapping stuff"

like i have my sense of how much i loved things and none of that involves any memories of having enjoyed it b/c of any feedback i got, from peers or instructors or anything. memories of curtain calls don't stand out much. like fun Specific Feedback was a kind older (relative to me) performer with the central role telling me that my literal leaping onstage (dance performance. grande jete entrance) despite a technical difficulty that would have to be improvised around was Inspirational/Motivating lol. i stopped having any particular stage fright (although is that when you're onstage? more like, anxiety beforehand about messing up. being onstage was the easier, enjoyable part) thanks to just having to yolo through those technical difficulties lol....anyways and then that same show actually, some relative to me younger audience member's dad was like "she's your (role's) biggest fan" and we nervously take a pic together lol. these things were fun & standout but Not Even It; not at all like "this is what makes it all worth it" like this is largely beside the point but a fun little bonus outlier event or two

like there was also no "i loved it b/c of Being In A Cast" nor b/c of any particular like, hanging out having fun Social Element. i loved rehearsing, though. loved being backstage (or in green rooms, or dressing rooms) but not because of any particular company or goings on. loved waiting & practicing / warming up & getting things together like your own costuming & being summoned to backstage & whatall. loved all the technical elements of getting a show together, when things were being assembled / worked out, though i didn't get to have much of any active hand b/c i'm like this twelve year old just learning the part, but it was fun to witness. none of my sense of what contributed to having a great time entailed any particular praise or anything; there was some implicitness in how all at once i graduated from [ensemble performance, back row for tall people] to [roles with solos] and the like, but there was just like, being busy, doing things well enough that it just wasn't Impeding anything lol, and in other arenas where i might've gotten more comments about being like, an outlier per whatever measure of success, it was definitely like, it's all just [successfully avoided negative attention] and ofc people think good grades are good but i'm not particularly moved by the awareness that that in turn is what's good or impressive about me, or something. or that i have to have anything like that for [successfully avoided negative attention]

and i wouldn't have like, done a monologue to an empty room and been like wow magical. i'd do my thing for rehearsal, and then for an audience, but you can't really see the audience and you're like ten doing local ten year old recreational stuff so it's like, the curtain calls you don't remember much (by you i mean me) and then you're done, and for me it was the fun of just like Everything Before. no like classic memories montage of great times socializing, it was me sitting in the green room equivalent, me warming up in the hallway, enjoying being in an auditorium for like 7 hrs of rehearsal, etc, we didn't do any like social events like high school performance afterparties or anything; i wasn't like Friends w/even the occasional person i also knew from school, and that didn't matter or diminish things in the least. performing A Show and for whatever Audience and that abstract is completely good enough. any of my parents' involvement, unavoidable b/c i couldn't even get places without being driven, was a major downside; i didn't like any like post performance [congrats] from them b/c that stuff was just its own unconstructive Performance that you, by which i mean me, were required to be sufficiently like Oh Wow about when it's like, the focused attention from you here means i want to leave; being left all amongst other adults during rehearsals was the good shit, while it also wasn't the case i needed like support or hype from any of those adults either.

there was Some tradition of like, older students in some program who'd take a trip to nyc / do some performance or other, and that seemed exciting but it stopped existing before it could be relevant to me lol. also for the first like, show that was like "audition for parts" vs "class recitals" they gave us like a relevant keepsake for it, and that was a nice surprise, since i had a great experience and all. and one of my main [not dance, with lines and everything] experiences being this fourth grade english class scenes from julius caesar, auditioned again, i'm like hell yeah that this has to be nongendered b/c it's all a bunch of guys, so i play a guy, and an antagonist yippee who doesn't die midway through and sounds easy-peasy to be like [be the dictator assassin] lol. it's funny how already i Cared about like, wish we had Effects instead of awkward silence for the drama of that assassination. wish i like, knew fuckall about acting. but the teacher just focused on telling us all to talk louder b/c nobody could be individually mic'd, and in the end you really couldn't hear fuckall of other performances so that was a win. and we got to do it twice b/c some people's parents got stuck in traffic. all i remember of my parents' presence was being like "omg yes i get to stop being here talking to you b/c we get to do that Again hell yeah"

like it's social but in a Parallel way. i'm contributing my part, i know my role, you know yours, i'm fondly remembering sitting in some school lobby having mini muffins with hours to go before our performance, amongst other people but not at all hyped abt interactions with them or at all disappointed abt the absence of any. i enjoyed it all being in front of people, others involved in the show, or the audience, but i wasn't there for any specific feedback, just being Part of that group constructed experience there. truly this case of like....loved all of that exactly as it happened, was on my own shit, did not need any external validation, didn't need a specific kind of Socializing that's supposed to look like having individual interactions with personal friends, had this passion for it that i also was having a perfectly good time exploring on my own, whilest also enjoying working with / learning from whatever instruction i got. like sure wishing i knew fuckall about acting but that it turns out no not everyone necessarily all loves stage acting as The Peak like that, and this comfort and interest with it that comes from like, you have all the practice of Having to perform and mask and act in life against your supposed incorrect abnormalities, but here's this constructive and creative and expansive edition of that art and science. good enough for doing it all through like fourteen

[ozzgin]

Due to a rather embarrassing bureaucratic mistake, you - a mere human - have been appointed as the new Death of the Monster Realm. The monster souls are confused (and unexpectedly aroused) to find a small, frail creature as their guide through the Underworld. Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, collab with Kafka

“Who the hell are you?”

Before you stands a Beast. Your body is frozen in sheer terror, crumbling under his all-knowing stare. You feel like you’re facing God Himself. Could it be? Have you died? God certainly looked a little more merciful in those Christian depictions.

You swallow dryly and open your mouth, words rolling out clumsily.

“I-…it’s (Y/N). I’ve been told to come in.”

The creature continues to glare at you incredulously before abruptly turning and speeding towards an enormous desk, a sudden realization occurring to him. He throws papers around, as if searching for something, occasionally releasing a thundering curse. Aha! There it is.

He collapses into a chair, head resting in his clawed hands.

“There has been a mistake. You're not supposed to be here", he growls, defeated. "And yet, it can't be fixed."

He scans your features briefly, taking his time and searching for the words.

"Listen, kid. I don't know how to tell you this any better: you're going to be guiding souls into their Afterlife. Monster souls."

You blink.

"Alright. Is there some training for it?"

The Beast is a little taken aback by your nonchalance. Given the extraordinary circumstances, he expected you to cry, beg and scream. Perhaps you won't be such a terrible fit, after all.

"You will learn from me. I am the previously appointed Death, and have been here for the past millennium."

Formalities finally aside, he takes you through the colossal, arched halls, explaining your job through words shrouded in mystery and cosmic terror. You nod and scribble obediently in your little notebook.

Thus begins your task as the new Death of the Monster Realm. A never-before-seen peculiarity: the ferocious, departed creatures are greeted by the small frame of a...human. Their eyes widen in disbelief.

In Monster culture, Death has always been described as the creature above all creatures. A blasphemy of gargantuan dimensions, with many eyes and horns, a pitch-black blight of dread. Even the highest-ranked Monsters shudder upon his arrival.

You wave your hand dismissively. It's the hundredth time today you've received this reaction of utter shock. Let's move on, shall we, you think to yourself sarcastically.

The path to the Gate feels like an eternity. Without exception, the monsters will ask you too many questions. Not about their situation, mind you, about yourself. Are you truly a human? How did you come to be the legendary guidance of souls? What was your life like before this? Surely you must have some interesting stories from your life as a mere mortal.

The former Death stands up from his seat.

"What do you mean, there's an increase in lost souls? Is that damn human not doing their job?" he demands, turning to the servant who'd come to announce the latest statistics.

"They are, Sir. It's just...Well..." the beast is visibly tense. "It's the monsters who don't want to leave."

"And? We've had plenty of those before. Why're they refusing to pass this time?"

The answer is clearly of a sensitive nature. The short, stocky butler fidgets and stumbles, then finally confesses meekly:

"They claim to have fallen in love with the human."

In all his eternity working as the Soul Collector, he'd never imagined such ridiculousness. He'd always been feared and well-respected, performing his task swiftly and without issue. It never occurred to him that he'd have to include as a guidance step "how to handle the monster souls flirting with you." He grabs his scythe and marches outside with an exasperated sigh.

Somehow, he doubts his retirement will come anytime soon.

[More Monsters]

[iisasarcasticlittleshite]

When they realised MC loved them

This popped into my head today and I just had to write it. This first part includes:

Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, Barbatos and Belphie.

As always I'll add more parts if anyone wants to see them, happy reading!

Lucifer

When you tried for him. Really, truly tried your absolute best, because he needed you to.

No other reason needed, no explanation, you threw yourself at a task or problem because he needs you. Be it schoolwork or some other activity, he knows you'll give it everything you've got.

You go out of your way to make his life easier, even in the smallest of ways.

It took him forever to realise why you did it, you might even need to tell him yourself, but when he does realise that you do it for him, even when he's not around to watch, he knows he's a lost demon. Lost to his own heart, held in the hands of a human.

Mammon

When you protect him, no matter what.

You're human, in the Devildom, a place you are not equipped to survive in on your own, but for him, for your Mammon, you'll stand in front of Lucifer himself.

Even when Mammon actually brought the punishment down on himself, even if debtors come to collect, you put yourself between him and anything that threatens to touch a snowy hair on his head.

When he realises this, it actually makes him reign himself in, he doesn't want you to have to protect him, and he knows he can't stop you. He's supposed to be the one protecting you damnit!

Still...he'll cry if you put yourself in Lucifer's way again, defending his heart to your dying breath, from the Demon King if you had to.

His human...his human really thought he was worth protecting.

Leviathan

When you made time for him.

Leviathan loves spending quality time with you, be it going shopping for merch together or just sitting in his room, on separate devices, playing separate games, just...being alone together.

He finds such comfort in you being around, but he doesn't always have the courage to invite you to things.

Still, there is the weekly anime marathon you two have kept up for as long as you've had a pact with him.

One week, you were rammed with exams, special ones tailored to exchange students, and he knew you were going to be too busy, too tired, to come binge anime with him. He knew, and he understood, despite the envy and sadness curling and pooling in the pit of his stomach, he braced for you to not show up.

But you came, bags under your eyes and pumped full of caffeine, but you came.

You promised never to miss a marathon, even when you were in the human world, you watched online together.

No matter what went on in your life, no matter where you were, you made space for Levi in your life, without question, without him needing to ask.

Levi still wonders if that'll ever change, but one look in your eyes when you smile at him like he is your entire world, tells him that place in your life is his, forever.

Barbatos

When you don't shy away from his mysteries, his power.

Lucifer himself is weary of Barbatos and his room of doors to a thousand pasts and futures, but you? You see him, not the terrifying power he holds.

You seek out those nuggets of his personality hidden behind duty and time, always promising a safe haven in your company. His smile is real when you put it there, and when you do things for him, just because you can, it baffles him.

Of course he recognises the love in your eyes when you look at him, but he's got no clue what to do with it. He's done nothing to deserve that sweet affection from you, but if you insist on giving your heart to him, he'll guard it with his life.

Belphegor

When you forgave him, when you truly forgave him, not just for what he did to you, but for his prejudices, for his hatred, the ones he's carried in his heart for centuries.

He's sure that you first forgave him for his brothers' sakes, not because you actually forgave him. You loved his family by then, he could see it. You loved the Devildom, you...belonged in it.

He felt like an alien in your presence, until you hammered it home, again and again, that you did forgive him, because you found reason to love him, you found reason to curl up and nap with him, to laze around and talk about nothing for hours.

You found something in him worth loving, and he never wants to give you something to forgive him for again.

[intromortal]

sacrifice (eat me up)

vampire prince!p.sh x f!reader wc: 946

cw: smut, blood, sacrifices, main character death, some gore, hoonie is vampire royalty and huh... cannibalism?

"My love", Sunghoon whispers against your temple as he keeps thrusting inside you with your knees spread open on his and his chest to your back, seated right on the altar you're supposed to get bitten and feasted on the following day. That same altar used to worship your malevolent deities was being repurposed as it now was you Sunghoon was worshipping. "Do not worry that pretty little head of yours, I will take care of this".

His brothers had warned him that falling in love so deeply with a mortal was a grave mistake. But he couldn't help how his heart swelled and his head felt lighter every time he saw you outside his royal palace, on his strolls down to the town. He knew in the end nothing good could come out of this, but he also didn't expect you to be chosen among the humans the princes had to sacrifice every year to the gods of the undead, to keep them from unleashing their wrath on the already weak and thinning population they were tasked to protect all those centuries ago.

It's not like he could do anything to change your fate, the gods chose the subjects themselves and any harm brought to them would cause a catastrophe of unseen magnitude.

Once selected the thirteen unlucky humans would be taken to the palace, held away from everyone else, with enough commodities to pretend they were somewhat free but also with no freedom at all, until the day of the ritual where the princes had to inject them with their powerful venom and leave them on the altar they had built as an offering for the deities to descend and feast on. Other than the intoxicating feeling of savouring flesh infused with powerful vampire royalty blood probably induced, Sunghoon truly could not understand what this ritual accomplished anyway.

He kept thinking about how the deities were toying with them all, princes and population alike, as he let his hand travel down your body to your cunt, starting to toy with your bundle of nerves, eliciting sweet sounds of pleasure and desperation from you.

He thought about how you must be so scared, even with the brave face you put up in front of everyone, even when you sweetly asked him to make you his one more time before the ritual after he snuck you out of the chambers you were being kept in. You were probably thinking about all the rumours that spread like wildfire among the peasants: how there had to be reasons to leaving such a bloody mess after every session the gods required, entire chunks of flesh still hanging from the corpses, sometimes leaving one martyr miraculously but barely alive, entire limbs and organs missing, indicating that they were alive while being eaten.

He thought they probably drew more pleasure from inflicting this psychological pain on the princes and the landsmen than anything. Not that Sunghoon was particularly affected by this: his brothers cared a lot more, sweet Jay and Sunoo in particular, the most devoted to their mission among all of them.

He keeps thinking and thinking and thinking as he fucks you towards your orgasm, small tears trailing down his cheeks at the devastating feeling of having to give you up.

"Hoonie", you sob out as you come around him, leaning your head against his shoulder as tears and other broken sobs start to spill out of you. Sunghoon suspects he might be crazy as he feels his heart hurt, even though he knows it stopped beating aeons ago. It's then that he makes up his mind.

He lowers his head, starting to trail kisses down your neck as you sigh fondly, head still cloudy from your high. "My dearest, I will love you until the end of times with my entire being, but think it's time to go", he whispers against your skin before revealing his sharp canines and biting down without waiting for your response, your sweet taste invading his senses. You uselessly struggle against him, so he sneaks his arms around your body, securing them against your middle and pinning you closer to his chest as he keeps feeding off of you. His mouth is so full of your blood, and he doesn't think he could stop even if he wanted to, so he keeps gurgling down whatever your body manages to give him.

You're barely conscious as he starts ripping away the flesh from the junction of your neck and shoulders, savouring and relishing in your flavour as he questions how he could have ever lived without this bliss all his life. He spins you around as he keeps gnawing at any inch of skin he can manage before your body goes cold. His mind is far gone at that point, intoxicated by you at the point of no return, and even if he knows he just sentenced an entire population to eradication he can't bring himself to care. Why would he want anyone to live after losing you? He thinks if you don't get to live then no one else should. His lovely angel. So he laughs. He laughs so hard and so loud and maniacally as he holds whatever's left of you close, bloody chunks of flesh all over his clothes and his eyes blown out with lust still as his brothers barge in the room, horrified looks dawning on their faces when they take in the gruesome scene in front of their eyes.

Sunghoon feels his throat flood with bile as his crazed laughs turn into painful sobs, his whole being shaking as he slowly sobers up. "Don't worry my love, I will be seeing you soon", he whispers against your mutilated corpse. "We all will".

a/n: idk y'all i was feeling a little quirky

[amelee23]

I didn't accidentally love you | Hwang Hyunjin

Genre: Hopelessly romantic fluff, angst, poetry, a little comedy

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x gender neutral reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: reader is an insecure poet, heartbreak, bad self esteem, poetry clubs, Hyunjin is dripping charisma, shameless flirting, reader thinks hyun is a jerk for like a second, reader.exe stops working multiple times, reader gets shy, i just HAD to be funny at the end OKAY

Synopsys: Your friends forced you to become part of a poetry club, and when you receive a task to write a poem about sadness, you realize you accidentally write it about Hyunjin, the guy you had a crush on and tried to forget about. And he finds out.

A/N: I promised @astraystayyh to write this, here you go sugar <3

Artists have many moments of weakness.

Those moments when you start to question your craft, whether you're even worthy of being called an 'artist' or you're just a fleeting talent that is going to wash away with time, just like the hobby or interest of a preschooler. You inquire if you're worthy staining pages with ink, using the words of the dictionary just to feel the high of belonging - the high of doing show and tell with your emotions like it's a new toy your parents gifted you; or you should just remain a consumer, and observe the beauty that lies in others, the beauty others can create. Could your craft ever rise to all these expectations?

But what else is there to life, if not making art?

Perhaps you've always been clinically insane, but you've only truly felt alive when you felt the beauty of the world - dark and bright alike - conveyed through you in the form of poetry and words, sent by the angels above for a mere human to toy with. So you pick up the pencil again.

The paper before you is blank, and you're frankly uncomfortable in the position you are in, notebook on your thighs, back curved over the page as if you're shielding unwritten words from the sun itself to not read them. But you've always felt more at ease writing outside, under the natural light of the sky, with the clouds passing by carelessly, like they don't have doubts about their worth like a human would. But the stares of the students passing by are not exactly comfortable. You take a breath and urge yourself to focus; they don't care about what you're doing, they're just heading to their classes, living their lives (hopefully) with that same hunger you have for art, for their chosen subjects.

You face your paper again and remember the prompt you were given - writing a poem involving the feeling of sadness - that you're supposed to hand over to the club in a couple of days. Insecurities and procrastination led you to keep putting it off, but the dread of a deadline has always been a great motivation for humanity. Your friends urged you towards this, to join the poetry club of your university - it's a small, non-profit club put together by a bunch of random art and literature students. It's so non-profit in fact, that it barely has any funding at all. They had to fight tooth and nail to be allowed to host the club meetings every week in the sculpting room - and that, late in the day, when the cleaning staff unlocks the doors for their cleaning sweep. You sit on awkward, stained chairs, and make sure to raise your feet up one by one to not stand in the way of the mop and brooms. But the club members would withstand anything, and would pretty much commit homicide to keep the club running. One more reason why, when faced with the passion and fighting spirit your club mates have, you wonder if you even have a space with them. You had to be shoved - one could say even blackmailed - by your friends to take the step forward and join, so you could be able to share your craft with others. You were perfectly happy letting your poems stack up in endless notebooks on top of your dusty bookcase. You didn't feel the need to share them, per se - but everyone else insisted it would have been a crime to keep them to yourself selfishly like that.

Sadness, sadness. You need to embody sadness for this prompt. You look around for inspiration, but there is no sad sight to see. The sky is clear, in colors of baby blue and soft whites, the branches of the green, young trees are barely even swaying in the wind, and there's college students laughing all around. Has anything sad happened in your life lately? Not really, nothing to inspire poems at least. Not that you are bursting at the seams with happiness, but you believed no one really is. There's a lot going on behind the cover of every human passing by, and even if all you can feel is the slight shoulder brush of a stranger, you do know those shoulders carry as much, if not even more weight than yours.

That's it. You start writing, and word by word they flow, one line, two lines until you have seven of them - you even managed to rhyme! It's not much, but it's honest work. Since there is no one close by, you begin to read the poem out loud softly. Hearing what you wrote always helps you perfect the rhymes, the punctuation and change around words if they sound too awkward. After erasing, rewriting and erasing again just to end up redoing the whole last two lines, you finally thought it was good enough.

---

Here and now, I must take a vow:

You'll never hear me confess, that in the depths of my weary chest

Underneath the smile I wore, there's a sadness in my soul;

Nothing's wrong - it's my biggest lie, hiding a muffled cry

Just behind a giggle and a laugh, acting is my biggest craft;

I loved you - but heard the ticking of the clock and thought

No more. It's time I stopped and gave you up.

---

You smile, because for a split second you actually think your poem sounds really good. But then, the insecurities crash on top of you again. Your club mates are probably writing long, heart-wrenching poems that are going to make you cry when you read them. Your idea will surely seem shallow and rushed in comparison to theirs. With a sigh, you wish to be able to just give yourself this one. Tell yourself you did good enough by trying and move on - brush it off and think progressively, that your next poem is going to be even better than this one. But you don't truly feel that way, so you begin to beautify the first letter of every line with calligraphic letters to overcompensate for the lack of skill you feel you have. The capital H at the beginning of the first line, the capital Y at the beginning of the second line and so on; you turn them into beautiful, aesthetic calligraphy as much to your ability. In the end, you just think you've made a mess, and that there is simply too much ink on the page now.

---

Here and now, I must take a vow:

You'll never hear me confess, that in the depths of my weary chest

Underneath the smile I wore, there's a sadness in my soul;

Nothing's wrong - it's my biggest lie, hiding a muffled cry

Just behind a giggle and a laugh, acting is my biggest craft;

I loved you - but heard the ticking of the clock and thought

No more. It's time I stopped and gave you up.

---

Oh no.

Your eyes open wide and you can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

The first letter of every single line, from top to bottom, spell HYUNJIN. The name of the boy you swore to yourself you've moved on from.

Hyunjin, who spoke about life as if it was art itself and spoke about art as if it was life itself.

Hyunjin, with the calm and warm voice - quiet and observant and yet, from the ocean in his eyes, bathed in a soft moonlight, it always seemed like his mind was in faraway lands, dreaming, humming, sighing before a field of lilies in the middle of the night.

Hyunjin, who seemed like through every song he listened to and sang, every poem he read and wrote, every painting he saw and painted, he dicovered all the secrets the universe had. As if human life was a melancholic, nostalgic memory to him, life experiencing itself all over again - he seemed so kind, so unfazed, so utterly in love with existence.

Hyunjin, who read every single one of your poems and told you he'd never allow you to leave the club. He was always so warm, you could hardly believe he wasn't doing it out of habit, spreading his magical touch over the wounds in your heart just like he would with anyone else. But it wasn't his fault you always questioned your worth.

Hyunjin, with whom you've fallen in love with gravely. For every smile he showed around you, for every squeal-like laugh he gifted you, for every time he held your hand gently to calm your nerves, you added one more day to the delusion of hanging on to him.

Hyunjin, who was merely a pipe dream.

He is the co-leader of the poetry club you're in. That's why you've always considered his compliments and encouragements to be just him doing his job - and yet they continued to fuel that foolish fire of yours for far too long. You never confessed to him, of course. But there would be nothing wrong with you two dating, from an ethical point of view. This is just a poetry club ran by students, it's not like having a crush on your boss. But still, the title of co-leader put him above you in a way you couldn't describe. Maybe it's the fact that he has more experience in art. Maybe it's the fact that he's more skillful. Maybe it's the fact that he's taught you many techniques and actually became a figure to rely on. Therefore he was still above you in a way, and so was the leader.

The leader of the club, she resembled Hyunjin in an almost eerie way. People do say, someone who is beautiful on the inside will always radiate beauty on the outside, too. That was a clear description of both of them. She too, was a romantic and an artist, she had a feather light laugh, star like freckles dusting her face, and eyes that could hold galaxies. She was the end of Hyunjin's sentences and the beginning of his thoughts. They made an incredible pair and their teamwork was impeccable as leaders. They weren't dating, but your heart kept telling you, that one day they will. It would be simply impossible for two souls so perfectly woven for each other to simply separate and go their different ways. And yet, you still foolishly had fallen for Hyunjin and every single week, the pain in your chest grew.

Oh, it hurt. It shouldn't have, really. You were just a newcomer being silly and they were fit for a lifetime. You had no chance nor the courage to hope and dream a miracle would land you in Hyunjin's loving arms. She wasn't to blame, he wasn't to blame, your pain was fully your fault. You fell in love and you had to fix it. So you made an oath with yourself to let it go, get those heavy rocks off of your lungs and allow yourself to breathe. There will be other boys in your life. They will not be Hyunjin, but other boys will exist.

You thought you were done with the tears, with the heartache and the love-sick poems. But it seemed you did have one more poem left in you, and it bubbled to the surface.

If the sun wasn't that bright, you wouldn't even have noticed the shadow of someone looming over you. You heard a melodic hum above your head and when you looked up, your heart dropped.

"What do we have here?" He teased, snatching your notebook right out of your hands. You couldn't even react in time, he was already standing up before you, reading the contents of your poem. His lips hung slightly open and he let out a gasp, and you really thought poetry was perhaps the only way to describe the look on his face. You watched his eyes travel the page, his chest deflating very rarely as if he was holding his breath. He looked surprised, but it wasn't an anxious type of bewilderment, nor an excited one either. He was looking at your notebook as if it was some sort of mythical creature, something that shouldn't possibly exist-

And then his eyes found yours. They wrecked you from the inside out, a brown so blown out, so dark, unalike what you've seen before. There was no more serene skies and calm seas in his eyes, there was a storm, a hurricane - a complete blackout. He looked frightened. Maybe he was in fact, still shaken by the secrets of the universe. Maybe humans are not supposed to know what mythological creatures actually look like. Maybe denying their existence would be easier on the collective-

"I can explain!" You jump up from the bench you were seated on. "That was an accident - it's not what it looks like!" He's not listening to you. His mind has gone to those faraway lands again, and he's dreaming while he glances at the page. You move to take the notebook away from him, but he raises it above his head. He's too tall to reach, so you don't even try.

"Well." He speaks, softly, anxiously, awkwardly. He softly lowers the notebook, but he holds it tight to his chest. He won't let you take it back. "I think now it's only fair I dedicate my poetry to you as well." Now it's your turn to remain with your mouth agape. You're blinking at him, and you don't realize you're looking at him exactly the same way he looked at you a minute ago. You're both scared and yet in marvel, and he takes a step closer. You inhale sharply, but it gets stuck in your throat. You can't breathe, your stomach is tense, and a shiver is shaking the fingers of your hands. His eyes are transfixed on yours, and he moves even closer, he's too close - and he asks for permission. "If you'll allow me?"

He's asking you to become his muse.

But you couldn't answer him even if you wanted to. It's embarrassing, but the only thing you can muster is a whimper.

He continues to stare at your face, until slowly and gradually a smile tugs at the corner of his lips and he lets out a giggle. He waves a hand in front of your face and cocks an eyebrow, in an attempt to bring you out of your daze. You're so confused you could die.

Was the last few minutes just a joke? Was he just mocking you-? He must have been. Nothing is as good as it seems, and Hwang Hyunjin couldn't be any different. Maybe he was just a self centered jerk under the dreamy romantic aura he carried. It would be easier to start hating him than to continue helplessly liking him, right?

You barely register Hyunjin putting your spiral notebook down on the bench to gently rip out the page with the poem. He folds the page in two and then hands you your notebook back.

"As the co-leader of the club, I reject your entry. You must write another poem, I'm confiscating this one." You cock your head. What is he saying? Is this still, all part of the joke?

"What- what are you- what are you gonna do with it?" You manage to spew out a sentence, not that it was the most important question to ask. Hyunjin raises his shoulders.

"Put it on my wall? Tape it in my journal? I'll find a place." He answers nonchalantly. You see his eyebrows dance on his face as he thinks for a second, then his expression tells you he got an idea. "Or... I could give it back to you... If you visit the seashore with me."

You side eye him and furrow your brows. "To do what?" He raises his shoulders again.

"I need inspiration for all of the poems I'm gonna start writing about you." He's calm, almost too calm as he says it, and he begins to smile once more as he watches your mouth hang open again.

"Are you making fun of me?" You finally ask, and Hyunjin looks downright offended. He raises his eyebrows, and comically cranes his neck back, pointing a finger at himself and then at you.

"ME? Make fun of YOU? Why? I'm... asking you out on a date..." And you're somehow supposed to process that information without finding a million excuses why this shouldn't be happening and wouldn't be happening. But it is happening.

"So you're not joking?"

"No?" He replies shaking his head.

"You're being serious."

"Yeah.." He replies, this time nodding his head.

"Seriously?" He laughs, finding you adorable.

"Seriously." Suddenly, the situations is a little too real and too much to take. Your hopelessly romantic and yet heavily insecure brain almost ruined a moment you could have only dreamt about, and you almost thought Hyunjin was a jerk. You hide your face in your hands and let out a muffled whine. Hyunjin is extremely amused, and feeling a little playful, he comes closer and cocks his head close to your face. You can't see him, but you peek through your fingers when you hear him speak again. "So is that a yes?" You watch glimpses of his face between your fingers and nod back at him. "Great then!" His face is so bright, and you can't hide your eyes from his anymore. Today, you saw how his eyes looked with a storm in them, but now they look different once more - like a sunrise above a beach, it's all so golden and full of life, sweet like honey and rich like gold. Warmth spreads through your chest, and he places a hand gently on your arm. His thumb caresses your bicep for a few seconds. "I'll text you the details."

You feel drunk, as his touch leaves your body but still lingers. He walks away to his next class, but he turns around briefly to remind you of your task.

"And don't forget you have to write a new poem until Thursday!" He waives the page he stole from you between his fingers and laughs his ass off at the exasperated sigh you give in return and the angry squint and pout.

You're pretty sure he didn't believe you when you said that poem was an accident. And he never will, even when you try to explain it to him on your first date. And on the second date you swear it wasn't on purpose, and on the third date you tell him for just how long you've liked him and how you tried to let him go. And on the fourth date he tells you he knows your poem wasn't an accident no matter what you think or say. And on the fifth, you agree with him.

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©amelee23 do not copy or repost

[sukunas-wife]

hi, i loved your fic about how did y/n and Sukuna know each other and it got me thinking about a short one shot about them...

a certain day in the spring : she was facing the colorful garden, hid by the shadow of the courtyard's roof. she was occupied by the feeling of clothing fabric, trying to fold the many garnements perfectly, and then placing them delicately on the large basket she will have to carry later. but it was an unusual sight for any other servant of the residence, because he was right next to her, sat with his large legs taking almost the whole space as he was sipping a cup of tea, mint tea. she loves the smell of mint. the atmosphere staying calm and silent, she was concentrated on her task, almost finishing it. she was used to those alone times with him, but she would never be able to calm her ragging heartbeat as she was sat right next to him. what was unusual this time was the repetitive yawns from her, she didn't even know how can she yawn so much since she was able to get a full night of sleep this night. she was embarassed by this, trying to stop them the fastest possible to not bother him. him, he noticed very quickly her countless yawns, telling himself that she must be a victim of the very commonly known 'lack of sleep'. this was when a suggestion came in his mind. "are you this tired, pet ?" he asked her, cutting the long silence that was dominating the both of them. "i am not, you don't have to worry about this, lord Sukuna." she answered fast, embarassed that he noticed her yawns to the point of asking her if she was tired. of course he didn't believe her answer, and he wasn't pleased by this. her embarassement was heavily noticed by him, of course he could see how flustered she was, her cheeks were painted by a hint of pink, but soon to be red if this situation continued. and so, he came back to the suggestion that staying in his wise mind, he was feeling mischievous as he thought about executing his plan. and he did : "come. lay your head in my lap if you're this tired.". he didn't ask her, but he ordered her to comply to this action. she knew it was an order from him, but she couldn't let herself have this luxery offered to her. "i assure you, i am truly not tired. please, you don't have to worry about this lord Sukuna." she tried refuse calmly as she knew how short tempered her master was. and he was certainly stubborn, not giving up on this battle that was settling itself between him and her. and he will win, after all. he kept his stare on her, she couldn't bear having his four eyes all over her, she will give up at some moment anyway, she was giving up this battle soon, very soon. both of them felt it coming. and it was happening, she crawled slowly in his directing. when she finally approached him, she was attentively looking at his handsome facew waiting for any orders from him. but she already knew what she was supposed to do, laying her head on this lap and closing her eyes. an impossible task indeed. slowly, she tried to lay her head on his large and muscled thighs. every of her movements were followed by his keen, deep red eyes, and this added to the embarassement of her stiff movement. as she laid her head right where he wanted her to be, she turned on the complete opposite side of his chest and face, the side he wanted her to face. not seeing his face was helping her relax a bit her still stiff body, completely now laid on his thighs. but, he was severly disgraced upon such a little thing. he simply laid his hand on her shoulder and turned her body, to be facing the right side, his upper body including his head. she was prepared to his sudden action on her, trying to keep her eyed closed, her nervousness started to make her brain melt under his intense gaze. time flew by, and she was starting to feel herself relaxing, finally, by this time her body and mind started to fall asleep. and he continued, looking at the garden facing him and sipping on his cup of tea mint tea, but with her, asleep on his lap. she loves the smell of mint.

it's my first time writting this type of things, hope you like it :] — a

AHHHHH I LOVE IT SO MUCH

You did so well *aggressively (affectionately) rubs your head like a puppy* yes you did 🥺

I love it- please I was smiling like a fool it’s so good

My sister walked in on me and was like “ouuu who are you texting? 🤭”

NO ONE I’m reading leave me alone 🥺

Thank you for feeding us 🤍🤍🤍

Everyone thank anon 🥺🤍

[markrosewater]

Howdy Mark!

I sat with my thoughts and the replies you've given recently about not changing Minotaur or Merfolk to Ox and Fish respectively, and I gotta say, I can't square this circle.

You say that WotC won't be changing these specific humanoid-animal races because they have prior mythological notoriety. But to be honest, one could make that excuse for every humanoid-animal race. There are a lot of Mythos that exist throughout the world, and finding a name for every humanoid-animal race wouldn't take too long if someone took the task seriously. I say this to show it doesn't feel like a really consistent or genuine reason to resist a rule that WotC is taking big lengths to adhere to (they are doing errata, which you've said is something that isn't done lightly).

However, my biggest issue comes down to consistency with this "rule" you are mentioning. WotC changed Cephalids, Viashino, and probably Homarids soon so that they would fall in line with a rule that WotC wants to follow. Nothing drives me more insane than a rule that isn't applied equally to all, especially when as I mentioned above, the reasoning for the exception doesn't feel like a particularly strong one; at the very least, it doesn't feel strong enough to resist a rule WotC is taking seriously enough to errata 100's of cards so they fall in-line with said rule.

I try to be open-minded as often as possible, but even after mulling over the things you've mentioned here on Blogatog, I don't think there is anything you can say that will change my mind on this. I suppose I will just have to sit and wait patiently until ya'll decide to finally finish what you started.

Yours Truly,

A fellow Ape

The thing you're missing is the bar is not "does a mythological version exist anywhere in the world?" The question we ask - "is there a popular and well known version of it?"

Here's a different way to think of it. If we picked 100 random people (not specifically Magic players) and gave them a list of creature types, which ones are words they know and which ones aren't?

Some they wouldn't know because they're made up things we created that have no well known equivalent. Outside of those, we want to use words people recognize. It makes the game more resonant and lowers the barrier to entry. Our fanciful made-up terminology does have a place - in names and flavor text (aka the text areas focused on flavor). In mechanical rules space, familiarity is more important.

[untoldstar]

Hello, I really loved your Yan butler OC

What if a princess reader actually became queen of their country and now she has to face an arranged engagement?

male! yandere butler x fem! royalty reader

warning: fem reader obsessive tendencies, yandere themes, murder, death, mentions of blood,

y’all guess who’s back from the dead! please excuse my rusty writing it's been a while</3

"Corsets are generally known to take your breath away but I can't help but think the added pressure is your doing Charles" You let out a breathless chuckle, he pauses, his hands halting in the air until he hesitantly continues tying your corset, relieving some of the pressure "My apologies..I seem to have gotten lost in my thoughts" he murmurs and clears his throat, you stay quiet for a beat as your initial worry grows "You've acting strangely for some time now, Charles. I'm growing worried" your eyebrows knit together as you look at him through the mirror in front of you, his eyes glance up to meet yours before returning them to his task "I suppose I've been slightly worn out, after all our schedule has been hectic as of your..latest decision" his voice deepens towards the end of his sentence "I know that's not the true reason, tell me, what has been bothering you?" you ask, unable to conceal the concern laced in your voice, you were so incredibly kind, even at this moment when he's dropping your title while speaking and avoiding your gaze you only offer him your kindness and that only causes him greater pain because that kindness will be for another man from here on out.

His hands drop to his side "Tell me, your highness" his eyes meet yours in the mirror and you nearly flinch at the sight, his face is entirely devoid of emotions and his eyes are dark sending shivers down your spine "Do you truly believe that this engagement is a wise decision?" he asks in a low voice, his eyes never leaving yours, you furrow your brows "of course I-" your words are caught in your throat as he lowers his head next to your ear, his voice dropping to a whisper "And do you believe it's..safe?" un uneasy feeling pools in your stomach at his question "..Why wouldn't it be safe?" he stays quiet for a few seconds before replying "Oh, no reason for it to not be safe I'm merely..concerned" he steps closer "After all this is a man who we don't know much about except what he chooses to show" you stay quiet "And who doesn't know much about you either..are you certain he's suitable?" your eyes harden, irritation consuming you at his endless questioning "There's no reason to question my decision, I know what is right for me and my kingdom" you train your eyes on his "Are those all your concerns?" he smiles flatly "yes, your highness" "good" you nod, a firm expression set on your face, Charles stays quiet for the rest of the time that he helps you get ready.

Later that evening you share a drink with your soon-to-be husband, Christopher Alpin, a very handsome and powerful king whose alliance with will benefit your kingdom greatly.

You both talk over the details of your wedding as the crowd enjoys itself with dancing, drinking, and mingling. Amongst that crowd is a certain unhappy butler who watches you with burning intensity, paying attention to where your fiancé's eyes drift, where his hand touch, the smiles you're sharing, watching you with him is slowly killing him and the thought that soon this man will be touching you, waking up next to you and spending every moment with you is too much for him to bear, it's completely wrong, that man in your future is out of place so as your loyal butler it's his duty to make everything perfect to you.

Just as the king excuses himself from the ballroom Charles wastes not a single second in following him quietly through the halls.

minutes pass and you grow worried, you decide to search for Christopher fearing he got lost in the castle, you search all the rooms until one room is left, your bedroom, as you near the bedroom you see your door slightly ajar and catch a glimpse of a few droplets of blood. your heart starts racing, you stand still for a few seconds, the fear of what could possibly be in your bedroom grounding you in place. You take a deep breath and move closer to the door, slowly opening it wider, you gasp and a sob breaks out of your throat at the sight, mere inches from you is your fiancé lying in a pool of his own blood with a large slit on his throat "ah your highness!" you flinch at the cheery voice, Charles is sitting on the edge of your bed, a smile plastered on his face, you attention drift to his usually white gloves covered in red, adrenaline and fear picks up in your chest as you turn on you heal to run before Charles is up and holding you back in a few seconds, he shuts the bedroom door and locks it, trapping you against it "I..don't understand why you're running away, I fixed it all can't you see?!" you swallow, your voice barely able to come out as steady as you want it to "Charles..what have you done..what are you talking about?" he presses himself against you "you don't have to marry him anymore, he was filthy! he didn't know anything about you, he didn't deserve you!" you don't reply, you stand stunned as you see Charles ramble with a manic expression "now it's finally just the two of us once again" he wraps his arms around you and burries his head in your neck inhaling deeply "I feel much more at ease now with you in my arms, don't worry I shall take care of everything.."

"won't you let me serve you?"

[bitchin-beskar]

Sorry shamless asking for another one. Only if you wanna answer.

Either 141 boys or Paz ( or all ) not quite thot.

Their proposal style.

💍

Happy weekend!

do I wanna answer????

you bet ur ass i do goddamn

I'll do a little proposal style for college!athlete!roommate!paz if ya'll want, but I'll answer this ask specifically for our 141 boys (plus alejandro and rudy bc ofc)

Task Force 141 + Alejandro Vargas & Rodolfo Parra and Proposal Style

Captain John Price

I hc that Price has a love of old things. I think he loves antiques, history, collectibles, etc. I think his flat is filled with memorabilia shit from WWI and WWII, classic novels he finds at garage sales and thrift book shops that are well worn and well loved, things with history and a past, things that mean something.

So, I think when he's going to propose, he's got the ring picked out, something he found in a pawn shop or thrift store, something that's old and beautiful, full of meaning and history. Of course, if it needs repairing, or new setting, he'll do what he needs to, make sure that it's clean and polished and that it suits you. He just likes sharing these little bits of history that have fascinated him for his entire life with you, and to put one of those little bits of history on your finger and swearing to love you for eternity? He loves it.

For reference, I imagine the ring Price finds looks something like this:

For the actual proposal, he's not going to make a big, public spectacle. He's always a little more uncomfortable in crowded places, due to his years as active military, he's a paranoid bastard by nature, and besides, this is supposed to be a happy, special occasion and something he wants to be fully engaged in, not distracted trying to analyze potential threats to your safety.

You're probably at home, in the flat you share with him. He'll make dinner, nothing super fancy, but a comfort meal that both of you love. It's not overly fancy or romantic, but it's thoughtful and sweet and everything that you love about him. He'd wanted to wait until after you'd both eaten, and were maybe cuddled up on the couch in front of the fire, but as he's putting the leftovers away, and you're elbow deep in sudsy water, rinsing the dishes, he finds he physically cannot wait a second longer.

He drops to a knee, the quiet utterance of your name barely heard over the rushing sink water, but you throw a "Yes, John?" over your shoulder. When he doesn't say anything, you turn to look and realise what's happening.

Of course, the two of you have talked about it before, after you'd been settled in a relationship for a few years, talking about the future and what you both wanted, but you'd had no idea when he was planning to propose, so the act itself is shock. You don't even shut off the water, falling to your own knees in front of him, hands fisting in the front of his shirt as you whisper "yes" against his mouth before you kiss him.

He reluctantly pulls away from your kiss, only to slide the ring onto your finger, before he pulls the both of you to your feet. Shutting off the water is the extent of the cleaning that you finish, deciding as you stumble to the bedroom that the rest of the dishes can wait until after the two of you have had some time to celebrate.

Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley

I think that for the longest time, Ghost truly believed he'd never marry. At first, it was just a matter of not having met anyone he'd want to spend the rest of his life with, but over time and missions, scars and torments, blood and secrets, Ghost decided that he'd never find someone who'd be able to love all of him, that he was only good for the harsh things in life, never the soft.

So, it's a huge surprise when he meets you and realises months into knowing you that he's fallen, and he's fallen hard. He meets you in the most mundane of places, like a coffee shop, an interaction that should just be a one off, but one that repeats with enough regularity that the cold, stone muscle that functions as his heart begins to beat faster with excitement at the anticipation of seeing you.

You remember him, greet him with a soft smile whenever you see him, never seeming to be put off by the fact that he never removes his balaclava. You'll ask him how he's doing, but you don't seem to mind that his answers are usually a fraction of the syllables. He's used to his size intimidating others, but you never seem to mind that he's roughly the size of a tank.

I think it's like pulling teeth to get him to admit his feelings, but when he finally does, the two of you fall into a relationship like you were built for each other. It's easy, far easier than the rest of his life, and for the first time, he finds himself dreading longer missions, because he's actually got someone to come home to.

That being said, I think when he proposes, it's not something planned. Maybe something happens at home, where you are, the danger not being something he'd thought to worry about. Maybe there was a robbery, maybe someone attacked your workplace with a gun, and when Ghost sees it on the news, because Johnny's there saying "Dinnae ya say somethin' 'bout ya girl workin' there, Ghost?", he panics.

Price gets him on the first flight home, and Ghost is bursting into your flat with an urgency he's not felt outside the battlefield, even though it's the dead of night and you're fast asleep in your bed. He doesn't miss a beat, shedding the worst of his tac gear and crawling onto the bed, wrapping his arms and legs around you even as you stir awake, burying his face in your neck as his heartbeat finally begins to slow.

You seem to know why he's here, why he's like this, because you don't say anything, just simply wrap your own arms around him, tugging off his mask and running your fingers through his sweaty, tousled hair. Your other hand presses in between his shoulder blades, dwarfed by the massive size of his torso, but still a grounding touch.

It takes him a long time to speak, longer than usual, and when he finally does, it's to whisper against your skin that he wants to marry you, like a sinner at confessional, begging absolution from the Priest of God.

You still underneath him, definitely not expecting that to be what he says, but it's like the dam has burst, and he can't seem to stop. He tells you about how scared he was when he'd heard, a fear he hasn't felt since he was young, unscarred and unknowing of the horrors of humanity. He'd known that you meant a lot to him, but the thought of losing you had shaken him more than he'd thought possible. He whispers that he can't give you much, he knows that, but he wants to give you his name, and a promise that he'll love you as best he can, for as long as he's got on this earth.

Your body is shaking under him, and he starts to pull back, worried he's crossed a line, but you're sobbing, silent and desperate, even as you tug him up and seal your lips against his. He sinks into your kiss, tears he's been holding back finally falling too. You whisper back that yes, yes dammit you want to marry him, and you don't care about him giving you anything other than his love.

In the morning, the two of you go to a jewelry store, and pick out matching bands, simple silver rings with no gemstones or embellishments. You get them engraved, on the inside where the metal rests against your skin, his name on yours and your name on his, to carry each other when you're apart.

Sergeant John 'Soap' MacTavish

For Soap, I think he buys the ring within the first month of dating. Some (most) might call him eager, maybe childish in his hope, but Soap is an excellent judge of character. He's never once been wrong, his gut instinct always telling him the measure of those he meets, and so when he starts dating you, he knows very quickly that you're the one he's gonna spend the rest of his life with.

People tend to assume he's a fuckboy, likely due to his flirtatious tendencies. He knows what others think of him, and for the most part, it doesn't bother him. However, it takes him far longer than he'd like to convince you that he's actually interested, because of how flirtatious he can be, you think he's just like that with everyone.

Honestly, Price has to pull you aside and tell you to put the poor boy outta his misery by either going out with him, or not. You're very stunned, because it's honestly been torture for you to be around him because you're very into him, but were convinced that he just saw you as a friend. Price just shakes his head and calls you both muppets.

When you're together, it's the happiest the both of you have ever been. Your sense of humour compliments each others, you always have so much fun together, it's honestly the time of your life. You miss him terribly when he's gone, but Soap has a habit of leaving little slips of paper with jokes and puns written on them around the apartment, a little surprise for you to find and to remind you that he's always thinking of you when he's gone.

Soap's proposal happens somewhat spontaneously. He's come home from a long op, and the two of you haven't left the bed in damn near twenty-four hours. He's lounging on the pillows, with you tucked under his arm, ear over his heart and left hand resting on his bare chest. His own hand covers yours, his thumb stroking over the skin of your fourth finger, a habit he's picked up lately.

Finally, he pipes up, voice thick with his Scottish accent, and asks what you'd think about marryin' him.

At first, you think he's joking, because as much as you love him, you'd never really thought he might be the marrying type. He carries the air of a free spirit, one who operates best not tied to anything or anyone. You joke a bit about how he needs a ring at least before he thinks about proposing, only for him to reach over and open the drawer on his nightstand, pulling out a small velvet box and popping it open before your wide and startled eyes.

"Whaddya think, bonnie?" He husks, voice clear and nonchalant even as his eyes betray his nerves. "Think you'd be willin' ta tie yourself ta me for the rest 'o our lives?"

You pluck the gold band from the crushed velvet, slipping it onto your finger even as tears fill your eyes. You stare at it on your hand for a long moment, before you look up to see Soap still watching you, hope blooming desperately in his gaze, even as he tries to reign it in.

"You damn foolish scot," you mutter, cupping his face and bringing him down to kiss him. "There'll never been anyone else."

Sergeant Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

Ok so maybe this is a hot take but I chose to believe that Gaz is actually already married by the time of COD: MWII. No one knows. Not even Price. He marries his childhood best friend the minute they're both 18, and they've been together even longer.

ANYWAYS

Like I said, childhood best friends, so they were always together, all throughout school, hanging out in the afternoons, sleepovers on weekends, the whole shebang. Your parents and his called it early on that the two of you would end up together, but even they were a little surprised at the speed of which you got married. But, to none of their surprise, your marriage was one of the strongest they'd ever seen.

You knew each other's faults, your likes and dislikes, your pet peeves and your favorite things about each other, it only made sense for you to trip over the line between friendship and relationship sometime around when you were maybe 12 years old.

Even before then, when the two of you were maybe 7 or 8, you made a pact that you'd get married as soon as you could. As a promise, Gaz gets you a ring like this, from a cheap coin vending machine in the local grocery store:

It's a running joke in the family, that he decided when he first saw you that he was gonna marry you, although they don't really realize just how true that is.

On the night of graduation, after you've finished celebrating with your families, you and Gaz are holed up in your childhood bedroom. Your 18th birthday is in a week, Gaz's was a month ago. Your wearing the ring he'd given you damn near a decade ago on a chain around your neck, and his eyes fall to where it lays nestled between your breasts, even as he draws a small box from his pocket.

"Figured it was time to upgrade, eh, love?"

The rose gold band sparkles in the lamplight, and there's a huge grin on your face as you take the band from him. There's a large diamond in the center, but not too large as to be gaudy or flashy. Just enough to make a statement, a declaration.

"In a week," Gaz says, voice hush with anticipation. "Lets go to the courthouse, and I'll give you the matching one. What'cha say?"

"The same thing I said when we were eight, Kyle," you murmur, eyes unable to leave the pretty ring on your finger. "Yes."

Colonel Alejandro Vargas

Alejandro is really damn hesitant to propose, mostly because of how at risk any of his family is with his history of fighting the cartel. Anyone with a connection to him is another way to hurt him, and to ask you to go into hiding, cut off most all contact with any outside friends? He's afraid, he doesn't want you to begin to regret being with him, he's seen the toll being in hiding has taken of the marriages of some of his Vaqueros, and it would kill him to lose you.

It takes you a long time to convince him that even if you don't get married, you're not going anywhere. You love him, and damn anyone who tries to come between that, cartel or otherwise.

The final push for Alejandro to propose is similar to Ghost's. He's working when he gets the news that the cartel has attacked the area you live in, and that there are multiple reported civilian deaths, although names aren't confirmed. He's terrified, and Rudy has to physically push him out of the compound to go, to try and get to you.

When he gets there, no one has seen you, and Alejandro can feel his stomach churning, his heart is in his throat. He was such a damn fool, he waited too long, and now he's never going to get to marry you, to call you his wife, to know what it feels like to wear a symbol of your love and devotion every day until he dies.

He hears your voice calling his name, and the pure relief he feels makes him dizzy with it, his knees going weak. He hoarsely calls your name, and your body slams into his, your arms wrapping tightly around him as if you could hold him together by pure will alone.

The rush of police and other Vaqueros around him fade into the background as he sinks into your embrace, whispering prayers and thanks and words of love in Spanish in your ear, kissing the top of your head repeatedly from where you've tucked your face against the base of his neck.

The next day, the two of you go to a small local jewelers, and pick out matching rings. Your next stop is the courthouse, with Rudy as your witness.

Sergeant Major Rodolfo 'Rudy' Parra

Like Gaz, Rudy gets married young. He marries you shortly before he and Alejandro enlist in the army, because you'd pinned him with a glare one day and said if he died and you were going to mourn as his widow, you damn well were going to be his wife first.

Alejandro is thrilled when he hears, because he'd been telling Rudy to marry you for weeks, ever since he'd aired his concerns. (Rudy retaliates viciously when Alejandro is hesitating to propose to his wife).

He proposes to you with the ring his mamá had been given by his father, which she'd given to him when he told her he was going to propose to you. She'd given it to her son with tears in her eyes and very softly told him that if he got married without her there, no one would find his body.

You laughed yourself silly when Rudy told you what his mamá said, although that laughter cut off when you realised which ring he was giving you. You broke down in his mother's arms later, swearing to her that you'd treasure her ring and love Rudy the same way his father had lover her, and she simply cupped your cheek and told you that was all she'd ever ask.

It wasn't a necessarily memorable proposal, Rudy just coming home one day after visiting his mamá and bending the knee, but you'd prefer it to anything else, because it was so quintessentially Rodolfo.

Interestingly, because Rudy is married through his time in the military, he doesn't know at first that it'd be wiser to keep it a secret. When they find out Valería is El Sin Nombre, he's not quite sure what to think, because she definitely knew about you, and who you were to Rudy, but she never acted on it. It's probably just another facet of the twisted mind games she plays, but he's not sure. He tries not to think about it.

[rainbowsillz]

✦ — The Doll Maker || TWST HC. — ✦

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

You're a creative type? It is quite the skills you have. He didn't even realize that you were one!

It's hard for him to pretend to not be intrigued with this, since in his childhood he wasn't able to obtain them and the majority was for girls.

He is into adorable plushies! He would sneak a glance to see how ‘you’ sewed or knitted it.

Can Riddle touch them?

Trey and Cater would knowingly nudged you to let him come and stay beside you while this.

“It's not a crime to have this, and hiding away your abilities is wasteful, why did you do so?”

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

Yawns at you.

He does not care about it.

And he wouldn't be as joyous with these.

Leona then goes back to play chess with you.

He was more invested into being on your lap.

“You made those? It looks okay, seems like you have a knack for that line of career, isn't it?”

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

That aspires him to be like you!

Lucrative business is a graspable thought.

So, won't you have ‘talk’ with him on it? You can put your faith in him, isn't it? Would you?

Azul smiled at you as he hold the stuffed animal.

Hush! Can't you sense his willingness at all?

“You will end up taking my hand. It's no use giving me that look, wouldn't you agree?”

KALIM AI-ASIM

😶 OH???

He would buy them!!

Money is not an issue, he'd sponsor you too!

Kalim will pester Jamil to have a look :)

Have a 100% materials for you.

“You are so cool, prefect! Can I hug this platypus? Do you have an eagle version?”

VIL SCHOENHEIT

It's unexpected.

In a good way..? He is curious about them.

His violet eyes followed after yours as he caressed the texture of the toys you did.

Vil supposed this was of high quality.

You were something, weren't you?

“I have to say.. it's surprising to have you focused on a mere task, almost captivating.”

IDIA SHROUD

His reaction would be super enthusiastic.

He would be inspecting them with great interest since it's handmade by you.

Will probably ask you to record a tutorial when you were piling yourself to your activities.

Idia was helpful along with Ortho.

They were both really immersed with you.

“W-wow! You're a legit pro at this, you didn't speedrun through it. That's passionate?”

MALLEUS DRACONIA

If it's from you, he'll cherish it always.

Until the end of time literally. I'm not kidding.

You should know that although he was used to being alone, he doesn't like.. like it.

You mean the universe to Malleus!

He's there for your beck and call 🥺

“What a lovely token. I shall guard it with my life. You truly are one of a kind that I've met.”

[drearycrow]

plss i wanna see how kunikida trying and encouraging the wife reader to fix her anger issues behavior, while she's very good at hiding it every day by being so stoic like a porcelain doll at work to 'control' her emotion

Notes: omg this was supposed to be short but I went wild with it. Really helped let out some emotions

CW: toxic relationship, angst with happy ending

This is the fifth plate being broken this week. You storm out of the kitchen and slam the bedroom door shut. Kunikida sighs as he stares at the broken plate on the ground. He vaguely sees his reflection on the broken plate. It perfectly reflects how he feels on the inside and this marriage. Utterly broken.

He crouches down to pick up the shards of glass. One by one, the pieces of the plate go into the trash. He doesn't know how much longer he can take this constant hostility from you. Divorce constantly pops up in his head but quickly dismisses those thoughts. It's something Kunikida doesn't want to do but it nags him constantly. The amount of happiness and freedom he will have if he just divorced you. No more yelling, throwing things, belittling, and no more of you being in his life. It felt like you were a thorn on his side, causing him pain but being unable to get it out. These thoughts plague him constantly but deep down it's not what he truly wants. You desperately need help. He wants to help you resolve your anger issues but he knows it won't be an easy task.

You finally leave the room after isolating yourself from the world. Kunikida braces himself for a barrage of insults but you don't say a word to your husband. You walk right past him as if he wasn't there. He walks into the kitchen with you, blocking you from leaving. He clears his throat before speaking up. "Dear we need to talk." He crosses his arms staring you down. His eyes dig into your soul making you feel uncomfortable. "We need to discuss your anger issues now. I'm quite fed up with your hostility to me. I'm your husband for goodness sakes yet you treat me like I'm a punching bag. You don't treat anyone like that at the Agency. There's a cheerful mask you wear to work everyday but the moment you come home it's a different story." Kunikida walks up to you causing you to be cornered. Alarm bells ring in your head when you don't see an exit. "You let out your anger on me, throw things, punching the walls, and slamming doors. You aren't my wife, you are nothing more than a child stuck in an adult's body. I'm quite sick of it!" Tears well up in your eyes as Kunikida yells at your face. Being cornered while having your husband yell at your face was a reality check for you. Now you know how it feels to be on the receiving end of it. Kunikida sees the tears running down your cheeks.

Kunikida snaps out of it when he sees you crying. He's never seen you cry, not since your wedding day. His hand reaches out to wipe away the tears. You calm down when he embraces you. "Please go get help for your anger issues. I know you're too afraid to tell me but at least try to open up even if it's a little at a time." Kunikida kisses the top of your head gently. "I promise to get the help I need. I'm sorry for treating you like garbage. I don't know what came over me to treat you like that." You sniffle as you try to calm down. "Can you come with me so I'm not alone?" Kunikida smiles and nods. "Of course my dear. I want to be there every step of the way."

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: "Do we have to get out of bed?"

Pairing: Rook hunt x GN!Reader/Prefect/Yuu

Genre: Fluff

TW: The characters are aged up, use of "mama" as a gender neutral term for a parent.

AN: It's time for the man, the myth, the legend himself: Rook! Ngl, this hunter gave me a ton of trouble with the fic. I'm still a bit unhappy with this, since I know it isn't one of my best works, but it is something. Happy birthday to everyone's favorite hunter <3 I hope you enjoy ^^ (PS: at one point, the reader is referred to as "mama". It is supposed to be read as a gender neutral term for a parent. If anyone who's fluent in French knows an actual gender neutral term for parent, please let me know ^^)

You opened your eyes to the chirping of birds outside your room, and the feeling of strong, warm arms around your middle. The warmth behind your body shifted slightly, pulling you closer and making you smile.

"Rook."

The blonde haired man hummed, letting you know that he was awake. Soft lips graced your neck with careful and slow kisses, a routine he performed daily as a sign of his love.

You turned in his hold, eyes softening as they met those of your husband. Rook smiled at you.

"Bonjour, mon amour," he hummed, leaning slightly to place yet another kiss, this time at your lips. Pulling away, he continued speaking in that slightly raspy tone that he always got in the morning, "Did you sleep well?"

You nodded, absentmindedly running your fingers over the slight stubble on his face. Rook let you do as you pleased, his eyes not straying a moment away from yours.

The sliver of sunlight coming in through the gap between the curtains framed the soft domestic scene that was your reality. You knew there were things to do, responsibilities of real life that would have you be separated from the arms of your beloved husband soon enough (a crime, truly). But these precious few moments, ones Rook insisted on experiencing every morning, gave you all the energy you would need to complete your daily tasks and come back to your husband's loving embrace each night.

After a few minutes of just staring at each other in content silence, you asked, "What are your plans for today?" Rook sighed, closing his eyes and burrowing in your hair. "I'm taking the twins to visit maman et papa. They've been asking to see them lately."

"Have you told them that they will be here for Christmas?"

"I did, but they were insistent," Rook hummed, fingers making lazy circles on your hip. "Will you be joining us, my dear?"

"I would love to, but there's some things I must get done today. And if you're taking the kids out of the house then I can buy their gifts and hide them."

"Ah."

"Give my regards to mom and dad, hm?"

"Of course mon amour."

You smiled, then made a move to get up.

Rook's hold on you tightened, and he pulled you right back where you started, body flush against him. Laughter left you shaking in his arms slightly. "Rook, we need to get up."

"Must we? Surely a few more minutes with me would not hurt~"

Before you could reply that yes, you two did need to leave the bed, a knock sounded on the door before it was opened, and in ran your two children, the apples of your eyes.

The boy immediately jumped onto your bed, shaking an amused Rook, "Papa! Papa wake up! We gotta go!" The blonde man let out a chuckle, letting go of you to take your son in his arms and tickle him. Peals of laughter left both son and father as they engaged in some play-fighting, Rook making sure not to be too rough with his child.

Your daughter, on the other hand, calmly stood near your side of the bed, looking at you with a sleepy smile. The calmer counterpart to her excitable brother, she gently tapped your arm with her palm. "Morning mama."

You scooped her up in your arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead as you sat her on your lap. "Morning sweetie."

Both of you watched the boys as they played around, messing up the bedsheets in their fun. Your daughter cheered her father on, and the betrayed look your son sent to his twin had you laughing.

What a perfect start to a perfect day, for the perfect family you had made with the love of your life.

Back to Masterlist...

[magneticallyyours]

Yo The Matrix!! I just started rewatching them for the first time in well over a decade. Didn’t even know there is a fourth (although apparently they recast someone which I’m not too excited for but we’ll see). Anyways, might I request an Agent Smith x Redpill!Reader where Smith doesn’t think she smells rotten like the rest of the matrix and it’s human occupants so he tries to catch her so she can’t escape back to the real world? She finds him unique from the other Agents but ultimately won’t surrender her freedom. She also has a sense of humor and enjoys the thrill of their cat-and-mouse chases. You can make it somewhat angsty if you like. Please and thank you!

𝗘𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗦𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲 || Agent Smith x Reader

Summary: You're supposed to run from the monster in horror games. Even in movies. Yet why is Mouse.. running towards it? Towards him. She knows she shouldn't, but she does it anyway. The antidote mustn't be intrigued by the virus. But he is. What happens when you make bad decisions? You get bad outcomes. Wordcount: 1.4k

cw: Angst

The feeling drove him crazy. 

If it even was a feeling, that is. He wanted to tell himself that it was not one. It didn’t click into place the first few instances. But the more he lingered, the more he dwelled on it… It became painfully apparent. Just like the rest of them, she had some sort of a moniker. That didn’t seem to matter to Smith, as she was always ‘Mouse’, as he named her. Befitting, for she really was such a pest. A nuisance. Yet one he didn’t want to be rid of. Oh, no. He liked the thrill. He reveled in it, in fact. In this zoo of nothingness, this was the one thing he could truly relish in. Did he like the chase or the inevitable end? He wasn’t sure. Human beings disgusted him. She shouldn’t be any different, but she was. Somehow. That in and of itself was surprising. Annoying quips, cocky smirks and those god-awful jokes. But then there was the other side of it all. Times when her eyes shone with uncertainty, when her heart was hammering. Just barely slipping from his grasp. Those moments were all he craved. The terror in those irises, overpowering every other emotion.The mere knowledge that he was the reason behind it.. He simply could not get enough. He had to have more. 

Meanwhile, Mouse was faced with a different, less apparent dilemma. Her whole self identity wasn’t in question like it was for the agent. It was a lingering thought in the back of her mind, sure. Maybe an underestimation, but we’ll stick with that. For now. The Agents were her– Humanity’s, she corrected herself— Enemy. But then she kept running into them. This would’ve been fine, if she didn’t start suspecting most of those were purposeful. She wasn’t crazy enough to want to run into the agents, yeah right. Okay, maybe a part of her thought she indeed was that crazy. Or knew. But it just couldn’t be. She liked her freedom, her independence. The agents were the exact opposite. Mouse almost forgot she was supposed to be eating amidst all this. Alas, she was brought back to reality by her teammates’ chatter. Same old grey, nutritional slop for lunch. How lovely. 

Days seemed to occur on repeat. Same conversations, slop. More slop. More fictional than The Matrix itself, she scoffed at the thought. After a long time of doing things around Zion, they finally had something meaningful to do. The crew, including her, were going to be freeing another unfortunate soul from the matrix. The task went smoothly, much to their collective surprise. Mouse wanted to stay back, if only for a moment. Just to breathe in nonexistent air. To look at the scenery. As if. Really, she was waiting for something to happen. Anything. Stopping to smell the roses? More like being idiotic. More like wanting to see the very person you’re supposed to be running from, again. Smith couldn’t believe it. The sheer level of overconfidence and arrogance she must have– All that didn’t seem to matter, as he was here now. Chasing after her, like he always was. And maybe, just maybe, as he always will be. This was either dumb luck or misfortune, and she couldn’t decide which.

The rush from the chase was.. Unparalleled, as she hoped. Her boots clicking against the asphalt as she turned into an alley were loud enough to block out even her judgemental, concerned inner voice. She couldn’t afford to think now, something she should have done before taking this decision. Her team was safe. It was just her, wasting time. Putting it like that, it stung. It’ll be okay, she reassured herself. The telephone was not far at all. Room 409. A cakewalk. Or atleast, it would’ve been. Until a gunshot rang out, just missing her and hitting- You guessed it- The phone, instead. The sound of her hopes shattering to pieces. The black pieces of the receiver lay on the floor. Silence. It registered, after so long, that it was just him. Just… Smith. And Silence. She was convinced she would meet the same fate as the telephone receiver, but apparently.. Not? He stood there, lips pressed into a thin line. She could see herself in the reflection of his dark glasses. He took a step closer, she took a step back. His gun was holstered, now. His deft fingers instead moved to the rims of his glasses, pulling it off swiftly and pocketing it. His blue irises were definitely something to write home about, but instead she scoffed. 

“You do realize I could shoot you at any time-?” A useless jab. An idiotic one. But she knew there was no outcome in this where she came out alive. Wasn’t this what she wanted? The corner of the agent’s lip twitched. “I’m well aware, Mouse.” Another step closer, she was backed into the wall by now. A fair bit of distance separated them, but it felt impossibly close, nonetheless. “But you and I both know that you won’t.” There was just enough light in the hotel to illuminate his features. But not quite. His pupils were dilated. Devoid of feeling? She could tell that her assumption was wrong. “And why’s that?” She half laughed. What else was there to do? “You brought this upon yourself. You waited… For me.” Her silence was his answer as he took his final step, observing her expression like you would a specimen on a microscope. 

“You… puzzle me, little mouse.” That wasn’t something she expected. That glint in his eyes that she couldn’t quite place- It kept her on the edge. Uncertain. Thrilled. Her brain couldn’t come up with a fitting descriptor. He continued to speak. It wasn’t a question, after all. This was hardly a conversation. “I’m going to be honest with you. I… Hate, this place. This zoo. Whatever you want to call it. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand your kind. Your virus of a kind.” He paused for a moment. His gaze commanded her attention. “It’s the smell. If there is such a thing.I feel saturated by it.” Smith’s hand tilted her face up by the chin, his every movement analytical. “I can taste their stink, and every time I do I feel I have been infected by it. It’s repulsive. But not you. You.. are different, mouse. An anomaly. One I should eradicate… But perhaps one I should observe.” Her heart was hammering against her ribcage as sweat dribbled down her temple. What was he saying? Smith’s other hand pressed against her, where her heart would be. “Panicking? I thought you were above this, mouse.” He tsked. “What did you ever hope to achieve, I wonder,” He mused, smoothing his thumb over her cheek, “By waiting for me? Tell me.” Words were hard to form. Smith asked her the one question she dreaded asking herself. Why.  

Her reply was as predictable as the rest of her kind. “I don’t know.” He clicked his tongue at that, shaking his head disapprovingly. “Oh, but I think you do know. That is precisely what fascinates me. You are… a contradiction to your very existence. Is it an obsession? Or are you– truly maniacal, going against the fight or flight instinct that’s been driving you since you came into being? Pathetic… Only human beings could act in such a manner.” Smith scoffed. She wasn’t sure what to say. Her lips parted in astonishment. Terror. A mix of it all. “Nothing to say..?” He hummed. “That’s quite alright.” The agent leaned in just the smallest bit closer, making her heart soar. So close to- “You’re not going anywhere, Mouse. Wherever you manage to run off to, I’ll find you. Why, you’ll come running straight back to me. All because..” 

His gun was pressed to her temple now, and she damn near screamed.

Click. His lips were on hers, robotic in nature. Not because he wanted to, she didn’t think… Because he could. He knew this would last in the back of her mind for a while. Because he knew her, somehow. And she… almost didn’t mind. That was the worst part. The gun to her temple served as a reminder that this was not some fairytale. This was the culmination of her horrible life choices. The moment could have gone on for what felt like forever. There was a faint ring originating from one of the adjacent rooms. Wait.. a ring?

“Ah. There’s someone on the phone for you, Miss (L/N).”

[stromuprisahat]

"I didn’t know whether to laugh or scream."

Siege and Storm- Chapter 15

Oh nein! Mal has issues! With consequences of his actions he should be grateful for, and his girl not sharing every waking thought with him, when her worst worries spring from his most hated topics- the Darkling and her role in politics.

And Alina once again feels responsible for his feelings.

Yeah, this would have a bit more weight, if Alina didn't do it only for appearances' sake. Or if she granted the position due to merit, not random pick of what she views as the lowest low. Or if she didn't continue speaking as if she were a narrator of wildlife documentary, describing a new species of animal that just appeared.

Not necessarily, but it's one of Alina's less far-fetched deductions.

Aleksander could've been aware of David's fascination with Morozova's work. He could've picked the most skilled in bonework or the one most experienced in forging amplifiers- they're supposed to be rare, so not many Fabricators will have that.

*mumbles* And somehow we're to believe this pragmatic man chose to follow Alina, because... ? She's the good one, or whatever?!

*chants* Double agent Kaminsky, double agent Kaminsky!

Alina: Why would you want to kill this man! How horrible! At least question him first!

She would make a delightful morally flexible character, if she were acknowledged as such, and embracing that quality.

Says who? Zoya?

He KeEpS mE So BuSy!

Saints, Alina, you can't believe everything people say about themselves!

Alina: I'm not sure my three months of training are enough, but I can do like two things with my powers, so let's focus on increasing them further AND on the mythical forbidden art that created my goal no. 1 in the first place. I bet nothing can go wrong...

Only signing? Not reading to get into picture? And who prepares them?!

Bureaucracy, baby!

Welcome to responsibility!

I would sympathize with Alina much more, if she showed genuine interest in those she doesn't know. If her motivation weren't merely "Do the opposite of (what I think) the Darkling did". I she truly believed in her own philosophy.

Shocking!

People forced to sit next to half-strangers they're not used to interact with, create unpleasant atmosphere!

My work experience considered- you're lucky there's no visible enmity- you could've made the wrong people sit next to each other and tableware could've ended up in wrong bodyparts.

Also: How is Nadia sitting next to Marie? I thought breaking up already existing friend groups was a point of this whole exercise.

They're not gifts, Nikolai. They're just your father's property, but let's remember the Darkling didn't wait for the Queen to request a specific one's service, and turned it into a gesture of his own thoughtfulness. Fuck his strategems!

Alina's misplaced sensibilities are incredibly frustrating.

She wants to lead Second Army, but not order them, not assign them tasks directly, because that would somehow make her a bad person, instead of efficient leader.

What if no one will volunteer? What if weak, incompetent Squallers will? You don't look at special assignment and think- Yeah, whoever wants to do it... You PICK the most capable person with both sufficient skills AND suitable personality.

Awwww!

Poor granny deserves an Oscar!

[lemonhemlock]

I honestly wonder if the writers are seeing what people think about/of this season or if they only look about the ones whonloves everything because they're here to "win" and don't care about the story in any way, because at this point is all a mess (yes, it had some thing that were ok, but it's... bad) and I can't see people really enjoying it

Even thought there's always someone saying "ACTUALLY" and whay if I just scream lol?

It's something I see happening all around, this "defence" squad of a media where the only goal is to gi against every criticism of said media

so there are two things to consider there: the general audience and the critics. since the general audience is made up mostly of team black stans and sympathizers, anything that portrays rhaenyra in a slightly less idealized light is going to get pushback. so i think the writers are honestly blind to that criticism bc they will kind of be expecting that, which is why they already treat rhaenyra with kid gloves.

the fans who are upset over the greens' writing are significantly fewer and honestly i think the writers have such a warped understand of the asoiafverse and of grrm's themes that they just see us as delulu. to them the greens = villains, so any attempt to humanize them a little must be way more than enough in their minds: to them, they have done the greens justice because they're not horrible monsters like ramsay or euron or joffrey. to them, of course they should be constantly punished, of course they should feel shitty, of course they don't really care about each other.

as far as the critics are concerned, i.... do not think that people who have not read the books + Fire & Blood are able to truly understand what the hell is going on here, because they just lack the context. even if they are professional critics. they HAVE just fallen out of the coconut tree in this story. because, if you expect the dance of the dragons to be this classic woman-gets-usurped-by-her-evil-brother's-family storyline, with a hero side and a villain side, as long as you humanize the villains a little bit and give the heroes some flaws, you're going to think this is business as usual.

if, instead, you know this is supposed to be a story in which both sides have equal weight in heroism and villainy, then the adaptation is horribly written. if you are familiar with the source material, you KNOW that rhaenyra has never been in any way this messianic figure tasked with ensuring a prophecy that will save the world. of course that changes the stakes massively, as well as one's opinion of the character and of the way others should interact with her. the dance of the dragons has never been about "saving the world" from the threat of the Others, it's the consequence of feudalism, patriarchy, not having an easily implementable legal system because you lack basic democratic institutions and the indifference of nobles towards massive destruction and civilian casualties.

i would have hoped, at least, that a professional critic could consider some egregiously out of place elements, such as the effusive praising of viserys, but HotD S2 has a score of 70 on Metacritic and i haven't seen any think pieces asking why the show is celebrating alicent's abuser, even by alicent herself. but, apparently, even in 2024, we are not asking ourselves why are we not calling out a 50-year-old man impregnating a teenager repeatedly against her will. 🤷‍♀️ i'm sure that for many it doesn't even track bc of the "it's game of thrones so it's to be expected" brainrot, as if those things were never meant to be critiqued and are just par for the course in this world