#none of this is intended maliciously

[oiboibabyboy]

I hate to be the person bringing this up

HOWEVER

And let me put a disclaimer here first actually: I’m happy for shourtney if they are and have been a couple this entire time

but wHAT WAS THE REASON????

What was the reason for hiding the relationship this whole time? Why not share the news when they got engaged? Why not before that even?

Why did courtney say all that about not dating a co-worker? WHY DID THEY HIDE ITTT?? Like they don’t owe us their entire relationship but i dont get why they wouldnt just say “yeah we’re together but dont wanna be public about it” and just set a boundary. Why would they instead let the fandom run loose with it and cause chaos? Like them being a couple or not has been the divider of the fandom FOR YEARS!

The shourtney compilations™️ speak for thenselves with people calling each other out for shipping real-life people, for hating on others, for not respecting boundaries, for not just letting people have fun, and just about everything else. Ive been so exhausted by the discourse surrounding this subject that I’ve actively distanced myself from the fandom outside of a few youtube channels.

And I’ve never been a shourtney shipper bc i just dont see it, so its perhaps just a me-problem but wtf… wouldn’t we see them be flirtatious on the regular? Like I’m not kidding, I genuinely feel we see more small moments between shayne and angela than shayne and courtney. So if they are legitimately a couple and have been for a wHILE? Why dont they seem like one? As far as I’m aware we haven’t even seen shayne with her cats! Idk i feel like we wouldve seen more so-called ‘proof’ lol

Anyways i don’t mean to spark more drama i just really wanna understand this situation bc it just makes ZERO. FUCKING. SENSE. to me

[magics-neptunes-things]

Hands up!

Hello everyone!

I continue on with my Christmas stories, they may be shorter than the last ones I made, but the pace may be a little more regular! Tell me what you think and let me know your requests if you have any:) I will try to respond quickly.

Enjoy!

TW: None!

The spirit of Christmas being something important for the Catalan club, it's not with great surprise that the team learned that in addition to the usual games to animate the different social networks, a mini-tournament for different associations was organized. The squad of the women’s team sufficient to create four different teams, they were all picked at random that day.

You smiled when you heard your name being shot on the first team, giving you Cata, Mapi, Lucy, Ingrid and Salma as teammates. If Mapi had fun seeing that even fate didn't separate her from Ingrid, you quickly noticed the competitive look Alexia gave you. It amused you a lot and you gave her a provocative smile when she came to the second team, when her name was shot. Having Ona, Patri and Aitana on her team, she seems to have an advantage. But you are here to have fun and you intend to enjoy these moments of relaxation after a rough end of year.

After a little warm-up to avoid a stupid injury, you found yourself with your teammates of the day at the edge of the field, your blue bibs on the back. The organisation put you at rest for the first game, so it's with jokes and laughter that you watch two of the other teams play against each other.

Matches are usually held in the stadium dedicated to indoor football, so that the spectators are not too cold. It adds a different atmosphere to what you’re used to, but you don’t find it unpleasant. Quite the contrary actually.

You won your first match against Caroline’s green team and now you have to face Alexia’s reds. Always with her playful face, Alexia stands in front of you, separated by the line of demarcation of the field, waiting for Aitana to shoot in the ball to start the match.

"Ready to lose Y/SN?"

You laughed mischievously, bowing an eyebrow before answering her.

"Count on it baby" you simply answer, quickly taking your place on the field when the ball is put into play.

The game is dynamic, but good. You don’t know what impression the spectators have of your match, but between the small playing comments launched between the players, there is something to laugh about. If you and Alexia don't hesitate to tease you, Ona and Lucy are not left out either.

During a corner for your team, you feel someone sticking against your back and you recognize your girlfriend without any difficulty. Her hands sit on your hips and her lips are just up to your ear when she speaks to you, in a whispered voice.

"I prefer when you only sweat because of me"

You know that you are the only one to have heard what she said and it's with an amused smile that you turn your eyes slightly in her direction, ignoring the heat wave that reverberates throughout your body, because of her comment and her chest against your back.

"You wanna play that way?"

Alexia doesn’t answer anything, just smiling at you. Her little game is nevertheless noticed by Lucy who calls her.

"Hands up, Putellas!"

Alexia raises both hands in the air, trying to prove her false innocence, which again amuses you a lot. With this story you completely miss the corner that Mapi sends into the box, which was obviously Alexia’s goal. While taking your place on the field, you wave to her with your hand that you keep an eye on her and she sends you a kiss.

A few minutes later, it’s your turn to call her when she has the ball in her foot to try to score.

"Nice ass, Number 11!"

Of course, the ball pass far from the goal and it's in front of your laughing face that she finds herself when she turns in your direction.

"Can we swap numbers at the end of the game?" you add mischievously as she passes by you, maliciously pinching your ribs as you pass. "Hands up Lucy said" you add, smiling.

Alexia pulls out your tongue and you laugh again. An amused smile appears on the captain’s face, after struggling a few seconds to mask it.

A few minutes later, the bell rang, announcing the end of the game. You lost by a goal, but again you don’t play to win today.

After the match, having once again to wait for a confrontation between two other teams, you find yourself leaning against an advertiser, in discussion with Salma. At least that was before two arms grabbed you by your waist. You drop a little cry of surprise, triggering Salma’s laughter, but you willingly let Alexia draw your body against hers.

"You’re not bad either, number 3" whispers Alexia against your cheek before kissing her.

Alexia seems to be more relaxed too, her mood impacted by the general atmosphere. And you love seeing her like that.

"Maybe we can exchange our jerseys in addition to our numbers?" you answer maliciously.

It makes her laugh and you add your laughter to hers when Mapi looks disgusted and asks you to find a room. But you don’t change position, enjoying Alexia’s embrace. Few people in the audience can see you from where you are but since the Spanish doesn’t seem to care, you either.

"So, do I have a nice butt?" asks Alexia playfully in a low voice after a few minutes watching your teammates play.

You laugh softly, turning slightly in her arms so you can look at her better.

"It’s even the part of your body that I prefer, if you want to know everything."

Alexia answers you with a thoughtful exclamation, having fun again. You put a kiss on the corner of her jaw, taking advantage of your position.

"Needless to say, I love everything about you, hmm?"

Alexia’s face turns to you again and tenderness has replaced the provocation in her gaze.

"I love you" she whispers gently before kissing you tenderly.

And, at the end of the tournament, when you and your team step on the second step of the podium all dressed up with your Christmas hats, you can’t help but give Alexia (On the first step of the podium, of course) a little slap on her butt. Who slaps you in the back of the head.

[theglamorousferal]

Immortal Everlasting Trio who have been exploring the Infinite Realms for the last few centuries. The three of them are flying, braiding their paths as they make their way through the Realms.

“How do you think Ellie is doing in her current incarnation?” Nightshade asks of her partners,

“Hmm probably well, she was exploring the galaxy this time right? I could always check?” Pharaoh responds, a keyboard made of sandstone appears at his fingertips.

“She feels content.” Said Phantom, soothing the worries of the other two. The stars that are freckles on his face brighten with the comment.

They swirl around each other in lazy patterns, unknowing of the passage of time, when Phantom feels a tug at his core. The trio circle up, his partners noticing the shift in mood.

“I don’t recognize this one.” He mutters to himself, placing a hand on the center of his chest. “It’s none of the family, but it is a bit familiar.” He furrowed his brow, trying to trace the sensation to its source. He closed his eyes and felt the pull of magic. “It doesn’t feel malicious, there’s desperation and curiosity for sure, but I feel no ill intent.” He thought for a moment. “I’m going to follow it. I want to know why this feels familiar”

Nightshade formed a purple bloom and tucked it behind one of his ears and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Be safe.”

Pharaoh gently took his hand and kissed it, bestowing a glass bangle to his wrist. “Don’t make stupid decisions,” he smirked, “without us.”

Phantom laughed and in a flash of bright white light he was gone.

* * *

With a flash of light so bright it temporarily blinded, Phantom appeared in a summoning circle. The room he now occupied was large, a massive sofa made up a good portion of the room and there was a kitchen off to the side. Turning around, there was a large screen with even larger windows behind it. He turned back and now saw the people in the room.

One was green with a unitard on, one was sitting criss cross in front of some candles, a book and a small cauldron, one was floating and had a mass of bright pink hair, one was a cyborg of some kind and stood at the ready with a cannon for an arm and the last was shielding his eyes with a black cape.

“Who summons me?” Phantom asked in a far quieter tone than the teens apparently expected.

The one who appeared to have done the ritual stood and spoke first. “Mighty Phantom, we seek your assistance in dealing with a massive threat to our world. The demon Trigon looks to the Earth as his next conquest.” They took a breath and looked down. “He intends to use my power to do it, and I do not have the strength to stop him.”

Phantom settled his feet on the ground and placed a hand on their shoulder. “Peace young one. Why don’t we start with introductions? As you know, I am Phantom, he/him, now who has managed to summon me?”

“I am Raven, she/her, the rest here are my team the Teen Titans.” She turned to her team, they all seemed shocked. “I apologize for them, usually they take things in stride a lot easier. This is Beast Boy, he/him, Starfire she/her, Cyborg, he/him, and Robin, he/him.”

“Hmm, may I see the text you used to summon me?” He gestured to the book on the floor. “I was not aware of anything that could summon me in this realm. It is familiar to me though, I can’t place why.”

Raven raised the book into his hand. He leafed through it humming to himself before stopping on a photo of a note that looked familiar. He smiled to himself, remembering the time a century ago to him that himself and his partners helped a small civilization and they left a way for the leader to contact them if they needed help. He skimmed the next few paragraphs and then laughed and closed the book.

“I’ll help. In fact, my partners and I will help. It’s been a long while since we were in a mortal realm. I will return in a week’s time your time to discuss what we need to do. This will work to summon us if we forget or if your danger arrives early.” He magicked a paper with a seal on it and handed it to her. “I must discuss with my partners and will do research on this Trigon. Thank you for calling us, we’ve been aimless for too many decades. Have a good night.” He vanished in another flash of light.

* * *

Phantom appeared in a flash of light cackling as he tumbled across the chess board his partners were playing on, scattering the flowers and sandstone pieces across the green sky.

“Beloved you know not to do that,” Nightshade gathered the giggling king into her lap, Pharaoh moving to lean against her shoulder and push the hair from the eyes of Phantom, “but what has you laughing so?”

Phantom mimed wiping a tear from his eye. “Remember that civilization we helped out a century ago? Well apparently a few hundred years have passed in that world and the people we helped revered us as gods. A sorceress summoned us for help defeating a demon. They were so cute, little teenage heroes like we once were.” He sighed and settled into the arms of his lovers. “Have either of you heard of Trigon?”

[dark-frosted-heart]

Choose Your True Love - Azel Radwan (part 4/4)

This is the from the 4th anniversary event

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. 

Emma: AHHHHHHHHH!

Azel: ?!

I was so surprised by Prince Azel’s sudden appearance in the bath house that I splashed hot water on him.

I knew it was disrespectful toward a man who was both a living god and a prince, but because I was only wrapped in a thin sheet of cloth, I couldn’t act rationally.

Azel: What do you think you’re doing getting me all wet!?

Emma: “What do you think you’re doing” should be my line! Leave, or at least close your eyes!

Azel: Huh? You’re— —Nevermind, of course. What a pain. 

(He can’t just write this off as being an annoyance, can he?!)

It seemed that Prince Azel didn’t intend on leaving as he turned his back toward me and sat down on the ground, not caring that his clothes were getting wet.

(...He’s close)

Azel: They really didn’t do anything to you?

Emma: They just led me to the bath house.

Azel: …If I came any later, they would’ve applied aphrodisiac oil on you and sent you over to me.

Emma: Please don’t say such horrifying things.

Azel: It’s happened before.

Emma: …You’re kidding.

From behind me, I heard Prince Azel let out a loud sigh that echoed in the bath house.

Azel: Tanzanite places great importance on continuing their god’s bloodline. Humans have always been doing whatever they could to get me to take a woman. Because of this, I’ve turned away all women except the ones that are useful targets.

Emma: …That’s terrible.

Azel: It’s not my problem.

(It sounds like Prince Azel would have issues dealing with the opposite sex)

(I’m only here because I have a debt to pay back…)

Azel: If you’ve learned anything from this, then it’s to not let your guard down. If you hadn’t run away in the first place, then you could’ve avoided this.

Emma: This all started because you followed me into the castle though?!

Azel: Your fault I had to come to the castle.

Emma: I didn’t ask you to.

Azel: You wanted to walk through the desert at night all by yourself?

Emma: …Doesn’t that make it sound like you escorted me here?

Azel: Don’t get the wrong idea, I was just taking a walk.

Emma: Then it sounds like this wasn’t my fault after all.

Azel: …

(Ah, he’s gone quiet)

I turned and saw Prince Azel’s broad back.

Though I couldn’t see his face, I could tell he wanted to say something.

Emma: Prince Azel, it’s about time I get out of the bath…

Azel: You should.

Emma: I can’t if you’re here.

Azel: That’s none of my business.

Emma: …Is there a reason why you’re staying in the bath house?

Azel: …

Emma: If not, then I’ll call you a perverted god instead of a malicious god.

Azel: Don’t.

Azel stood up, but seemed to hesitate for a moment.

The sigh he let out was so pained that it startled me.

Azel: …Sorry.

Emma: Huh…

Azel: That’s all I wanted to day. I don’t want to deal with the “present” you.

While I stood there with my mouth open, Azel left without looking back.

It took me a moment to come back to my senses.

(That Azel apologized…)

(...No, wait)

(“Don’t want to deal with”—does that mean he doesn’t want to see me anymore?!)

--

Emma: Prince Azel!

I was right. Azel wasn’t in the guest room, but outside of the castle.

It seemed like my voice reached him as he turned around with wide eyes, as if he was startled.

Azel: What are you doing out here dressed like that?!

Emma: These were the only clothes I could find so I didn’t have a choice!

Only beautiful clothes that covered a lot less than what I was used to were left in the bath house.

Prince Azel must’ve driven the maids away because there were none in sight, so this was my only option. But when I calmly looked down, I wanted to hold my head and tell myself “you’ve messed up.”

(No, that doesn’t matter right now)

Emma: Prince Azel—I’m very sorry for blaming you earlier.

Azel: …Huh?

Emma: I was almost made an offering because I was careless. I’ll be more careful next time. Let me say “sorry” back.

Azel: Did you really chase after me out here dressed in that shameless outfit just to say that?

Emma: …Y-yes.

(...Why did I go through the trouble to Prince Azel “don’t worry about it”)

(If only he turned me away, then my life as his slave would be over) 

(But…)

Dumbfounded, Prince Azel approached me and draped his stole over my shoulders.

An act of mercy for my “shameless outfit”.

(He helps me out whenever I’m in trouble…and the last time I heard his voice, he sounded so sad)

Azel: You’re still the same admirable woman.

Emma: I’m losing it over how you’re acting like you like me today, Prince Azel.

Azel: Nope, don’t like you even the slightest bit.

Emma: The way you answered immediately is suspicious.

Azel: Conceited.

Emma: Hehe, I’m only joking.

Azel: I said I don’t—you were joking?

Emma: Yes.

(I didn’t expect him to reply so seriously)

Emma: I’m just getting revenge for being told I “dressed shamelessly”.

Azel: …

Emma: …Are you angry?

(What do I do…Prince Azel’s getting grumpier)

(No, I think he’s looking more embarrassed than grumpy…)

Emma: S…Sorry for keeping you. Good night, Prince Azel.

Sensing that he was not in a joking mood, I quickly turned away, but he grabbed my hand.

He pulled me as hard as he could and I landed against his chest.

Emma: You’re doing it again!

Azel: I’ve sent everyone away.

(Ah…Now that he mentioned it, I don’t see anyone around)

(Today’s Prince Azel has been oddly kind to me)

(He denies it, but I can tell)

(What he says contradicting with what he does aside…just where is this kindness coming from?)

Because of my thin clothes, the feeling of being held close to him was different to the feeling earlier this evening.

I could feel his heart beating through our clothes.

Was it my imagination, or was his pulse fast—

(This is bad…my heart’s pounding for some reason now)

Emma: Please…let me go.

Azel: I don’t have to listen to you.

Prince Azel, who normally didn’t touch me, leaned down close to my ear.

Feeling the god’s breath made me so nervous that I almost passed out.

Azel: Just pass out already so that I don’t have to hear anymore ridiculous jokes. 

…If I’m cursed, then I’m taking you with me.

--

The moon set and the sun rose.

The living god had returned to his temple during the night, and while I dreamt that night, I couldn’t say I slept soundly.

(I wonder what I would do if he acted strangely again today…)

Azel (polite): Here is today’s errand. Have a good day.

For some reason, I felt relieved when I saw the note he handed me.

But when I came back to my senses, I couldn’t help but object.

Emma: This is a lot more than usual!

Azel (polite): You poor thing. That is not my concern.

(He’s a completely different person…he’s back to the being the usual Prince Azel)

(He’s not worrying over me like he was yesterday, and he didn’t start with a hug)

His cold eyes were focused on something else, no longer interested in me.

Emma: …Prince Azel, do you remember anything from yesterday?

Azel (polite): Yesterday? What do you mean?

Emma: You were out of your mind, grabbing my hand and hugging me.

Azel: …What a revolting delusion.

Azel (polite): Please leave those kinds of ridiculous delusions to Matias.

(It doesn’t sound like he’s lying)

(Then what in the world happened to the Prince Azel from yesterday? Was it a dream?)

Azel: Ah, that’s right. Here, before you go run the errand.

He beckoned me closer and touched my ear.

I was cautious at first, but he just clicked something in place.

(An earring?)

Emma: This is?

Azel (polite): A charm. Good things may happen if you wear it. After all, no one wants to lay a hand on a god’s slave.

(...Could this be…)

~~ Flashback ~~

Azel: Why aren’t you carrying that with you?

Emma: “That”?

Azel: …You don’t have it on you?

~~ End flashback ~~

(...A dream is a dream, but was it a prophetic dream?)

(The Prince Azel from yesterday actually came from the future…)

(No, that’s not it)

Emma: Thank you. I’m off to run the errand now.

Azel (polite): Yes, please return as soon as possible. I would like you to make 5 trips today.

Emma: …This malicious god.

Prince Azel ignored my grumbling and sent me off with a smile.

(That god falling in love with me…there’s no way that future is possible)

[itsabouttimex2]

Not sure if you have covered this, but I’ll ask. How would you have gone about Macaque’s redemption arc…if it’s possible with how he was written before season four? No hate or debate, just curious. I like alternate takes on characters :3

Hmm okay I thought on this for a little bit, and the crux of my problem with Macaque’s arc is that he’s established late Season Three to be “not a bad person” when-

1. He enjoys hurting people

2. He goes out of his way to hurt people

3. He hurts many people

4. He expresses no regret or remorse for hurting people

5. He faces no consequences for hurting innocent people aside from his intended victims winning their fights against him

6. His victims are reduced to a hivemind of non-autonomous set dressings who have no feelings on his presence or past crimes

And he promptly just becomes a person that everyone is okay with despite everything. So, if we have to keep the “one good action is enough to redeem you for betrayal, deceit, slandering, multiple counts of assault and attempted murder”, then we need to shift some things.

So I think the best thing to do if we want the actual “redemption arc” to hit the way it’s supposed to in canon is-

1. Thin his list of victims

2. Thin his list of crimes to the point that one good deed is actually a reasonable atonement for all of them

3. Play up his victimhood at the hands of the Mayor

4. Establish his inability to escape from the Lady Bone Demon much sooner

If the crux of his arc is just being forgiven by ONE of his many victims and then becoming a good person, then we just need to sharply reduce the amount of victims he has to make the immediate and all-encompassing forgiveness feel more realistic.

When he’s “sieging” the city in Macaque, the Smoke Demon ignores everyone who isn’t MK and deals no structural damage, creating no victims aside from the Monkie Kid.

When he’s performing in Shadowplay, Macaque portals MK away to fight him alone, leaving everyone else unharmed, creating no victims aside from the kid.

Then, when he’s stolen away by the Mayor, either:

1. Lady Bone Demon implants him with her powers right away, preventing him from running away and immediately establishing him as desperate, or, what I’d argue for-

2. Send the Mayor with him.

When he receives the compass and is released, Macaque pulls a Bone Key-

and throws it away, trying to shadow portal away, only to be greeted by

The Mayor, who proceeds to outright accompany Macaque on this journey, thereby serving as a foil to Tang Sanzang.

Where Sun Wukong was taken under the wing of someone who genuinely cared for him and wanted to see him improve, Macaque is forcibly dragged along by an outright malicious figure who wants to see him rot.

(Fuck, have Lady Bone Demon give Macaque an ice circlet to seal the “foil” deal! Have him be forced into these actions in outright agony! It would help Sun Wukong sympathize with him, expediting the “forgiveness” that a redemption arc needs!)

In fact, every time Macaque tries to leave, or steps out of line or even just fails? You hear an offscreen thud and yelping and then when we get to see him next, there’s new bruises on his body, new tears in his clothes. His fur becomes messy. His eyes grow haunted.

Play up his victimhood to coax the audience into sympathizing with him.

Macaque tries to run. The Mayor hurts him. He tries to stall. The Mayor hurts him. He tries to argue. The Mayor hurts him. He tries to fight back. The Mayor beats him back into subservience.

Establish that Macaque has utterly exhausted all avenues of “escape” before he resorts to attacking the Monkie Kids, and even then, have him try to avoid the majority of them in favor of MK, only to be forced by the Mayor into actually fighting Mei, Tang, Sandy, and Pigsy.

So now every character understands why he’s doing this- and don’t have a reason to hold it against him or expect any further atonement because none of his worst actions (like sieging the Dragon Palace) actually need to be addressed- they aren’t his fault.

That basically solves all the problems I have with the “arc” as it stands, honestly.

[olderthannetfic]

Something that frustrates me about the Harry Potter conversation is a lot of people missing the point behind the motivation to boycott it. They seem weirdly focused on the content of HP when it's actually... not that bad? It's not perfect, in fact a lot of aspects are pretty fucking problematic and worthy of discussion, but not uniquely so by the standards of the fantasy genre. Yes, I know the goblins are clearly drawing on anti-semitic tropes. Yes, the house elf situation is fucked. Yes, lots of not-like-other-girls-style misogyny. Yes, Cho Chang was a fucking disaster of racism. I KNOW THIS ALREADY! I'm not an idiot and Harry Potter fans were talking about this for far longer than JKR has been a TERF. But I'm also a fan of the Elder Scrolls and Dragon Age and the Witcher and a shitton of isekai anime and tons of other fantasy medias which are so much worse. Harry Potter is only moderately problematic by the standards of most popular fantasy media, especially for the mainstream standards of the time period it was written. Worthy of criticism, but not dropping it entirely. And actually reading HP and looking back at JKR's behaviour at the time, much of it seems largely unintentional, just that JKR drew on a lot of fantasy tropes that she didn't properly examine as well as her own unexamined biases and she had some flawed understandings of progressivism that were fair for its day but don't fly now, but doesn't seem malicious. The actual authorial intent at least seems to be pretty progressive at least, even if the execution wasn't the best. And sure, it's not a masterwork but there's a reason it connected to so many people, even if a lot of it was luck and timing. We don't have to ignore that and doing so feels dishonest.

I'm just so annoyed when people try to shit on the contents because they're missing the point and confuse the actual problem in a way that weakens their argument. I don't give Harry Potter money anymore because JKR crossed some lines for me in real life, totally separate from Harry Potter as a piece of media, and I don't want to fund her bullshit because she is so influential it is hurting people. The content of her books is utterly irrelevant to this decision. She could have penned a goddamn magnum opus and it wouldn't have mattered. So I'm sick of people bringing up books that are "better" or ragging on the contents of Harry Potter because none of that is the point and never was the point and it comes across as just taking advantage of a shitty situations to dunk on a popular thing or those who enjoyed it. Yeah, it was a mediocre fantasy series. But it hit the right emotional escapist buttons in a lot of kids even if it had the moral nuance and depth of a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles anti-drug PSA. Having to drop it sucked for a lot of people because it can't be replaced and yelling about how bad the writing was doesn't change that because it never was about quality. JKR's TERF transformation was in many ways a betrayal of JKR's intended audience considering how the text preached acceptance and love and starred an abused, unwanted child getting to go to magic school where he's special. Pretending Harry Potter should be dropped because its content has issues obscures the actual problem of a raging transphobic having money and influence and that not everything created by bad people is poor quality so boycotts might require giving up access to things you actually like or are valuable and that's not always an easy decision to make.

JKR was a probably decent person with fairly liberal politics when she wrote Harry Potter. The books, while imperfect, are not more horrible or full of problems a dozen other popular fantasy properties. JKR become a TERF later in life and while she may have had ingrained transphobia prior to this when she wrote Harry Potter, that is not the same as the virulent hate-movement she's part of now and we should recognize how easy it is for people to get drawn into hate-movements. Any argument to boycott should be about how she's using her money and influence to affect real life laws and attitudes unless you want to try and get people to also drop half the fantasy genre.

--

[dreamlandcreations]

Imagine Viserys repeatedly refusing Daemon to let him marry you...

Imagine Viserys repeatedly refusing Daemon to let him marry you so you decide to take matters into your own hands and convince your uncle to cause another scandal...

The noise makes the men pause at the door of the room where the council meetings are held. It is none other than Otto Hightower who eventually pushes the doors wide open and finds himself in the middle of a scene he would never wished to witness.

The Rogue Prince was bent over the large table, facing the door but seemingly not caring for anyone other than the woman moaning under him. It takes a moment for the spectators and the king who just arrived to realize who is it that has her skirt bunched up and her legs wrapped around his waist, urging Daemon to fuck her faster and harder and begging not to stop.

When the princess rakes her nails along his exposed chest, Daemon groans and arches his back. After opening his eyes again, he finds himself face to face with his intended audience and smirks while maintaining eye contact with them and rolling his hips against yours to make you moan louder than before.

"Ah, brother," the prince starts with a malicious smile, "how nice of you to join us. I had a question for the council and our beloved king..."

He grunts as you squeeze him, chanting his name as a prayer to make you come. Daemon only spares you a quick nip to your lower lip and a 'hush' before he continues the show.

"Can I marry her now, or do I have to continue elsewhere?" Then, as you buck under him, chasing for more, he changes his mind of the roles and includes you in the taunting with a genuine smile he can't help when he looks at you.

"What do you think, my love?" He asks with that smug tone as he slows his thrusts to make the scene last. "Would you like to give a show to our people? Perhaps in the throne room, it would be a fitting stage for a princess, hm?"

The king is about to order his death for sure when you pull down the wicked man above you for a passionate kiss and murmur just loud enough for everyone to hear, "How about on the throne?"

"Enough. Just enough." The king yells before he turns his back on the debauchery and walks away with a last order to the Hand. "Arrange the wedding."

[crimsonhydrangeavn]

I really love the game demo so far. I’ve watched day 1 and 2 of the demo played by a Let’s Player I follow. The writing is beautiful and I very much like Garret.

That being said, why is the “bad” and “toxic” character the only nonbinary one? I’m nonbinary and use they/them pronouns exclusively myself, so it’s a bit painful to see the toxic ex character be the only one that’s the same gender as me, and I’m sure to other nonbinary people like me.

Can you tell me the reasoning behind making Teagan nonbinary? Or why there aren’t any redeemable characters that are nonbinary? I understand it’s just fiction, but also nonbinary people don’t really get a lot of representation in fiction especially not in dating sims.

Thank you to much for reaching out and letting me know how you found out about Crimson Hydrangea VN and how much you've enjoyed the game and Garret so far! I'm assuming the Let's Player you're referring to is Espoir Du Vide since she's the only one who I've seen make a video about CHVN. I've been following her for a little while and I'm fan of hers as well. She has a wonderful soothing voice and her jokes/memes really make me laugh!

I also want to thank you for feeling comfortable enough to send me such a sensitive and completely legitimate concern. Thank you for phrasing it in such a respectful and straightforward manner. I'm always open to all forms of feedback and am always open to learning and hearing others out.

That being said, I completely hear your concerns and I can understand where you're coming from. Unfortunately Teagan hasn't had a lot of screen time compared to others in the game (Only really showing up in Day 2). And the limited screen time that they have had hasn't really shown them in the best light.

Of course, I'll go into more depth as to why that is down below just in case people don't want to risk being spoiled.

I also summarized what I wrote below for those who don't want to risk seeing spoilers but want to know the main points of what I said.

Teagan isn't inherently bad and they are redeemable.

While their gender expression is an important part of them and their backstory, their gender isn't and should never be considered a factor as to why they're toxic.

They're toxic because of their actions, not because of who they are as a person or what they identify as.

I also apologize that Teagan's current perception is painful for you and others. That was never my intention and I'm genuinely sorry it's come across that way.

!POTENTIAL SPOILERS BELOW!

Teagan's current perception is completely overshadowed by the fact that they're your ex and you had a terrible dramatic break up. The game currently doesn't go into the decade or so of history you two have. All the sweet and meaningful moments between the two of you, how utterly devoted they were to you, how they supported you through difficult times and vice versa.

Unfortunately you're seeing them through the eyes of an ex who is still processing a rough break up and suppressing/ actively ignoring all of the positive traits they originally fell in love with.

That being said, I will say that Teagan has to be one of the most complex characters I've written. Yes, they are flawed but that doesn't mean they are inherently "bad". Their negative actions are currently overshadowing their positive traits. Teagan does have the capability to grow and learn and improve themselves, if you decide to go down that route in the game.

There were several reasons why I made Teagan nonbinary, and I can assure you that none of them were malicious or ill intended.

I don't necessarily want to go into all of the reasons as to why I made them nonbinary since I feel as though it'll spoil a few key elements about their backstory that I plan on revealing in game.

Instead I'll focus on one of the main reasons you actually mentioned in your ask, Representation.

For me, representation doesn't mean that they need to always be painted in the best light. Yes, they shouldn't be painted in a stereotypical or hateful way, but I also don't think they should be shown as perfect and flawless.

You see, I personally adore character development. A complex and flawed character who learns and grows from the people and situations around them to become a "better person" is my favorite kind of character arc.

What better way to honor Teagan than to show their journey of character growth during Crimson Hydrangea? Or at least that's what my thought process is/was.

I also wanted to mention that Teagan and Garret were created to be foils of each other. Yes, they're both yanderes, but they're still completely different kinds of people.

Garret comes off as very sweet and charming because you're only seeing him on a surface level. That perfect version of Garret is a facade he wears for you and others. There's a deep rooted darkness to him that you'll see in later days and you'll discover just how horribly toxic he is/can become. (Perhaps even more so than Teagan...)

Teagan on the other hand, has already shown you their toxicity. It's all come to light because of the break up and there's no hiding from it. You know them better than anyone else and that has it's pros and cons. Depending on the route you choose, they can either dig their heels in and become the worst version of themselves, or they can finally face reality and take accountability for their actions and start to heal as a person ( and potentially as a partner if you so choose.)

I hope my in depth explanation has helped you understand where I'm coming from and see that there was no intended slight meant towards those who identify as nonbinary.

With all of that being said, I will apologize that Teagan's current perception is painful for you and others. That was never my intention and I'm genuinely sorry it's come across that way.

[sweetbottletops]

Aya looks really nice here. The mug shot will be immaculate.

Ch. 94

Three gyaru spending the entire passing period in the bathroom, in retrospect, should not be a surprise. She's going to look amazing ripping them all a new one though.

Koga hardly made it past the doorway. Dropped her phone even. And it does look like a good chunk of the class are involved. Her body language is obvious, but none of them have put a stop to it.

Aya saw the lyrics. At least enough to *know*. The title is her own words. She looks right over to Koga who *knows* that she knows and looks particularly struck in that moment.

Aya seeing it seems to have really set her off.

"It's Koga-san's latest hit...such a great song (LOL!)" For anyone wondering, Japanese fans are interpreting him as mocking, malicious, and inexcusable. His behavior is clearly wrong.

Aya's gap is scary.

Read the room, buddy. You stole her private notebook and wrote her private feelings on the classroom wall.... AND sullied it with MTL!

I do think he was trying to give her a hard time because she went viral online and had the audacity of being good at English. She seemed like fair game when if he knew her he'd know she isn't looking to go viral, wanting attention, intentionally hides everything about herself like being fluent in English, and never intended sharing her song beyond Aya.

(Were those feet Koga running past Aya into the hallway where the other girls are? Those are her school shoes. I'm having spacial problems.)

Aya understands that music is where Koga is safe to feel things. Music is how they connected and communicated in playlists. Hidden in a song in a language Aya doesn't know is Koga's true feelings. Likely meant only for her to hear someday.

(Is Koga literally throwing up or is she having trouble breathing?)

Not now, Baldy.

Aya having a hold-me-back moment. She's going to get in trouble anyway so might as well go feral.

I'm not sure Koga has ever had anyone defend her so completely. She shields Joe from a lot of stuff and he can't be everywhere at once.

Last time she had a friend things went bad when faced with adversity, but she should know Aya dgaf about the crowd herself and won't ever ask Koga to either. Things won't go down the same way this time around.

I am almost expecting this will trigger a parents' conference. Maybe I just really want them to all meet. Aya's parents raised a gyaru kid so have to be pretty nice. And I want everyone to see how cool Joe and Kanna are. (And I wanna see that loser boy realize how out of their league he is vs them.)

[glimmeringtwilight]

Playing Nice | Yandere Scaramouche x Reader

this wasn't even intended to be a fic but here we are. modern au scaramouche wooo. This was spurred on by a conversation with a friend about what job scaramouche would have in a modern au. She made a very compelling argument for marketing

CW: alcohol use (reader gets drunk), yandere themes, implied captivity, drugging mention

Word count: 3.1k

Scaramouche is a terrible coworker. 

You both work in marketing, and though he's the department lead and technically your boss, he has no jurisdiction to actually fire you, as much as he may threaten it.

He's been more insufferable as of late, though. Constantly nitpicking your work, berating you if you show up even a minute late to meetings– and even then, most days it's because he sends you out on a fool's errand, last minute, before the meeting. You know he does it on purpose so he has an excuse to heckle you once you step into the meeting room, but you've decided on malicious compliance at this point.

Just last week, even, Miko called you into her office to discuss your tardiness because Scaramouche had some complaints. When you explained– as professionally as you could with Scaramouche glaring daggers at you– what the real reason for you being late to meetings (and sometimes even missing them entirely) was, Miko merely tittered and smiled knowingly.

You were sent back to your desk, listening to Scaramouche arguing with the boss through the door as it shut behind you. At the time, you'd wondered where he found the balls to do it. Though Miko's never been outright cruel to you, something about her makes you nervous.

Later, when you'd ranted about it to Sara in the breakroom, she'd told you it's because he's related to the CEO. It explains a lot. Namely: how he hasn't been fired yet or recieved anything more than a writeup or two after the dozens of complaints you've filed with HR.

You'd considered quitting. Multiple times. Scaramouche is, for lack of a kinder word, a prick.

...But. The pay is good, the benefits are phenomenal, and when you'd gone searching for jobs, none of them paid even half as much as your current one for this position. So, begrudgingly, you stay.

Miko even offered you a substantial raise when she gave you your first yearly review, as "acknowledgement for your professionalism and work ethic." You know how to read between the lines. "Thanks for putting up with him. Play nice," she means.

Maybe Miko thinks it's funny, watching Scaramouche burst a blood vessel over you. You honestly don't care. If she's going to pay you extra for tolerating him, you're not going to look it in the mouth.

It's not like Scaramouche is the worst possible coworker you could have. He's passive aggressive, sure. He's arrogant. He's got a fuse that's roughly the size of a hangnail. But his backhanded comments don't cut you anymore, and you're sure you’ve had worse coworkers– ones you weren't paid extra to play nice with.

Frankly, it's less his attitude and more the way he... fixates. Sure, he's miserable to just about everyone in the office, but you're not blind to the way he singles you out. He's even told you, once, when you asked him to have someone else do the coffee run, that you're the only one here who does an acceptable job.

Not a good job, no. He posits that only he can meet his own impossible standards (and you're inclined to agree, frankly), but that such things are beneath him and he doesn't have the time for it. Heizou jokes that he must have a crush on you, or something, because Scaramouche goes out of his way to pester you more than anyone else in the office.

"In fact, he actually used to keep to himself before you came along," He tells you, nudging your side and grinning as you pick at a lackluster tuna salad. As though you're supposed to find the thought of Scaramouche having a crush on you endearing.

You're sure it's not a crush, though. Scaramouche treats you like the bane of his existence– that's not how you treat a crush unless you're an angsty fourth grader. You think he just has some petty, asinine reason to dislike you, and it's not in his nature to get over it.

Then, one day, as though the universe had finally had enough of your plight, you hear the best news you've heard in your year-and-a-half of working at the company:

Scaramouche put in his two weeks.

Apparently, a headhunter from some big-shot startup had sought him out, offered him a high-paying position– a job with actual power to fire people on the spot. You know he doesn't deserve it. You already pity the poor souls who will have to work under him. But you still celebrate, and lie through your teeth with a grin as you pat him on the back and congratulate him on the job.

You don't ask him the company name, the details of his position, the specifics of his pay. You don't care about any of that. What matters most to you is that he's leaving.

For his part, the excitement of a new job wore off the day after he put in his two weeks.

He became... agitated. About what, you didn't know, but Scaramouche was constantly on edge during his last few weeks at the company. You didn't let it get to you, though– if anything, he was a lot more tolerable than he's ever been. He stopped singling you out as much, stopped berating you for minor mistakes, stopped hovering by your desk to correct spelling errors on whatever it was you were currently working on.

But watching the same man that would constantly berate you just... stare blankly out the windows towards the skyline, or at the wood grain of his desk... it was a little unsettling. After about a week of his weird, silent brooding, you decided to be nice to him for his last week at the company.

Not that you were ever mean to him, no! You were civil to him, no matter how much he tested you. But only just.

And besides, after this week you wouldn't see him ever again, outside the rare occasion he might visit his... whatever Miko is to him, at the office. The moping was starting to bother you anyways.

So, every day this week you've gone out of your way to bring him coffee in the morning, making sure to get his order right every time. He gives you a strange look each time you bring it to him, and stares at you from across the room for a full minute before even taking a sip of it, but you try to ignore it. He probably thinks you slipped laxatives into it (tempting, but you know better).

Then, on his last day, as you set the coffee down on his desk and are met with that same look, you tell him you'll miss him around the office.

You won't actually, but he doesn't need to know that. The bleeding heart in you does feel bad for him, as miserable as he is. He probably doesn't have many friends.

So... Even if it is a lie, you'll let him think he'll be missed. And you don't mention that you're definitely going to open a bottle of champagne once you get home after today.

But then he does something you don't expect.

"Have dinner with me."

You blink. "....Huh?"

Scaramouche's eyes narrow with obvious annoyance and he opens his mouth like he's about to snap at you, but then stops himself. You watch, dumbfounded, as he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose and repeats himself. "Have dinner with me."

"Why?" You fire back immediately, forgetting your vow to be as nice as possible to him. He must see the distrust on your face, because he backpedals.

"Not like that, idiot. A celebration dinner. You're free to invite anyone you like, I don't care." He waves his hand dismissively at the rest of the office, at Sara and Heizou, the latter of which you know is listening to this conversation.

You must be hesitating a beat too long, because Scaramouche adds, "It's on me."

"Deal."

He nods, mumbles a quiet "I'll drive you after work," then turns his attention pointedly away from you and back towards his monitor, signaling the conversation is over. You know him well enough by now not to be bothered.

When you sit down at your own desk and glance at Heizou, he immediately shakes his head. "I'll pass. As tempting as it is, I plan to celebrate on my own tonight."

You barely even glance at Sara before she pipes up, "No thanks."

You sigh. It looks like it'll just be you and your insufferable coworker, then. You could phone a friend, sure, but many of them work nights, and you don't think Scaramouche is willing to wait. At the very least, you'll take advantage of his sudden kindness as a means of getting free drinks.

A reward for your patience, you think. And penance for him being such a prick in the year you've known him.

So, when the day ends, you gather your things and head out into the parking lot, spotting Scaramouche by his car. He's leaning against the driver-side door, looking at his phone, and he doesn't even look up as you approach. Just jabs his thumb in the direction of the passenger seat and opens his own door.

You get in after him, buckling in and trying not to bristle when he props an arm behind your headrest to reverse out of his spot– the only spot with shade, and the one he insisted was only to be used by him. You can't wait to park in his spot every day after he leaves.

As you sit stiffly in the passenger seat and Scaramouche sets off in the direction of whatever restaurant it was he had in mind, you're struck by how... weird it is. You've known him for a year and a half, and you've never interacted with him outside of work, but he invites you to a celebration dinner out of the blue on his last day.

...Well. As long as you don't let him touch anything you eat or drink you'll be fine. You don't think he has it in him to drug you, but he is probably petty enough to slip laxatives into someone's food or drink. You can't put it past him, honestly.

Besides, you've already resolved that you're going to thoroughly celebrate his leaving. And if he's willing to pay for it? All the better.

His car is expensive, and surprisingly pristine. It looks like he hardly uses it, and it still has that new car smell– as well as something minty you can't quite place, but you don't see any air fresheners anywhere.

Still. The ride is awkward. Scaramouche drives in complete silence– doesn't try to make small talk, doesn't even spare you a glance. You're kind of afraid to ask him to turn on the radio, not wanting to sour his good mood and have him kick you out of his car, or something. So you sit in silence.

When you get to the restaurant, Scaramouche doesn't even wait for you before stepping out, and you rush to get out as well before the doors automatically lock on you. He's already halfway up the stairs leading to the entrance as you jog up to him, and if you didn't know any better, it's like he's trying to get away from you.

Still. You bite your tongue.

The two of you step into the restaurant and your jaw almost drops. It's... obviously expensive. You didn't look at the name before you entered, too busy catching up to your coworker, but from the decor to the way everyone seated at the tables is dressed, you can tell that he's taken you to a high-end restaurant.

He must want to show off, you think. He's getting a substantial pay raise, so you're not too surprised. But it doesn't ease the slight burn of embarrassment you feel at how... underdressed you are. You're just in your normal work clothes– a dress shirt and some black jeans that could almost pass as slacks.

Scaramouche, of course, is dressed appropriately. But only because he always dresses like that. You used to wonder why he would wear such expensive clothes to his regular office job, but as you watch the hostess greet Scaramouche with familiarity and ask, "your usual table?" you're beginning to understand why. Does he just... eat here after work? On a regular basis? You can't imagine him coming here on dates, with how high his standards are for everything else. 

The two of you are seated at a quiet booth in the back, too large for just two people, but Scaramouche doesn't seem to care about that fact. He immediately orders for the both of you without glancing at the menu, as well as a bottle of wine, and waves the waiter off with a blasé sort of impatience that would have made your hackles rise if you still worked in food service.

Then, once the waiter's out of sight, Scaramouche leans back comfortably against the booth and stares at you.

You glance around uncomfortably and realize the other tables are empty. ...Maybe you should have forced Heizou or Sara to come, after all.

"So," He starts, and you jolt a little as he breaks the silence between you two for the first time since getting in the car with him. "You're going to miss me, huh?"

You're confused, at first. But then you remember the comment you made earlier. "...Yeah. It's going to be weird not having you there at the office." Peaceful, you leave unsaid.

He hums, a small, satisfied smile crawling onto his face, and you bite your tongue.

He doesn't say anything else, and, in fact, seems unbothered by the tense silence. You sit there unsure of yourself until the waiter comes back with the food and the bottle of wine as well as two wine glasses.

Scaramouche waits until you're a bite into your meal to speak again.

"Do you want to be my assistant?"

You almost choke on the bite you'd taken, sputtering and swallowing harshly to croak out, "W-What?"

He pours you a glass of wine and hands it to you, watching as you gulp down two large sips of wine to settle your coughing. You wish the waiter would have brought water, as well, but he's already left and you don't think many of the service staff check back here; especially not if Scaramouche treats them like he does his coworkers.

"I'll pay you double what you currently make," He continues, once you've stopped coughing.

"...Why me?"

"Because you do your job, and you do it well. What other reason do I need?"

"Oh," You mutter lamely, and take a slow sip of wine, holding the glass with both hands so you have something to occupy them.

Scaramouche watches you in silence, tapping his finger impatiently against the table. You realize there's no getting out of answering this.

"I... appreciate the offer," You start, smiling as kindly as you can manage when his eye twitches and he turns his head the other way, clearly no longer listening, "But no thank you. I like my current job, and money isn't a concern of mine right now."

You couldn't pay me nearly enough to work under you, you think.

Your coworker huffs, rolling his eyes. "Fine. Suit yourself."

The rest of your meal is spent in silence, with you uncomfortably downing probably three glasses of wine just to alleviate your nerves. You know you shouldn't drink quite so much, but Scaramouche tops off your glass before you can even finish it without batting an eye, and you're trying your hardest to make the best of this night.

The alcohol helps, at least. You loosen up, filling the silence with idle small talk, which Scaramouche half-assedly reciprocates. He looks mildly annoyed by your chattiness but it doesn't deter you.

You gather that his new job is still in marketing– this new company seems to be a tech company that largely deals with the military, actually, but some of their product will be sold to the general public. You don't really... retain much more than that, the night fuzzing together after that point.

The waiter comes back at some point for the bill, and Scaramouche pays in cash, already standing up to haul you out of your seat.

"We're leaving. Get up," He hisses, tugging you roughly up by the arm when you don't immediately move. "Idiot."

Whatever. You take it on the chin, letting Scaramouche lead you out of the restaurant– or drag, more like– and back to his car. You're used to his abrasiveness by now, and this is the last night you'll have to put up with him. Besides, he paid for your dinner and your drinks.

This time, he opens the passenger-side door for you.

"What a gentleman," You snicker, undeterred by the scowl you get in response. He lets go of you as soon as you're in, slamming the door behind you.

You don't remember the drive, dozing off as soon as Scaramouche starts the engine. There's bits and pieces– someone jostling you awake, stumbling up some steps as a harsh grip on your bicep leads you inside, then collapsing onto a bed.

This… is not your house. It's the first thing you register when you come to.

The room is dark, so you can’t see anything, but there’s an unfamiliar hum of the A/C coming from somewhere else in the house, the sheets are too cold and too soft to be your own, and the alarm on the nightstand reading 3:00AM is not one you recognize.  

The second thing you register is the pressure of something around your throat, the arm wound around your waist, the chest at your back.

You meet resistance when you try to bring your arms in front of you, trying to process what's happening as your head throbs something wicked. Scaramouche must have brought you to his place last night. That’s… fine. You didn’t tell him where you live, and you were probably too out of it for him to ask. But why–

"I did give you the choice, you know," A familiar voice pipes up behind you. The arm around your waist tightens when you flinch.

Why are your arms tied behind your back? You tug again, meeting the same resistance and feeling whatever he used to tie them rub abrasively at your skin. 

“What the fuck–”

"I should have figured you'd make this difficult," He sighs, nose digging against your nape as you're pulled closer. Blunt nails bite into your hip. "You always do."

You try to pull away and his grip turns crushing; the air is forced from your lungs by the arm wound around you. His other hand comes up to grab you by the throat when you open your mouth to scream.

“Ah, ah. Be good.” You shut your mouth and your skin crawls at the satisfied chuckle you hear from behind you as Scaramouche settles back down against the sheets. “See? Good for something, after all.”

The hand around your throat doesn’t budge. Your head is still reeling through the pain. A finger taps at your jugular and you flinch again.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll deal with you in the morning.”

Scaramouche quiets down, and you stare blankly into the darkness of the room, wondering just what the hell you got yourself into.

…Maybe playing nice wasn't such a good idea, after all.

[bruh-2004]

XDINARY HEROES REACTION TO: You accidentally "on all fours" towards them

- you are their best friend; - they secretly have a crush on you; - sorry for any spelling mistakes, English is not my native language.

WARNING: Suggestive, malicious thoughts, inappropriate words.

GUN-IL

SCENARIO: you and gun-il were having a movie and game night together, you decided to start with the games so you were playing twister, movement comes, movement comes, until you had to get into a position that accidentally made you face up to the boy .

- gun-il would be a little embarrassed about the situation, after all, liking you and having a premium view like that is not easy to disguise;

- he would soon decide to flirt with you to forget his shyness "I think this game is insinuating that we should do something y/n";

- you would both laugh about it as a joke, but deep down you would both really want to do this "something" together.

JOOYEON

SCENARIO: you were in Jooyeon's room choosing games to play on the video game, none of the games interested you and then Jooyeon asked you to get the last box of games from the bottom of the dresser, you, intending to fulfill his request, ended up "on all fours" " to catch.

- jooyeon wouldn't be able to take his eyes off you, he would try really hard, but he would be stronger than him;

- he's not stupid or anything, and he feels that you like him too, jooyeon realized that his arm couldn't reach so he was "kind" to stretch over you, reaching for the box;

- you two looked at each other, you were a little confused but feeling butterflies in your stomach, the boy smiled at you and said as if it had been an innocent act "I realized you needed help".

JUNHAN

SCENARIO: Junhan was trying to teach you how to play the guitar, you were on the sofa in the living room, your hands were sore so the boy asked you to pick up the pick that was on the coffee table, so you did, but instead of getting up and going you just put one foot on the floor and stretched out on the table, so you ended up leaning towards Junhan.

- poor Junhan, the little animal would freeze, his eyes would open wide and he would start to sweat cold (and no, that wouldn't be an exaggeration);

- he would try to ignore it and look in other directions but would fail miserably;

- you ended up realizing the situation and laughed, you sat back down on the sofa and said to tease the boy "what's wrong Junhan? did you like the view?", he would try to respond but he would start to stutter, again you would tease "did you imagine something? like ... me on all fours for you?", that's it, then the boy almost passed out.

JUNGSU

SCENARIO: it was a Saturday, you and Jungsu live together and were each doing something, you were in the living room doing some physical exercises while he was in his room playing the keyboard. After you finished the exercises, you prepared a snack to take to the boy, so you did. When you got there he smiled at you and thanked you for the snack, he took it with one hand and with the other he handed you some sheet music asking you to put it in his drawer, you went to do it but ended up standing up because you hadn't squatted down.

- he would be red at first, a little shy;

- but I see Jungsu as someone who can be shameless at the same time, seeing you prancing around for him in that gym outfit activated his perverted side;

- when you came back to him he would make you sit sideways on his lap leaving you confused, he would say "should I confess to you while I put you on all fours for me?".

O.DE

SCENARIO: you and seungmin were at the gym at his house (we have a rich boy here), you were taking a break from exercising while he was still doing it. At one point, the boy called you and asked you to get a bottle of water for him from the minibar. When you did that, instead of crouching down and picking it up, you just reached down, standing straight up towards him.

- o.de would analyze you from top to bottom, finally understanding 100% why he fell in love with you, in his head he would be saying "in addition to being beautiful and a great person, you're still hot like that";

- when you went to hand him the bottle you would notice that his look was different, he got up and picked up the bottle, placing it where he was sitting, he would approach you smiling and leaving you a little confused, but with your heart racing;

- he would say "you know y/n, looking at you now I understand why I fell in love with you", your heart would almost come out of your mouth, he would laugh at your reaction and pull you closer to him by the waist, he would continue saying "you're beautiful, nice and have a perfect body... seeing you standing up made me want to put you on all fours", you would blink your eyes a few times hearing him laugh again and walk away as if nothing had happened.

GAON

SCENARIO: you were dusting the living room, the boys all live with you but had gone somewhere except jiseok who had a bad throat. You were dusting the dresser, at the bottom and as a result you ended up in a rather dubious position, Gaon arrived in the room and ended up seeing you prancing around without you noticing his presence.

- the boy would bite his lip and immediately a thousand things would go through his mind (gaon totally gives me a polluted mind vibe);

- he would sit on the sofa and say "you look very seductive in that position", making you jump in fright;

- Jiseok would laugh and go to you, crouching down in front of you, you would look at each other deeply and he would put a hand on your face saying "if you continue in that position I will feel obligated to tell you that I want to put you on all fours for me" .

[gloomwitchwrites]

An Unexpected Catch: Boromir x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings: canon-typical violence

Word Count: 3.1k

Chapter Two

While investigating an attack on a Gondorian settlement, Boromir finds himself run through with a sword and tossed into a nearby river. When death seems dangerously near, Boromir’s body washes up to shore, tangled in a fishing net. A young woman living alone finds Boromir and brings him home to care for him. As Boromir physically heals, he finds that his heart is also missing something important.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // an unexpected catch masterlist

Boromir

The rains that come in the Night bring early morning mist and low clouds.

Upon his horse, Boromir observes the hazy horizon. The tall grass around his horse’s legs is dew-kissed and wet, darkening the horse’s coat until it appears black. The mist clings to his armor, creating a slick covering on the metal. When Boromir returns to Minas Tirith, the royal blacksmith will need to inspect it, cleaning it properly to avoid potential rust.

“Captain!” Brennan, one of the men that is accompanying Boromir trots forward, pulling up beside him. “The scout has not reported in.”

Boromir briefly glances at him before returning to scan the horizon. Even with the low clouds and mist, he can see enough.

Something dark stirs in these lands—awakening with malicious intent. It is palpable like the way butter sits salty and thick on the tongue when not evenly spread. It is heavy in the air and lungs, a vice around throats and hearts. It is a battering ram. It is everywhere.

Faramir is in Osgiliath.

The city conquered. Retaken. Conquered again. Mostly in sections, but it’s continuous. Unending. A brutal task that Boromir is only fighting because his father wants it so.

All who lived there are gone, moved to Minas Tirith. Boromir doesn’t know when it’ll be safe to return.

It might never be.

The orcs grow bold. A shadow is at their backs, spurring their forward momentum and bloodlust. As if they are sucking the darkness into themselves, they are relentless, fueling themselves on whatever drives them ever onward.

“What was the original report?” asks Boromir.

“Raids, sir,” answers Brennan. “Corsairs along the river. Mercenaries from the East. Mostly.”

“Mostly?” counters Boromir. “What other beings move along the Anduin?”

Brennan shakes his head. “Report didn’t say. Only that the Corsairs come and go. They advance and retreat in equal measure.”

“No pattern?”

“None that’s been revealed.”

Boromir nods, but there is no comfort. Acting on little information is a risk, and they are few in number.

“We will forge ahead,” replies Boromir. “Slowly. Keep to the trees. Avoid open ground.”

Boromir does not intend to engage. This is to gain information to relay back to Minas Tirith, to figure out a path forward.

The party is only ten in number on horseback. Boromir gathers the reins, and they depart, descending from the large hill they look out on to draw up next to the tree line. On the other side is the Anduin. It’s far enough that they cannot see it but close enough that Boromir swears he can hear the water.

They follow the tree line for several leagues. The day does not lighten. The skies remain grey and gloomy.

Boromir raises his fist, and the group halts.

He narrows his gaze, unsure of what he’s seeing.

“Do any of you see what I see, or do my eyes deceive me?”

“Looks like smoke,” replies Brennan.

“Or dark clouds,” adds Alden, scratching at his beard.

Boromir frowns. “Is there anything in that direction.”

“Likely a settlement,” answers Brennan. “Or a small village. Might not be on any maps expect local ones.”

Turning toward his men, Boromir keeps his tone even. “We will approach from the forest. Move slowly. Stay alert.”

Turning their steeds toward the forest, they enter one by one, trudging slowly through the undergrowth. The canopy swallows them up like a leviathan. Around them are large trees, and Boromir feels small—as if everything is tight and cramped.

To move through the trees, the group has to split, forming two lines.

At the edge of the tree line, Boromir brings everyone to a halt.

There is a town. A small settlement of a couple dozen buildings. To the left is the Anduin. The dock there is empty expect for a few fishing boats.

Some of the buildings still smolder. The rest are just blackened carcasses.

Boromir sees no bodies. Orcs would leave plenty behind. They rarely—if ever—take prisoners. Corsairs certainly kill but they tend to withhold their blades for profit. Living souls mean income. They can exchange hostages for coin, or take them to faraway places to sell them. Everything is a profit for them.

But there may still be bodies. Boromir just can’t see them.

It is he that takes the first step out of the trees. The others follow behind at the same pace, their hands on their weapons as they enter the settlement.

It is incredibly quiet. Hardly any noise. No birds or buzzing of insects. Only the occasional crackle of singed wood falling in on itself.

Moving like ghosts amongst a graveyard, they find themselves at the center of it all, and still, there are no bodies. Only blackened buildings.

“Captain,” murmurs Brennan. “Look.”

Boromir follows Brennan’s outstretched arm in the direction he indicates. There he finds a partially collapsed building. The door is open, hanging on its hinges, ready to fall off at the slightest gust of wind. Draped across the threshold is a pale arm, hand pressed into the earth as if the person tried to claw their way to freedom.

As a group, they approach, but it is Boromir who dismounts first. Brennan and Alden follow his lead while the others remain where they are. Cautiously, they examine the door and pale arm. Boromir leans in, only to find more the arm and who it is connected to.

It’s a woman.

Brennan kneels beside her, fingers pressed to the inside of her wrist before checking her neck.

Without speaking, Brennan turns in Boromir’s direction and shakes his head.

She’s gone. There is nothing that can be done.

Boromir nods his head, indicating that they should enter. He takes the lead, Brennan at his heels as Alden lingers back a bit near the door. They step around overturned furniture and over fallen beams.

“Touch nothing,” whispers Boromir.

It’s a small space, and reveals little. Bending at the knees, Boromir leans in to examine scorch marks along the floor that look like claw marks.

Behind him—distantly—there is a soft whoosh of air like a change in the wind.

A brief shout—quickly cut off.

Brennan and Alden draw their blades and charge toward the door.

“Wait!” says Boromir but they’re gone.

More shouting. The ringing of metal striking metal.

He sidesteps a beam and comes up short.

“Come out! We know you’re in there!”

Beyond the door are Corsairs. Not a handful. No. There are at least five of them to every one of Boromir’s men. But there aren’t many of his men left.

Most are down.

Boromir can only see about five of them on the ground in front of the house. He doesn’t see the others, but with how calm and unbothered the Corsairs are, they’re likely gone.

“Come out! Last chance. Won’t be lenient if we have to come in there.”

Muttering under his breath, Boromir exits, sword raised high, ready to swing.

The Corsair at the front of the group laughs. His black hair is thick and slightly tangled in a knot at the back of his head.

“Put your sword down. No use fighting.”

Boromir does not relent. He does not lower his weapon.

“A soldier of Gondor does not bow down to those poised to do evil.”

The Corsairs blinks, and then bursts out laughing again. He points, hand gesturing vaguely toward Boromir. “Armor is shiny. Fetch a pretty price.” He tilts his head to the side. “Bring it to me.”

Boromir is alone. Utterly alone.

Five Corsairs descend on him, and Boromir swings, hacking through two and ducking a third blow. This is easy. This is nothing. All the training is now natural, and Boromir is only an extension of his blade.

Until he isn’t.

Until there are far too many to fend off.

He lifts to swing again, but there is resistance in the swing. A pinch that becomes a sting and then bright, blinding pain.

Boromir glances down.

Impaled.

The Corsair holding the sword that sticks from his side grins wickedly before yanking it out.

Red comes with. Surprisingly dark.

The world spins. Boromir lands on his knees, and then all he sees above him is the grey sky.

“Take the armor. Then toss them all in the river.”

Reader

“I know. I know. Quit chiming. Giving me a headache.”

The bell does not cease. It continues to ring—loud and sharp in the small room.

That is its one job. It’s singular purpose. Your father designed it to be so.

The string that connects to the bell runs along a small tube in the ground which leads out to the fishing nets by the dock. Whenever the weight shifts past a certain amount, the bell will ring, indicating that it’s ready to be checked.

Depending on weight, the bell will give a soft chime or a loud one.

Right now, it’s loud. Angry.

And your father isn't here. He's been called away to serve in Gondor's navy. It's just you keeping it together.

When it was just the two of you, the amount of work didn’t seem so bad, but now that it’s just you, checking the nets consistently simply isn’t possible. It takes up too much time in your day, and hauling them up is a two-person job.

But with the bell ringing like it is, you’re going to have to check, even if you know it’ll take up far too much time.

Pushing your hair back and out of your face, you put on a fresh dress for the day. It’s simple. Meant to get dirty from garden work and wet from checking the nets. Grabbing your apron off the back of a chair, you tie it around your waist, exiting into the garden.

Opening the coop first to allow the chickens out, you then pop your head into the small barn.

“Hello, Daisy,” you coo, rubbing the cow’s side. She replies with a soft croon of contentment.

The two pigs snort in your direction but remain where they are. The sheep attempt to stick their heads through the wood slats to reach you.

“Behave,” you scold, pushing Tulip’s head back into the pen. “You’ll get stuck again and I’m not spending my day removing the boards to free you.”

Tulip baas a sharp reply.

Even in the barn you can still hear the bell from inside the house.

It’s misty out. A bit chilly.

The animals need space. They need to walk around and graze, but with the weather like it is, they might prefer to stay inside. Lightly chewing on the inside of your cheek, you decide to open the pens.

“Have at it,” you mutter, knowing you might regret this later when you try to round everyone up.

Following the stone path to the river, you gaze out across the landscape. There are dark clouds in the distance. At first, you think them storm clouds, but they appear far too dark for that.

Everything is odd now. There are whispers. Rumors of a spreading darkness.

But you are completely isolated. You are near no villages or settlements for a league or two at least. Whatever you have heard, it’s from passing travelers on the roads to said villages. When your father was called up, he didn’t know until he took a trip to town. They sent no one to fetch him, and the summons had come months ago.

“Strange,” you murmur, frowning at the dark spot in the sky.

Heading for the lever to raise the fishing nets, you sigh heavily, not wanting to do this at all. This is the part you hate the most. It takes an extreme amount of upper body strength, which is why it is a two-person endeavor.

Without your father to help you, you have to put your full weight behind each downward push.

Wrapping your fingers around the handle of the lever, you go up on your toes, and then allow your body to naturally fall downward, using your weight to crank it.

Everything moves. Turns. Creaks loudly.

You repeat the process until you’re sweating and the coolness of the air no longer kisses your skin with a chill.

Eventually the net begins to rise. Sticks and twigs and dead leaves appear. Not unusual, but there is typically movement in the water at this point. The fish don’t want to be dragged to the surface. They will flop about, the water around them churning with their wiggling bodies.

But there is nothing.

Not—no.

Not fish. Something…else.

Pausing, you step closer to the edge. Falling to your knees, you reach down into the water and push leaves and sticks out the way to get a better lock.

“Uinen’s tears!” you exclaim, jumping back.

It’s a man.

There is a man in your net.

Frantically, you reach out. Using the water’s natural buoyancy, you turn the man over. He is pale, and twisted in the twigs, hair a dark fan around him.

There are no fish. Just him.

With an urgency you didn't possess before, you go back to the lever, heaving yourself against it over and over again until your feel the wood biting into your skin. Once the net is high enough, you unclasp the lock, pushing forward, the net swinging toward you as it comes to hover over the dock.

You reengage the lock, and then the net settles, expanding outward to rest against the wood, opening wide to reveal everything inside.

The man tumbles out. Unresponsive.

Falling to your knees next to him, you push his wet hair of his face. Fingers pressing to his throat, you pray that you will find live beneath them.

There is nothing. Only silence. Not even a flutter.

As you reach up to remove twigs and leaves from his hair, there is a soft brush of breath against the inside of your wrist. Pausing, you bring your hand back, hovering your palm above his mouth.

Waiting.

Nothing.

And then—

It comes again. Soft, but there.

He is alive. This stranger is alive.

With both hands pressed to his chest, you shove down, over and over again. His body convulses, and you dart backward, turning him on his side and he purges brackish water from his lungs.

Coughing, the stranger groans, and you rub his back in an attempt to soothe him. He leans forward a bit, one hand pressed into the wet wood beneath him, cheek firmly squished against the dock.

He’s wearing nothing but plain pants and a tunic. He does not wear boots. Not even socks. From what you can tell, there is nothing that identifies him as belonging to any one person or place.

A stranger in your net.

An unexpected catch.

The stranger takes in big gulps of air, eyes still closed. His hand shakes slightly before he pushes himself onto his back. That is when his eyelids start to open, and you lean over him.

You don’t dare touch him.

“Do I behold an angel?”

You blink, stunned. “A—what?”

Eyelids fluttering, the stranger slips back into unconsciousness.

“Wake up,” you plead, grasping the sides of his face, checking for awareness. “Please.”

His breathing is even, but he’s out again.

Releasing the sides of his face, you survey the rest of him. His clothes are completely soaked, clinging to his skin. They reveal a muscled body beneath. But that isn’t all. On the stranger’s left side, there is a large dark spot in the fabric, and a small tear.

Slowly, you pull it up.

Your heart drops into your stomach.

The wound in his stomach is red and swollen. It’s bad, but might not yet be fatal. You’ve seen far worse. Helped heal worse. A wound like this will take time though.

While part of you wants to understand who this man is, it’s far from the most important thing.

“How am I to carry you?” you ask, as if he can answer.

If he were conscious, the stranger could help. But the man is out cold, and no matter how you try to rouse him, he won’t wake.

You don't want to drag him but you can't carry him.

“Oh, Uinen. Help me.”

Not that you expect an answer. You have to do this on your own.

Leaving the stranger on the dock, you rush back to the house. Grabbing a sturdy blanket, you head for the barn, bridling the horse, and attaching the contraption your father built for towing large objects.

Returning to the stranger, you do your best to push him onto the blanket. You half yank, half roll him onto the blanket before tying everything up.

“All right, Bessie. Forward now. Slowly. That’s it. Good girl.”

Bessie begins her ascent up the path. With the incline and oddly placed stones, she takes it slow, and you stay behind her, taking care to protect the stranger’s head. The process is slow, and takes up precious time, but Bessie makes it to the top.

From there, you guide her as close to the door as possible. Pushing the door wide, you return and detaching the makeshift sling. Bessie is too big to fit into the house, and this is the part where you have to drag the stranger into the house.

At least the blasted bell isn’t ringing anymore.

Your bed is too small. Choosing your father’s, you change course, dragging the stranger into your father’s bedroom.

You bring the stranger to a rest next to the bed. Taking a deep breath, you hook your arms underneath his armpits, and attempt to lift.

You fall right on your butt.

“Angel,” murmurs the stranger.

Leaning to the side, you gently cup his cheek. The stranger’s eyes are slightly open, awareness returning.

“I can’t lift you on my own,” you murmur, unsure if he’ll understand.

But he does.

The stranger nods. He’s a little out of it, but he assists in draping his arm over your shoulders, shifting his weight as you lift his upper half off the ground.

Groaning, you manage to get him partially onto the bed. Grabbing his feet next, you lift his legs, and then he’s in.

The stranger sighs, then winces, eyelids closing yet again.

His clothes will need to be removed and changed. Skin will need to be cleansed and any wounds checked over. The one in his side will likely need to be stitched closed. You’ll need blankets. A fire to keep him warm.

Already, he shivers.

Are there people looking for him? People searching? Or is he utterly alone? No family to speak of.

Lightly, your fingers brush the edge of his hairline. His hair is starting to dry. Small patches have turned auburn. It’s a lovely color.

“Whoever you are,” you murmur. “Wherever you come from. I’ll make sure you return.”

taglist:

@coffeecaketornado @glassgulls @foxxy-126 @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet

@singleteapot @tiredmetalenthusiast @glitterypirateduck @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @ninman82 @beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx

@weasleytwins-41 @thewulf @firelightinferno @protosslady @fstwdsstuffandthaaangs

[factual-fantasy]

25 ASKS! THANK YOU!! :DD 🚲

Thank you! And welcome back!! :DD Though what a poor time to come back around to the dumpster fire that is Tumblr--

If you haven't heard the news, we got a bunch of A.I. crap goin on. You'd best go into all your blogs settings individually to "opt out of 3rd party something something". Gotta protect your artwork and reblogs from being A.I. data scraped!

@fnaf-smilingcritters0

Thank you!! :DD

That, and also I think they would get more brittle as they age.. :(

Oh yeah for sure! :D Though Seafoam's beard/hair is made of actual seafoam. So its not that tasty- <XDD

That sounds deliciously dangerous! XDD 😋

I do know that Jam is their blood at least! :0 ..at least I think so-

@tallchest13-blog

XDD I give you an E for effort!

@astaherussy (Referencing this post)

XDD I can almost see him doing that as a social experiment of sorts. Just to see that everyone else would say.

Its all fun and games until everyone starts responding with "Oh absolutely" "Everyday matey.." "Oh yeah, all the time!" Peso would be shocked- XDD

He does not handle the separation well <XD

Well "ship" usually refers to head-cannoning/wanting two characters to be romantically involved. Even if they are not in canon. Blue and Seafoam aren't a ship, they just are.. well, together. Its written into the canon that they are together. So its not a ship and its feels a lot different than a ship would..

As for Peach and Mario, a quick google search says they are canonically mutually romantically interested in each other. Same with Luigi and Daisy. I only tagged my posts as "Mario x Peach" and "Luigi x Daisy".. because that's what people search for when they wanted to see romantic content of those characters-

And even if google straight up lied/is wrong and it turns out not to be confirmed? Those two pairings are so strongly suggested/implied in canon, that I don't get any of negative feelings I associate with ships.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I just don't like ships. It really isn't my thing for a lot of reasons. There's a loooot of not great feelings associated with them. None of my own characters make me feel that way becuase I created them. And their relationships are written into the story..

And the Mario pairings are canon. Or at the very least, they are soooo strongly implied, that I don't get any of the negative feelings associate with ships even if they weren't canonically a thing.. I hope that made sense..?

@citrusfruitman

DUDE THAT SOUNDS LIKE A NIGHTMARE- IM TERRIFIED OF SPIDERS-- <XDD

Huh, the more you know! :0

(Link in question)

XDD Oh yeah absolutely

She will flatten that cake in under 5 minutes. And suffer absolutely no consequences what so ever. Lucky gal <XD

THESE ARE ALL SO GOOD! :DD Rainbow cobbler sounds like it would fit the best considering the ships colors.. But I want the name to relate to coral in some way.. hmm..

@blackcatzcandraw

Uhg.. yeah, I'm aware.. its a good thing I don't plan to post Octonauts content much anymore-

I don't like to think of my OCs as drinkers.. but if anyone did drink, it would be Louis. He's a jolly character that just likes to have a good time with his crew. :)

I do intend for them to raid other ships. :0 But they usually go for ships that can defend themselves to some extent and have loot. You're not gonna see them raid a ship full of orphans and steal their biscuits and pennies-

@yourstrulylightstar283

Sorry, I don't take requests!.. Also considering how tough my DK is, and the fact that he's the alpha- I don't think he would ever get bloody and bruised-

If I remember correctly, the cookie run version of cake creatures are dogs..?

XDD wait doesn't mild dissolve cookies though?-

Hmm.. I'm not sure. I know that there are other cookies in the game that work with metal and stuff. So an electronic toy wouldn't be impossible. If it was small they'd probably assume it was a toy. If it was huge..? Mayyybe they'd think its some kind of malicious machine..? <:0

ALWKNS XDD OH YEAH!

I think Spidercrab is the smart cookie and Louis is the tough cookie XDD

@beryl-shade

Going off of the games.. I thiiiink an "oven" would be like a birthplace..?

[cookiesupplier]

Say My Name

pairing: nicholas ruffilo x ofc

cw: None (Part One) -- does pining count? lol

words: 2108

summary: Nicholas Ruffilo has been a fixture in Kaia's life for so long she couldn't imagine it without him. Even after he left for LA and his life of stardom took off.. the only problem, she never got the nerve to tell him how she felt about him. Could one more tattoo change everything?

author’s note: Um.. this was going to be smutty but... bare with me lol, there will be a part two, when I get to it.. I intend it to contain the goods, but I felt like this would be a good point to actually get this down and put this out there before I psych myself out! Also.. not a tattoo artist, everything comes from websites, youtube, or personal experience as a tattoo client. ALL COMMENTS ARE WELCOME, but please, be constructive.

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

Being an introvert wasn’t always as simple as being the quiet and mousy looking one, that was something Kaia learned as she grew up. She was the youngest of three siblings and as much as she could yell, and scream, and rumble with her older brothers, give as good as she got, when it came to the end of the day, she always preferred to curl up in her bean bag chair and pull open one of the many books in her reading nook, losing herself to the fantasy world among the pages. The characters within always made so much more sense than the world around her, and felt so much less suffocating than the world that just seemed to want to push down on her chest and put pressure on her until she couldn’t breath.

It didn’t help that with the work that she loved, so many that walked into the tattoo parlour, and saw the brightly coloured hair, and elaborate designed tattoos, and just assumed you were as boisterous and as extroverted as the rest of her family. She did love her tattoos, nothing about her aesthetic was anything that she regretted, even if it did make people assume things about her at times seeing her numerous tattoos. So many of them were inspired from the pages of those books that she dearly loved. Not that all of them were drawn by her, most of them weren’t even tattooed by any of the artists in the shop where she worked, the artist used to work there though, before he left for LA, now she was lucky to snag time with him when he was visiting on holidays.. Fuck, she missed him.

Nick. He was one of her oldest friends. He’d been the one to get her apprenticeship at the shop, which had turned into a full placement here, and now she was working here full time. Her books were always full, and it pained her, but she was finding herself having to turn people away when she couldn’t always find the time to fit them in when it was convenient for them both.. And she’d been scolded more than once from her boss for trying to push herself to overwork longer hours to accommodate people that couldn’t fit into when she worked. She deserved time off as well. Okay, so she was a bit of a people pleaser sometimes..

Yesterday she got a message from one of her friends from high school.

Guess which tattooed hottie is back in town?

Fuck, did Kaia’s heart skipped a beat when she saw that message, there was only one person that Corey would be messaging her that description about, considering he knew exactly how she felt about Nick.. he tormented her about it relentlessly. Taunting Kaia about how, if only she had opened up those pretty little lips and told Nick how she felt about him, she could have moved to LA with the man and gotten to work practicing on making those pretty little metal head babies, his words not hers.. Or have a long distance relationship even.. It wasn’t like he didn’t travel enough as it was.. He was on the road touring constantly. He wasn’t even in Los Angeles all that much either.. Though arguably more than Nick was in Richmond anymore.

Now, yes, Kaia knew Corey’s teasing was in jest, and he didn’t mean anything malicious towards her, but there were days when his words struck so close to home, because she knew he was right. Kaia knew that if she’d just told Nick the truth about how she felt about him, maybe things could have been different, but now, now it was too late.. It was too late to tell him that every time she’d bought him an idea for a tattoo, it had really just been another excuse to see him, another reason to spend time with him. That so much of her body was covered in tattoos because she would jump at the chance to bring all her ideas to him before anyone else. There were days that Corey’s words hurt so bad because Kaia  was just waiting for the day she heard about the wonderful girl that Nick had met on the road, or in LA, and he had swept her off her feet, and away with her in a whirlwind romance of love and music.

Who wouldn’t love that man? Nicholas Ruffilo was one of a kind! While most of his fans only saw the gorgeous bassist of Bad Omens, along with that delicious man bun, she saw the quiet but dedicated dork of a man that always put his family first. That had helped tutor her when she was failing calculus in senior year despite absolutely hating the subject himself, just because she’d needed it. The boy that would listen to her prattle on about characters in books that she was well aware he had no idea about, and had absolutely no desire to ever read, but did he listen, and did he ask her questions while he was permanently inking inspired artwork to her skin? Absolutely. He was the boy that she would see giggling over milk shakes and eating fries while reading comic books with Noah.. that was who she had fallen in love with and never had the guts to tell him the truth.

Today, today she was visiting him again, he knew she had another tattoo in mind. About an hour after she felt like she stopped breathing after Corey’s message she got one from Nick, asking if she was up for a meet up. They never did lose touch, and she’d told him months ago she had a new tattoo in mind. At first she’d mentioned it in passing, just running the idea by him, wanting his opinion before asking one of the artists at the shop if they’d be interested in doing the work for her, when Nick had practically demanded he wait for her to let him do it. She’d agreed, how could she not? It was Nick, he practically owned her body, and he didn’t even know. The fact that he’d taken her rough sketch idea and resigned it a week later and had her drooling at the thought of it curving up and around her inner thigh, like she had already told him she intended for the idea in the first place.

Kaia was meeting him at his parent’s place, he was setting up a sterile station for them to work here, she’d offered the shop so he could see everyone, but she could almost hear the smile in his voice as he told her no, that he knew it was her day off and who wanted to go into work on their day off. Besides, this way it could just be them, they could talk, chat, just like they used to.

Oh, how she had felt her face go warm at the thought of Nick’s hands on her again, hands running up her inner thigh as his voice washed over her, even talking about nothing, anything.. Even with the buzz of the tattoo gun.. Especially with the buzz of the tattoo gun, oh it made her press her thighs together. No, no she needed to focus, calm, calm and collected, it was just a tattoo, she’d gotten them countless times before, from Nick, and she’d been just fine. Nothing out of the ordinary, she wouldn’t embarrass herself, and even more she wouldn’t embarrass him..

Nick answered the door, his smile warm, inviting, hair up in his messy man bun that instantly had Kaia smiling, and trying not to flush with warmth in her cheeks as he pulled her into a hug tight.

“Oh, I missed you.”

She could feel her cheeks ache with how wide she smiled as she stuffed her face into his shoulder to muffle the little bit of giddiness that he was the one to admit that instead of her. That she wasn’t the one to cave to the impulse to be so hopeless right now. Not that she could ever think Nick was hopeless. He probably just missed her because she was a little bit of home instead of the hustle and bustle that came with the insanity that was his life as a rockstar. All the same, her arms wrapped around him to squeeze him back.

“Missed you too, Nick.”

Pulling back from his arms, she dipped her head a little, trying to hide the fact that she was almost sure that her cheeks were rosy pink with a flush of her blush, but it didn’t stop Nick from chuckling and grabbing her hand and pulling her inside properly. He offered her water, a snack before they got started, accepting both, better to be safe when it came to tattoos, but over all, it wasn’t long before he had her laying back, propped up on the couch, her legs out in front of her. Kaia had worn a sundress knowing that he was going to be tattooing high on her leg today, and taking off her pants, oh, that would be a bit much for her today.

Showing her the finished piece that he’d been working on for her, Kaia was so excited, Nick was always so exceptional with his work. She might be an artist herself, but there was something about his artwork that she just loved inking to her skin, seeing his work had been what made her fall in love with the medium of using skin as a canvas in the first place. Before that, Kaia had been much more partial to clay sculpture, she’d always been partial to doing things with her hands.

With the skirt of her dress tucked up to the leg of her underwear delicately to expose the meat of her thigh, Kaia held her breath as she showed Nick where she wanted the tattoo, and with a professional, simple nod, he ran his gloved hand over her freshly shaved and prepped skin, and prepared the stencil before rubbing the stencil stuff into her skin. Swallowing down, this was something she’d done to countless clients time and time again, and she knew it was coming, she knew his hands were going to be on her, rubbing the liquid into her skin to transfer the ink of the stencil. Breath, Kaia, breath, it was just another tattoo, she’d done this with him so many times, it was no different.

It was different. It was always different with Nick.

She lifted her head from the way she had tilted back to not look to him, attempting to focus on anything but what he was doing.. Making the utter mistake of glancing down towards Nicholas to see what he was going as he placed the stencil, curving his hand over the paper, placing such delicate pressure over the image to press it down to her thigh, she could almost feel her muscles shake under his touch… it made her want to moan under his hands, and without realizing it, maybe the softest breath of one left her lips in the form of his name.

“Nicholas.”

And she froze.

They both froze.

Nick’s hand’s stilled on her thigh, one very intimately placed on her inner thigh as his eyes flew up to her as her cheeks flushed bright with warmth at the realization at the sound that had just escaped her.

“Kaia?”

His light eyes met her dark searchingly as she swallowed heavily,

“Nick.”

Her voice shook as she wanted to bolt from the room so fast but his hands just hadn’t moved from her leg, and she was both terrified and delighted with that fact. Terrified that if she said something he would move them, and delighted that maybe, just maybe, he just didn’t want to, and that was why they were there.

It felt like a silence hung over them forever, but it was probably only barely a moment as he looked to her searchingly, was he looking for something in her expression, trying to see what might be going through her mind. She wouldn’t be the first person in the world to get turned on from getting a tattoo, but usually that didn’t happen until after the needle hit their skin in her experiences. No, no that wasn’t what was happening here. If anything there was a touch of panic in her eyes, panic that he wouldn’t feel about her the way she felt about him. That, however, didn’t seem to be something she had to worry about.

“I want you to say my name like that again.”

[achaotichuman]

Acotar Rant Time

The amount of shit Rhysand says about Tamlin that's just straight up not true is so annoying. The main reasons people hate Spring boy is just because of whatever Rhysand or Morrigan has conjured up to make the Night Court look better.

I'm fairly certain it was Morrigan who went on her little tangent about how Feyre would have been 'bred like a prized mare' at the Spring Court. When Tamlin literally mentioned in passing having a SINGLE son far into the future. At the tithe he told Feyre his son would continue on with the duties of High lord, then added, someday. SOMEDAY he didn't want a kid immediately, and I highly doubt Tamlin even wanted children for the sake of having children, it was a duty he would HAVE to fulfill, it wasn't optional, he needed an heir. I have my theories if Tamlin had a choice he wouldn't ever have children. Especially since it is mentioned oh so many times that he wanted to go off in a travelling act, I doubt he even wanted a relationship. I also find it so, so difficult to believe that Tamlin would have wanted more than one child because he grew up in a household with older siblings. He damn well knows the competition in a place like that. He carries the trauma of it everyday! He would never want to inflict that on his kid!

Then there's Rhysand. He was the one who carried on about how Tamlin should've tried to get Feyre out from Under the Mountain. He did! He sent her back to the human lands to get her away from Amarantha! It was Feyre's choice to go Under the Mountain. She could've stayed in the human lands and lived a rich, lavish life, and she chose to go after Tamlin. Not to mention, Amarantha had been waiting for Tamlin for fifty years, she wasn't about to give him any chance to run. Rhysand actually said to Feyre Under the Mountain that eyes and ears were on Tamlin at all times. If Tamlin tried to get her out from Under the Mountain, he would've failed and signed Feyre's death warrant. Not to mention human Feyre used to be badass as fuck and would've absolutely scoffed at Tamlin if he tried to get her out from the Under the Mountain, she loved him and the Spring Court. She wouldn't have left even if given the chance.

Then there's what Rhysand said about Tamlin locking Feyre up because 'he knew she was gem'. Now, what Tamlin did to Feyre was abusive. He did become abusive during that period of time towards her, none of what I'm about to state disagrees with that. However, if you're going to hate this man, hate him for legitimate reasons. Tamlin never locked her up 'because she was a gem he wanted to hoard'. That's a straight up lie. It is stated many, many times throughout Acomaf and Acowar that Tamlin locked Feyre up because in his mind that was the only way to prevent her from getting into danger. He had an actual concern, and that concern was valid, but he took it way, way, way too far. He never should've locked her in there. I'm glad that Feyre got away from that situation. But he never *wanted* to hurt her. Tamlin has never been a malicious man (cough unlike Rhysand cough) His abuse towards Feyre was terrible and she absolutely was right in getting out. But none of his abuse was ever designed to hurt her. When it comes to narcissists, or self-serving abusers, their abuse is carefully crafted, it is designed to hurt. Tamlin however never intended to hurt her. It wasn't crafted to break her. Tamlin's mental health is completely fucked, and I highly doubt he ever came out of fight or flight mode, if you've ever been stuck in fight or flight mode, you'd know it fucking sucks. Every single little thing becomes a massive threat. And in his fucked mind Tamlin was convinced the actions he was taking were the best course of action to protect her from harm, not to cause it. Obviously, this does not excuse his actions, but it does help to explain them, and knowing what drove you to do things is the first step in being able to take accountability and then work on it.

Not to mention, Tamlin has taken accountability, he knows he's fucked up. He helped bring Rhys back to life, told Feyre to be happy because he knew that couldn't happen if she was with him, then he fucked off back to the Spring Court.

And you know what really drives me up the fucking wall? When Feyre insisted she was stronger now and didn't need protection from the sentries and Tamlin responded with "my family were fae and they were killed quite easily." Like that is a valid fucking point! They were killed very easily! Tamlin would be extremely traumatized from that! He probably blames himself for not protecting his mother! The death of his family is most likely one of the core reasons for his extreme paranoia! Am I saying he was justified in his actions in protecting Feyre? No! What I am saying is that you cannot hate him because of his intentions! Hate him for his actions, fine! But never once throughout this entire goddamned series did he intentionally want to hurt Feyre!

Anyway, this post is quite long, sorry for that. In summary, hate Tamlin all you want, but at the very least hate him for the things he actually did. I'm probably missing a ton of other things Rhysand's straight up made up about Tamlin, but these are the main things I've found people hate him for. Tell me if I've missed anything.

[whumpsoda]

Once Nauseating Smile

Soooo just love potion whump. Heroes and villains.

———————————————————————

Deep down, Hero knew it was wrong.

Pushed deep into the depths of his brain he disliked it. 

Even so, he couldn’t help but feel overcome with delight at the simple sight of Villain. A simple fleeting meet of the eyes. Hero knew he had never felt this way before, but in the moment it didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Only Villain did.

“Oh pumpkin, how I’ve missed you!” Villain exclaimed excitedly. 

Despite being a usual situation, everything felt so unusual. Hero and his team were called out for another of Villain’s usual schemes, and they had just shown up to the normal setting. The usual villainous machine, Villain’s usual malicious grin, the screaming civilians. 

But Hero felt unusual.

And Hero didn’t mind it.

His cheeks flushed red as his eyes gazed over Villain in his entirety. Villain was so handsome, his slicked back hair, his slender jaw, his mesmerizing smirk. 

Villain’s smooth voice.

It overwhelmed Hero’s being, every part of his self enraptured in Villain’s undeniable beauty. As much as he wanted to, Hero couldn’t help it. 

Villain strode toward Hero, no hesitation in getting so close to the man sent to capture him. To the team’s surprise, Hero didn’t so much as flinch away. Hero instead eagerly leaned toward the approaching villain. Villain’s slender arms enveloped Hero’s large frame in a tight embrace.

Hero liked it. 

He made no attempt to push away, appreciating the touch. 

“I’ve been so excited for this moment, pumpkin. I know you’re confused, that’s okay, I still love you.” Hero was confused. Very. But at the same time it meant nothing to him. As long as Villain was there, the marvelous Villain, Hero would be okay.

Hero’s throat squeezed tight, no sound escaping. He was nervous, flustered. His body was soft, comfortable in the touch of his enemy. His beautiful enemy.

“I-Villain-I don’t-”

“Shhh, Pumpkin. Call me darling. That’d make me so happy.” Villain nuzzled his face into Hero’s chest, serene and delicate. Almost as if he couldn’t control himself, Hero began petting his hands through Villain’s hair.

The hair was so soft, so silky, so cute.

The rest of Hero’s team hadn’t moved an inch, all of them frozen and slack jawed.

Hero was slipping. He forgot where he was, forgot what he had been sent to do. He was so focused on Villain, on his love. Hero’s face held a relaxed and pleased expression.

“You look so beautiful, darling.” His voice was no louder than a whisper, his words only intended for Villain. Villain’s smile, delighted and charming, was painted across his face. He looked ecstatic.

“I’ve waited so long for those words to come from you, Hero. I’m so thrilled, you have no idea.” Every word that slipped from Villain’s mouth was digested so tenderly by Hero’s brain. “You Look outstandingly handsome, as always.” Hero chuckled nervously, as if conversing with a high school crush.

Hero was beyond jubilant. Every inch of his body craved for Villain, a love so intense, so sudden, that he had never before felt. Villain swiftly pulled away from his tight grip to Hero’s body, stepping back to observe. “I can’t believe it worked. I’d been so doubtful, so worried. But I hadn’t given up on you Hero, and here we are.” Villain met Hero’s gaze, none of his usual malice displayed in the slightest. Only pure adoration.

Hero had no idea what Villain meant, but he was okay with that. Hero didn’t mind it, didn’t mind any of it. Villain, elegant and sly, had changed him. Was doing something to him, even if he had no idea what.

A feeling of pure gratitude traveled up his spine.

Hero’s mind and body was conquered now, overpowered by the mass affection and devotion he felt for the man in front of him.

“Do you love me Hero?” The five words sent Hero’s mind hurling over the edge.

“I love you, Villain. I love every inch of you, every word that comes from your lips. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.” The words did not feel like his, but they were. They stumbled from his mouth on instinct, unable to stop himself, caused from the overwhelming urge to tell Villain about his undying affection.

Villain, hands curled to his own face in excitement, hungrily snagged a thin vile from his pocket. Hero paid it no mind, his thoughts still stumbling from his mouth. 

Hero paid no mind to the familiar gleam of the shining liquid.

“Hero.” Hero’s rambling ceased immediately. 

“Would you like some more?”