#asking them to change/not play their character

[losver07]

my thoughts exactly, but like imagine canon marauders playing it??? using magic to move the figures and stuff????

the marauders 100% would have played d&d

james hosts in his parent’s basement

peter loves making up the stories

sirius LOVES dressing up in the whimsical outfits

remus claims he hates it but keeps showing up? every? friday? night?

[starpeachjelly]

Kindred Spirits ₊˚⊹⋆

prologue part 2

prologue part 1

summary: Your worries about changing the story have started to fade. You've only interacted with her and Caleb so far. As long as you don't bump into anyone else you believe that everything will be alright.

warnings: accidental injury. stab wound. brief mention of blood.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: thank you to everyone who read, liked, reblogged, and commented on part one! i'm so glad you're enjoying this story. the prologue will be split into three parts that focus on reader's childhood with some characters. the official chapters will take place when reader is an adult! but for now enjoy! constructive criticism is always appreciated too since im trying to work on my writing!!

When your family tells you that you're all headed to Josephine's for dinner you don't really think much of it. After all, your family has been invited over countless of times before due to your shared closeness with her. It should be just another regular shared super. But when you walk up to the house, your feet instinctively starting to drag on the pavement, an uneasy feeling washes over you. Nothing seems amiss as you're welcomed inside. The only noticeable difference is the couple who are sitting on the couch. There's a sense of familiarity in their features that you can't quite place your finger on. Josephine introduces them as friends of hers. And you can't help but wonder if they're from EVER. You barely have the time to get introduced to them before you're probed by your parents to go play with the others with an eagerness that reveals how impatient they are to start drinking.

Three pairs of eyes land on you the moment you step foot into her room. There, sitting on the floor is who you immediately recognize as a young Zayne. You suddenly understand why you felt so anxious when coming over, as well as where the familiarity of the couple (who you now know to be his parents) comes from. If you weren't so shocked you'd mentally slap yourself for not being more careful in keeping your distance. You knew Zayne would make her acquaintance at around this time in her life. You're a bit startled when she grabs your hand and sits you down between her and Zayne. His gaze is filled with such seriousness that you wonder if he knows that you don't belong in this moment. Instead, he greets you with a formality that catches you off guard. Even as a child he's stoic and pragmatic. It's impossible to stop an endeared smile from tugging at your lips. You tell him your own name. He only nods, not talking much after that as you all play whatever game she wishes.

Zayne remains silent throughout dinner. You're sitting next to him again, just as quiet as he is. Everyone else at the table is talking enough for the both of you. Your mom and Zayne's mom are chatting about what they do for work. Josephine is discussing with Zayne's dad about something you don't quite understand. And your own father is talking to Caleb and her about his adventures as a pilot, both of them listening intently with wide eyes.

In the corner of your vision you notice the carrots that remain on Zayne's plate. The orange sticks standing out on his otherwise empty dish.

"Can I have your carrots?" you ask, breaking the silence between you both, wanting to save him from being scolded for being a picky eater.

Hazel green eyes widen ever so slightly, a barely noticeable hint of surprise written on his face. He nods and turns his plate to give you easier access to the vegetables.

Silence quickly settles back between the two of you, but you catch him looking in your direction a few times throughout the rest of dinner.

Eventually the night comes to an end, and you pat yourself on the back for handling this unexpected surprise pretty well. For once you don't even feel anxious about impacting the story. A single chance encounter with twelve year old Zayne surely won't change anything.

Unfortunately for you, nothing is ever that simple. Zayne officially becomes part of your group a few days later. He doesn't talk much, and you don't either, wanting to let the three of them enjoy themselves together. However, whenever she notices you being quiet for too long she seems to go out of her way to make sure you're involved in conversation. She even goes as far as to brag about how smart you are to Zayne, telling him that you two should talk about "smart stuff" together. Which leaves you laughing awkwardly because you know that even with your past memories you're not nearly as smart as he is. But to your surprise he starts talking to you a little more often after that. You assume it's because he doesn't want to disappoint her. No one wants to be on the receiving end of her puppy eyes, they're lethal.

Time passes, the last couple months of school come to a finish. Summer break comes and goes. Your days are filled with you four hanging out nearly every day. Unfortunately your fun comes to a halt when the last week of summer rolls around. You know that things are going to change. Based on the events of the story, Zayne will soon lose control of his evol and hurt her. So you start to mentally prepare yourself for what's about to happen. In your mind you know they'll both be okay, but your heart aches knowing that they'll both end up hurt, and that you can't stop it. But that key moment doesn't happen. At least not in the way it's supposed to play out.

She's not even in the room when it happens, having gone to the kitchen to get more snacks. It's just you and Zayne, and a sudden chill that starts to creep across the room. You watch as his usual calm demeanour slowly shifts into one of panic as frost begins to spread across his hands and arms. Everything happens so quickly that you barely have time to process it. One moment you're watching with wide eyes as frost turns to crystals that are now inching up all the way to his neck, the next shards of ice burst and fly across the room. You try to shield yourself, but one manages to pierce into your abdomen. Maybe it's the shock, or the cold, but you don't really feel anything except for a numb tingle. Your eyes are glued to your wound, watching as red starts to dye the bluish ice. The sight should panic you, but for some strange reason you know you'll be okay. When you look back up, Zayne is staring at you in shock. His eyes filled with guilt and fear. You immediately reassure him.

"It's okay," you tell him with a calmness to your voice that surprises even you.

Josephine enters the room. She's quick to call the paramedics. A pair of footsteps can be heard coming back from the kitchen. You immediately ask Josephine to keep her away, not wanting her to witness what's happening.

Zayne is still looking at you with that same heart wrenching expression.

"It's okay," you assure him once again, "It was an accident."

You don't look away from each other. Even when the paramedics arrive. Even when they wheel you to the ambulance. Your eyes are on him until the very last moment.

Zayne is gone by the time you get out of the hospital. You've tried so hard not to impact the original story as best you can, only to end up taking her place in a key moment in their story. Unfortunately there's nothing you can do now since he left without so much as single word. You're left hoping that this hasn't changed too much of their future.

Luckily she remains unaware of what happened, having been told you were simply not feeling well. (Which technically isn't a lie since being stabbed doesn't feel good.) However, despite being oblivious to the incident, every time you two are together you notice that she looks at you with something akin to worry. Thankfully her concerned gazes stop after a few weeks, so do the mentions of Zayne.

Things go back to normal, as if the event never happened. All you're left with is a faint scar from where the icicle had stabbed you. You don't mind it. It's small, and always hidden under your shirt. But you can't help but trace over it whenever you get undressed. A chill runs down your spine every time you see it. A reminder that you're now written into a story that you shouldn't be a part of.

tag list: @moonchildjae00 @elegantdeerlady @hon3yydew @chocochip-gaia @solmanel1 @wooasecret @peachystea @seung185 @mcdepressed290 @whimsiecat @shadowypeachsweets @animegamerfox

a/n: thank you all sm for your comments they mean the world to me!! 🥺💕

[creativiteaa]

Mac from Date Everything is an innacurate wheelchair design, let's talk about it! Also, before anyone says, "they were going for a computer theme!" I am aware! That does not change that this is a bad design.

For anyone who does not know me, hello! I'm Solstice. I'm a full-time wheelchair user and functionally non-ambulatory. I know my way around a wheelchair considering I use one in my everyday life.

First off, Mac has a hospital style wheelchair. a hospital style is essentially any wheelchair you'd get or use in a hospital. I'd like to clarify that I know some disabled and chronically ill people use hospital style wheelchairs, but a lot of the time in media, depictions of wheelchair users show hospital style wheelchairs NOT for representation, but out of ignorance for active ultralightweight manual wheelchairs.

On the left is a Drive brand hospital style wheelchair. On the right is my personal custom wheelchair.

Mac's armrests are also disproportionate to the rest of the wheelchair. There are definitely people who have armrests on their custom wheelchairs! I have armrests but have taken them off, personally. The issue on Mac's wheelchair arises when their armrests are not only incredibly high, but their drive wheels (the big wheels in the back) are disproportionately small. And while on the topic of their drive wheels, they have no push rims, and no other features like a joystick to show that this is a power chair. The camber tube (tube between the two drive wheels under the seat of the chair) is also way too low. The camber tube goes towards the bottom of the wheel, not even the center of the wheels. Those drive wheels would be unable to roll.

Mac's castors are also very big. Castors can range in size but Mac's castors are so big I don't think that wheelchair could turn- the castors would hit either the footplates or the drive wheels! And with the castor assembly, Mac's castor has an axle system instead of a fork system. Those castors couldn't even turn because they can't freely swivel!

Mac's backrest looks hard and uncomfortable, and it's very tall. Some people need or opt to have high backrests, but this is not accurate to what a rigid backrest would be like. Mac also does not have a cushion, or a very tiny cushion, which would cause pressure sores and also just be uncomfortable.

I'd like to conclude that I hold no ill will towards the artist, designer, devs, fans, etc. But I did want to talk about this since Mac's wheelchair design feels like it wasn't researched much at all. I love that the devs wanted to include a disabled character, but you have to do research. I was really interested in playing this game but Mac's design really did turn me off from the game. I hope this is something that could potentially be amended.

My ask box is also open to questions, comments, concerns, etc.!

[cbeargyu]

跡継ぎの妻 – the heir’s wife – EPILOGUE

summary: you marry a stranger in silk—his lips stained with blood and tradition. what starts as a marriage of convenience between a yakuza heir and a public figure spirals into something neither of you were prepared for: protection that tastes like devotion, duty twisted with longing, and kisses that come too late to be innocent. in a world where bullets speak louder than hearts, love might be the most dangerous vow of all.

pairing: yakuza!yuta x model fem!reader

genre: mafia/yakuza au, arranged marriage, slow burn, angst, romance, family legacy, redemption arc, emotional healing, found family, power couple dynamic, smut-heavy, character-driven

warnings: explicit smut (multiple scenes), dom/sub dynamics, power play, breeding kink, degradation praise, spanking, explicit dirty talk, creampie, possessiveness, worship kink, rough sex, emotionally charged sex, soft aftercare, public display of dominance, mature themes, violence, blood, weapons, death of a sibling (mentioned), grief, guilt, trauma processing, complex power dynamics, yakuza activity (organized crime themes), arranged marriage (turned consensual), emotional manipulation, emotional dependency, toxic loyalty, gender roles (challenged), parenthood, tattoos/irezumi (traditional), symbolic death/rebirth, canon-typical violence, knife imagery, psychological tension.

wc: 2,3k

part i. part ii.

taglist: special dedication to this anon.

@beestvng @bamtor1sss @turtash @amazinggraxia @rubiiisyeon @doiestars @7dreambaby @joepomonerof @hanxxz @sunghoonsgfreal @evebionc @unlikelyeaglegirl @hyucksnctzen

by 2004, the house felt different.

not smaller, not quieter — just fuller. the halls that once echoed with tension now hummed with the sounds of daily life: children’s footsteps chasing one another down the engawa, the murmur of a radio left on in the kitchen, the rustle of sliding doors pulled open and shut by hands that had never known violence. it was the same house, the same bones, the same garden just outside — now blooming again with early summer peonies and camellias — but something had shifted permanently. there was warmth where once there had only been steel.

yuta had changed too.

not softened — never that. he still ruled with precision, still carried the weight of his name and history with that quiet, dangerous grace that made men straighten their spines when he entered a room. but he had grown into something more. not just the oyabun of a clan that had expanded and stabilized under his leadership, but a man who no longer ran from his past — a man who returned to the shrine every year on the same date, with a boy at his side whose hand fit almost perfectly in his own.

shotaro was seven now.

sharp-eyed, quiet like his father, though he laughed easier, with a crooked grin he hadn’t inherited from either of you. he asked questions constantly — about honor, about names, about the tattoos he was not yet old enough to understand. yuta answered them all, never speaking down to him, never sugarcoating. and when he’d asked last winter, in the soft hush of snowfall outside, why he was named after someone in the ground, yuta had knelt, placed a hand on his shoulder, and simply said, “because the man you’re named after taught me what it means to protect something. and now that name belongs to you.”

and then there was tsubaki.

your daughter had arrived two springs ago, born under the bloom of the tree you had planted after your wedding. her name meant “camellia,” a flower symbolic of strength, love, and resilience — one that thrived even in cold seasons, blooming when others withered. and she lived up to every syllable of it. bright, fearless, stubborn as rain — with your eyes and your temper, and yuta’s impossible ability to control a room without speaking. she had already declared, at the age of two, that she would marry no one unless they brought her three swords and a horse, which shotaro immediately promised to steal for her. neither of you corrected them.

riku still came by every sunday.

he had changed the most — at least on the surface. now living in a glass-and-gold penthouse high above namba, he had risen through the clan ranks with that same street-born cunning and loyalty that had once earned him the right to drive your car in silence. he wore imported suits now, changed women like watches, and arrived smelling of expensive cologne and nights without sleep. but he never missed a visit to his mother, never missed a birthday, never looked at your children without that same big-brother warmth that had once shielded you both from the world outside.

the clan had grown too.

under yuta’s leadership, it had evolved — not sanitized, never clean, but refined. operations were quieter now, more surgical, layered with strategy and diplomacy that reached far beyond osaka. territories were protected, alliances kept in balance, and his name no longer needed to be shouted to be known. in meetings, he still sat in silence more than he spoke, but when he did, the room fell still. and you — you were still at his side. not as a shadow, but as his reflection. you handled affairs that didn’t touch violence directly: the security of the women, the education of the next generation, the negotiation of small conflicts before they became large ones. sometimes your word alone was enough to prevent bloodshed. you had learned how to wield power without raising your voice.

tonight, the house was quiet again, the kind of quiet that only came after everyone had gone to sleep. the children had been tucked in hours ago, shotaro with his wooden sword beside the futon, tsubaki curled up with her face in your old wedding kimono — the red silk wrapped around her like a dragon’s embrace. you had lingered a moment longer in their room, brushing her hair back from her forehead, listening to the way yuta’s footsteps slowed outside the door before continuing on.

now, he waited for you in the bedroom, already half-undressed, the soft glow of paper lanterns casting long shadows across his back. the tattoos were still vivid, still beautiful, age only adding depth to the black and gray lines that curled over his shoulder blades like the memory of fire. his robe hung loose around his waist, his hands resting in his lap. when you entered, he looked up and smiled — not the smirk he gave the world, not the careful calm he used with the clan, but something smaller. reserved only for you.

“they asleep?” he asked.

you nodded, untying your robe.

“both,” you said. “though tsubaki was threatening to lead a coup if we didn’t let her sleep in our bed again.”

he laughed under his breath, eyes following the silk as it slipped from your shoulders.

“she gets that from you.”

“i get the blame for everything.”

“you get the credit, too,” he said, rising, crossing the room toward you. “for this house. for the way i survived myself. for both of them.”

he stopped in front of you, hands coming to your hips, mouth brushing your jaw.

“for making me want more than survival.”

you leaned into him, pressing your palms against his bare chest.

“and what do you want now, nakamoto?”

he didn’t answer with words.

he pushed you gently back onto the bed, his body following yours, one knee parting your thighs as his lips dragged across your collarbone, slow and unhurried. he worshipped you as he had that very first night — with a hunger honed by time, shaped by memory. his hands roamed the map of your body like it was the territory he had built everything on, his tongue tracing the edge of your tattoo before sinking lower.

“mine,” he whispered, voice low, rough. “still. always.”

you gasped as he filled you — deep and claiming — his pace slow but punishing, each thrust purposeful, each breath a promise. he didn’t have to ask permission anymore. you gave him everything long ago. but tonight, he still earned it, inch by inch, word by word.

“i’ll fill you up again,” he growled against your neck. “mark you from the inside this time. want to see it drip from you, want to watch it take.”

you whimpered, the sound lost between kisses and heat, your body arching as he pressed harder, faster, claiming you like only he could.

“gonna make you beg,” he hissed, grabbing your wrists, pinning them above your head. “show you who you belong to.”

“you,” you gasped. “only you.”

he smiled — dark, triumphant, adoring — and fucked you harder, deeper, until your cries turned into broken syllables and your body trembled beneath his. when you came, it was with his name on your tongue, and when he followed, spilling into you with a low growl, it was with his hands cradling your face like you were the only thing still holding him to the earth.

afterward, he didn’t move from you for a long time.

just held you, your legs tangled, your breathing slow, your bodies sticky and warm and still joined.

“we made something beautiful,” he murmured, his hand on your stomach, your heart, your life.

“we did,” you whispered back, lips brushing his.

and outside the window, beneath the stars, the camellia tree swayed — blooming, still, after all these years.

you had left modeling the year after the ceremony.

not the wedding — that had been for politics, for tradition, for the sake of appearances. but the second one, the real one, the one held in the temple courtyard with your hand in yuta’s and the clan kneeling before you in reverent silence — that was when everything shifted. after that, the camera no longer felt like a doorway to your future. it felt like a relic. a different skin you had already shed.

there were reasons, of course. you were now the wife of an oyabun, a woman of weight and presence in a house watched by too many eyes. the responsibilities were real, and heavy, and sometimes they left little room for dreams you once chased across magazine pages and studio lights. you stepped down without bitterness. not because the dream had died — but because it had simply evolved. power, after all, had many forms. and now yours wore silk, moved quietly, and negotiated the survival of families with a single glance across a tatami room.

still, from time to time, the itch returned — subtle, low beneath your skin. so every few seasons, you would indulge it. a private session. a camera. sometimes a friend from your past came to shoot, someone who understood that this wasn’t for publications, for fame, for the market. these photos weren’t meant for the world. they were for you. and for him.

you posed in lace, in silk, in shadows. sometimes wearing only his haori, your tattoos catching the light in deliberate contrast to the softness of your skin. you never smiled in those pictures. only stared into the lens like you were daring it to forget who you had become.

yuta never watched you shoot. he always let you have that space — but he waited outside the room like a man expecting something sacred. and later, once the photos were printed and arranged in the quiet privacy of your study, he kept them. not hidden. just protected. a lacquered album on the highest shelf, filled with his wife — his woman — arching across bedsheets, eyes half-lidded with power, with pride. he opened it on long nights sometimes, when the house was quiet and the city below dared to forget who ruled it. he’d look through the pages slowly, fingers brushing each image like a prayer.

“mine,” he would whisper. “mine forever.”

in the summer of that year, shotaro turned eight.

he asked to visit the shrine again.

this time, you let him go alone with yuta. you stayed behind with tsubaki, brushing her hair on the veranda, the scent of roasted barley tea drifting from the kitchen. she sat still for once, curious eyes turned toward the mountain path that had taken her brother and father out of sight.

at the shrine, yuta let shotaro walk ahead.

the boy moved with quiet steps, his hands respectfully tucked into the sleeves of his light jinbei, the dragon-embroidered sandals scraping softly against the stone. he carried a single flower — a white camellia, picked from the tree you had planted years ago. he had asked why it mattered. you had told him, “because it blooms even in the cold, and some names are meant to live forever.”

when they reached the grave, yuta didn’t speak. he watched as his son knelt before the stone, bowed deeply, and placed the flower carefully at the base.

“thank you,” the boy said quietly. “for my name. for my father.”

he bowed again.

and somewhere, just behind the trees, the wind moved like a breath held and released.

that fall, you watched tsubaki from the doorway of the meeting hall.

she was barefoot, small but composed, standing at the edge of the gathering like she belonged to it. she didn’t speak. didn’t fidget. just stood with her arms behind her back, head tilted slightly — listening.

the men watched her, but no one dared correct her presence.

not with you in the room.

not with yuta at the head of the table, his eyes flickering to his daughter only once before returning to the conversation about territory, expansion, diplomacy.

afterwards, she ran to you.

“they listen to you,” she said with a child’s solemnity. “and they listen to papa. so one day, they’ll listen to me.”

you smiled faintly and knelt beside her.

“and what will you say when they do?”

she considered the question, frowning slightly.

“i’ll say that peace doesn’t mean softness. it means knowing where to place your blade.”

you didn’t laugh. only kissed the top of her head.

“good girl.”

years from now, perhaps it would all change. perhaps shotaro would take over the clan or tsubaki would carve her own empire from the bones of your name. perhaps the city would grow beyond your reach. but for now, in the golden hush of late afternoon, your legacy was safe. not in money. not in territory. but in the way your son placed his hand on his sister’s shoulder when she spoke. in the way yuta looked at you like nothing else had ever made sense before you. in the way your story — once marked by silence and fire and fear — now unfolded in softness, in laughter, in roots that stretched deeper than any wound.

one night, when the children were asleep and the world outside was too loud to hear, yuta pulled you into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. he didn’t speak. just kissed you slow. deep. hands finding the familiar path of your hips, your breasts, the soft bend of your knees.

he made love to you the way a man remembers — every scar, every sound, every place you had once trembled. and when he came inside you, forehead pressed to yours, whispering your name like an incantation, he didn’t ask for permission or forgiveness.

he simply said:

“thank you for staying. thank you for becoming everything i never knew how to ask for.”

and you smiled, the weight of time and joy and sorrow pooled between your bodies, and answered:

“thank you for giving me a name worth carrying.”

outside, the wind moved through the camellia tree again — still blooming.

always blooming.

just like you.

[destinysbounty]

I think I wouldn't mind Zane's NPC-ification quite as much as I do, if it didn't feel like they were also retconning the fact that he was ever a person to begin with.

Like, sure, I totally understand. Dragons Rising has a huge ensemble cast, and the RGB trio + new ninja are the clear focus. And I don't mind that! Everyone who does get proper narrative attention is written so wonderfully and I adore what we have. But...sometimes it feels like they're just kinda divvying up everything that makes Zane who he is and giving it to everyone else, and never even briefly acknowledging Zane's ties to those traits.

Remember when Zane used to have prophetic dreams foretelling future events? Me neither. Hey Lloyd, how are your visions coming along?

Or, y'know how one of Zane's most integral plot lines, character details, and motifs is his struggles with memory and identity? Remember that time he got amnesia and was then both manipulated and magically corrupted into being a villain? Nah that never happened, anyway check out what Jay is up to now

Or, does anyone recall how Zane is a canonically really good cook with pies so delicious they made Jay cry on screen? No that's Arin's thing, actually

Heck, we even have our quota of ~Silly Robot Beep Boop Bop~ jokes fulfilled by Lobbo!

Don't get me wrong, I'm not hating on any of the other characters for having these traits. Nor am I arguing that Zane should have a singular monopoly on these types of storylines. But when they take traits that have for so long been primarily associated with Zane, like cooking and visions and amnesia, and share them with someone else without even briefly acknowledging Zane's prior involvement...idk. It just feels like they're trying to repackage all the things that make Zane interesting while still writing him out of the narrative. It feels like they're going "whaat? Zane, have personality outside of being a generic robot character?? That never happened!" Like they're just trying to have their nindroid and kill him too.

And I mean, to some extent I can understand their hesitation. It's the same reason the Mr. E/Echo reveal got scrapped in s8 - theres just way too much going on right now, and the narrative load required to explain somwthing this complicated during a reboot/sequel would just bog down an already very complicated story. Zane has a very convoluted backstory that, for new fans dropping in to the sequel series for the first time, may be difficult to explain. How do you recap Zane's history with amnesia in a neat an tidy way for the next gen story, when there's already so much going on?

Like i said, i get that. But they could at least make, like, brief blink-and-youll-miss-it allusions, yknow? Like how they played the Ice Emperor theme during Zane's existential crisis during drs1, or when Zane told Zanth not to follow dancing birds in drs3. Tasteful, subtle, doesn't require much insider knowledge and newer fans could easily interpret it as a noodle incident comment without losing out on their comprehension.

Maybe after Jay gets eliminated from the Tournament, Zane offers to go after him saying, "I've lost myself once or twice before. If anyone understands what he's going through, it's me." And if you want to preserve the plot unobstructed, maybe you can have it so that either Zane fails to get through to Jay or Jay is gone without a trace before he can get to him. Maybe there's a brief scene of Zane making a pie to try and cheer Sora up, but she can't eat it because it reminds her too much of Arin. Or maybe Lloyd has a panic attack over his visions and Zane is the one to offer him the advice about not fighting the vision and letting it come naturally.

Don't you see how easy that is? You would change literally nothing about the story at large, and you're not detracting from the main plotlines or character arcs that are quite validly dominating this series. But you're also throwing a bone to the people who actually like Zane. Like???? I'm not even asking for much here, man :/

Idk. Maybe I'm just bitter and need to touch grass, who's to say

[jedi-luca]

Head Over Feet: Chapter Seven This Kiss

Summary: You didn’t know Dina before she came back to Jackson. She’s guarded, jaded, and carrying the weight of too many goodbyes. Now you can’t stop thinking about her. It’s a slow burn, and you’re patient… but will she ever let down her walls? Or will someone else reach your heart first?

Pairings: Dina x GN!Reader slowburn

warnings: spoilers if you haven’t played the game or seen the show. Slowburn 🔥❤️‍🔥

Previous Chapter

The sun had warmed the valley by late morning, burning off the last of the mist. Jackson came alive in these hours dogs barking, kids chasing each other between greenhouses, laundry lines swaying with wind-dried shirts.

You sat cross-legged in the grass outside the house, showing Charlie how to braid a daisy chain. Lili sat nearby, watching the two of you with a soft smile, while Mr. and Mrs. Cooper unpacked a modest lunch on the porch steps.

Charlie’s brow furrowed in concentration. “It keeps falling apart.”

You gently repositioned her hands. “You’re pulling too tight. Gotta be patient with it.”

Lili leaned over, offering a fresh daisy. “Try this one, bug. It’s got a long stem.”

Charlie looked up at her, grinning. “You’re good at this.”

“She’s always been good with messy things,” you said, glancing at Lili. “Art projects. Broken toys. Me.”

Lili met your eyes and held them for a second longer than necessary. “You weren’t broken.”

You gave her a little smile, quiet but warm.

Mrs. Cooper handed over a Tupperware full of peeled apples and peanut butter. “You still hate crusts, Y/N?”

Charlie gasped. “You hate crusts?”

“I don’t hate them,” you said, mock-offended. “I just respect the rest of the sandwich more.”

Mr. Cooper chuckled. “Some things never change.”

Lili added, “They used to hand me their crusts at lunch like I was a human trash can.”

Charlie wrinkled her nose. “That’s gross.”

“Character-building,” you teased.

For a while, it was just simple: apples passed between fingers, sun on your face, Charlie showing off her daisy bracelet to anyone who would look.

Then Lili asked, softly, “Do you ever think about your parents here?”

You looked down at your lap, fingers stilling.

“I do,” you said. “They would’ve liked this place. My mom loved birds; she’d have planted something for every kind. And my dad would’ve fixed every busted window in Jackson, probably would have been head of patrol.”

Lili was quiet.

You didn’t mind.

You kept your voice soft. “They tried so hard to prepare us. Our cabin was full of backup plans. But they never expected me to have to carry everything alone.”

Charlie crawled into your lap with a piece of bread in her hand. You kissed the top of her head and held her a little tighter.

“Your parents and brother would have been very proud of everything you’ve done here. They were good people.” Mr. Cooper says gently squeezing your shoulder.

You looked up. And Lili was watching you not with pity, but with that same grounded awe she’d had as a kid, like somehow you always made her believe in things again.

Mrs. Cooper smiled from the steps. “You’ve built something beautiful here and you’re raising a beautiful little girl.”

Charlie beamed. “I have two houses now!”

You laughed. “That’s right. And too many people sneaking you snacks.”

Charlie blinked up at Lili, then at her parents, a soft furrow between her brows.

“Did you know my mommy and daddy?” she asked.

Lili’s smile flickered, caught off guard. “Yeah, sweetheart. I knew them.”

She looked at Mr. and Mrs. Cooper for help.

“I remember your daddy when he was your age,” Mrs. Cooper said kindly. “He was always chasing your mommy around, always with dirt on his face.”

Charlie smiled a little. “My mommy?”

“Hmhm she lived next door to your daddy that’s how they fell in love.” Mrs. Cooper smiled lovingly

“She had the sweetest voice,” Lili added.

Charlie nodded solemnly, like she was trying to hold those details tight in her mind. “I think I remember her hair. It was soft like mine.”

You swallowed, something catching in your chest.

“And what about Y/N’s mommy and daddy?” she asked. “My grandma and grandpa?”

The Coopers exchanged a glance.

“They were good people.” Mr. Cooper said softly. “But I remember her mom made the Spaghetti I’ve ever had. And her dad?” He chuckled. “Your grandpa could scare off a mountain lion just by looking at it.”

Charlie’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Swear it,” he said, hand on his heart.

Charlie looked back at you. “Do you think they all miss me?”

Your breath caught.

You cupped her cheek gently. “They never stop.”

Charlie leaned against you, quiet now, little fingers twisting the hem of your shirt.

Lili reached over and rested her hand lightly on your knee. You didn’t look at her right away, but you didn’t pull away either.

And in the warm quiet, surrounded by a patchwork family stitched back together by time and grief and love, you let yourself wonder…

Maybe this was how healing started.

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Lili wasn’t living with you, but she might as well have been leaving a sweater on your chair, coffee mugs in your sink, little things like spare hair ties and half-used tubes of lip balm on your bathroom counter.

She liked to read next to you while you worked on repairs. She’d sit cross-legged on the couch, flipping through whatever old paperback she’d found in the library, occasionally interrupting to read you a line she liked.

Sometimes you cooked. Sometimes she did.

Once, you caught her slow-dancing alone in your kitchen to a record she found buried in your cabinet. She pulled you in without hesitation. You hadn’t danced like that goofy and loose, laughing into someone’s neck. She couldn’t keep her hands off you and vice versa.

And when she said, “This feels like something real,” you didn’t answer. You just kissed her again, because you felt it too and didn’t trust the way your voice would shake if you tried to say it out loud. You were in so deep you never brought up Canada.

There were still questions you hadn’t asked.

How long would she stay?

Where would she go?

What would happen to this, to you? When her family moves on?

You hadn’t said it, and neither had she.

But it hung there.

Every time her mom talked about their route to Canada. Every time Lili curled closer to you at night looking at you like she wanted to freeze time.

Still, you didn’t press it.

Because it was good. It was better than good. It was the kind of thing you didn’t want to break with heavy conversations or stupid expectations.

You weren’t naïve. You knew this might end.

But it didn’t feel like a fling. Not even close.

You’d loved Lili once, in the way that a teenager does — shy glances, passing notes, that electricity when your hands accidentally touched.

But now?

Now you were starting to fall in love with her as the person she’d become. As the woman who saw your scars and didn’t flinch. Who listened when you couldn’t find words. Who kissed your shoulder when she thought you were still asleep.

It was scarier than you expected.

But also… it made you feel alive again.

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Lili’s fingers traced soft circles on your forearm as the two of you lay on the bed, half-covered in the glow of the window, half-wrapped in the hush of dusk.

You thought back to Cam picking up Charlie earlier.

“I’m betting on you losing it tonight. If I win I don’t have to do laundry for a month.” Can smirked, leaving with Charlie.

“You’re quiet,” she murmured, brushing her thumb along the inside of your wrist.

“I’ve been thinking..”

“About?”

“About you.” you whisper, turning on your side.

“Dangerous,” she teased, and you smiled faintly.

She leaned in, kissing you slowly, like she had all the time in the world. And maybe, in that moment, she did.

“I want you, Lili.” you said, voice barely audible.

Lili stilled, lifting her head to look you in the eye. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, breath catching. “I’ve never done this before, but I'm in love with you.”

She kissed you again, this time with something deeper, reverent, patient, grounding. “I think I’ve loved you since we were kids.” She whispers.

It was perfect to you. It wasn’t choreographed. There were nerves and laughter and quiet moments of hesitation. But none of it mattered. She guided you through it with nothing but love. Because with her, it felt right. Safe.

The sounds of her moans spurred you on and on. You wanted to hear every whimper, every sigh, groan and moan from here on out. Mapping every inch of her body.

After, you lay tangled in the sheets, chest to chest, her fingers combing gently through your hair. You didn’t say anything, didn’t have to. Curled up in your arms like she understood the weight of what had passed between you. Like she wasn’t going anywhere, not tonight.

And for the first time, you felt like you’d stepped into something new. Something whole. Something real.

The morning after, you woke first.

For a long moment, you just stared at the ceiling, listening to the hush of the room. The soft, steady breathing beside you, the rustle of sheets when she shifted, the quiet creak of the house settling.

Lili was still asleep, tangled up in your blankets, half on her stomach with her face turned toward you, blonde hair fanned across your pillow.

You felt weightless and strong all at once.

There wasn’t a single part of you that regretted it.

You didn’t feel different, exactly not the way movies or books made it seem. But you felt anchored. Seen. And when you looked at her again, you felt calm in a way that hadn’t existed in you for years.

You brushed a piece of hair from her cheek. She stirred, eyes fluttering open.

“Hi,” she smiled, voice raspy with sleep.

“Hey.”

A pause.

“Last night wasn’t a dream, was it?”

You shook your head.

She smiled wider. “Good.”

You leaned in and kissed her as she giggled, slow and warm. It felt easy now. Familiar.

Like this was always where you were supposed to be.

She made you breakfast and coffee barefoot in your shirt. You kissed her shoulder just because you could. She smiled without looking up.

You were in love with her.

And it didn’t feel confusing, or unfinished, or like something you were chasing after. It felt like something that had found you. It truly felt like a love story unfolding, and to the town it was.

It started with a kiss.

Not the nervous kind. Not the careful, aching first one by the fire.

But the one a few days later, in the middle of Jackson’s main road, when Lili pulled you toward her and kissed you in front of everyone quick, soft and sure, like she’d never known hesitation. Her fingers curled around yours like she meant to keep them.

And you let her.

You smiled into her mouth.

And the town noticed.

It spread faster than news ever should. Whispers behind tomato crates. Smirks passed between kitchen staff. A few knowing nods from people you barely talked to.

But none of it mattered. Not really.

Because Lili looked at you like she knew your soul. And every time you touched her, the noise faded.

You rode into town with her hands around your waist, her chin resting on your shoulder. You split peaches on your porch, juice sticky on your fingers, her laugh easy and unbothered in your ear.

You’d never had something like this.

Never known what it felt like to be chosen out loud.

She reached for your hand during dinner. Called your name like it was a love song. Rested her forehead against yours at the stables and kissed you like there wasn’t a crowd nearby watching it all unfold.

And Charlie adored her.

She held Lili’s hand like she was made to fit there, all tiny fingers and soft trust. The three of you walking home from the mess hall felt like a picture you never thought would exist for you — warm, full, right.

Lili braided her hair on the porch. Read her stories at night. Kissed her on the forehead like she’d known her forever.

You didn’t want to think too hard about how fast it all came together.

You didn’t want to ruin it by asking how long something this beautiful could really last.

Still, you noticed Dina.

Not at first. Not in those first flushed days, when your world had narrowed to warm hands and sunlit bedsheets and the way Lili whispered your name when she thought you were asleep.

But then�� little moments.

You caught her once in the market, standing behind a cart of squash, her eyes on the two of you like she’d forgotten what she came there for.

You passed her by and smiled. Just a small thing — polite. She didn’t smile back.

Another time, at the stables, she walked in mid-laugh, mid-kiss, mid-something private between you and Lili. And you felt it. That flicker. That pause.

She didn’t say anything. Just turned, and left.

It started to happen more.

You’d feel her eyes on you in the mess hall. Out on the field. After patrol. Nothing was said but you could feel her pulling back, pulling in, like she was quietly making herself smaller.

You didn’t know what to do with that.

You had everything now. The love you’d waited for. The sweetness of being wanted back. It felt unfair to mourn someone who’d never really been yours.

But sometimes when Lili was asleep and the fire was low you’d remember the sound of Dina’s voice when she said she wasn’t ready.

And wonder. Could you have felt this way if it was her instead?

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Dina noticed a difference in you Not all at once, but in the way you carried yourself. The quiet peace in your face, the way your eyes didn’t search the crowd anymore.

She felt like she was an audience member watching a storybook romance come to life. The whole town talked about how cute and picture perfect you and Lili were together.

How could they not? You; this perfect dreamboat of a person and Lili a sweet blonde green doe eyed girl that made you lovesick.

Dina saw you walking through Jackson with Lili’s hand in yours. Saw you play with Charlie together, whispering and laughing about something no one else knew.

And it hit her one morning in the market when you passed her and smiled but nothing more.

You had truly moved on. You had given Lili something so sacred and not just your virginity but your heart.

And she hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been holding onto the idea that you wouldn’t.

She thought back to the moment she found out it was the last time she spoke with you.

A few weeks back

It wasn’t supposed to come out like that.

Cam had swung by the stables to grab some supplies. Dina was there, brushing down her horse, sleeves rolled up, brow sweaty from patrol. The two hadn’t talked much lately, not since the last town hall where things got heated over security detail. Still, there was a loose familiarity between them. The kind that lingered even when you weren’t feeling especially friendly.

“Hot out,” Cam offered, grabbing the reins beside her.

Dina nodded. “Yeah.”

They worked in silence for a bit. Just enough for Cam to let her guard down.

“You hear about the infected run near the old tracks?” Cam asked.

Dina shook her head.

“Y/N and Lili handled it. Took down ten, cleared the entire tunnel. No backup.”

Dina paused, just briefly, before continuing her work. “Of course they did.”

Cam side-eyed her. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Cam let out a soft whistle. “You’re never ‘fine’ when you say it like that.”

Dina’s jaw ticked. “Why are you telling me this?”

“No reason,” Cam said with a shrug. Then, too casually: “Just… damn. You’d never know that was their first week together. They work like a team. Maybe it’s all the… practice.”

Dina blinked. “What kind of practice?”

Cam froze. Shit.

“I mean-” she started to walk it back. “Nothing. Just-”

“You mean sex,” Dina said flatly.

Cam winced. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you meant it.”

Cam blew out a breath. “Look, I figured you knew. Y/N told me after it happened. It was… special. Not just sex. Like, real. The kind of first time people hope for.”

Silence.

Dina’s hands stopped moving. Her fingers curled tightly into the reins.

She nodded once. Too slow. Too controlled.

“I see.”

Cam backpedaled hard. “Hey Dina come on. I wasn’t trying to be cruel. You’re the one who told Y/N they deserved a better first time, remember?”

“I still said no,” Dina said, voice sharp now, low and bitter. “Even if I wanted to say yes.”

Cam hesitated. “Then maybe it’s good they’re with someone who wanted to say yes back.”

That was the wrong thing to say. Dina stepped back from the horse, stiff.

“I have to go,” she muttered, grabbing her pack.

“Dina…”

But she was already walking off. She didn’t turn back.

Later that evening you found Dina sitting on the edge of the greenhouse steps, half-shaded, legs stretched long across the stone path. The afternoon rain had passed, leaving the air thick and soft, the smell of wet leaves still clinging to everything.

She didn’t look up when you approached.

“Hey,” you offered gently.

“Hey.”

You sat beside her, keeping a bit of distance. The silence hummed between you. She was peeling a pear with a knife, slow and methodical. She handed you a slice without looking.

“Thanks.”

A bird chirped somewhere overhead. You watched it flit between the branches, trying to read her face from the corner of your eye.

“You okay?” you asked.

She shrugged. “Long patrol. Cam got on my nerves.”

You hesitated. “She say something?”

Dina paused. Her knife slowed for half a second.

“Nothing important.”

You nodded, but you felt the shift. Something had cracked between you, something small but sharp. You didn’t know what she’d heard—but you knew enough to suspect.

She finally glanced at you. Her eyes weren’t angry. Just… tired. Guarded.

“You seem happy,” she said softly.

You blinked. “I… yeah. I guess I am.”

She gave a hollow smile, then looked away again. “That’s good. You deserve that.”

You swallowed. “Dina…”

“Don’t,” she said, too fast. Then quieter, “Don’t say anything kind right now.” Her voice wavered on the edge of crying.

You sat back, hands curled on your thighs. “Okay.”

A moment passed. Then she whispered:

“Did you ever think about what it would’ve been like if she didn’t show up that day? After I poured my heart out?”

You looked at her. Her eyes filled with unshed tears. But her voice trembled like something had broken loose and she didn’t know how to catch it.

“I did,” you said honestly. “Of course I did.”

That made her inhale sharp through her nose.

“I told myself I was protecting you,” she murmured. “But maybe I was just scared.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

She looked down at the slice of pear in her hand, untouched. Then she set it aside and stood.

“I should go. I told JJ we’d read before bed.”

You nodded.

“Dina-“

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

She didn’t wait for you to respond.

And this time, you didn’t stop her.

[withering-daylight]

Hi! Would you be willing to do snotlout fic about him with a more shy/introverted reader

TOTAL OPPOSITES | SNOTLOUT JORGENSON x FEM!READER

(REQUEST) summery: reader is a quiet, calm person. She’s intelligent and good at flying with her dragon, but tends to keep to herself and nerd out with Fishlegs and Hiccup. Snotlout is the total opposite. He’s loud, doesn’t think when he speaks, and just flirts with any girl he sees. With that in mind, how in Thor are they even together?

Timeline: RTTE.

Warnings: none!

Word count: 750

A/N: I’m trying out a new layout and giving characters their own color for said layout because I felt like doing something different! Also this is essentially two drabbles smashed together.

You are a quiet person.

You weren’t one to be loud, nor cause arguments. You just observed and kept to yourself. The gang sometimes made remarks about your quietness, but they were never out of ill intentions. Beside, you didn’t care, really.

Snotlout was the exact opposite.

He was loud, energetic, bold, and, well, to put it simply: he doesn’t think before he speaks. He always made flirty remarks to you, and it was obvious he liked you. After a few months, you started to like him too.

Eventually he did ask you out during a patrol night when it was just you two. You said yes and now you’ve been with him for 3 months.

You were in the Clubhouse at Dragon’s Edge with the others. It was after dinner and you were reading by the center fireplace, occasionally looking up to observe the twins stupidity. Tuffnut was holding Chicken and telling her a story, and Ruffnut was annoying Fishlegs. Hiccup was making small changes to his hand-made dragon eye, and Astrid was practicing her axe throwing.

You were flipping the page in your book when you felt an arm wrap lazily around your shoulders, and the creak of a wooden chair beside you being sat on.

“What are you reading babe?” Snotlout asked, peering over your shoulder. He didn’t mind listening to your nerdy rambles, sure he didn’t understand half the things you said, but he’d still try to listen (or halfway listen).

“A book Fishlegs lent me, it’s about stormcutters.” You replied, not looking up from your book. Snotlout hummed in acknowledgment.

“Isn’t your dragon a stormcutter?” He once more asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Mhm.” You hum, flipping the page of parchment.

“But I thought you already knew a lot about them,” He said with a cocky grin, “does this mean you’re not knowledgeable of your own dragon?” He said in mock offensiveness. You simply rolled your eyes.

“I do know a lot about my stormcutter, but there could be more to know.” You grumbled, for once looking up from the aged parchment and glaring at him.

Snotlout took that as a sign to stop his teasing, and instead leaned in and kissed your cheek. Your cheeks flushed and you raised the book higher to hide the pink hue.

“You’re so smart.” He said, grinning, before moving away and playing with a strand of your hair. You sighed and curled up beside him, moving your gaze back down to the book and resuming your quiet reading.

The twins noticed this development and focused their attention on you and Snotlout.

“Has Snotlout always been this sappy?” Ruffnut whispered to Tuffnut, jaw dropping more and more every passing second.

“I don’t know.” Tuff replied in a whisper, looking as confused as Ruff.

Their whispering wasn’t exactly quiet because the rest of the gang looked at the two of you as well, a mixture of awe and disbelief painting each expression.

You and Snotlout didn’t notice, not when you two were in your own world. He was still playing with a strand of your hair, now with his head resting on yours and watching you read.

“So why are those two dating?” Astrid asked Hiccup and Fishlegs, watching as Snotlout dragged you into causing mischief with him and the twins. His reasoning being that you should get out of your hut more in your free time, and that you were too much of a goody-two-shoes and deserve to have some fun.

Hiccup gestured to you, “She manages to get him to read more and be involved in quiet conversation and activities,” he stated before Fishlegs continued, “And Snotlout gets her out of her shell and help her overcome her shyness.” He said with a nod.

“So.. they balance each other out?” Astrid questioned, putting a hand on her hip while her gaze was still on you, with you now holding Tuff’s chicken while he and Ruff hit each other’s heads, their helmets making a clink!

“Precisely!” Fishlegs said, snapping his fingers.

“I have noticed Snotlout being a bit more considerate, and he doesn’t even flirt with anyone now.” Hiccup mused before face palming at the sight of the twins both falling onto the floor in a daze.

“She’s definitely gotten out of her comfort zone a bit. She’s still quiet and reserved, but there’s a small change,” Astrid agreed with a nod. “They’re happy though, you can tell.” She added.

© withering-daylight — DONT CLAIM, TRANSLATE, MODIFY, REPOST, OR CREDIT YOURSELF FOR MY WORK ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED.

[bigification]

High Stakes DnD

Synopsis: Three men start a DND campaign and learn the hard way that whatever happens to their characters, happens to them in real life. As each of them transform, they have to work together to beat the campaign or be stuck the way they are forever.

"All three of you enter the dark and dingy lair, what would you like to do next?" Said the DM.

"Can I check for magical traps?" Jeremy asks, playing the wizard.

"Roll an arcana check." The DM responds.

Jeremy rolls a 14.

"There are no magical traps you can sense nearby, but you notice magic emanating from further into the lair."

"I want to shoot a flaming arrow down the dark corridor to try and see further." Dan asks, playing the elf ranger.

"Roll a perception check."

Dan rolls a 9.

"The flaming arrow doesn't light up as much of the corridor as you hoped. Though you do see a turn about 50 metres ahead of you."

"I'm gonna charge ahead! I can take whatever this lair throws at me." John says brazenly, playing the barbarian.

"Roll and athletics check."

John rolls a 1.

"Ooh that's unfortunate. You instantly trip and fall flat on your face. As you try to get up, your hand pushes down a pressure plate. As soon as the pressure plate clicks into place, a thick green liquid begins to shoot out of the floor. Make a dexterity saving throw."

John rolls a 7.

"You try to dodge out of the way, but you don't react in time. The stream of green liquid shoots directly into your mouth. You're shocked by how good it tastes, almost like a sweet tea. The liquid fills your stomach, leaving you extremely bloated."

"I want to pull him away from the trap."

Dan rolls a 16 on his strength check.

"You manage to pull him out of the trap, but not before litres of the mysterious liquid entered his body."

"Guys, I don't feel great." The barbarian expresses as he lays heavy against the wall.

"You suddenly feel a tightness grow under your armour. You look down to see your stomach has continued bloating, pushing out your chest plate. It keeps bloating and bloating until it becomes obvious that it's no longer a bloat. Within moments, your six pack becomes a round and hairy gut, protruding under your chest plate."

"Guys what's happening!?" John freaks out as the changes start to affect him in real life as well. His slim figure quickly swells as a large ball gut rides up his shirt, revealing a hairy gut underneath his shirt.

"You let out a loud burp that sends ripples through your soft belly. Next you hear your chest plate stretch as your solid pecs soften under a thick layer of fat. Your chest plate breaks in half, falling to the ground as your man tits sag onto your belly."

"Buuuurrrraaaappp" John let's out a massive belch as he grows a pair of soft man tits that press tight against his shirt. "Why does it feel so... Good?" He moans as his nipples triple in size and a forest of hair grows on his chest.

"Those strong limbs of yours don't fare any better. The chiseled definition in your arms is buried under soft fat, and your hands become swollen with thick fat filled fingers. Your thighs become thick as a tree trunk, making it hard for you to walk and your feet burst out of your tiny shoes. And that perky ass of yours becomes so big that it sags under its own weight."

The changes quickly apply to John, making the rest of his body match his hulking gut. His arms and legs swell, his hands and feet double in size, and his ass becomes so wide it doesn't fit in his chair anymore.

"And don't think that pretty face is safe either. Your once sharp barbarian features soften under layers of pudge. Your sharp jawline and strong chin melt into three double chins. Your cheek bones are buried under your chubby cheeks. You're finally left twice your previous weight, bursting out of your armour, and barely capable of moving."

John's transformation in real life also completes, making his face much wider and rounder. Unlike his fantasy counterpart, John does not have massive muscles to give him more definition under his fat. So he is left fat yet scrawny limbs and a massive ball gut that hangs over his waist.

"What the fuck just happened!?" Jeremy asks, surprised at watching friends balloon into a 300 pound blob of a man.

"I must have forgotten to mention it..." The DM says in a sinister tone. "Any changes that happen to your character in the campaign apply to you in real life."

"God I'm so hungry." John interrupts.

"Good thing there's a whole buffet prepared behind you buddy." The DM points to a table of food behind John.

"Wait, is any of this permanent?"

"Only if you fail to complete the campaign."

"Oh god, I can't end up like John."

"Let's just beat the campaign and get this over with."

"Fine, let's go."

"Let's walk to the turn I saw earlier."

"You make it to the turn with no problems, but the fat barbarian now has halved movement speed, so it takes you longer than you'd expect. Also, the barbarian's constitution has gone up by 4 and his dexterity has gone down by 6."

"I'm sorry, you guys just don't get how hard it is being my size." John complained.

"Whatever, let's keep walking."

"The hallway opens up into what seems to be a room, but it's too dark to tell. Roll a perception check."

Dan rolls an 18.

"You hear footsteps getting louder and louder from the darkness. You look in the direction of the footsteps and see a large figure emerge from the darkness. It lunges at you, but you manage to step out of the way just as a spear nearly misses you. Roll initiation."

Dan rolls a 22

John rolls a 14

Jeremy rolls a 6

"The top of the round is Dan. What would you like to do?"

"I want to shoot double arrows."

He rolls a 16 on hit for the first arrow, and 18 for the second.

"That's a hit, roll for damage."

"9 on the first arrow, 6 on the second arrow."

"Your first arrow lodges into the creature's chest, and the second into its arm. It lets out a guttural growl that echoes around the room as it rips out both arrows. It then lunges at you again with its spear. Does a 12 hit?"

"No."

"He lunges at you, but you quickly pull up your wooden shield. The spear slices through the shield but not far enough to hit you, and you notice a green liquid that is leaking from the tip of the spear."

"Can I pull on the spear to get a better look at the creature?"

Dan rolls a 15 on his strength check.

"You yank on its spear with all your strength, causing it to stumble forward. This brings it just close enough for you to tell that it is an orc, about 7 feet tall with big muscles, tusks, and dark green skin."

"Now it's your turn, John."

John looks up from his plate of food. "Oh, right."

"I will rage and swing my mace at him."

John rolls a nat 20 to hit.

"It's a critical! Now roll for damage."

"16 damage, doubles because of the Crit."

"Those big barbarian muscles are still hidden under your fat, and you use them to swing your mace directly into the orcs ribs. You hear a crack and his ribs snap, and you leave multiple stab wounds in his side from the spikes on your mace. The orc doesn't look good, but he's still fighting. In retaliation, he will try to right hook you. Does a 17 hit?"

"Yes."

"Despite his broken ribs, the orc charges at you and swings his fist right into the side of your jaw, knocking you on your ass. He deals 11 bludgeoning damage and you're knocked prone."

"Now it's the orcs turn. He will use his movement to sprint straight towards Jeremy."

"What! Why me?"

"He sees you as the weak link and he figures he can get one kill before going down."

"What the hell!"

"He lunges with his spear. Does a 14 hit?"

"Yes."

"He stabs his spear directly into your stomach, now you need to do a constitution saving throw."

Jeremy rolls a 9.

"Just barely fails. He deals 16 piercing damage and the liquid on his spear has made its way into your body, infecting you."

"It's my turn now, right?"

"It is, however, you are having trouble moving due to the infection taking over your body. You spend your turn writhing in pain. It is back to the top of the round, Dan's turn."

"I want to again shoot 2 arrows."

Dan rolls a 6 and a 17 to hit.

"The second arrow hits, roll for damage."

Dan rolls a 12.

"The first arrow flies by the orc, lodging itself into the wall. The second arrow flies directly into the back of the orcs head, piercing straight through and sticking out of his forehead."

"Fuck yeah!"

"I would take this as such a victory, as you hear painful grunts coming from the wizard."

"What?"

"As you approach, the wizard pushes aside his robe to reveal the spear wound. A growing green liquid is oozing inside of it, and it looks like the skin around it is turning green. The green ooze pumps through his veins, glowing through his skin as it's pumped all around his body. Finally, the ooze makes its way to the wizard's brain. Within an instant, his facial expression changes from pain to shock as two tusks grow from his lower jaw. They grow to about three inches long, pointing up towards his cheeks as his lower jaw widens to fit them. His nose also widens and his brow one becomes a lot more prominent as his eyes go from green to dark brown. His straight blonde hair becomes dark and coarse as it spreads down his side burns into a thick beard that covers his massive jaw."

"Guys, I don't feel so good."

Jeremy holds his head as if he had a sudden migraine. He looks up at his friends as his human features start to morph, just like his wizard counterpart. His jaw thickens as tusks grow from his mouth. His brow bone becomes more prominent, making him look like a dumb himbo. His skin starts to take on a green hue as his eyes turn brown and his hair becomes dark and coarse.

"You fall back as the infection takes over. That smart wizard brain of yours is starting to fail you as it becomes increasingly difficult to think. But it's not like you'll need that brain, you're an orc after all, you're quite strong. Your muscles swell, giving massive biceps, thick pecs, and a defined six pack as your wound begins to heal."

"Please help... Think... Hard."

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you."

Jeremy lets out a deep growl as his body starts to grow. His T-shirt and shorts tighten against his green skin as his muscles swell. His clothes rip in half in dramatic fashion, leaving him naked and showing off his growing dick. He brings his massive orc hands to cover his cock, but it's so big that it's near impossible to hide. Meanwhile, his perspective shifts higher and higher as his body grows to a hulking 7 feet tall.

"After your wound has fully healed, you stand back up, now towering over your party. Looking at your tiny elf friend fills you with a sudden confidence. You stand there for a moment to flex while your party watches in shock. Your biceps are massive and you can now bounce your juicy pecs, not to mention your perky ass cheeks. But after you're done with your one man show, John tosses you a cloth that doesn't fit him anymore, just so you can cover up your manhood. You look down at your wizard garb on the floor in pieces before grabbing the cloth and putting it on."

"Feel... Good."

Jeremy's voice is deep and gruff, no longer holding the wisdom he once had. He uses his thick hands to explore his new body, finding new bulging muscles all over his body. John and Dan just have to watch as his 12 inch dick starts to stick straight up in the air while he rubs his swollen muscles. He's only brought back to reality when his chair starts to creak under his weight.

"Can we just move on and get this over with."

"The three of you keep moving deeper into the lair, stopping every once in a while to let John catch his breath. The hallway becomes warmer and more humid the longer you venture."

"This has got to be a trap, I want to scout for traps."

"Roll a perception check."

Dan rolls a nat 20.

"Fuck yeah!"

"You carefully survey your surroundings, using sight, smell, and sound to scout for traps, but you don't find any. All you notice is a faint golden glow coming from the end of the hallway."

"I'll run ahead, I can end this. Just meet me up there."

"You run to the end of the hallway and see a large golden door, slightly ajar. You sneak in to see a large glittering cave, the floor covered in golden treasures and reflect the light all over the caves walls. What will you do?"

"I will try to climb up the treasure to get a better view of the cave."

"Roll an acrobatics check."

Dan rolls a nat 1.

"You try to climb a small pile of treasure, but lose your footing and fall, taking some treasure down with you. You slam on the floor, taking 5 bludgeoning damage before the treasure hits the ground, making a loud clanging noise that echoes throughout the cave. After a moment of silence, the ground starts to shake violently as you see a large figure emerge from the pile of gold."

"I want to hide."

"Roll a stealth check."

Dan rolls a 14.

"You manage to hide behind the pile of gold that you failed to climb. You hear heavy footsteps approaching you, each one shaking the ground. You hear sniffing coming from the other side of the gold pile, then it suddenly stops. The brief silence allows you to hear your heartbeat, but it doesn't last long as the creature swipes away the gold you were hiding behind. You stand still for a moment, struck by the creature that stands before you. It's a red dragon, at least 10 stories tall with a big scaly belly that hangs in front of him. It's also got quite big breasts, along with a long neck with a white mane and a white goatee."

"I want to run back to the hallway."

"Roll an athletics check."

Dan rolls an 18.

"You start sprinting as fast as you can back to the hallway. The dragon just laughs in response. "It's been a while since I've had visitors, it would be rude for you to leave so soon." The dragon says. He takes one step forward, covering more ground than you have since you began running. With one swift motion, he grabs you tight in one hand and lifts you up to his face. His breath is hot against your skin. "I could use a companion, one that'll never leave." The dragon says with a grin on his face. He starts casting a spell with his off hand, red particles swirl around his hand before he presses one of his claws into your chest, right in front of your heart. Roll a constitution saving throw."

Dan rolls an 8.

"You try to fight off the dragons magic, but it's too strong. A symbol etches into your chest where his claw was, signing your fate. You can feel it infecting your mind as your body starts to swell. Your shirt rips open as your stomach surges forward, growing into a thick beer belly that resembles that of the dragon. Your flat chest also grows into two soft breasts that lay on your gut. Your pants don't last long either as your thighs thicken to the point of ripping through them."

Similar to John, Dan starts to swell out of his clothes. He grows a ball belly that lays on his lap and two fat man tits that sag into his gut. His love handles squeeze against the arms of his chair, threatening to break through them.

"I... I want to... resist."

"It is too late to resist, the spell has reached your mind and has started erasing your core values and memories, leaving you as a blank slate. Meanwhile, your body starts to take on draconic features, just like your master. Your elven features melt away as a thick snout grows on your face with tusks and rows of sharp teeth. Horns grow on your head as red scales cover your face, making you look nearly identical to your master, save for the long neck. The red scales grow all over your plump body as a thick tail emerges right above your fat ass."

Dan's human features quickly morph into those of a dragon, just like his elven counterpart. The snout, sharp teeth, and horns, along with the red scales covering his body. Though he's forced out of his seat when his tail grows in, making it impossible for him to sit in any ordinary chair. As he gets back up, he flashes the table with his thick dragon dick, now that he's got nothing to cover himself up.

"I... Must serve... My master."

"As the spell finalizes, you are left as a loyal young dragon, eager to serve his master and one day grow strong like him. The spell makes it so that every time you do what his master says, you will grow, eventually becoming an elder dragon just like your master. Your master puts you down just as your party arrives."

"Dan? What happened?"

"My master made me a good dragon."

"Why is that dragon pretending to be Dan?"

"That is Dan, you dumbass! The dragon must have cast a dragons seal on him."

"What does that mean?"

"It means we have to kill the dragon."

"I would never let my master get hurt."

"As the words leave your mouth, you grow. Becoming ever closer to an elder dragon."

The floor creaks as Dan grows in real life as well. Soon enough the house won't be able to contain him.

"Roll for initiative."

Eager to please his master, Dan gets a 24, going first.

"I use fire breath."

"Your snout starts to glow red before you release a continuous blast of fire towards your party. Since they both grew out of their armour, there is nothing to protect them from the intense flame. Both of you take 30 fire damage."

"I rage and charge at Dan full speed."

"You yell in anger as you start to run towards Dan, but you still haven't gotten used to your new body so it looks more like a waddle than a charge. You tuck in your shoulder and throw your immense weight into the dragon, but you simply bounce off his belly, sending ripples through his fat."

"I use my reaction to talk to John."

"You approach John as he lays on the ground and whisper into his ear, "You could have all the food you could ever imagine if you join us." John's ears perk up at the idea. perform an wisdom saving throw."

John rolls a 4.

"He convinces you right away with the promise of infinite food, Dan grows again, surpassing 9 feet. Jeremy, you're up."

"I unarmed strike Dan"

"You run at him and launch the strongest punch you can muster, but his thick fat absorbs most of the force. You deal 5 bludgeoning damage. In response, Dan grabs your head and says, "look around, all this gold could be ours if you just join us." Roll an intelligence saving throw"

Jeremy rolls a 6.

"The glowing treasure leaves you awestruck, and you take his deal. Once again causing him to grow."

Dan hits 10 feet, his head hitting the ceiling and his gut pushing against the table. There is not enough room in there to hold him.

"The three of you happily join the dragon for eternity under the promise of food and riches. Dan continues to grow closer and closer to an elder dragon, John eats until he's unable to leave the cave even if he wanted to, and Jeremy is simply too stupid to resist the dragons persuasion. You lose."

"We lost?"

Jeremy twiddles his thumbs, waiting for someone to tell him what to do.

"It's not a loss if you ask me."

John chuckles as he stuffs his face with food.

"As long as my master is happy, I'm happy."

Dan's head breaks through the roof.

"Don't beat yourself up, big guy. At least you had fun."

The DM approached Jeremy, massaging his massive muscles. His hands slowly drifted down to Jeremy's dick, revealing his ulterior motive. He's got all three of his friends under his control, exactly where he wants them.

[butyoudidthis4what]

Pleaseeeee do pope with stripper reader!! I will forever be in your debt!

It will be happening 😂 there are now way too many thoughts in the notes app of my phone for it to not happen. I'm only on season 2 right now so I'd like to get at least a little further in to get a better read on him, but I'm thinking about it very loosely following the character development we see on the show with him, but probably at a somewhat accelerated pace with Reader. I have 100% already seen them meeting in my mind and have all that down.

I'm still trying to decide how exactly I want to play it all out but my thoughts so far are:

slow burn, like reallllllllllllly slow burn

almost a type of friends to lovers vibe

reader doesn't have sex with customers (makes the storyline a bit less complicated for me)

Pope gets almost a little obsessive how he does but reader likes it

reader is absolutely not at all scared of Pope

reader's personality is somewhat the opposite of Pope's in the sense that she talks more, teases him from the beginning, is confident in herself BUT she meets Pope where he's at and doesn't try to force him to engage

reader has some sort of very flexible day job, right now I'm thinking she's an author with a book deal

I'm going to have to come up with some nickname that only reader calls Pope (I want her calling him something special so not Pope, Andrew is out because someone I'm very close with has a partner named Andrew, and Andy is the name of a dead uncle so I'm a little torn on that one but it could probably be fine) so if you have suggestions for that let me know

Thoughts? Opinions? Feedback? Ideas? I'm open to it all as I let this percolate in the back of my mind. Feel free to comment in replies or asks or DMs.

I know this probably isn't what some people wanted or expected when they heard stripper!reader with Pope, so I'm sorry if it doesn't float your boat, and if it appears to float nobody's boat then maybe it'll change.

Thank you for sending in this ask anon! I love hearing from everyone! ♥️

[gremlin-girly]

Date Your Dad

Characters: Alexei Shostakov, f!reader, Yelena Belova, Bucky Barnes, John Walker, Ava , Bob Reynolds. (Alexei x Reader is hinted at!)

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be translated, reposted, copied or put through an AI machine. All of my work is 18+ Read at your own risk.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ for language and suggestive themes, fluff

Summary: When Yelena pranks you relentlessly, you threaten to date her dad. She doesn't expect you to follow through with it.

Word count: on mobile sorry

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

A/N: Not my usual thing ik but this was an unhinged drabble idea that's been sat in the drafts lol. I did actually finish my 10 fics I just have to edit them now 😈 Enjoy!

"YELENA!" You screech as icy water trickles down your spine. Yelena had been on a pranking kick after re-watching Home Alone and you seemed to be the most common victim after John.

You can hear Yelena's laughter from three doors up and march yourself to then before pounding the door furiously. Your hair, your outfit, your pride were soaked from the bucket of cold water she had left above an ajar door.

"If you keep this up I'll date your dad Yelena." You warn her through her bedroom door.

"No. You wouldn't." She laughs.

"I would." You argue back. "Try me, Lena. Try me."

The next morning, not heeding your warning, Yelena swaps out your sugar for salt in your coffee and you plot the demise of her sanity.

As soon as Alexei enters the kitchen, you beam at him and offer him a spritely good morning, which he returns in kind.

"What do you have planned for today?" You ask him, playing obviously nonchalant.

"Not much. Only training and making dinner for everyone." He replies, cracking eggs into a mug

"Could I... join you?" You ask shyly, batting your eyelashes. "I need to work on getting stronger and I'd love to help you cook."

Alexei blinks at you, stunned for a moment before drinking his eggs in one gulp and nodding. You can feel Yelena's eyes searing into the back of your skull and once Alexei awkwardly leaves to change for training Yelena addresses you.

"I know what you're doing." She says. "You won't win in making me uncomfortable."

"I've watched him chug six raw eggs this morning - without throwing up." You whisper smugly as you pass her. "And I'm just soooo impressed. Besides, it's not fair that your dad cooks for everyone. I just want to help."

Yelena frowns into her cereal and shakes her head. You're trying to rile her up. She can't let you win.

And then, it got worse.

Any time you were in the kitchen it was;"Alexei, could you help me open this jar please?" Or "Alexei, could you be a peach and reach hand me the cumin hidden on the topshelf please?"

Anytime you were in the gym together, you wore less baggy clothes and made a point to stand closer to Alexei and feel up his muscles ("Woah, look at those tree trunks! You must be stronger than the Hulk!") to which Alexei would flex them for you and show off his tattoos.

Yelena began to notice the way her dad would stand closer to you, or show you cat videos, or pictures of her when she was little. The way he would light up like New Year's when you'd enter a room and smile dopily when you would look over at him.

By the end of the week, Yelena was at the end of her tether but seeing you come home with milkshakes, laughing at something Alexei had said, she almost begged you to stop. However, when she'd slyly spoken to her dad about where you had both been, he'd happily informed her that it was a date. And that was what made her snap.

As she sat with her head in her hands, explaining to the rest of the team what had been going on, Bob rubbed her shoulder reassuringly whilst John and Ava laughed.

"You pressed her." John shrugs. "She did warn you."

Ava shakes her head. "I'm surprised she's managed to keep it up for so long."

"Guys, this my dad." Yelena sighs. "He will probably be in love with her by Sunday and she will break his heart!"

"Oh." The three younger members say in unison. Bucky doesn't look up from his report.

"Then do we break them up?" John asks, vaguely against at the the thought of Alexei sobbing uncontrollably over him like when they watched The Iron Giant on Team Movie Night.

Bob hums thoughtfully. "Maybe you should just stop annoying her and apologise?"

Yelena shoots him a glare and he raises his hands apologetically. "Forget I suggested it."

"You know you have to do it." Ava huffs and Yelena sighs in defeat and begins getting to her feet.

"I know." She hangs her head. You had won. "I'll be right back."

As she heads to your room, Yelena can hear the faintest of whispers and giggles emanating from behind your door. Then she hears something no child ever wants to hear; a breathy sigh of her father's name.

Her cheeks go red with anger and embarassment. How dare you! That's her dad! He may not be the smartest hero all the time but playing with his feelings was not okay. Steeling herself and scrunching her eyes she barges in.

"Lena?" Alexei's voice is soft and surprised and then your voice follows.

"You okay?"

She peeks one eye open and you stand next to Alexei, holding a small fluffy ginger guinea pig that wheeks in annoyance that you've stopped lavishing it with attention.

"You have ruined your surprise." Alexei huffs dramatically but he grins over at his daughter who is utterly flabbergasted. "Meet Natalia."

"It's a boy, Alexei-"

"Nathaniel." Alexei says without skipping a beat. "I did some research on guinea pigs and apparently they get lonely so you have to keep them in pairs."

Alexei beams as he takes the hairy creature from your delicate grasp and offers him to Yelena. "Y/N was helping me pick him out."

"He's got a big personality." You chuckle. "And such nice hair. I think Bucky has some competition."

Yelena thinks of her guinea pig, also named Bob, as she holds the distinguished Nathaniel in her hands. She had been meaning to get Bob a companion but between missions, it must have slipped her mind. Her lip quivers a little but she beams almost as brightly as her dad as she thanks you both profusely, silently vowing to never prank you again.

"Whew. That was close." Alexei sighs when Yelena finally leaves ten minutes later after two rounds of bone crushing hugs, shooting you a big, goofy smile.

You smile back. "Maybe next time we can tell her about us."

END

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[omniphilic]

hiya soileil!!!! i wanted to ask if you have personal hcs (headcanons) for mark and how you generally like to imagine him when you write him!

thanks for the ask! 🙏🏾 next time if you're not sure how to spell my name, copy and paste it from my intro post or let autocorrect do its thang (fun fact: my name is sun in french :3), but to answer your question because i think about this A LOT.

I like to combine Comic Mark and Show Mark personality wise. Not to say the show version of him is the greatest person alive, but I choose to keep of his poorer traits or qualities from the comics rendition of him to give him more dimension. Overall, I follow the order of events as they occur in the show.

In my opinion, Mark is extremely Golden Retriever. I think he’s very personable, gentle and affectionate with those he loves, but I also see him as someone who can be stubborn, reluctant to change, impulsive, and self-centered. He isn't met with a lot pushback ever. In the comics this is more prevalent, as the only characters to openly disagree with Mark are portrayed as villains or become evil (Cecil, Robot) over the course of the run.

In the show, Debbie has the balls or the sense to actually nip Mark's nonsense in the bud. When Mark tells her to "Make me" after she tells him to come inside and stop flying. When she says "Is this what you need?" she's forcing him to confront that sense of self-righteousness. Amber is another character that does this, when she gets mad at him for 'ditching them' and leaving them to fight the Re-Animen.

I think Amber was justified in her irritation because he is essentially playing in her face, choosing to maintain the lie of him just disappearing instead of coming clean then and there or at any other point before. He lies to her throughout the majority of the relationship when the rest of his close companions already (William and Eve), choosing to leave Amber in the dark. As she goes on to reveal she knew his secret, I can understand her frustration. How are they supposed to be going steady when he's withholding a quite vital part of himself for.... literally no reason. She would've been safer had she have known, she would have never been mad at him if she had known. There were more benefits to telling her than not telling her.

Eve pushes back the hardest before they get together, like right before Omni-man fucks Mark's shit up and she tells him to stop moping about quitting hero work. He's presumptuous about her life, assuming he knows why she quit as opposed to asking directly, looking to follow in her footsteps because he's overwhelmed by a situation he himself created.

Overall, I don't think Mark is a very nice person. Going back to his conversation with Debbie on the back porch, I find it utterly insane he doesn't apologize to Debbie for essentially threatening her, and there are other instances of him not having others best interests at heart so he can maintain a sense of security—a big one being when he ditches Earth to go coddle her over a broken leg while the whole Invincible War is going on the background.

I think his self-centeredness doesn't allow him to deeply engage with the feelings of others, but his persistent, almost pervasive sense of conscientiousness is what keeps him on the straight and narrow for a large part of his time as Invincible. I feel like his sense of obligation is derived from guilt as opposed to love for humanity.

When Mark is around people he loves, or connects with emotionally, he is more comfortable divulging his true feelings. I find him to be both self-deterministic and rejection sensitive, averse to truly absorbing the opinions of others unless he feels that way himself, as well as being afraid of being told he's doing something wrong.

All of that to say... I don't think he's consciously being a bad person, he's just limited by those he's surrounded by, they don't tell him about himself regularly enough to get him used to that kind of push back.

For the most part I think he's on the level, tries his best to be a good person where he can. He has some capacity for pettiness, but it isn't often his first resort. Some of his biggest moments of growth occur when he's learning of the realities of the world, like during the first Flaxan invasion, where he realizes how brutal the life of a superhero can be, but he rarely ever has moments of self-discovery, understanding and reconciliation. TLDR; this boy needs a therapist.

He has nobody to relate to because nobody is exactly on his level, and the people who should be concerned with his emotional wellbeing (Eve or Debbie) and they don't encourage him to open up.

Often what happens to him in sensitive moments, when he does genuinely try to open up (to Eve, when he is trying to communicate what happened with future Eve) he is very strongly shut down, which would further reinforce his insistence on not communicating his true feelings.

This happens a lot. I think the reason is because of bad writing, honestly— Some people (primarily female characters, like Eve and Amber) act as is needed to move along the plot, I believe, but despite this shortcoming in the narrative I chose to just... bake it into his character.

Mark's upbringing (as a white dude who is written by a white dude) means he not only navigates the world differently but is socialized differently than most likely me or you, so he has a different sense of entitlement, a different understanding of right and wrong, and a lack of curiosity.

i think he would be more knowledgeable in his like. mid-later twenties (wait until I make that Dilf! piece with @wingfleur) but he's bumbling for a fair bit of his late teens early twenties.

He's just a loser trying his best!!! anyway this turned into a ramble imma dip out—

[dollar-store-mothman]

Finally got a chance to rewatch never give Annabelle a gun, it's incredible and I'm losing it (ramblings under the cut !!)

-Firstly, i have to keep stopping myself from calling it annabelle get your gun cause I'm a loser ass theatre kid

-the lesbian colored effects are adorable

-characters with ever changing names my beloved (Joanie to butch to Josie and back to butch)

-mr Parker is such a supportive dad, he's so cute <3

-Mr Parker is correct, annabelle could never do any wrong

-butch is autistic to me

-the fucking squirrel and elephant captions kill me

-a sam bartender didnt slide the drinks, im honestly gobsmacked

-can't believe tom wasn't allowed to play his piany

-yknow, the first time I watched this my thoughts about Henry were along the lines of "don't fuck this up for us aj" but upon rewatching, he's really just unsettling all around

-passing that helium around like a joint

-love when sam says some bullshit and then looks around like "let me elaborate"

-tom announcing his arrival by gently pushing over a chair

-[surprisingly effective bank robbing tactics] perfect, no notes

-butch continues to be autistic to me

-im in love with the captioners through the whole bit where aj is singing and everyone else is miming

-speaking of aj singing, man's got some PIPES

-their synchronization with switching from talking to miming and back to the scene is insane

-SHOOT HIM IN THE HEAD ANNABELLE

-"stop flirting with men" is real as hell

-shooting him in the dick works too

-Henry just gets creepier and creepier

-i really want to know how, what are presumably, cowboy boots just fell off

-i really do appreciate sam just saying the word lesbian without any hesitation, it heals me when people don't treat lesbian like a dirty word

-"give it time" EGG BUTCH REAL

-i, too, ask my crush to rob banks instead of telling her how I really feel-it truly is the lesbian struggle

-mr parker is such a supportive dad :(

-that sweep was so gentle

-I wanted the other guy too, I wanted to meet him

-sam about to call tom a freak but cutting himself off

-butch :(

-I want henry to explode

-GO BUTCH, ESCAPE, I HAVE FAITH IN YOU

-oh, he caught her

-I hate the helium pig. It upsets me.

-ARTHUR NO!!!

-I think every half of henry is a dickhead

-this whole scene is genuinely upsetting

-aj and Luke are both incredible actors and this whole bit is a testament to that, but when he got aggressive after she said no and forced to shoe on-I'm distressed

-I dont know if the audience was uncomfortable and didn't know what to do, but the laughter after "i don't like this" was chilling

-[thank you sam for your service 🫡] real

-GET THAT WOMAN A HORSE

-BLOW HIM UP BUTCH

-i do like that annabelle got the final shot on henry, it's very narratively satisfying

-[Foot-J]

-Butch refusing to believe annabelle would want her too until she actually says the words makes me ill

-CUT HIS ASS OFF 👏👏👏

-I do appreciate tom not letting it end on a fingering joke

God, I love this one. We got the happy lesbians, aj was an insane villain, and none of them hesitating to say lesbian made my heart happy. Also, butch means so much to me as a genderqueer lesbian <3

[gigilovesmovies]

Pink!

Pairing: Joost Klein x reader

Summary:Joost helps you dye your hair

An:I’ve been thinking about dying my hair pink for so much time but i’m so scared to fry it,also sorry for the grammatical errors there are so many in this one(my first language isn’t English)

Also can you send me requests please 🙏🏼

….

You’ve been feeling a little weird about yourself lately,not insecure just weird and specifically bored about yourself,the same face,features,hair looking back at you from the mirror,it’s not that you didn’t like how you looked,you just grew bored of your usual look.

You’ve been feeling a little weird about yourself lately,not insecure just weird and specifically bored about yourself,the same face,features,hair looking back at you from the mirror,it’s not that you didn’t like how you looked,you just grew bored of your usual look.

You needed to add something about yourself,customise your character.

The easiest way to achieve that was to dye your hair,and seeing Joost dying his hair blue only made the want intensify.

So one morning while explaining your boredom about yourself to Joost he decides to helps you like the good boyfriend he is.

“Come on get up let’s go sweetie,we’re going shopping”he says excitedly,getting up from the kitchen chair and stretching.

We arrived at the shop,we were inspecting the hair dye aisle,examining every little bottle of dye and the several choice of colours.

“What colour should I take” You ask joost not looking up from the container full of green hair dye

“What about blue” he says cockily”We could match”he continues handing you a blue hair dye

“Nuh-uh blue is your color Joosti”You answer him smiling,continuing your little investigation.

Then suddenly he gasps and jump excitedly”Pink!let’s dye your hair pink,it would go perfect with your hair”he rambles playing with a rebel strand of your hair

“Yes!pink highlights,pink highlights would look sweet”You answer back as excited as him so much that it made some people turn their head at you and frown

After debating on which shade of pink you should take and if you needed bleach you finally paid and went back home.You gathered all you needed as Joost started to wear his gloves and preparing the bleach.

Joost parted your hair and put them in little buns,so he would be able to bleach and dye comfortably without rebel strands of hair falling on his work.He continued the process calmly and carefully the music on the background creating a calm environment .

“You know I never dyed my hair” you declare looking at joost trough the mirror as if it was the most shameful thing in the world.

“Really? Not even when you were a teenager” he asks locking his eyes on yours through the mirror and smiling.

“Yeah my mom never let it me dye it,she was too scared it would fall out or whatever”you answer,smiling as you remembered all the time your mom scolded you for wanting to dye your hair.

“Well now it’s happening”he says leaning down to peck your cheek,he pulls out with an exaggerated “mwah” sound that made you giggle.

“Ewww you left spit”you say jokingly,wiping the little amount of spit he left.

“You wanna see real spit”he jokes as he wrap his palm on one of you cheek and lick your other cheek,making you wince in disgust, you couldn’t help but laugh,getting on your tip toes to lick him as well.

Loads of kisses and playful teasing later,the alarm rang,it was time to rinse.He sat you on your knees in front of the bathtub and gently dipped your hair and stared rinsing massaging my scalp,when he finished he wrapped my hair in a towel drying it carefully not to hurt you or pull your hair.

“Okay what do we think” he asks you,both standing in front of the mirror.You took a moment to admire his hard work,pink highlights,dyed perfectly all around your hair,just enough to add something new to yourself but not completely change it.

“It’s perfect”You say smiling and touching your hair,you turn to face him”Thank you baby,you’re the best boyfriend ever”I lean to press a kiss on his lips as his hands found your waist pulling you closer to him as he deepened the kiss.

“And you’re the best girlfriend”he answers,kissing you back smiling into the kiss.

Now everytime you looked at the mirror you felt good about yourself.Plus now you and Joost have a new activity to do from time to time,refreshing your pink.

[leebrontide]

Hello!

I'm Lee (any pronouns), a middle aged queer writer from the midwest of the US. It's been a bit, so I'm doing another writeblr intro, to find more potential writeblr folks to chat with!

What I write:

- Mostly scifi! I have a bit of fantasy brewing in a collab project, but mostly, scifi.

- Queer stuff. Lots of different types of queerness.

- Community. Both in the group-hugs-and-support variety and the extreme-mess/everybodies-traumas-keep-smashing-into-each-other variety. I have training as a family therapist and am endlessly fascinated by interpersonal dynamics. This is the meat of my work.

- Grounded worldbuilding. My main project right now is near future scifi that diverges from our timeline around 2001. I'm enjoying the hell out of playing the US I know with some very key tweaks that changed society. I know a lot about medical systems, criminal justice systems, and legal systems and like using fantasy and scifi elements to show them as I know them. But like, in a way that should appeal to people who give 0 shits about US institutions.

- Disability stuff. Not that after-school-special shit. I am just tired of characters being generic pretty dolls whose physical attributes don't impact how they move through the world. That means not only writing a variety of different disabilities, but also different bodies. My characters aren't "inspiration porn" or just waiting around for less disabled characters to come save them. They are messy, with a wide array of relationships to their limitations and the things they use to cope with those limitations.

- YA into new adult. Not exclusively, but mostly. I really like taking characters from YA into early adulthood. Not just a standard coming-of-age arc, but the actually moving from a self-concept of a dependent teen into someone with legal responsibility for themselves, jobs, college, etc. Especially when combined with all of the above. I love a nice long character arc with lots of sub-arcs along the way.

What I have out, now.

- I have two books out so far, Secondhand Origin Stories and Names in Their Blood. I'm working on book 3 in that planned 5 book series now, which is currently titled Brittle Idols.

- I have a free monthly newsletter called Shed Letters where I talk about psychology, tech, queerness, storytelling, and the creative process, plus whatever random topic I've been researching for my books recently. Also contains pictures of my three very photogenic cats.

- Newsletter subscribers also have access to a novella I wrote that goes between Secondhand Origin Stories and Names in Their Blood, that's about an fictional AI (the only kind I like) trying to decide on a body for themself.

- I also draw and animate, with my first and still in-progress animation project being a "trailer" for Secondhand Origin Stories.

What I'm looking for

- writeblrs - especially writeblrs that aren't JUST writeblrs. I want to feel like I'm meeting people, at least in some manner, rather than just hearing about a product in process. That doesn't have to mean deep confessions or private information, but honestly I'm not likely to remember you for your writing project alone. Sorry. Please show me what else you care about!

- Bonus points for queer or disabled scifi or fantasy writers.

- I am white for most intents and purposes but I always want to find more AOC who write sci fi.

- Also always excited to meet more YA authors- especially the currently kinda sidelined YA scifi.

- People who care about where society is going but aren't posting that everything is doomed and pointless. I mean you post whatever you want but I don't need that on my dash. That shit is not helping me help.

I sometimes do ask games? It's fun when I have the time. It'd be fun to have more folks to do them with, provided those folks are patient.

Please interact if this has piqued your interest!

[majaloveschris]

Hey Maja,

You’re level headed, I mean that in the most respectful way. 😅

But I had to flip the situation so to speak and really ask myself hmmm what if we’re all wrong about this being PR, like what if to Chris it looks completely different. He is just a guy from Boston who happened to get famous due to talent. He’s done pr in the past yes and seemed to be authentic.

But just like life people change. Chris was never Steve Rogers, Chris is just a guy like many of people’s exes. What if he decided to do things differently and this is who he chose regardless of how it looks. Maybe he wanted to keep his fandom and image and that’s why it’s so PR looking like he’s playing the Hollywood game, but also working to help establish his wife. I just had to the look at another pov and like Lisa may indeed have accidentally liked something, it happens. Celebs are human and you don’t think they get tired of random strangers talking shit to them or stalking friends and family, you don’t think they’d see how invested online strangers are and try to play with people just to stay relevant and also just because.

Chris is simply living his life like the rest of us and Hollywood dressed him up and he’s played along, but now he’s trying to manage that plus his private life to another celebrity that doesn’t align to the image he held for so long and it’s just coming off as so badly business and fandom wise, but to him he just thought he was smarter and thought oh if I share her online people will love her, maybe he didn’t know she trolled or didn’t care if she did. Chris doesn’t know any of us to care. We assume these celebrities actually give a damn about this fandom shit, but they probably don’t.

People lie, he speaks in interviews that goes to BILLIONS of people so I don’t expect him to tell personal stuff too much more either especially these days, people are crazy. But to the fandoms limited view they see every video dissect every move to mean more that what it actually is.

I just wonder if this has spiraled and eventually we do unfortunately learn that Chris was an image while the real Chris Evans is simply human and this is real and the life he chose to live, just him and not to uphold some fake image, but he’s forced to keep playing that role as well.

If this doesn’t end by Summer or before their next anniversary, I do hope many people start really questioning reality. It’s easy to get caught up in parisocial relationships with celebs and not even know it.

Hi, thank you so much! I think it’s already crossed everyone’s mind at least once that what if this whole thing is real? And I don’t think this thought is bad; I think narrow-mindedly thinking this can’t be anything but fake is much worse, because then you will start misunderstanding everything that comes out and think everything proves something, or your point, which is not true.

Chris has never been and never will be Steve Rogers, and I don’t remember him ever stating the opposite. I never really understood why people thought in the first place that he is like him or can ever be. He is a fictional character after all, and as you said, he is just a guy, filled with flaws like all of us.

But let’s talk a bit about the theory you wrote down: what if this is real, but he is, on purpose, trying to make it look like it was PR? First of all, that would be extremely disrespectful towards his wife. If he decided to marry her, then go ahead and show her off. If he’s actually been doing that, he just made everything worse, because after a while people will realize that he was lying and playing them, and oh, that’s gonna be another shitshow. Because him playing people to make them think it’s not real and doing this just to save himself because he chose a not-so-good person as his wife is even worse than this being real. And while I don’t like Alba at all, that would be really humiliating for her as well. However, I find it highly impossible that this would be the case. I don’t think he is that bad of a human being, and you can clearly see in his body language that their relationship isn’t any more caring and loving behind closed doors as well. I mean, for example, when the NYC pap walk came out, and that random girl uploaded that video where they were seen as well, you could’ve seen how they act when they think they aren’t being recorded.

Lisa’s like, It could’ve been an accident, but considering that she didn’t really interact with her or anything like that, maybe only after this whole thing came out, says a lot, especially when you can see that she is still supportive of Minka, for example.I think these people care about what people say more than you would imagine. Half of the things that are being said and done wouldn’t have been if they didn’t care. Because of this whole whatever-ship, his career took a hit, not even a small one. People unfollowing, fans leaving after decades. His team noticed that; he noticed that. Celebs love saying that they don’t care, but they do, more than you would imagine.

Fans obviously care more than any random person who comes across an interview of his. While I agree that some things are being blown out of proportion, I do think that we can’t deny the inconsistency of their relationship. Even if it’s real, it’s clear they want to sell a love story that most likely never existed.

I do agree that after a while we need to let this story go, even if it turns out to be not real in the end. It’s funny because will we ever actually get to know what this was? Probably not. Even if this ends one day, we will never actually know the truth. But after a while everyone will get tired of this and move on with their life. They either will „accept” her presence in his life, try to forget that she exists, or leave the fandom. Either way, I hope everyone will do what’s best for their mental health because this isn’t worth yours, that’s for sure.

[gugudalala]

ft. sae itoshi / rin itoshi x reader

synopsis: They grew up together, hearts quietly entwined — even when Sae left for America. Now that Sae's back, Rin is done watching from the sidelines and pushes his way between them, Sae's long-suppressed jealousy boils over — the quiet bond they once shared threatens to erupt into something far more dangerous.

TW: smut with plot, spanking, degradation, size kink, unprotected, praise, ect+++

words: 1155

A/N. I do not own any of the character or picture (credit to the rightful owner) only the plots are mine. 

Enjoy ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

CH: 1 | 2 | 3

────୨ৎ────

"Rin, please stop" he pushed you back onto the door as you both got inside his room. With both his hands on the side of your head, kissing so passionately. When you try to escape only for him to force you back into the kiss. 

‘How... how did it come to this?’ 

Sae just returned for a family visit. You've known each other since we were kids, growing up in the same neighborhood and even sharing the same class. Then there's Rin, Sae’s younger brother. He’s always been around, even when Sae wasn't. When you were younger, you found it adorable how Rin looked up to his older brother. Even after Sae left, Rin kept showing up—asking for help with homework, tests, anything to stay close.

But over time, Rin began to change. He started to grow into someone who reminded me more and more of Sae—your first love… and your darkest secret.

You were just having a normal family dinner, with his parents and yours, celebrating Sae’s return. With Sae sitting right beside you, you couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter every time your eyes met. But that moment didn’t last—because then Rin caught your gaze, stood up without a word, and pulled you into his room before anyone even noticed.

Pulling away from the kiss "The way you looked at him… Why? I've always been here for you. Why can’t you look at me like that? What does he have that I don’t?" 

"Rin, please…" Confused by his actions, your heart stumbles. All this time, you believed he was just the younger brother of the one you once loved — one you never saw coming.

"You were so excited all morning, dressing so well... just because my brother was coming back?" pushing you into his bed, he reached into your skirt cupping onto my heat "Look at how wet you are, hopping for my brother to fuck you, don't you" his finger move your panties aside as he tease and thrust his finger into you. You can't help but squirm but his hand held you into place "listen to it" lewd squelching sound filled up the room, you can't help but listen to how wet you were. “Such a good girl being wet and ready to be fuck” Feeling of shame creeping up on you, this is just not right. His finger reached all the spots that had never been played with, pleasuring you like never before — and you don’t want him to stop. Each thrust is hard and fast and as you were about to reach your climax, he pulled out along with your panties. Looking back at him, he was licking his finger, cleaning off your juices, you can’t help but blush by his action

Getting on top of you, he pulled down his pants. Realizing how far this would go, you tried to escape him only to be dragged down by your leg toward him. “Rin, we should not be doing this… I have never done it before” you plead only for his eyes to light up “Then let me have it,  I won’t watch him steal what I’ve waited for all along." He slipped the dress off your shoulders, only to shove it upward, trapping your arms, and locking you in place. When your eyes met his, the air shifted, there was no mistaking it, the heat in his gaze said everything — raw, undeniable desire. He adjusted himself on you, spreading your leg and slowly pushed into you. Stretching and filling you out. You can’t help but to cry out only for him to kiss back your scream. He started moving while giving you small kisses around your face while keeping his thrust slow. “Rin..” you moaned “You are taking me so well” he praised as he kissed away your tears as he adjusted his place and moved faster.

The room is filled with the sound of your skin slapping against each other, while your arm is still trapped by your dress both his hands on your side pushing you toward his thrust. You almost reached your climax but then he suddenly pulled out, again. Flushed and whining “Rin?” you asked but only to be flip onto your stomach with your hip up in the air. He pushed right back in, this time thrusting deep and slowly edging you “Please, please” already breathless and crying from how sensitive you are. He's making you almost cum over and over again, you tried to bounce back into him as you felt the heat coming back but once again he pulled out before you could even cum

Pulling out he moved back, sitting on the bed with his black to the bed frame “Do it yourself” Looking straight at you he demanded “If you want to cum, help yourself” Looking into his eyes, buried by the tears. He's been edging you for hours and you want nothing more but to cum, hard. Even knowing that it is wrong you can’t help but get onto him, removing all your clothes you got on top of him, breath shaky as you sit up “Good girl, you don't know how long I have been waiting” he reaches and tugs some strain of hair behind your ear, tracing down onto your lip with another hand reaching down teasing your clit  “Whatever you're feeling right now—it’s not even half of what I’ve felt, waiting, aching for you all this time. You have no idea what it’s been like" he pushed his finger into your mouth at the same time with his other hand inside you, both your mouth getting filled and played with, making you see the star.

Once he pulled out, both hands reaching for your sides "Go ahead, take what you want” dropping your hip onto him, feeling him filling you to the top. “Too much” you cry trying to stop but only to be pushed down more by him. “All of it, take it all” With him gripping your side he pushed upward while holding you down. Desperately holding onto his shoulders as he drives his cock into your sloppy cunt. The heat came rushing back afraid he was going to stop once again. You bounced back down, meeting his thrust and finally coming on him, and with a few more thrust he comes into you

Within a moment, he pushed you down to your back, not letting you catch your breath before sliding back in “Rin! — Wait, I just came” your voice breaks, reaching toward him to stop but he uses that opportunity to grab both your hands and pull you toward his trust “Shh… you’re doing good, one more” he grunts, rocking his hips again, again, and again.

You didn’t even know how long you had been going for, but you woke in his arms as the first light of morning crept in—unaware of the shadow that had lingered all night beneath Rin’s door, silently listening.