#of and the cabinet has a bit more depth as well. I think that’s all the notes I have on this piece for now

[fever-project]

wip of The Chain’s Cafe AU ditys. Thought it would be neat to share what my first drafts of my drawings can look like

[starzzyeyed]

Take My Breath Away (And Make It Last Forever Babe)

This is for @andiebeaword 's 3k celebration contest!! I actually got this finished on time, which impressed even me despite the fact that it's so short. I also never post fics to tumblr so my apologies if there's formatting issues.

The prompt I chose was "Does the sight of me wanting you drive you crazy?"

Summary: Spencer finds himself a little bit distracted during a case wondering just how it would feel to be wrapped up in Hotch's strong arms and kissed by his lips.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Aaron Hotchner

Rating: Teen

Warnings: None that I can think of. There's brief allusions to sex but it's not mentioned in any depth.

Word Count: 1.5k

There’s nothing he wants more than the feel of Hotch’s lips on his.

He knows, should his thoughts ever somehow accidentally leak from his brain and become public knowledge, that Morgan would most likely snigger and tell him he’s sure Spencer would like the feel of those lips a few other places as well, but he’s not thinking about that right now.

All he’s capable of focusing on at this moment in time, is what it would feel like for Hotch to kiss him.

And that’s before he even begins to think about Hotch’s arms.

Strong, muscular biceps, thick and prominent veins responsible for carrying the blood that keeps him alive and fit running up and down his forearms, visible in what is a rare occasion of Hotch having chosen to have his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the heat of the Texas summer forcing him to forgo his usual full suit attire.

He knows he’s staring, and he’s been staring for the past four minutes and thirty- seven seconds and yet he can’t seem to bring himself to stop.

Hotch is leant over the table, photos and evidence spread across every square inch of the laminated surface in front of him with a hand planted either side of the journal that they know holds the final puzzle piece, if only they could figure it out.

Spencer’s glad he has the file cabinet to lean against because he’s not sure his legs could hold him up if he didn’t, and he doesn’t want to make his attraction any more obvious than it clearly already is to anyone with a pair of eyes in the same room as him.

“Earth to Reid.”

Spencer jumps, knocking over a stack of folders with his elbow that clatter to the hardwood floor underneath, making him jump again. He hears Morgan laughing in the background as he bends down to pick them up, his cheeks burning as he clears his throat and looks back over to the table, to where Hotch is now watching him with a small, barely there smile.

“Hmm?” he tries, aiming for casual even though he knows he can’t hide the way his pupils are undoubtedly dilated, and that’s without even mentioning his inexplicable clumsiness, which is extreme even by the normal Spencer Reid standards.

“Hotch asked you a question, genius,” Morgan teases, still laughing, and Spencer forces his gaze up from the floor to the very person he’s spent the past six minutes and forty-two seconds staring at. Not just staring at Hotch as a person, in fact; staring with all of his focus on Hotch’s arms.

“What did you say the link is between the victims hair?” Hotch asks, that small smile still playing on his lips, and Spencer feels as though his cheeks are on fire.

“They all purchased the same brand of rinse out box dye,” Spencer begins, finding his voice and rattling off the information he knows that’s actually relevant to the case, rather than the information his brain has spent the last seven minutes and fifty-one seconds hyper-focussing on.

Information like the way he just knows Hotch could pick him up in those strong and muscular arms, perhaps even just on one arm like a bodybuilder lifting a weight. The way he imagines himself far too often being carried bridal style in those arms, with Hotch looking down at him from above with that same small, barely there smile that he had on his face a moment ago. The way he knows without question the safety and security he would feel with those arms wrapped around him, holding him, carrying him; keeping him protected from all the criminals they come up against on a daily basis, all the lowlifes they take off the streets to protect others.

Spencer blinks himself back to the present moment, clearing his throat as he looks up at Hotch again, at Hotch’s face, forcing himself not to let his attention drift back to those well-muscled arms that he so desperately wants to feel wrapped around his waist, holding him tightly against the filing cabinet that’s by now supporting practically all of his weight as he struggles to keep his focus on what’s actually going on right now, as opposed to what’s happening in his imagination.

The problem with looking so directly at Hotch’s face, though, is that now he finds his gaze drifting back to Hotch’s lips again, once again imagining how those lips would feel pressed against his, how it would feel to kiss Hotch, how it would feel for Hotch to kiss him.

The thought alone is making him slightly breathless, and if he carries on like this he’s going to end up with his body outing him to the rest of his team, so he clears his throat again and mutters a quiet, “excuse me,” when it’s clear that no one in the room needs any more information from him for the moment, before he slips out of the office and down the hall.

He makes it two corridors away before he leans back against the wall and lets out a shaky sigh, willing his body to get itself back under control before he’s forced to do something he desperately doesn’t want to and take himself into the men’s bathrooms to take of himself.

He doesn’t get the chance to finish deciding what to do, though, because a moment later there’s the sound of footsteps and Spencer presses himself even further back into the wall behind him, hoping he’s at least somewhat hidden by the cabinets on either side of him. Apparently he’s not hidden enough though, because the footsteps stop right in front of the filing cabinet to his left and someone clears their throat.

Spencer’s in the process of deciding if he can come up with a sufficient lie for why he’s hiding behind a filing cabinet in a local police precinct, or whether he can turn around to this person and ask them why they’re questioning him, a highly trained and admired member of one of the most respected sections of the FBI, when it dawns on him that he knows that voice, even if the person hasn’t technically spoken.

“H-Hotch? What are you doing here?” he asks, stepping out of his hiding place and slowly lifting his gaze from the polished black shoes in front of him to the amused expression on his boss’s face.

Shit.

He doesn’t even need to hear Hotch’s response to know that he’s been caught out, and he’s already forming explanations and excuses and apologies in his mind, ready to spill the moment Hotch starts talking because he’s definitely going to lose his job over this, when the sound of Hotch’s laughter finally reaches his ears.

Great, now he’s laughing at me, Spencer thinks, his cheeks heating up as he begins stammering out apologies.

“I’m so, so sorry, Hotch, I don’t… I don’t know what got into me. Well, no, that’s not technically true, I mean… I do know, obviously, it’s you… no, it’s just, well, you got into my mind, that’s all, and I-”

He doesn’t get any further than that before Hotch leans forwards and shuts him up with a kiss, pressing him back against the wall behind him as his arms, oh, those arms, circle around his waist and keep him locked in position against the wall behind him, as those lips press against his and kiss him, and if Spencer could actually form a coherent thought it would be that he’s definitely died and gone to heaven, because there’s just no way that this is happening to him.

When Hotch finally pulls away, Spencer’s panting for breath and his head his spinning and if he didn’t have a tent in the front of his pants before he definitely does now. But, as he’s looking at Hotch, raking his eyes across the body of his boss as the other man smiles and raises an amused eyebrow at him, he sees a similar tent in the front of Hotch’s suit trousers, and he raises his own eyebrow back in shocked disbelief.

“What?” Hotch asks, chuckling at Spencer disbelieving expression, “did you really think I didn’t notice the way you were staring at me in there?”

Spencer’s still getting his breath back, but he manages to grin at Hotch, leaning forwards and wrapping his arms around the older man’s neck while he breathlessly asks, “does the sight of me wanting you drive you crazy?”

Hotch just laughs softly, kissing Spencer softly again before he nods.

“Evidently, yes,” he replies and Spencer grins wider, running a hand through his hair as he tries to come to terms with this development. Fortunately, Hotch is one step ahead of him, because when he looks back down from the ceiling Hotch is holding a hand out towards him that Spencer hesitantly takes.

“Are you free for dinner tomorrow night, assuming we solve this case? Say, 8pm?” he asks and Spencer nods shy smile.

“That sounds perfect,” he replies, walking hand in hand with Hotch back to the conference room.

He’s never been so happy for a case to be solved quickly.

[olivyh]

Haircut- Ruggie Bucchi x reader (Little bit of angst)

Publishing stories that I either wrote a while back or started writing and never got around to finish. May do a part 2 to some of these if I have time. Self-indulgent Ruggie fic because he has always been one of my fav twst characters and has been on my home screen for the greater part of two years ;;;; he has so much unexplored depth that people tend to look over and I would really like to write a character study on him (that along with a study on Kalim, and maybe a further study on their friendship dynamic...)(I've been doing a lot of analyzing and interpreting metaphors in my classes,,, the lines between school and hobby are blurring aaahhhh)

TW: Poverty, a little bit of blood but not a lot, injury, insecurity, absent parents, death

Ruggie nervously runs his hands along the now shorter, nearly shaved sides of his head, the fluff that ran between his ears and down the back of his head much more prominent and fluffed out. His ears twitch at the sudden summer breeze, unused to being so open to the elements. He no longer has to blow his bangs out of his eyes, the brown that was once a small portion of his hair now making up the majority, the blonde only coming out when he pushes his hair back with his hand.

His hair had never been cut so close to the sides, never been so short before. He keeps catching himself rubbing his hands over the short strands. Even when he was younger and had to cut it, his grandmother would always leave it a little on the shaggier side, cutting it so that he could see and it didn't cover too much of his neck.

It all started when he was about to return to NRC after spending the duration of summer break in his hometown, picking up extra hours because he didn't have to worry about homework, tutoring the neighborhood kids, and helping his grandmother around the house just as he had before he had to go to school. At some point, it got in his eyes so often that he had to continually tie it back out of his eyes, a short, flower like tuft atop his head with spiky strands sticking out of the sides and the rest of his hair cascading down the back of his neck, another hair tie going to putting that in a small ponytail.

He came home that night, sweaty, tired, and thoroughly worn out from the day. He collapsed on one of the wooden chairs that was in the kitchen, sighing as his grandmother walked in, laughing.

"What...?" He frowns, looking up at the woman.

"Ya look like a show horse," His grandmother holds him close, taking both the ties out and watching as his hair falls around his face, completely obscuring his eyes and draping down his neck. "Don't'cha think you should cut it?"

"Ya think I should?" She hums, detangling the strands with her claws as Ruggie sighs and leans into her comforting touch, allowing his eyes to slip closed as she fixes his hair. She pulls away, cupping his face in her hands and blowing on his face, making him squirm.

"Bibi..." He whines as she pulls away, ducking into one of the cabinets under the sink and rummaging around. "Let me get whatever you're lookin' for, I don't want ya to get hurt-"

She huffs, standing from her position with a groan as she brushed off her skirt, old scissors in hand. "Sit." He does as she says, a little unnerved by the familiar look of determination in her eyes as she brandished the object. "Don't you wanna look put together for your little friend back on campus?"

"Friend...?" He flushes.

"The one you're tryin' to court," She says matter-of-factly as Ruggie feels some of his hair be lifted and he hears the familiar snip of the scissors, watching the sandy strands fall to the ground in thick chunks. The blush creeps up his neck and he pouts.

"Bibi, it's not like that at all!" He winces when she grabs both sides of his head and moves him so he's sitting up straight. "They're just a friend of mine, promise."

"Do not lie to me, mister," She says. "I raised you since you were a minute old, I know ya too well for you to try playin' these tricks on me!"

"Right..." He sighs, staring at his clenched fists that sit in his lap. "It's not gonna get anywhere, though. They don't like me like that." He feels a rush of sadness, his heart aching as their smiling face flashes in their mind, quickly followed by the familiar burn of envy when he thinks about them being with anyone else. Nobody had treated him with such kindness before, nobody had listened to his story in earnest, taken in every detail and attached it to his character rather than just writing him off as a petty thief from the slums.

But even more importantly... nobody else had seen past that. Nobody else had looked him in the eyes and told him that where he came from didn't define his worth, didn't define who he was as a person. That yes, it was a part of him, but it wasn't him.

He was more than a petty thief, more than the slums, more than a deceased mother and absent father. He was Ruggie, and that's all they cared about.

Maybe that's why they were able to capture his closed off heart so easily.

"What makes ya think that?" His grandmother interrupts his train of thought, continuing to cut through his coarse hair, the strands making his neck and back itch until it's nearly unbearable.

"I..." He pauses. "They're smart, and strong, and kind. I-I wouldn't wanna drag them down with me, y'know? They... they deserve more than that."

"If they were really worth this much of your attention, they wouldn't be the kind of person to care about all that," She was right, Ruggie knew that. The prefect wouldn't care to live the kind of life that he had to live, but he didn't want them to. As much as it pained him to say, he wanted for them to not have to fight to live anymore than they already are in Ramshackle.

With a stab of pain to his heart, he realized that he would rather them marry someone like Kalim or Leona- someone with status, wealth, someone that could take care of them and keep them safe, keep them comfortable and happy for the rest of their life.

His grandmother sighs. "If they care about you this much, they'll accept everything about you."

"I-I don't know if they actually care," His gut twists at the thought of them liking him back- a mix of anxiety and excitement that makes him sick to his stomach. He knew it was a lie, though. Of course they cared for him. Of course, after everything they've done...

"They do. They stuck with ya during the Magshift match, didn't they?" She pushes his head down, cutting off another layer of hair from the back. His mind flashes back to that day, the intolerable pain of his throat and lungs being turned to sand, watching parts of his own arm crumble to bits and fall to the ground with drops of his own blood dripping into the dry dirt. And, of course, the prefect pulling him away from Leona, dragging him to safety and holding him in their lap as they tried to get his lungs to function normally, using their blazer to block his face so he wouldn't breathe in any more dust than he already has.

"Breathe, Ruggie," He remembers hearing their soft, shaking voice in his haze, hand rubbing the sides of his throat. "Breathe, please."

And, of course, the other times. Giving him their lunch when they 'weren't hungry', working with him in the Lounge and helping him fight off unruly customers, doing laundry with him, sitting with him while he cried on his eighteenth birthday, the familiar guilt of his life being traded for his mother's filling his heart as it does every year.

They cared. They cared more than anyone besides his grandmother had. That's what scared him the most.

"Listen, kipenzi," The woman's normally gruff voice is soft, taking on a tone that he heard often when he was a little kid. "This person means a lot to ya, I can tell," She resumes, now standing in front of him and cutting his bangs, making him wrinkle his nose and hold in a sneeze. "You're a smart boy, open your eyes and see what's really happening."

"I know I'm bein'..."

"A boy in love. That's what you're bein' right now," She chuckles, taking the hair on the sides of his head off in thick chunks, going shorter than she had with the front and back of his hair. "I know you're not the kind of person to do these things without thinkin', or without fightin' it as much as you can. You've been that way since you were a little boy, y'know?" She chuckles and he closes his eyes, feeling tears well up behind his eyelids. "You're smarter than that, and I know that you know what you're doing."

"I don't-" His voice breaks and he fights the urge to sniffle. Ruggie's face flushed a light pink in embarrassment, crying over a school crush in front of his grandmother, who simply hushes him and wipes his tears with her thumb.

"You do know. You just have to be more confident. I know you can do that. You're my strong, confident little boy," She kisses the space between his eyebrows. "And ya always have been, nobody can change that fact."

"How can I...?" He gulps, trying to hold in his sniffles as she finishes cutting his hair, placing the scissors on the table and pulling him in for a hug, lightly pushing his face into the crook of her neck as he tried to control his breathing, the feeling of doubt that he's become quickly accustomed to muffling any coherent thought he could piece together.

"Do what you always do. That's what attracted them in the first place, no?" He nods as she backs away and hands him a small mirror. He smiles as he looks at his reflection, rubbing the sides and laughing at the rougher texture, playing with his bangs and shaking out the extra hair that may have gotten caught.

He's pulled back to the present, standing in the courtyard brimming with students, new and old. He recognizes some familiar faces; Riddle lecturing some of his new arrivals, the Octavinelle trio practically scaring their new students half to death, Kalim excitedly showing some students around, Epel from Spelldrive club last year adjusting the crown given to the Dorm Leader of Pomefiore every year, Ortho, now donning the Ignihyde Dorm Leader uniform, and the new Dorm Leader and Vice Dorm Leader of Diasomnia, Silver and Sebek, the latter of the two yelling so loud that Ruggie was sure that even the non beastmen could hear him from where he was standing.

His heart leaps when his eyes land on the Prefect, grinning and giving them a wave.

"So," He practically runs up to them, nudging them with his shoulder. "How was summer vacation with the Headmaster?"

They chuckle in response. "Short lived. He sent me to Crewel's after the first two weeks." Ruggie frowns at that, sighing dramatically.

"Oh how terrible~!" They punch him lightly and he laughs. "You seem pretty normal, though, so you weren't tortured or forced to be one of his dogs or anything."

The Prefect nods in response. "You seem pretty normal too, except," They smile, and he feels his heart soar at the sight. "Nice haircut. Trying something different?" He shrugs.

"It's my third year, y'know? Gotta switch things up," He, as if on instinct, pushes his hand along the side of his head.

They smile. "It's cute," He pauses, nearly choking on air as he fights the blush from creeping across his face. "I'm gonna miss the old fluff, though."

"It's still fluffy on top," He simpers, ducking his head. They take the hint and, although hesitant, run their hands through the longer part on top. He bites back a hum of contentment as he feels their delicate touch run along his scalp, brushing over the nearly bare sides before dropping off his head- much sooner than the hyena would have liked.

They smile at him before opening their mouth to say something else, cut off by their first year- well, now second year- friends.

"Prefect! Over here!" The prefect waves at them before turning back to Ruggie. "Hey, so, I have to run. But lets hang out soon, okay? Especially now that you don't have to babysit Leona," They both laugh at that. "See you later, Savanaclaw Dorm Leader."

"Y-yeah, bye!" He watches them run to the former first years, suddenly excited for the school year that lays ahead of him. With a pep to his step, he strides back to the mirror chamber, already planning to decide how he was going to confess.

[that-gal-kay]

Just thought of a silly prompt, but an expansion on Jefferson's line in Cabinet Battle #2, "Daddy's callin'" being expanded upon? I always thought that Hamilton would totally jump Jefferson, being how he already tends to fly off the handle at remarks like that. Hope you're doing well!! XXX

I very much enjoy this question anon-friend. The first time I saw Hamilton in person I had this brief thought, but then kind of drove it away for a few reasons:

* Thomas himself is not a physical guy. I wouldn't speculate that he can't take a punch, but I doubt he'd get the satisfaction of pushing Alexander to violence if he's going to be the target of said violence.

* Thomas probably would think provoking Alexander to violence is beneath him. This kind of goes along with the first point, but for Thomas, his focus in my mind is making himself look better and smarter than Alexander. (I could go on and on about classism here, but the main point is Thomas had every opportunity, Alex had zero save Washington’s support. But here they are basically on equal footing, and it's gotta smart that Alexander is about 13 years younger than him).

* Switching points of view, Alexander is beyond desperate to prove he belongs here, that he's a gentleman, and that he is just as good as Thomas and the rest of the cabinet and he does belong here. (He has moments of doubt of course, but he knows he needs to keep himself from flying off the handle all the time).

If my brain was functioning a bit more these last couple weeks I'd be able to dig more in depth, but I hope this provides a bit of (my) characterization-lite. Basically give me Alex struggling with lots of self doubt and impostor syndrome his whole life.

[retropobor]

Screw it, I'm an art blog now, have some more art (UTY pacifist Route Spoilers for part of it, also there's a lot of text you have to read in order to have this thing make sense)

This is my most recent work, made just last night. It's not perfect, but I'm proud of how it turned out, Although I feel as though pretty much everything needs an explanation here, especially if you feel like you recognize someone here.

For those of you who don't know (AKA pretty much every one of you other than maybe @yaboi88900) I run a DnD campaign. A very very poorly balanced DnD campaign. With a mix of heavy amounts of homebrew, and an inability to get anything playtested, I have my fair share of monsters who have almost resulted in a TPK, so I decided to put them all in an artwork to memorialize them.

Left and right: Blood elementals

A while back I was watching a a dungeon dad video about a creature known a blood elemental, and I thought they were cool, so I added a combat encounter against them. I was expecting quite a few people, so I thought 1 per person in the 4 person party worked out, and made a combat encounter against 4 of them... 2 people showed up, and as it turns out a CR 5 Blood elemental is actually pretty dangerous against a level 5 player, so even after killing 2 off, it was still a brutal combat session. There wasn't much else to say about it though. In my opinion, it was rather forgettable.

Middle (Bottom): The Cabinet Man

Ironically the blood elementals weren't the worst encounter of the storyline. Again 2 people showed up for the session, because during this time, we were struggling on player count. Basically everything after the blood elementals was this whole Lemon Demon based plotline with the BBEG being the main character from No Eyed Girl/When He Died, and the quest giver being the main character from Touch Tone Telephone (I can go more in depth in another post if y'all want to know more about it). As you are probably beginning to realize that fine figure in the center is based on Cabinet Man. He's one of if not the first stat block I ever made, which means he's not balanced in the slightest. I'll save the details of what this Cabinet Man can do for a different post because there's a lot on him, but for now know that he's never met a foe he couldn't kill before his second phase. Also he gave my players a crippling fear of arcade cabinets.

Background: The Demon Core Golem

I never actually ran this one because it's too late game for any campaign I've ever ran, but even without running it, just about everyone who's seen the stats has an innate fear for this thing and for good reason, because this thing is strong. It only has a few attacks, but all of them deal a lot of damage, and as expected for something named after the demon core, this thing is highly radioactive, meaning it deals massive amounts of unblockable poison damage if you get near it, and it can give out radiation sickness (CDC accurate radiation sickness at that). Survive all of that, and it does the job its father could only dream of, and becomes a literal nuclear bomb, at which point pretty much all you can do is run. Yes it is as powerful as it sounds. No I don't know what I was thinking when I made this.

Middle (Top): Ceroba Ketsukane, Defiler of Pacifism

This one's the most recent of the lethal encounters, having the related plotline finished tuesday. So Undertale Yellow came out, and I absolutely loved it (if you couldn't tell already), so I decided to adapt bits of the game into a plotline in the campaign (albeit with some lore and plot edits to fit the world, and because total plagiarism just ain't my style). Well if you know anything about the pacifist route, the final boss is Ceroba who dons a mask and becomes incredibly powerful* The party was sweeping through Ceroba's first second phases, and most of the third phase with ease, so I decided to quit sugar coating it for the second half of the third phase. When I was making the stat block for Ceroba I gave her an aoe attack, and perfect for her, all the players were grouped together in one place, so I decided to use that AOE attack, and in one round, I accidentally reduced the entire party other than the sorcerer in the backlines to hit point levels ranging from death saving throws to 4 at the best. Safe to say I re sugar coated it after that. And for anyone wondering, Ceroba was spared, and is now safe and sound in Ketsukane mansion, and she may or may not become a quest giver for some more side quests, Idk yet.

[fourseasonsfigs]

CT Pink Jun

Gong Jun is in his finest pink satin suit, dialing up a certain someone to say, "Hi Darling!"

This is Junjun's Pillow Talk Party Charlotte Tilbury endorsement. It's a complete shame that Tumblr only allows one video per post, since there's a few really good ones. Sadly, I forwent the one where Junjun is dancing for this one:

I was delighted about this endorsement, as I actually love Charlotte Tilbury's makeup. Pillow Talk is a beautiful color and well deserves it's popularity. The lipstick is a very neutral soft nude pink with a lot of richness and depth to it - no hint of that flat and kind of artificial candy pink color. Unfortunately, it's a little too on the nude color spectrum to work with my particular coloring, and it washes me right out. But that's every nude lipstick - this one almost works, which is amazing enough. It's got to be berry-ish colors for me, sadly (which reminds me, I need to do my periodic pilgrimage to the Tom Ford site to see if he's reissued Lark in any formulation anywhere!), on the rare occasion I do wear lipstick.

I do, however love eye makeup. In my beauty blogger days I tried a truly mind-boggling numbers of eye shadows, both domestic US brands and global brands. She actually has my favorite formulation. The older I get, the more issues I have with creasing and wear (despite every single one advertised as non-creasing and long-wearing!), and Charlotte Tilbury eye shadow is now quite literally the only formulation that works for me. I have some very long days at my job, including all-day-conferences that end in dinner events, and it's really, really nice to be able to not look as exhausted as I feel when I go back to my hotel room late at night.

Speaking of someone working really long days, let's have a few more pics of Gong Jun in his beautiful satin suit!

He is rocking that pink satin suit. Not everyone can (I sure couldn't!) but he looks fantastic. By the way I think his hair is A+ in these ads! I love the volume, it's the best look for his hair by far I think.

He arrived securely packed, but unfortunately, his little pink phone must have jostled around in transit!

Oh no! I know almost nobody has landlines anymore, but we can't have the few remaining relics of the past be damaged like this. Well, should be an easy fix, right? I'm old enough to have been around when all we had was landlines, all I need to do is just literally plug that end into the phone.

Or at least theoretically. I got my glue out, and fumbled around for a good long while trying to get the little end to go into the divot on the phone. My fingers were just too big and clumsy, and the cord too small and too interested in spinning around. And then the other end of the cord fell out! What the heck!

I got out my tweezers and after another good long while, finally got the phone end glued into the phone, and then another good long while figuring out how to aim the cord into the base at the right angle while trying not to snap it off, and then holding it in place with my now-tired and shaky fingers while the glue set.

But, we'd never know that now! He's connected and ready to receive some very important phone calls.

As you already can see, the phone is not a removable prop, it's quite firmly part of his hands.

The glossy finish on his pink suit is delightful - most of my figs have a matte finish, so it's always great to have one shimmering away.

He is decently stable on his feet, but I was so overtaxed by the phone situation that I finished taking pictures and immediately put him on a fig stand, then tucked him away into a secure corner of my my display cabinet. I'm not taking any chance on me clumsily bonking up against his phone cord and it snapping loose!

You can see where the fig maker put a little bit of folding in - a little bit on the back of his suit jacket, and there at the sleeve.

The fig maker did a great job angling his arm out to get the extension needed to hold the phone to his ear, without making it look disproportionally too long. Fig arms can look a bit too long sometimes when they're holding things because of the cute chibi proportions.

I wouldn't have minded just a touch more wispiness in the hair, but that's just my own personal preference. He looks good!

I think the phone cord turned out alright after all.

This is a good angle to see how shiny the finish is on his satin suit compared to the matte pink of the phone.

It's a cute phone! When I was a kid I would have loved to have a phone that looked like this.

Speaking of cute, that dog is looking pretty adorable too!

If you've been following this blog for some time, this fig maker's card may look familiar to you. They always do this two-sided card with the art on one side and a paw with three different angles on the back. It's always fun to see fig concept art, I think!

Material: Resin

Fig Count: 344

Scene Count: 24

Rating: Pink and perfect!

[link back to Master Fig Index for more posts]

[tekutiger]

For the past week or so, I've been logging in to Disney Dreamlight Valley again (after a 2 month hiatus 😅). They have a "Haunted Holiday Star Path" event going on right now. When it comes to games I genuinely like, I do actually have fomo and I hate it, lol. So, here I am 🙃

I've been playing a bit of catch up. Like, they added Beauty and the Beast! That was my favorite OG Disney movie growing up. And then Mulan came along and I was like !!! Okay now those two are my favorites (because I couldn't decide between the two).

I also finally watched the live action Beauty and the Beast for the first time. It's been out for a while now, I know... I'm just slow when it comes to watching movies or anything on tv. In my opinion it was very well done! I'm not a harsh critic though.

I also watched the live action Little Mermaid and I really loved it. It gave the characters so much more depth, and displayed more marine creatures than I thought they would have. The actors put so much life and emotion into their vocals in their songs, I was very impressed.

And I touch on this a bit below, but being an octo-nerd, there were things about Ursula that they added to the movie, that was not in the original, and I was like holy crap! I wonder how many people are going to catch onto that? It's when she's shuffling through her ingredient cabinets to create one of her concoctions and her 'arms' (she refers to them as 'tentacles', probably because younger audiences will be like ??? if she says arms, but the correct term is actually 'arms'). They are acting independently from her because octopuses have nine brains. One brain in each arm and one in the mantle (head). So each arm thinks for itself. When she says she can't find anything, everything always gets lost, it's probably because her eight arms are putting things back on the shelves however they please and her main-brain (mantle i.e. head) isn't paying attention to keep track of it all 😅

Okay- weird thing that I complain about often to my friends cause we all play this, and unrelated to the live action movie. Eric, in this game, stalks me, and it's flippen weird. I think everyone who plays this has a character that stalks them though, as if it's in the programming and it's RNG of who it is. I say that because I'll go to Twitch and watch it happen to streamers, and they'll make comments about their 'stalker'. It's just somehow my 'stalker' ended up being Eric 🤷🏻‍♀️. For some, it's Kristoff. Others, it's Maui. I dunno... it's weird.

(For the record, I know they're all programmed to come and find you, but I mean- in this case, there's ONE specific character that follows you WAY MORE than usual.)

Anyone who knows me, knows I have this obsession with the Ocean (also space) and octopuses, and jellyfish... hence why I have the Ursula attire (she's the Octo Queen!). Her quest line, should you put out the moonstones and buy her bundle, is worth it imo, but I'm also biased as heck. I just find it ironic that I'm literally dressed like Ursula 2.0 and Eric stalks me more than half the time I'm in-game, lol 😓. The sound of his flute puts me in that state of like 🙀 -startled cat, eyes wide, looking everywhere, ducking behind furniture-

Ariel, go pay more attention to your man plskthx. I will give it to the live action production for the movie. The actor who plays Eric is handsome and plays the role well 👌🏻 (doesn't make me wanna hide any less though in-game 😑)

I totally veered off course of why I'm writing this post. My rambling is getting worse, akjdhjs.

SO. The star path...!

Last year when we got the first Halloween star path, if memory serves, I recall it not having any Tim Burton, The Nightmare Before Christmas items at all and being really bummed out about it. I figured it was because they couldn't get a contract signed, permission, copyright something or other. The game was still very new afterall.

There's a biome in DDLV named the Forgotten Lands and it's mostly purple hues. I knew the aesthetics would be perfect for The Nightmare Before Christmas if I just waited for it... and now this year a handful of items are in the Star Path event. I've been so ready.

Oh, and we also get... !!

😄

With the new items, I totally remodeled my biome. It's looking cute~

Here's some better shots of a couple Nightmare Before Christmas outdoor furniture pieces (just a couple but they're big pieces). The notorious Skellington's Hill and the popular Frightful Fountain. 👇🏻

And the great thing about this game is, we're just going to continue to get even more fun items and grow as the game develops. We also have the Christmas Star path coming up, at some point. Wonder if there's going to be some interesting items in that 🤔

Oh yeah, I got a cutie Pirate Parrot from this Star Path too ❤️

One Final Edit: On Twitter they mentioned that they added an "AUTUMNBUNDLE" code. If you're playing and missed it, you can copy and paste that in for some furniture pieces.

Should be in the Settings menu > Help > Code box (under 'import avatar') > hit 'claim' after typing it in.

[musings-of-a-lovesick-fool]

No Cult AU Headcannon's

Eden's Gate Youth Centre

Joseph | Founder

He mainly takes care of the younger children in the daycare section of the centre. He watches over activities and play time to make sure the children are all safe and happy, his favourite activity is arts and crafts because the children all make things for him and he has a cabinet at home specifically for whatever they make him. His fridge is also covered in drawings they've done for him.

He stays back at the end of the day and some of the older kids/teenagers will help him clean up and sit with him. He never makes them leave and stays as long as they do, the longest he's stayed was until 4am when one of the kids really didn't want to go home. He sometimes plays guitar for them and they form a small poetry reading group, he got them all into writing when he read them an excerpt from one of his journals.

There is a small chapel room in the back of the centre, Joseph is still a man of faith and he offers any of the youth a chance to sit with him and maybe listen to him read some passages. He's had a few of the children from highly religious families confide in him about their fears or disdain and he's always there to provide comfort, advice and support. The centre is obviously LGBT+ friendly so if there's any fears to do with that he is the first to provide any reading material or outside sources to help properly guide any of the youth curious of exploring their identities away from their families that may be less than supportive.

John had a big hand in helping get the centre made, He did most of the paperwork and legal side of things while Joseph had all the say in where and how it looked. John has full control of the social media pages they have for it, handles all the parents queries, organises all the paperwork they might need like parental permission slips and what not. He makes sure everything is up to code and they're not going to run into any legal problems, he's also better at charming people so he handles any complaints in person.

John | Co-founder & Public Relations Officer

The older kids love him, he's usually involved in educating them about sex, drugs, domestic violence and all the things in that realm and they have in depth discussions about these topics and he doesn't baby them through it which they appreciate. Afterwards they also get to sit around and gossip and John is not above gossiping with teenagers.

He tends to gravitate towards the more obviously troubled youth, he tries his best to connect with them and offer them whatever help he can give. He's good at breaking them out of their shells and getting them to open up. He's also in charge of going to authorities when they suspect a child is being abused in any way, he was hesitant at first obviously due to his childhood and what happened to him and his brothers but he does everything he can to ensure the children won't have to go through that experience. (I could see him visiting specific parents and blackmailing/threatening them to hell and back more often than going to the authorities)

Jacob | Scout Leader

Jacob runs scouts throughout the week and self-defence classes on the weekends. He takes the kids on a lot of excursions and teaches them the usual things you learn in scouts as well as a few other things he thinks are important to know. He can be a bit intense but he's also a giant teddy bear if any of the kids gets scared or hurt, He has a first aid kit on him at all times with the goofiest bandaid known to man. He does a whole army role call with the children at the beginning and end of the day and if any child is missing he goes on a manhunt.

He has an animal shelter he runs alongside working at the youth centre and the older kids will often come visit and volunteer to take care of the animals. Some even started working there part time and some got inspired to become vet's and animal rescuers. Jacob's absolutely the guy to refer to the youth he looks after as 'his kids' and it makes his bond with all of them a little stronger, especially when they're missing a father figure at home.

Along with the self-defence classes he helps a lot of the rowdier kids find non-destructive ways to expel their energy. He has a whole training course they can run and times them each and every time so they can know if they got faster at it. Rachel helps him make a bunch of badges he can give out as rewards, which really helps motivate the kids. He'll often wake up to a bunch of the older kids running the course, he's even found one or two running it at 3am no matter if it was raining or clear sky. He's had a million talks with kids on his own porch, giving them a real down to earth talk about how life is gonna suck but they're stronger than anything it'll throw at them.

Faith/Rachel | Part time Youth Worker

Rachel was one of the youth that attended the youth centre, it's one of the things that helped her seek out help for her addiction and support getting her away from her family. When she was older she became part of the team, mainly working with the older kids and teenagers. Joseph usually sends any of the kids struggling specifically with their sexuality or addiction to her, since she's able to speak to them on their level and relate in a way he couldn't. She acts as some of their sponsors if they need and she always celebrates their milestones with them. 

She encourages exploring alternative coping methods and hobbies, she always finds something they enjoy doing and supports them when they become passionate about them. She learns how to do a lot of different things because she likes to engage with them, she dabbles in art, sculpting, singing, writing, editing, some sports, cooking and a myriad of other things. She's not incredible at all of them but she has fun and so do the kids. She becomes like an older sister figure in their lives and they're not afraid to come up to her outside of the youth centre to say hi or ask for advice.

She's studying when she's not working at the youth centre, making up for the things she missed when she dropped out of school and trying to figure out what she wants to do. Sometimes she'll do study sessions at the youth centre, mainly as an excuse to get her work done but to also motivate the kids to do their own work. She tries her best to help with any homework and she has a sticker sheet of gold stars she gives out whenever the kids pass a test or assignment. Some of them have their own stickers sheets and they all give her gold stars when she passes her own assignments.

[cloudteawrites]

chapter: five ( 4.7k ) rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut) genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is. << first < previous | next > last >>

The grocery store was a mess of color and light. You swore you’d never seen so much food in one place. 

Back when your mom had been alive, you’d never really gone to traditional grocery stores. You’d always just visited markets where your mom knew the vendors and could talk down their prices on ugly produce and day old bread. After she’d died, you’d eaten whatever the staff in the group home had provided, then whatever you could scrounge up from convenience stores. Most of the time since you’d aged out of social services, you survived off the free rice and kimchi available in your goshiwon. 

Occasionally, you’d eat at work with your free staff meal, but you tried to avoid it. You knew the sight of you wolfing down ramyeon and cold kimbap as fast as you could made Jiah worry. If she ever saw you looking too haggard, she’d try to slip some home made meals to the front desk of your goshiwon when you weren’t looking and that was as embarrassing as it was helpful. 

For as long as you could remember, the question of where your next meal was coming from had hung over your head like a dark cloud. It didn’t seem like that was going to be a problem any longer. 

Aisle after aisle stretched out before you, blindingly bright. It looked like an amusement park. You were finding it hard to stop staring. You reached out in a haze and picked up the juiciest apple you’d ever seen. Sure, you sold them all the time at Quickstop, but they’d always been dull and just the slightest bit bruised. This one was perfect: fire engine red and still wet from the mister. It was cold and heavy in your hands. You almost felt like crying.

“You good?” Yoongi is beside you, leaning over on the shopping cart, his chin in his hand. He looks dreadfully bored. 

“Yeah,” you tell him, setting the apple gently back in its place. “Yeah; just got distracted for a second.” You give a single tug on the front of the basket to move him along, and he follows, shuffling against the bright white linoleum. 

“Why aren’t you getting that?” He calls, just before you can round the corner into the dry goods aisle. You turn and look at him over your shoulder, confusion slightly furrowing your brow. “Don’t you want it?”

Your eyes flick from his face back to the glittering heap of fruit. You gnaw at your lip. “...They’re 6,000 won a kilo.”

Yoongi purses his lips. “That’s not what I asked you.” 

“I don’t need them,” you huff, trying to stave off the beginnings of another argument. “There’s more important things...like you three and getting you clothes and better furniture and-” Before you get the chance to finish, the gray haired man has ducked back around the corner. He returns with two three kilo bags of apples and dumps them unceremoniously into the cart. 

He looks up at you, brows raised and his eyes daring you to say something. All you do is sigh. “Yoongi-”

“Jimin likes apples.” He says, before you can get a word in edgewise. “They’re for him.” You can’t argue with that. He pushes the basket forward and you two drift down the next aisle. 

There’s a question resting on the tip of your tongue and as you compare brands of rice, you spit it out. “So...what do you guys eat? I read an article that said to mainly feed cat hybrids fish, but...”

“But we’re not house cats.” He finishes, flipping over a box of cereal to read the back. His nose wrinkles at something he finds and he slides it back onto the shelf. It’s cute, you think- or would be if you couldn’t see the tips of his razor sharp incisors poking out when his lip curled up. Yoongi senses your gaze and looks over at you. You look away quickly and make yourself busy reading a label. “We can eat pretty much anything you’d eat. Not too much processed shit or we’ll get sick. Whole foods are better.”

You nod, making a mental note to forego sodas and chips. “And when you’re shifted?”

He shakes his head. “We don’t really eat when we’re shifted down unless we plan on staying there for a long time.” 

You choose a 10 kilo bag of rice, tug it out from the shelf with a little grunt and plop it onto the basket’s bottom shelf. That was good, you supposed. You were worried you were gonna have to watch three big cats rip into raw meat whenever it caught their fancy.  “Why don’t I push the basket and you can pick out things Taehyung and Jimin would want?”

He nods and shifts to the other side of the aisle. “What’s my limit?”

You pause for a moment, then stand and fix him with a strange look. “What do you mean?” He isn’t looking at you. He’s comparing two brands of cereal, scanning the nutritional facts on the back. 

“How much am I allowed to spend on food?” he questions, simply. “-and what foods are we allowed to eat?”

You balked at him. “.. .you want me to control your diet?”

“I don’t want you to, but most owners prefer a certain look.” He turns his flat, yellow-grey eyes on you. “So what is it? No carbs? no sugars? Low fat? No fat? Dairy-free-”

“Oh my God, no!” You yelp before he can list any more diets. You’d said it a little louder than you’d intended and a well-dressed mom at the other end of the aisle fixes you two with an odd look before hustling her twins into another part of the store. You wince, but continue in a quieter but no less urgent voice. “I mean, I’m not gonna tell you what you can and can’t eat that’s…” 

“It’s not unusual,” Yoongi cuts in before you can give voice to your thoughts. He sets one of the cereal boxes, decorated with bright colors and little cartoon animals, back on the shelf and tosses the other -something in a dull green and white box with a little piece of wheat on the front- into the cart. “You didn’t feed us last night.”

A pang of guilt shoots through you. You curl your fingers around the bar of the cart, stare at your knuckles. “I’m sorry,” you tell him, with all the sincerity in the world. “I was tired -and I know that’s not an excuse- but I fell asleep without thinking of you guys. It won’t happen again.” 

“Relax,” Yoongi drawls.”It’s not the first time we’ve gone hungry; I’m sure it won’t be the last.” He starts drifting toward the end of the aisle, but before he can go, you catch him by the sleeve of his sweatshirt. 

There’s barely an inch of fabric between your thumb and forefinger, but the look Yoongi gives you makes it look like you’d yanked him back by the collar. He whirls on you, eyes narrowed and lips twisted into something sour. You’d overstepped by grabbing him. Still, you speak. “That was the last time. I mean it.” 

The hybrid’s face shifts from irritation into something unrecognizable. He’s looking at you like there’s an equation written behind your eyes that he’s trying to work out with his own, like if he looks deep enough into them he’ll find the answers etched across your sclera. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up as the seconds drag on, but you don’t look away. Instead, you hold his gaze and let the moment swell under almost unbearable tension.

Yoongi gives first. He tugs his sleeve out of your grip and shuffles back out of reach. “Whatever you say,” he scoffs, stalking off into the next aisle, his ears tilted back and tail tip flicking in irritation. 

You sigh. You’d done it again. The urge to catch him again wells up in you, but you tamp it down. ‘Time and space,’ you remind yourself. ‘Give him time and give him space.’ Satisfied once the distance between the two of you is enough, you go to follow after him, but hesitate as you pass the cereal he’d been looking at. You tug it off the shelf and place it in the basket underneath a few other things so it’d be hidden. You don’t know why and if he asked you about it later you were sure you’d draw a blank. If nothing else, you told yourself as you hurried to catch up with your hybrid, he’d have a choice.

The rest of the grocery trip passed in silence, just as it’d begun. Yoongi didn’t so much as look at you, but that was fine. You were focused on watching him. Anything that he gave more than a passing glance went into the basket. If the bobcat hybrid noticed your rapidly increasing haul, he didn’t say anything about it. He was silent.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      Even when you flinched as the cashier announced the total and you waffled between trying to walk home or calling a taxi. Even in the lobby then the elevator on the way up as Mr. Park talked both of your ears off and you had to stop him from carrying your groceries in and stocking the fridge himself, Yoongi had remained eerily quiet. It’d given you time to think. 

You didn’t know much about hybrids. If you were honest with yourself, you hadn’t known anything about them prior to what you’d anxiety-googled yesterday afternoon. You were so far out of your depth, it was miracle you hadn’t drowned yet. Still, you weren’t completely oblivious.

In between Yoongi’s open hostility, Jimin’s blase attitude toward his own objectification and what snippets you’d heard about Taehyung’s early life, you knew something must’ve been very, very wrong with the people who’d had them before they’d been foisted upon you. The expectation that you were supposed to treat hybrids like actual pets made you uncomfortable enough without the assumption that you’d be dressing them up like dolls and locking the snack cabinets at night. 

A spike of anger shot through you. They might’ve been different than humans but they were still people. They hadn’t deserved whatever shady things their owners had done to them and you didn’t want them to come to expect them from you. You shift the grocery bags up your arm, freeing up a hand so you can punch the code into the door. There was no way around it. The four of you would need to sit down and have a good long talk. 

The second you punch the code into your door it swings open. “Hey, Jim-” the greeting dies on your tongue. It’s not Jimin who meets you at the door, but Taehyung, freshly showered, the curly ends of his hair dripping water onto the white tile and the front of his sweatshirt damp. His eyes were still hidden behind his hair but you could see more of him than you’d been able to that morning when he’d shifted. 

Well, not more of him. He was wearing clothes now, for one- a dark brown version of the sweat suit Yoongi and Jimin both wore. He was taller than you, which you’d known when he’d wrapped his arms around you, but looking up at him now you have to tilt your head back a bit. “Oh,” you say, a little dazed. “Wow.”

The corners of his mouth quirk up in a smile. “Hi.” His voice is still as deep as it was this morning. Was it always like that? He turns his attention to the hybrid behind you and his lips part in a blindingly bright boxy grin. “Hi, hyung.”

Yoongi hums a hello and slips past you through the door. His shoulder brushes against Taehyung’s and the younger hybrid chuffs happily a little in his throat. He leans down as the older man passes and bumps their foreheads together affectionately. Their tails twine together briefly before the gray-haired hybrid is out of reach and dropping an armful of groceries off in the kitchen. 

“You shifted up,” you remark “Did something happen?” There’s a tick of concern in his voice. You step to the side of the doorway so the pair can talk without you in the middle.

Taehyung shakes his head, water droplets scattering. His hyung let out a hiss that erred just on the wrong side of animalistic as some of them hit him. You freeze, but the tiger hybrid just laughs. “No, Jimin and I were just-” His smile falters. You can’t see his eyes but his ears have twitched downward and his tail is suddenly stiff, only the tip ticking back and forth. The hybrid lowers his head, and you finally catch sight of eyes, gleaming amber and full of fear. Behind him, you see Yoongi catch a whiff of his junior’s souring scent and his head whips toward the pair of you, ears straight up and his whole body on high alert. 

Worry draws your brows together. “Taehyung?” you call softly. You reach out with your free hand to touch his shoulder, then think better of it. Your fingers hover uselessly and inch away from him. In this moment, that distance feels a mile wide. The line of his shoulders is rigid and he’s withdrawn into himself. “Taehyung, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you-”

“We went out.” He blurts, snapping his head up to look in your eyes. His own are wide and earnest. “You left your backpack open and I saw the list you made with all the phone numbers and passwords and the door code was on there and I really wanted to go to the park. Jimin told me to wait but I made him come with me; we were only gone for fifteen minutes, I swear. We didn’t even make it; the same police officer from earlier was still on the street.” 

“Taehyung-”

“Please-” he cuts you off before you can even get a word in edgewise. “Please, just punish me; Jimin didn’t do anything. The whole time he was trying to make me go back. He only went with me so I wouldn’t be alone.” 

Your heart wrenches in your chest. You do touch him, then. Your fingertips barely graze the material of his sweatshirt, but he flinches and you pull away. Your hand drops to your side, limp. “Can you and Jimin meet me in the living room?” You ask him, careful to keep your tone light and non-threatening as possible. “We need to talk.” His ears droop, but he nods and shuffles off to do as you ask. You trail behind him into the penthouse, making sure to give him enough space. The last thing you wanted to do right now was crowd him.

You drop the groceries on the counter in the kitchen and look up to find Yoongi squinting at you. He’s coiled up like a spring, ready to bolt at any moment. You try to give him a reassuring smile, but it comes out watery and wan. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “We’re just gonna talk.” You can tell he doesn’t believe you. 

Still, he follows you into the living room, takes a seat on the couch while you settle cross-legged on the ottoman across from him. A few seconds later, Jimin and Taehyung slink down the stairs. The tiger hybrid is clinging to his hyung who, for once, isn't smiling. Jimin’s face is settled into a cool mask of neutrality. You almost don’t recognize him. 

They sink into the couch on either side of Yoongi, their backs stiff and eyes on anything other than you. For a moment, the four of you sit there in uncomfortable silence. You speak first. 

“Jimin, Taehyung, Yoongi-”

“Y/N,” Jimin cuts in, “Whatever Taehyung told you-”

“-I’m sorry.” You finish. That seems to surprise them. You interlock your fingers on your lap and look at each one of them individually. “I’m sorry that I didn’t check to see if there was food in the house last night. I’m sorry that I didn’t make sure you had the things you needed to feel comfortable here. I’m sorry that I made you feel like you weren’t allowed to leave.” 

Taehyung swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He’s got a death grip on Yoongi’s arm with one hand and the other fisted in the fabric of his sweatpants. “You...You’re not mad?” The tremor in his voice makes your heart ache. 

“No,” you tell him with all the sincerity in the world. “I’m not mad at you. I’m sad that you were ever around someone who made you feel like you needed to apologize for wanting to see the sun and I’m angry that they made you think that was something to be punished for.” It was true. Beneath your sadness, beneath your shock at his expectation of punishment, anger was twisting in your gut. What type of person would reduce another to fear and trembling for the sake of leaving the house? “I’m not going to...to punish you, I need you to know that.” You tell him, before looking at Jimin and Yoongi. “Any of you. Ever. I’m never gonna hurt you.” 

Taehyung’s jaw is clenched like he’s trying not to cry. All the wind has gone out of Jimin like a deflated sail and the leopard hybrid just looks exhausted. Yoongi’s rubbing soothing circles in both of their backs. You can’t tell from his face, but by the way his ears have relaxed, you think he was worried about your reaction, too. 

You let out a little exhale and slouch. “Whatever happened to you with your previous...the people you lived with before? It wasn’t okay.”  You’re as firm with it as you can be while still keeping your tone gentle. “They were supposed to take care of you and love you and help you grow, but if they starved you, if they made you feel this bad, if they treated you like property, then fuck them. I don’t want to be anything like them.” You admit. “I don’t want to be your owner and I don’t want you to be my pets.”

“What do you want us to be to you then?” Yoongi rasps. Despite the question, there’s no challenge in his voice. He’s genuinely asking. 

One corner of your mouth quirks up and you give him a small shrug. “Friends, maybe? Eventually, if we can. For now let’s try…” you search for the word you want. “Roommates?” You supply. “We live together, but you guys don’t need to feel like you owe me anything. I’ll get you phones tomorrow, if you want, and copies of the credit card. We can get you clothes and furniture too. And if there’s anything you want to do or want to see, go see it. The door code is 0613.”

The tension that’d run between the three hybrids like a livewire is gone. Now they’re...if not relaxed, then at least relieved. There’s nothing else to be said. You stand and move to hurry into the kitchen so the trio of hybrids can have their space. The last thing you wanted to do after having a talk about their freedoms was crowd them. Before you can take three steps there’s a hand wrapped around your wrist, holding you in place. It's Taehyung's. 

The tiger hybrid is looking up at you, his eyes beseeching and a nervous tremble in his bottom lip. “Don’t go,” he croaks, sounding like he’s still unsure just how to use his voice. He tugs once on your coat sleeve. “Please.”

Your eyes flick from him to his hyungs. Jimin’s looking at you with apprehension, perched on the edge of the couch like he’s a split second away from helping the tiger hybrid drag you down- but Yoongi’s face is turned away from you. As usual, you can’t tell what he’s feeling. “I’m just going to the kitchen,” you assure him. “I’ve gotta put the food away-” Your brain short circuits as the tiger hybrid flips your hand over and presses his face to your palm. His eyelashes brush against your lifeline; his lips trace the veins in your wrist. 

You’d never say it outloud, but it was hard to deny you were touch starved. You could count on one hand the amount of times someone had touched you gently since your mother died. You didn’t show yourself kindness most days and you’d come not to expect it from others. The world was cold and cruel, and you were far too old to be seeking solace from strangers. You’d thought you were above it, but the feeling of Taehyung nipping at your radial artery is almost enough to make you go to pieces. “Just a little bit,” he huffs, his voice muffled against your skin. 

“...The groceries will get warm,” you argue, finally managing to make your mouth move. “Do you wanna eat hot kimchi?” 

“I’ll put them away.” Yoongi is up and vaulting over the couch before you can get a word in edgewise. With him gone the last of your excuses goes up in smoke. Taehyung smiles against your skin and you let yourself be pulled down.

No sooner have your legs touched the cushion, then Taehyung is snuggled up against your side, his arms wrapped loosely around your middle and the cool tip of his nose pressed into your neck. “Tell me again,” he murmurs softly. “Can you tell me again that you’re not mad?” He wanted reassurance. The least you could do was give it to him.

You slip a hand into his hair, scratch gently at the base of his ears. He chuffs happily, the sound vibrating in his chest as he presses closer to you. “I’m not mad at you, and you’re not in trouble, buddy.” You tell him. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

A warm presence on your left tells you Jimin’s settled in beside you. Sure enough, a second later a golden tail is tracing the edge of your calf. “Don’t leave me out,” he purrs, settling his chin on your shoulder.

You slide a hand into his hair too, letting the locks slip through your fingers as you pet him. “Never.”

The three of you stay like that for what feels like an hour. Even when their hyung finishes putting the groceries away and returns to sit with them -albeit at the far end of the sectional- they don’t seem like they’re in a hurry to disentangle themselves from you. You’re surprised to find you don’t mind it. The weight of two grown men against your shoulders was heavy, but not uncomfortable and they were warm and the steady hum of Jimin purring is almost enough to lull you to sleep. You cut a movie on and order samgyeopsal. You think they’re gonna kill the delivery man for making you get up, and they stay glued to your back even as you pay. It’s not until the first movie goes off and Taehyung and Jimin are playfully bickering over what to watch next that you’re able to slip away to the bathroom.

You shuffle quickly down the wide hallway, trying to remember which door the closest bathroom lay behind. You careen around a corner and run smack into someone. They let out a huff and you stumble back a few steps, an apology on your lips. You look up and find Yokngi there. Guilt bubbles up in your stomach. Between Jimin purring in your ear and Taehyung rubbing his cheek against your hand every ten seconds, you hadn’t even noticed he was gone. “Sorry,” you mumble. 

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “For what?”

You’re not even sure you know.

He stares at you and you stare back, frozen. Finally, the bobcat hybrid sighs and gestures at you. “C’mere,” he mumbles. 

You approach hesitantly, not trusting him to not suddenly snap at you. “Why?” You ask, apprehensive. Should you have not let Taehyung and Jimin scent you? He’d been around the entire time and hadn’t said anything, so you’d thought it was fine. Maybe you’d made a mistake. You gnaw at your bottom lip and creep slowly closer to the hybrid before you. Another miscalculation, another mess-up, another mile tacked on to that incalculable distance between you and Yoongi. Should you apologize again? Would taking a shower help wash their scents away?

Before you can volunteer to do any of that, Yoongi reaches forward, hooks one finger through your belt loop and drags you toward him. You feel a yelp crawling up your throat, but it’s stopped dead in its tracks by the feeling of Yoongi cradling your jaw and his lips pressed against the column of your throat. His spine is tense and his tail is ticking in the way it does when he’s irritated. “...What are you-?”

“They’ve both scented you.” He murmurs. “If I don’t, they’ll think I’m rejecting you. My job as their hyung is to put them at ease. If I can’t do that, I’m useless.” Despite his closeness, despite the way his fingers were slipping into the hair at the base of your skull, despite the little nips he’d started giving you, you could practically feel his reluctance.

You exhale and push against his shoulders. “Yoongi…” He doesn’t budge. “Hey-”

“There’s no good reason for me to not just mark you and get it over with.” There was that word again. You’d forgotten about it in the whirlwind that followed, but Jimin had joked about marking you earlier, hadn’t he? And Yoongi’d gotten upset with him. From what you were gathering, it was a lot more serious than scenting. 

“I don’t want you to.” That gets his attention. The hybrid pulls away and fixes you with an odd look, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“What are you talking about? Owners always want us to mark them.” You feel that same twinge of anger again. The articles had said scenting was a sign of trust and security. It was used to mark family members. Had the people they’d been with before forced their way into their family without the hybrids consent? Without Yoongi’s? No wonder he’d been touchy about his juniors scenting you right away.

“Well, I don’t.” You give him a gentle nudge and put a few inches between the two of you. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with or not ready for.” You offer him a smile you hope comes across as reassuring. “You not wanting to is a good enough reason for me. Besides,” you say, turning to head back to the living room, the original reason for your trip forgotten. “I’ve never been marked before, so it’s not like i’m missing out on anything.”

At that, something flashes in Yoongi’s eyes that you have no name for. It passes as soon as it’d come. “Come back when you’re ready!” You call over your shoulder, retreating back down the corridor before he can say something one way or another. 

When you settle back on to the couch two minutes later, There’s a movie queued up and ready to be played. It’s an action movie, one you haven’t seen before. “Yoongi’ll be back in a second,” you tell the boys. “Let’s wait for him.” 

Taehyung hums his ascent, leaning in to settle back in the crook of your neck- but something stops him. He hovers near your neck, takes a few short inhales and tosses a look at Jimin behind your back. You frown. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah!” Taehyung responds a bit too quickly, lacing your fingers together to distract you as Jimin gives the other side of your neck the same treatment. The leopard hybrid purrs, seemingly happy at what he’s found. His ears swivel up and a second later, Yoongi slinks back into the living room. 

“Hyung…” Jimin starts, his voice taking on a teasing lilt.

“Play the movie.” His hyung orders. He does, but there’s still a little smirk on his lips.

The screen darkens and the opening credits roll as Taehyung and Jimin settle back against your side, careful to avoid your neck. Yoongi drops onto the couch, this time only a foot away from the three of you. You allow yourself a little spark of relief. The distance was starting to close.

[thespoonisvictory]

ok so firesnap made this very good post earlier today about the problems with niki and wilbur’s dynamic, and I have so much brain rot over it it’s getting it’s own separate post.

my general thesis for it is that I don’t mind niki having less going on as a character in s1, it’s that it’s not expanded on in s2 that’s the kicker.

In s1, even pre election, we get a lot more for Niki than is generally credited. Her relationship with Wilbur is central to her character, but that makes sense, because that’s her hook into the story: Wilbur wants her to join because they are friends. Cool! While it’s initially a bit awkward, their cc dynamic immediately gives a sense of warmth and closeness to their relationship that Wilbur doesn’t really have anywhere else. He’s close with Tommy, sure, but in a more mentor/sibling way, and it fleshes him out a bit more to see him bond with someone else. Leading up to the election, we also get more key traits of Niki’s character

1. She’s kind and compassionate, shown through her general demeanor, but also through the creation of her bakery and her deep care for Fungi.

2. She’s very independent, and doesn’t rely on others to form her opinions. We can see Wilbur is probably her closest friend, but she befriends Eret and basically demands that Wilbur be ok with it because it’s her choice, and literally runs against him in the election. It’s an interesting depth to her character that doesn’t really get brought up, and while it is related to Wilbur, it’s still individual development and characterization

3. She’s very vocal about her beliefs, even at a cost to her safety. She is the one to make the giant flag showing her alliegance, she is the one to be most vocal and aggressive towards Sapnap during the pet wars, she’s vocally against Schlatt before nearly anyone else.

None of this stuff is dependent on Wilbur, or is weakened without it. Wilbur is the catalyst for her joining, but her character is still well established without him and enriched with him. This isn’t your typical “woman only exists in the context of a man” to me, because, well, Niki is a strongly characterized firecracker of a character who has strong individual moments and arcs (in s1 at least...). 

Throughout Pogtopia, while there’s definitely room for her to do more, especially post festival, I’m not mad about her character then, either. We see strain placed on both Niki and Wilbur as he’s forced to leave her behind, her anger with her treatment under Schlatt, and her stress upon seeing Wilbur’s deterioration. We’re reminded that she’s close to Wilbur, and Wilbur’s kindness to her serves the narrative purpose of reminding us that he is very much still the same person from before, and maybe could be again. It’s not the show stopping arc that other characters have, but it isn’t trying to be. s1 is very much Wilbur’s story with other arcs added in, and Niki being less “important” doesn’t bother me.

What s1 is for Niki is good setup. It’s quite common in media for side characters to be introduced earlier in relation to main characters, and to be more strongly developed later. The best example I can think of is Nico Di Angelo from the Percy Jackson series, or Jaime Lannister from asoiaf. If you left Nico after the third/fourth book, or Jaime Lannister after the first, they would come off as incomplete and a bit one dimensional, but when they start to shine, they really start to shine. Jaime in particular comes off as a plain villain until we get his pov in the third book, and suddenly he’s getting development galore.

s1 sets Niki up perfectly for that: she’s got a strong personality, a set of beliefs and distinct worldview, and a close relationship to a key player who just died, not to mention the beginning of her building her Secret City to keep refugees safe. It could’ve included her more, for sure, but what’s there is a solid base.

In the beginning of s2, we have a Niki forming new relationships (Puffy, namely), navigating the world without her narrative crutch (Wilbur), and generally being in the perfect spot to begin coming into her own as a character, espeically with the Secret City stuff. I’ve talked extensively about the opportunities for her character: being part of the egg arc, getting involved with Eret, being in the new l’manburg cabinet, actually exploring a spiral arc.

But instead, it’s all just... dropped. Call it cc!niki being busy, not being communicated with, etc etc, the fact of the matter is there. Niki as a character completely drops off, and has been kind of fumbling since to find her footing as a character. Unfortunately, that leaves her relationships with Wilbur as the only throughline of consistency, and suddenly Niki goes from a character who started off Wilbur-centric but was veering off in her own direction... back to Wilbur-centric again.

I don’t hate what’s shown! I think it could really work, but the issue is that Niki and Wilbur’s s1 relationship was never built up to carry Niki through three seasons, it was a catalyst for the existence of her character and a nice grounding bond for both of them to have. It’s not that the s1 stuff is bad, it’s that the follow up offered was never carried out, so instead of:

s1: Wilbur heavy with relationship to Niki in the background and s2: Niki heavy with relationship to Wilbur in the background

we get:

s1: Wilbur heavy with relationship to Niki in the background and s2: Niki’s barely there and it’s mostly central to Wilbur.

There’s something very sweet about the Wilbur Niki dynamic that really appeals to me. I like the way Niki’s confidence contrasts with Wilbur’s insecurity, the idea of loyalty to a place through a person, the intimacy of being the last person someone trusts and of course the concept wearing each other’s clothes. The festival scene alone is one of my favorites ever (just like the brain rot over Niki defending Wilbur on inauguration day vs him defending her at the festival... chefs kiss). It’s a good relationship that sets up Niki to be a strong solo character, as well as s1 lore in general setting her up. 

But that relationship never should have been the entirety of her character, and that’s why it feels lopsided. It all comes back to s2 failing to deliver on Niki as a character, but I don’t think it’s the fault of the Wilbur Niki interactions or dynamic

tl;dr: s1 Niki, and Wilbur and Niki’s relationship is good and should be kept, we just needed to add more solo Niki in later seasons

[junisfics]

Heavy Petting ft. Armin Arlert (Day V)

Focus: Heavy Petting

Warnings: Sexual Contact / Nsfw 18+

Word Count: 2k

They’ve been gone for three days, they should’ve been back within a few hours. Where the hell are they?

Armin left with the others days ago to go on a supply run. Days. This trip should have taken them only a few hours to get done. They’re on horseback, they should’ve been back ages ago.

“Stop sulking around waiting for them to get back, they most likely came across a live town and are trying to trade or something...” Eren explains.

He can’t blame me, how am I supposed to sit around doing nothing while Armin- they’re out there practically begging to be eaten alive. 

I pace Mikasa and I’s shared room in the cottage, Eren sitting on her bed as I walk from door to window and back again.

“You need to drink or something, you’re livid.” He says.

“You need to stop acting like youre completely unbothered. I know it pisses you off just sitting here, you hate being excluded from helping.” I spit back.

“You’re just acting like a bitch because you don’t have an eye on Armin for once,” He stands up, “You’re obsessive.”

“I-I am not! I- at least I care! You let Mikasa be a suicidal hero for you and you sit around doing nothing in return!” I shout at him

“She’s just chopping wood, you need to relax.” He groans

“She was just thrown around, she needs to rest!”

“They’re back.” He mutters.

“Shut up you bastard- wait what?” 

He stares blankly at the window before turning and making his way down the hall and downstairs. I’m on his heels, practically shoving him down the stairs before pushing past him. I hastily push open the door too see them getting off their horses and stabling them.

“Armin... Armin!” I cry out. I see his blond hair whip around as he turns to face me. He’s tying his horse back up into her stable.

“y/n! Sorry, we ended up getting turned around, it took a little longer than ex- oh.”

His sentence is cutoff as I run up to him and practically throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck, his own make their way around my torso and I hold myself flush against him.

“We were only gone a few days, are you alright?” He asks, speaking into my hair.

I let go of him and take a few steps back to look at him. His hair is coated in sweat and dirt that sticks to his forehead. It’s obvious they came in contact with a few titans, the give away being the cuts and bruises that litter his hands and face along with few rips in his clothes.

“Yeah, sorry. Are you?” My hands prod at him, inspecting any possible injuries I missed before. I take his hands in mine, examining the surface cuts. Then, I take his face in my hands and shifting it slightly to look over it. My eyes get caught at a thin gash below his left eye.

It was supposed to be just a little supply run, to get food and medical supplies, that’s it.

“Ah-” He grimaces, jerking back at my touch. I let go of him.

“Go wash up then meet me in the kitchen. I need to clean it.” I gesture my head to the house

He disappears off to the backyard where the water spout is and I make my way back inside, a little to quickly for that.

He’s alive. He’s alive. Relax, y/n.

I through the kitchen cabinets for my medical box. I’m pulling things and shoving things around when I realize I had leant it to Jean.

“Jean!” I shout

“Jesus, y/n, I’m right here, what do you want?” He sets down what I assume to be a sack of potatoes onto the counter.

“Where’s my med bag?” I ask.

“I put it in your room, under your bed. I didn’t know where else it’d go.”

It’s right where he says it was. I take it apart and pull out alcohol, gauze, needles and sutures. I lay it out accordingly onto the bedside table. Staring at it, shifting each tool an embarrassing amount of times.

Relax, he’s fine. He’s here.

“y/n?” Armin says, rounding the door frame. 

His once dirt soaked hair is now clean and wet, messily hanging into his face. His shirt clings to his still damp skin. In the absence of the dirt I can now see bruises littered across his jaw and cheekbones. His forearms are all scratched up as well.

I pat beside me on the bed gently. He closes the door quietly and takes a seat beside me. I pour a bit of alcohol onto a gauze pad and hold him by his chin to keep him still. He winces when contact is met.

“Sorry, sorry” I mumble, wiping and patting at the gash below his eye.

When It’s as clean as I think it can get I reach for the sutures and tweezers, pushing it through the damaged skin as gently as I possibly can, “I’m sorry, I know”

I can feel his eyes boring into mine and I grow obviously uncomfortable as I try and complete my work.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks suddenly. His voice quiet, nervous.

I look down to his lips, a slit in the bottom one, then into his eyes. Slowly and sheepishly, I nod, letting my tools drop to the floor.

His lips meet mine, cold but soft. He takes my face in his hands and my own drop from his and reach around his neck to toy with his still damp hair. 

My heart lurches out of my chest, his fingers gently tracing the skin of my cheekbones. His touch is overwhelming and I feel my own skin growing hot. I grab at the front of his shirt, twisting it into my fist to pull him closer. 

I’d be lying if I said I’d never thought about kissing Armin, actually, you’d have to be stupid to think I haven’t. 

“I- closer, come closer... please.” Armin mumbles quietly, his hands pulling at my waist.

I hesitate, but only momentarily, then make my way closer, shifting inch by inch before something inside him snaps and he pulls me atop him. Our lips detach and my forehead rests against his, my legs straddling his waist but he remains upright, his back up against the wall.

“Armin..” I’m out of breath, my chest noticeably raising up and down with every pant.

“Fuck, just kiss me.” He pleads and I do. I tilt my head down so my mouth meets his again, this time with more passion.

His hands skim up and down my sides and back, touching almost any place he can without overstepping his boundaries. He needs more, I can feel it. It’s almost too much to handle, my body and senses completely flooded by him. He’s everywhere all at once.

I shift slightly to be flush against him my hands still around his neck, pulling him closer. His grip drops to my hips and squeezes them harshly before taking in a sharp inhale. Before I can kiss him again he tilts his head slightly so our noses bump together.

“You- God- you can’t do that... please.” This time he’s the one out of breath, overwhelmed and his skin hot.

My eyes closed and lips still searching for his as he pleads.

“You don’t- God, y/n, stop fucking moving.” He hisses, sitting up even more so to where his nose is in line with my jaw.

Hearing him swear is a rare occasion, let alone multiple times. It’s captivating, the sexuality of his frustration is so incredibly attractive.

His breath is hot on my neck, I can feel his lips tracing gently before kissing the tender flesh. My eyes flutter shut and my mouth drops open, a shiver goes down my spine and to my center.

Oh. 

Tiny whimpers leave my lips and I feel his tongue lick up my jugular.

“Armin,” I breathe.

“I don’t want anything from you, just this... please.” His voice has dropped a few octaves.

It’s so much, but so not enough. I feel stupid, completely dumbed by him. My head is clouded and all I can even think about is him, his lips and his touch. His fingers are gentle as they slip under the hem of my shirt to tickle the skin there. Another pathetic sound escapes my mouth.

His hips shift and a wave of pleasure ripples through me. 

“Armin, I-I can feel you.” I giggle quietly and he pinches the supple skin of my hips.

“Shit, I’m sorry- God” He groans into the skin below my jaw and ear, “It’s just- you’re just perfect.”

He sucks gently on my skin, marking the surface with little nips and bites every so often. The warm and wet gliding of his tongue along my skin has me shaking in his lap and every move I make I can feel him beneath me.

My hands rake down his chest and stomach then up under his shirt. The muscles of his stomach tense beneath my fingers. I never expected Armin to be so muscular, yes he’s rather lean but my fingers can feel the obvious divots between his abs. 

As my hands feel over his hot skin, his chest begins to rise and fall at a more rapid pace. His once innocent hands begin to sheepishly travel towards my backside. I try to encourage him by arching my back ever so slightly... and I wouldn’t say that hurt our situation but it definitely didn’t... help.

A groan rumbles deep in his chest as I do so and his grip on my lower back releases so he can grab my face and pull me away from him. My hands rest on the bare skin of his chest as he looks into my eyes and holds my jaw between his hands.

“You drive me insane.” He says under his breath, more to himself than to me.

His thumb follows the dips and mounds of my lips before finding resting tenderly against the center of my bottom lip. He uses his thumb to pull it down before letting it flick back up.

I try to lean forward to catch his lips in mine but he holds me still. A tiny smile upturns the corners of his lips as I try again with no prevail, only bumping the tips of our noses together once more. My mouth hangs open faintly, begging him to kiss me again.

I dig my nails into his bare chest, scratching gently.

“Ah-shit” He hisses, his eyes fluttering closed and head resting back against the wall.

“Kiss me, please.” I whisper, “Please.”

He blushes, pulling his head off the wall and looking into my eyes. I will never be able to get over how absolutely beautiful he is. The cool depths of his blue eyes are captivating; the gentle rises and falls of the bone structure in his face, the flexing of his muscles with every movement is so incredibly alluring.

He taunts me, leaning in then leaning out once I do the same. His pretty teeth showing with every smile.

I open my mouth and poke out my tongue, taking it and reaching to lick at his open lips. He twitches beneath me and I snicker quietly.

“Hey y/n! Have you seen Armin, Eren wants- oh!” Sasha pushes open the door and I scramble off of him, stumbling to the floor and taking a seat there. 

“Eren! I found him!” She calls to downstairs, then returns to us, “I knew it!”

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[gay-snom]

contextualizing lwj’s coming to terms with his feelings subplot!

i wanna talk about the role of confucianism in this subplot because i think it’s something some western fans might not pick up on. basically, the sociopolitical climate of confucianism in his character arc, and a little bit about his interaction with the public image theme.

disclaimer: i’m not chinese but i do have a double minor in chinese and asian studies and have written a few papers on confucianism.

we’re gonna be talking about the novel bc i feel its a little more in-depth and nuanced than lwj’s “what is black, what is white” monologue in cql. namely the tension and misunderstanding in wwx’s first life and how lwj got his scars. i feel like it’s pretty well accepted that wwx made lwj reconsider his world view, so i’m just gonna expand on it. also i want to point out it's pretty unspoken in most of the text, but lwj is also affected by/used to explore the public image themes, as his image the is ideal confucian scholar.

confucianism is centered around the ideas of how to behave “good” in sociopolitical contexts. basically it boils down to a belief system on how society should be run. if everyone follows confucian beliefs, you will have an ideal society. the main text is the Analects, which you can read here. it’s been around for a few thousand years (like around 200 BCE ish), had a huge revival in the tang dynasty (618-907 CE). it was put on imperial exams, the emperor’s cabinet had confucian scholars, etc. this is just to say confucian values are important to historic society, especially upper-class scholars, which seems to be a role cultivators commonly fill in xianxia. here are some basic tenants:

being a gentleman/scholar/superior man (君子 jūn zǐ) : partly being learned in the arts, literature, music, poetry, etc., mostly behaving righteously and dutifully.

filial piety: usually described as obedience. it's not simply obeying everything elders tell you, it includes doing it with reverence and thankfulness for their sacrifices for you.

leading by example: if leaders/the government is righteous, the people will follow. lwj has his flock of juniors that are all strong cultivators and the lan sect is just generally known for being moral and good.

rites/rituals: a focus on politeness and holding proper ceremonies, sacrifices, and funerals

speech: there’s some great meta about the register he speaks in here, i just want to touch on think carefully before you speak, only speak sincerely, etc.

tldr; lwj is THE perfect gentleman (even his title contains the character suffix 君 -jūn, like lxc. which, while this character is not uncommon for cultivator titles, it wasn’t chosen carelessly either. also not to be confused with 尊 -zūn). seriously, look at almost all of book 10 and you'll see don't do/consume in excess, don't talk during meals, sit only when your mat is straight, etc.

okay, so Why is understanding his feelings for wwx so troublesome?

1.2 "They are few who, being filial and fraternal, are fond of offending against their superiors. There have been none, who, not liking to offend against their superiors, have been fond of stirring up confusion... Filial piety and fraternal submission! - are they not the root of all benevolent actions?"

in other words, people who are filial will never create political tension. so like, morally, wwx should be considered horrible person! he’s not only snubbed the jiang sect. he was a head disciple who undoubtedly had younger students looking up to him. and then he goes and stirs up some huge political issues! he is now a bad role model for the people below him and disrespected the people above him. lwj has an entire image to uphold, he has poured his entire life into following these rules and beliefs, and then wwx comes along. would continuing to be in wwx's life taint lwj? there are some contradicting teachings in regards to interacting with wwx:

15.4: "Do not take counsel with those who follow a different Way"

15.28: "When the multitude hates a person, you must examine them and judge for yourself. The same holds true for someone whom the multitude love."

15.36 "When it comes to being Good, defer to no one, not even your teacher."

this is part of the reason lwj had so much trouble accepting his feelings. he didn’t know how to handle this situation, making him appear distant during/directly after sunshot. if he judges wwx's intentions to be pure, it's then not wrong to be friendly with him. but wwx still is morally wrong by society's standards. now, lwj has to not only figure out his feelings, but also reconcile this with how he still thinks wwx is Not a bad person, despite everything. what if he does get "tainted" by wwx? will it hurt the reputation of his sect? that would be un-filial, right? he spent his whole life memorizing rules that are probably extremely similar to sections in the Analects, and now these mixed messages (coupled with the relatable gay panic) are overwhelming.

onto the next! there’s something unspoken in the scene where wwx discovers why lwj has the whip scars. as other posts have mentioned, lwj taking wwx back to the burial mounds and nursing him is high treason. however, this action is also extremely un-filial. also his entire image is built around being a perfect gentleman, if this were to get out to the public he would lose absolutely everything. he would be just as irreparable as wwx.

“I was worried if those from another sect found you first, WangJi would be considered your accomplice. The best scenario was his name being forever tainted, and the worst was his life being taken away right then. Thus, along with Uncle, we chose thirty three seniors who had always thought highly of WangJi... ”

there’s no way lwj didn’t know what would happen if he did this. obviously as lxc says, if this got out, he would lose basically his entire face. and even though lxc didn’t mention this, it would definitely lose a lot of face for the lan sect as well since lwj is so prominent. the decision about what elders to bring is also notable.

“...As if he knew all along he would be discovered by us, he said that there was nothing to explain, that this was it. Growing up, he had never talked back to Uncle, not even once. But for you, not only did WangJi talk back to him, he even met with his sword the cultivators from the Gusu Lan sect...”

so yeah, he obviously knew they would come for him and what the consequences would be. and he still talked back! that’s already not a good look for the lan sect. but attacking them? totally unforgivable! lwj gives up how he was raised and the importance of filial piety, what he has held on to until this major plot event. since it's basically the biggest "fuck you" to his uncle and his clan, this was not a decision he made lightly. lwj shows them he cares more about wwx and His Own ideas of right and wrong than the sect’s or society’s.

Wei WuXian dug his hands into his hair, “...I-I didn’t know... I really...”

when was the last time wwx was at a loss for words? wwx spends a few paragraphs after this lamenting how he hurt lwj, but he's not unaware of the gravity of what lwj did. it's an underlying assumption from being raised in the culture. i would argue his first instinct is "oh god he gave up what for me?" since those lamenting paragraphs are after lxc finishes speaking.

"But he said... that he could not say with certainty whether what you did was right or wrong..."

this is something thrown around a lot in the Analects, that not even confucius can say for sure what is right or wrong. what better way to show lwj is still a perfect confucian than have him paraphrase confucius himself?

“...WangJi was a model for the disciples when he was young, and a prominent cultivator when he grew up. In his whole life he had been honest and righteous and immaculate--you were the only mistake he made!”

here’s the confirmation that the world and even his family thinks of him as a perfect gentleman, the top tier of society, and it was all thrown away for wwx. this is just so heavy. the mistake thing? thats not only because lwj is fraternizing with an enemy. lxc and the rest of the sect who knew are terrified this will forever corrupt lwj personally, not just publicly. lwj was so devoted to believing this was the right thing to do he offered up everything he had. the gravity of this decision is insane. it’s very obvious that he loves wwx, it’s just that he struggles a lot internally to accept everything that is happening.

as for helping wwx leave after the massacre, is this gentleman-ly of lwj? was it actually in-line with his image? is it more honorable to save someone who is dying, at the cost of your own health, than to look away? isn't looking away a form of resentment? i wasn't able to find a specific passage about bystander-ness, but personally i think it qualifies as "bad intentions." there is also this passage for what it's worth, originally it was about government suppression:

12.19: "...What do you say to killing the unprincipled for the good of the principled?" Confucius replied, "...why should you use killing at all?..."

lwj is always more actions than words, and he was not fucking around. his core beliefs really haven't changed, and remain very strong throughout his life. he is still righteous enough to accept his punishment, graceful enough to search for wwx's body since there was no one else to do the funeral rites (10.22/10.15), caring enough to take in a-yuan, upright enough to still spend his years going where the chaos is.

just with this one action, the audience knows he has come to terms with realizing that authority isn't always just, and neither is the public opinion/opinion of other gentlemen. he has reconciled. this is him standing for what he believes is right. this is his devotion. this is his own choice. just. poetic cinema...

anyway that's it for my first meta post! i would love to hear your thoughts, feelings, opinions, discussions, other meta ideas, whatever! thank u for reading! <3

[animextears]

DRIP DRIP :|: Akaashi Keiji

akaashi keiji x reader : * :

warnings: 18+ only, smut, moody reader, oral, teasing

wc: 1.6k premise: does he have what it takes to make you feel better?

author notes: ty for your patience & waiting out the weekend for this, akaashi luvers!

You were definitely having a bad day and Akaashi Keiji knew it. He could tell by the way you walked into the room and how your lips do that thing whenever you're deep in thought. That thing which he secretly finds too cute, especially because it gives him an opportunity to try and kiss it right off of you.

He approaches you with care midway through your huff across the kitchen, "Hey. —Baby." stopping you by the waist, stern hands finding their way to a bit of bare skin under your shirt and lightly gripping around them, that somehow, even through your current headspace of disturbances has a way of slipping through the crack of your mood just enough to shoot a tiny amount of electricity straight to the clit. Even so, you brush it off with determination, you’re feeling too pissed off for that.

He tilts his head curiously and dips his knees a bit in order to get closer to your face. His sparkling oceanic eyes are greeting you with concern, passion, questioning and calm all at the same. God, you think, you don't know how he does that, but it's one of the things you adore so much about him. He can say a multitude of things through those profound peepers without saying much.

Akaashi points a finger to run it up the middle of your furrowed brow, pushing upward on the forehead, so as to lift up the expression and unfurrow it for you, "Aww, you ok?" he consoles.

Your exhale is an appreciative one, and you are very grateful that he cares, but you just can't seem to shake this feeling.

An equally sparkling smirk to match his eyes comes forth, "I think I could...make you feel...better?..."

You attempt a small smile, but from being so in your head with the irritating day you've had, you just don't believe anything would help right now.

"No, Keiji baby, thanks, it's fine. I think I just need to think for a bit maybe..." you turn around to the kitchen counter, reaching for a glass from the cabinet and fill it to the brim with water.

“I see.”

He doesn’t really.

And it becomes evident by the way he is moving in on your back with playful lust and a sigh, “Hmm, you sure?"

His arms wrap around you to the front, one hand delicately leafing at the hem of your shirt, when suddenly it traces up your bare rib cage underneath the fabric. He follows through by groping one of your soft tits, lacing your nipple between two of his long fingers, then pressing the space between them to squeeze in on the sensitive bud. Akaashi knows how to expertly massage at the buoyant heft within his handful, like he’s gone pro in the athletic field of tiddie-tossing.

When he sees a trickle of your pleasure break through, he entices you, "Oh...? How about if I add another...?"

As you take a sip of water, his other hand moves in on your other breast and when your mouth separates from the lip of the glass, you release a louder pant. "Mmm, I dunno, baby, you maybe don't seem so sure..."

Enclosing itself behind your body now is the feeling of very stiff, very large excitement pressing in between the line of your clothed bottom. Your eyes shut trying to keep composure because you aren't fully convinced yet that you'll be able to let go of your glowering attitude. But, once his hands are both artfully rubbing on you within your blouse while making an indentation of himself on your lower half, he's right about your uncertainty. Ten sweet fingertips sink deeper into the flesh on your chest as you puff out harder.

"Hm, babe? What was that? Can't hear you." A clink of a full glass taps the counter. Your grip on it tightens.

When your head drops forward, he knows you're done for now.

Fast as he can, Akaashi plunges a hand down into the wet depth of your pants, his chin now resting on your inner shoulder so that his lips are effervescent on your ear. He slides his middle finger up inside you and it's already so soaked he can barely contain his low and prompt reply, "Ohh fuck, precious..." expelling his gratification as he drives it deeper, getting you to finally whimper pitifully because you're still so goddamn upset, but smooth-talking, blue-eyes here has gotten your moody fortresses to fall. "Let me ask you again, angel, how would you like it if I add another-?" Your spine bends forward to respond before your brain can even catch up to formulate words of agreement and— He adds two, twisting in the index and ring fingers up to join the middle like it's a grinding dance party in your pussy. The inexplicable feeling of his fullness leaves you capsized. Suddenly, all your frustration about the day has completely escaped you now. -Wait- what was I even moping about?- His fingers curl in on that hypersensitive spot within and you are fully sopping.

When you start hitting your hips against the counter to get his fingers to dip in further, he slows for a second.

"Turn your head some and let me look at that cute little flustered face..." You look hazily into his alluring eyes, "...mmn, now that's better isn't it, my pretty pouty girl?"

"Mhmn, Keiji...-'t feels better..."

Even ASMR doesn't do justice to the way he whisperingly croons out, "So, does someone want a peck on the lips to feel better?"

When your head leans in to him give one, he quickly diverts his away and declares calmly,

"Not those ones."

You watch his eyes narrow, and with these words, he feels your body reflexively tense in anticipation and it's all the confirmation he needs.

Without waiting for a response he readily unhands himself from within you, so that in a blink of an eye, he's already undone the top button of your pants and the other has swiftly followed to unzip them. With a hard tug, he exposes your ass, releasing your drenched garments, so that the clothes and his knees both hit the floor simultaneously.

He is fierce, yet tender as he bites into the ripeness of your plump cheek. A groan erupts out of you.

Akaashi turns you around, hands sliding along the swivel of your hips. He leans in to hover his mouth just over your little, bare hump, breathing warmth over it as he looks up at you, you down at him.

"I asked you a question," hot, moist words deliberately hit only your clit. He seeks to edge you longer and its something you can hardly handle well. Concentrated heat beats at it again,

“Want me to kiss it? Make it all better?”

You are devastated, “P-please, Keiji,” casting him a sensual nod.

His eyes don’t leave yours as he reveals his tongue and solely places it flat and still on your bundle of nerves, building your arousal. Only after you reactively hitched your third rapid mini breath in a row that has your belly contracting from desire, does he finally close his eyes leaning into his own pleasure of your inviting flavor.

With his tongue, he creates a space in between your soft crease soaking it further with your juices. He motions keenly from the back to the front, then again, slowly to the hole, then quickly back to the tip. When you quiver, he snatches a thigh and hitches it over his shoulder burrowing his face more intensely onto you, shoving your pelvis into a half-way sit position on the chilly counter.

You cry out with soft squeals and your head falls back while clenching through his raven strands.

The sound of lush, compact, oral smacks hitting your eardrums are like a rush of music you didn't know you needed today. All of your skin is resounding in relaxation and applause. His face is so pretty as you watch him enjoy taking all of your troubles away with just the cushion of his drenched muscle. Akaashi is a true giver. A truly giving lover and a super giving man.

He forcefully sinks his tongue up your creamy slit, masterfully jerking it inward while also working his lips upward in a way that now makes your eyesight obscured to the room. You didn't even realize you still had a glass in your hand until your increased thrusts onto his mouth begins to spill water all over, slightly showering you and the crown of Akaashi's head. He barely notices, and you see him humorously smile from behind your cunt because he knows you're about to peak. You don't even want to take a second to stop and put it down because if you do, you might lose your rise to climax right now.

Your voice is a small stirring mewl, "Oh Keiji, oh god, baby- I’m- I’m gonna...gonna come—" He sucks deeply onto that frontal sweet spot, focusing in on it and rocking his lips forward and knows not to stop not stop not stop until after...

—Your body becomes lighting, bursting outward, high-pitched tones vocalize themselves out from your chest. The water from your lazy grasp is splashing everywhere and you can tell he is just loving all of it.

As you descend, he hugs around both of your thighs and gives the swollen lump between them one final faint kiss.

Now that you are both partially bathed, he takes a stand, and flicks an attractive hand through his damp hair to fix it.

He liberates the glass from your hand and takes a sip of the water that's barely there anymore and finishes it, then lightly slaps at your bare ass. He warmly winks, granting you a quick kiss with an armed grin behind it. Before coyly turning on his heel out the room to just leave you standing there gaping with your half-naked frame hanging off the counter, Akaashi proclaims,

"Well, love, that's certainly one way to wash away the pain."

‣ masterlist

[sigmalied]

Preview: Bly Anniversary Fic

Please enjoy this preview of a new, currently untitled Damie fic I have in progress. The preview is ~1,000 words of the fic’s opening section, establishing the premise of the story which is expected to be, at completion, around 15-20k words. Hopefully I can meet my self-imposed Oct. 9 deadline, but if not, the fic will certainly be completed sometime during the month of October. Preview starts below the read more line, thanks for reading.

— — —

At a loud metallic click, Jamie swiftly retracts her hands from the sink. Beneath the kitchen’s warm overheads she wipes suds away from her fingers to inspect her wedding ring, victim of an acute collision with the half-washed pan abandoned to soapy depths. Once she deems its golden gleam unblemished, Jamie dips her hands back in to work at a more cautious pace.

Several steps away, Dani speaks into the phone handset tethered to the wall. She’s engrossed with her conversation and hasn’t noticed Jamie’s near-mishap. Upon stealing a glance in her direction, Jamie eavesdrops Dani saying, “Mom, it’s fine. The room is perfectly fine. Don’t worry about us.”

Jamie finishes the pan, proceeds to cooking utensils, and lays out each on a towel beside the sink. She pauses to dry her hands and cuff one sleeve of her burgundy jumper to her elbow, from where it has unfolded and tumbled down the length of her arm.

It’s the twentieth day of December, 1996, and even as the holiday season races toward its holly-decked climax over weeks of planning, Jamie still struggles to accept this course of events as real and imminent. Within mere days they’ll be in Dani’s home state, visiting her mother and childhood surrogate family. Not under the strict guise of roommates or business partners, but as a married unit. The notion is almost too slippery and fantastical to commit to truth.

Defying all contrary expectation, Karen Clayton has invited them to stay in her house’s guest room — incidentally, what was once Dani’s childhood room — for two nights. Furthermore, Judy O’Mara is expecting them at her Christmas Day party, an event reserved for family, of which Dani has historically been considered a member. Jamie always found it remarkably generous, that the O’Mara clan continued embracing Dani as their own after the death of the one man linking her to them. And even now, with Dani married to someone wholly unrelated and, frankly, highly unorthodox, still they extend themselves to her.

Concealment has been Jamie’s lifelong aegis. Do not speak. Do not reveal. Do not confess. This policy keeps her ilk intact at the price of true freedom, but that is a small fee for a person who delights in privacy and has never required external validation to enjoy the details of her personal life.

Consequently, this trip is vastly more for Dani than for herself. Her own family is infinitesimal; Jamie intimately understands the pain of isolation and would see to it that Dani never has to suffer the same.

When Jamie next looks up, Dani meets her gaze and shares a secret expression. She rolls her eyes, crosses an arm over her middle, and taps her foot — all with a smile.

“Mom.” Dani adopts a tone of warning. “I’m gonna say something right now. You know what I’m gonna say.” Following a few seconds of silence, Dani delivers on her threat, “Jamie and I are married. Not only is one bed fine, it’s also big enough. I remember how big it was. It’s plenty of space.”

Highly amused, Jamie tears her attention away to resume her chore. Soon after, Dani concludes her call and helps stow dishes in their cabinets. Over the ceramic clatter, Dani shares, “You know what she said to me? She said: just don’t do anything weird.”

Jamie snorts. “Weird? Us?” She reaches to place a pair of drinking glasses on a high shelf. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I know she’s happy to have us,” Dani says, filing a handful of cutlery into the appropriate drawer. “But I guess she’s still… adjusting. I try not to get impatient with her, because, well, she’s trying. I can tell she’s really trying.”

“Yeah,” Jamie softly agrees. “That’s a good thing. It’s great, actually.”

Dani flashes a smile before continuing to think aloud, “And then there’s Judy. She’s so excited to meet you. I talked to her this morning. She asked if there’s anything special she could make you for dinner on Christmas, in case you’re not used to our food.”

“Been here almost a decade,” coolly remarks Jamie. She hangs the damp dish towel on the oven’s handle to dry and leans back against the sink. “Funny how everyone’s still under the impression that I’ve just stepped ashore.”

“She’s just trying to be welcoming. So, what should I tell her?” Following a giggle, Dani asks, “How about a nice mince pie?” She approaches Jamie to lay teasing hands on her middle.

Jamie suppresses a laugh. “Wouldn’t refuse one, but I’m definitely not putting anyone through the spare effort. As long as there’s turkey and gravy, I’m set.”

As Dani slides her hands around Jamie’s waist to hold her, Jamie lowers her gaze to admire the sedated plaid of Dani’s skirt. Her serene smile fades at a coalescing thought. Jamie asks, “They all know, right? We’re not surprising anyone?”

“Know what?”

“That I’m, uh, you know—”

“British?” Smiling with mischief, Dani frees a hand to tuck an unkempt lock of hair behind Jamie’s ear, then sweetly cradles her cheek in her palm.

While nearly nose-to-nose, Jamie struggles to contain her amusement and lowers her voice to say, “That I’m a woman.”

Dani’s smile loses a shade of vibrance during her contemplation. She strokes a conciliatory thumb over Jamie’s cheekbone before responding at length, “Mostly everyone.”

Jamie releases a steady sigh through her nose and peers downward, at their feet, to sever her gaze from Dani’s.

“Jamie.” Dani beseeches her returned attention. “It’s okay. Judy said she’ll make sure we feel welcome. She said not to worry about a thing.”

“She really said that? Exactly that?”

“Mm-hmm.”

When Jamie meets her eyes again, she’s hesitant, but eventually concedes a hushed, “Okay.”

Dani strokes the side of Jamie’s neck, to the collared shirt peeking out from beneath her jumper. There she tidies creased fabric then slides farther down to clutch her hand, still dishwater-warm. Quietly, Dani asks, “Do you know how much it means, that you’re doing this for me?”

A coy purse of lips precedes Jamie’s answer. “At least a bit more than the time I brought you ice cream after you sprained your ankle?”

“Yeah.” Dani laughs, her kind eyes illuminated by humor and affection. “Even more than that.”

[shadowqueen1220]

Analysis on C! Tubbo's Emotional State

Disclaimer: I am in no means a professional and I am heavily basing this off of my own experiences and general observations. (Please let me know if my wording is bad)

This is all about the roleplay characters if it wasn't clear

Warning: self harm, self sacrifice, self destructive behavior and talk of mental health and canon typical violence

Tubbo has always been a self sacrificial character. He always helps his friends at the expense of his own safety (ie disc war and L'manburg). He is a bit of an overachiever and that has gotten worse when combined with tendencies of paranoia. (all og members of L'manburg have paranoia issues, stemming from the final control room)

After the Independance War, Tubbo was involved with the elections. He made a secret bunker, saying "hope for the best plan for the worse" in case the electrons went wrong. He was proven right and then had to endure a harsh dictatorship.

Spy Tubbo was constantly under stress. He not only was secretly slipping information to Pogtopia but had his role of Security of State as well. At the Elections, Schlatt verbally abused Tubbo and scared him into following his orders. Most of the things Schlatt had told Tubbo to have shaped him into the Tubbo that internalizes and represses all his emotions. (ie don't complain, don't cry, don't talk back, agree with everything I say). Tubbo, who already naturally liked to help his friends, was forced to become a yes man in order to stay safe.

The Festival was a disaster and a huge blow to Tubbo's self esteem. The famous line here is "Wilbur said he wasn't going to hurt me" and Tubbo wholeheartedly believed that he could trust Wilbur, his former president and older brother figure. However, all he got was the fact that he was now expendable to Wilbur. His death was brushed aside and it seemed like the only person who cared was Tommy. Even Tubbo quickly became desensitized to the fact that his own pain did not matter in the chaos of the situation.

His life becomes even more chaotic when he is thrust into the role of President and his self sacrificing nature kicked in when no one else would take the presidency. And then in the first 10 minutes into his presidency, he is shot and his nation is blown up.

Tubbo takes this all in stride, repressing everything in order to rebuilt but his cabinet does not listen to him and constantly talks over him. When his vice president and best friend gets into trouble, Tubbo learns that he must be louder in order to be heard.

Tubbo felt betrayed by Tommy's actions during the exile negotiations. He felt as if Tommy didn't respect his power and the pressure of living up to President Wilbur, the threat of becoming like President Schlatt and the expectations of the entire nation all depended on him.

Tubbo once again choose sacrifice but this time, he was not only sacrificing himself but harmed Tommy in his decision as well. Immediately Tubbo regretted his decision and regressed into his yes man habits to cope with the situation.

From here on out, this may be a bit of a stretch but I love putting lore goggles on to every scene for analysis purposes and with a character like Tubbo who is rarely played, we can get some character depth from seemingly "silly" bits.

Tubbo after exiling Tommy shifted from being self sacrificial to self destructive. Both presidents before him had died and the odds were not looking good for Tubbo, already he had made an awful decision that he immediately regretted. Yet he couldn't reverse it and didn't feel worthy enough to see Tommy.

Tubbo never built himself a home in L'manburg. No stuff, no place to sleep, no roots. He told Ranboo that the presidency was all his when the elections came around. He didn't want to be president anymore. He's worryingly self depreciating.

I don't quite remember the timing of this stream but Tubbo and Ranboo once went nether exploring. Ranboo panicked as Tubbo was extremely reckless during this adventure, jumping into lava without fire res, speed bridging with few blocks and jumping off of tall places without checking his health. In addition, Tubbo went through a series of projects as a President, always doing something new and often involving things that could hurt him (ie Ravenger teleportation, tnt jumping). We can see Tubbo become subtly self destructive during this time.

(sidenote: tubbo has a habit to jump off of high things and expecting the person at the bottom to water bucket. Tommy usually is the person to "catch him" and I find it interesting that they both had self destructive tendencies while the other was gone. I'll come back to this point soon)

We never get Tubbo's opinion on the Butcher Army. He heavily opposed the idea at the beginning of the presidency but agreed to take part in it despite Techno killing him being a traumatizing event.

And then Logsteadshire. The guilt of exiling his best friend and being the cause to his death is too much for his mind to handle and he passes out. We never learn how Tubbo got back to L'manburg and the next time we see him, he is back to throwing himself into project after project.

The next time we really see Tubbo is when Tommy and Technoblade take Connor hostage. Ranboo says that Tubbo is just staring at a grass block and when Tommy appears, Tubbo is severely shaken. He is glad that his best friend is alive and upset that he's teamed with his murder but has to all shove it aside to fulfill his role as president. Tubbo takes Tommy yelling at him and Techno's accusations with no protest and once again, represses everything to move on.

Already the Green Festival reminded Tubbo of familiar events but at this time he was in control or so he thought. He had already failed an execution so he was determined to make this word so L'manburg could be safer. He had failed Tommy so he might as well try to make the server a better place by killing Dream. Yet Tubbo had doubts about it.

Dream was manipulating Tubbo during his entire presidency. Tubbo truly believed that Dream was his friend and thought that Dream supported him as a president. His self esteem was so low that he searched for validation anywhere (ie "rate my kidnapping", "phil tell me I'm doing good pls") and Dream willingly gave him companionship.

But then Dream started screaming at him and calling him and awful president, Tubbo agreed with Dream. Tubbo saw himself as weak and stupid and no one came to his defense so it had to be true.

His fight with Tommy was very impactful and led Tubbo to believe that the discs mattered more than him but we'll get back to that soon. Most of the things said during this fight were forgiven by both parties so I hope it doesn't affect him much.

Sidenote: when Quackity suggests to execute Ranboo, Tubbo chooses forgiveness for Ranboo having been in that position before and snaps at Quackity. Here we get a glimpse of Tubbo's inner emotions and we can see clearly that the events of the festival have hurt him.

Doomsday is further proof to Tubbo that he is the worst President that L'manburg had. He stares at the destruction in mute disbelief and even throws himself into tnt and in front of a firework for Tommy. By the end of the experience, Tubbo is so drained that he has given up on government, the fight beaten out of him and he lets L'manburg go, thinking it was his fault it fell.

Tubbo has suffered the most from government yet strives to make a community. Snowchester was supposed to be his healing. However, Tubbo's paranoia from all the violence and the lessons that he has learned from the others, caused him to built a way to defend himself. He doesn't even make a bed for himself in his new house.

Then his life gets shaken up by the Disc War Finale. He refuses to talk about his feelings on the odds, accepts defeat instantly as they were "doomed from the beginning" and doesn't seem to mind the fact that he might die.

In fact, he says "It was about time anyway"

Tubbo thinks he is living on borrowed time. All of the presidents before him are dead and he is in a seemingly impossible situation. Death seems to be the only option and he has accepted it before hand so he is fine with it. Even Tommy seems shaken by this as Tubbo was so positive about the situation before. But Tubbo had been hiding that all for Tommy's sake as he is very self sacrificial.

When everything seems to return to "normal" Tubbo tests his nukes and later tells Ranboo that be had expected everything to go horribly wrong. He is trying to heal and does a decent job at it, starting a family and building Snowchester.

But then he gets the memo that Tommy has been trapped in prison with Dream. He checks out the prison, being a inconvenience to the guards and is hardly fazed when Sam threatens to kill him. He leaves feeling disappointed that he cannot help but that is what it is and Tubbo thinks that Tommy is the strongest person he knows.

So that's why Tommy can't be dead. Tubbo denies Sam's words and when they finally register, begins an investigation to find out who's to blame. He becomes self destructive again, wearing Dream's armor and building a familiar panic room to research the crime.

He is once again extremely reckless when investigating. With Ranboo's help, they go and investigate the egg and Tubbo shows his lack of care for his own safety. He tries to break open the egg, challenges Bad and Ant to a pvp and suggests to continue investigating. But at this point, Ranboo has noticed this recklessness and gently reminds Tubbo of Michael.

From this point, Tubbo seems to be healing again. And then to make things better, Tommy is back and they are going to kill Dream but that's okay because it hasn't really settled yet. Tubbo is once again shaken by Tommy's return and follows him in silence to make sure he is really there. He is so worried about Tommy, he reaches out to MIA Ghostbur to help him.

Tubbo is still self destructive but less so after this. He still jumps off high places but does so more out of trust. He finally gets a bed in Snowchester and things seem to be looking up.

But then Tommy's words about Dream settle in. Dying is no longer permanent and Tubbo has things he wants to protect. To do this he recommissions the nukes but is panicked when one is stolen.

We have no idea where it is going to go from here, but I can already see some problems with Tubbo's increasing paranoia.

In addition, the details about the nukes and their suicide button and Tubbo's willingness to sacrifice himself for the greater good does not bode well.

Overall, Tubbo is a complex character and I greatly enjoy how he is played.

Thank you for reading and let me know if you have any comments!

[astaroth1357]

Leviathan's Odyssey 5:

God

*Mammon is happily about to break into Lucifer's study yet again when he hears the sound of banging metal and high-pitched shrieking coming from the kitchen... Knowing what the likely source, he swallows his reluctance in order to go check on what's happening*

*Beel is in the kitchen when he runs in, having narrowly dodged the flying butcher knife that lodges into the wall next to his ear… Little Satan is strapped into a high chair, wailing at the top of his lungs and banging his fists against a nearby countertop*

Mammon: BEEL!! What the hell is goin’ on in here!? Weren’t ya in charge of feedin’ him??

Satan: DIE!!!! DIE!! Diedie!!!

*a frying pan appears to float off of its hook and goes flying towards Mammon’s face but Beel manages to grab its handle before it knocks him out*

Beel: I was! But I think I made him mad…!!

Mammon: *gulps when he sees the metal pan just an inch from his nose, but has to push it aside quickly* He’s ALWAYS mad, Beel! What'cha do this time??

Beel: Nothing! *ducks a riocheting butter knife* I just…! Well…

Mammon: Spit it out already!!

Beel: I was trying to teach him how to eat, okay?? But he poked himself with a fork and lost it!

Satan: DIIIEEEE!!!!! 

*previously thrown kitchen supplies lift off of the floor and start flying at them for a round two. Beel rips a cabinet door from its hinges to shield them while Mammon takes the frying pan to bat away the murderous forks and spoons*

Mammon: Beel!! We agreed that we weren’t givin’ him that stuff yet! He’ll kill us all!!

Beel: Yeah, yeah I know but it’s not fair! He should learn how to feed himself like the rest of us!

Mammon: Now’s not the time for “fair,” Beel!!

*apparently hearing the commotion himself, Asmo storms into the kitchen wearing nothing but a bathrobe and a beauty mask - but even covered in cleanser, he look PISSED*

Asmo: WHY IS IT SO LOUD IN HERE!?!

*Mammon grabs Asmo by the arm and pulls him out of the way of an iron cauldron careening his way. Asmo shrieks at the sudden pull and clutches onto Mammon for dear life following the close save*

Asmo: What is the little monster doing now?!? Why are things flying??

Mammon: Quit callin’ him a monster and hell if I know! It’s not like he knows any spells!!

Beel: *whacks away a meat tenderizer aimed at Asmo’s cheek* I think he’s just really mad!

Asmo: *throws his hands up in despair* Of course of all the babies in all the world, we managed to get one that radiates homicide!!

Mammon: Shut your trap and go wake up Belphie! Lucifer’s still with Diavolo so he’s gotta be the one to put him to sleep this time!

Asmo: Me?? Why me??? Belphie won’t get up for me, make Beel do it!

Mammon: Are ya blind AND stupid?? I need Beel here with me! Just scream or something ‘till Belphie wakes up! It’s all you’re good for anyway!

Asmo: Shut up, you money-grubbing dirtbag!!

Beel: NOT THE TIME!! GO NOW!!!

*Asmo yelps a bit at the volume, but he manages to run out of the kitchen without much injury*

Satan: DIE!! Die! Die! DIE!!

Mammon: *pops his head out from behind their cover* Yeah we get it little buddy, ya don’t like us! But would it kill ya to cut it out??

Satan: DIIIIEEEE!!!!!!

*Mammon quickly jerks back behind the "shield" as a set of five knives all lodge themselves into it*

Mammon: Fuck, okay nevermind!!

*it only takes a couple minutes of fighting off the cutlery for Asmo to come back with a drowsy, but upright, Belphie in tow*

Belphie: What’s happening here…??

Mammon: No time for explainin’!

*Mammon swiftly grabs Belphie and sticks him behind Beel before taking the cabinet door from him*

Mammon: Grab another, Beel!

*while Beel rips off the other door, Mammon keeps shouting over the chaos*

Mammon: Belph, ya gotta knock out the kid! Beel and I will protect ya, just stay behind us then get’em outta the chair! Do what ya gotta do after that!

Belphie: *stays right behind Beel but groans* What did you do this time…??

Mammon: Shuddup and move!!

*the three of them start approaching the baby in the high chair, still wailing at the top of his lungs. Between the two cabinet doors and their combined reflexes, Beel and Mammon are able to keep Belphie more or less shielded from the flying utensils until they finally get close enough from him to make a move*

*Belphie jumps forward enough to grab the buckle to Satan’s seat, ignoring his little fists as they try to rip his hair out, and he gets the baby out of the chair as quick as he can manage*

Belphie: Ow!! Okay, lights out, kid!!

*Belphie sticks his hand over Satan’s eyes and, gradually, his struggling loses its gusto until the little baby falls asleep in his arms. All the kitchen supplies fall to the ground and it seems like his tantrum is finally over…*

Mammon: *drops the “shield” he was holding* Oh thank fuck that worked!! No more forks for him, Beel!

Beel: *also sets down his “shield” and looks down guiltily* But how is he ever going to eat right…?

Mammon: We’ll just have to teach him when he gets better.

Belphie: “If” he gets better…

*there’s a silence between the brothers as the gravity of that thought sinks in… What if he never gets any better…?*

*But then the little boy yawns*

Satan: *yaaaawn* Pa…

*all heads in the room snap towards the baby demon and everyone holds their breath. That was a new sound… right?*

Satan: Pa… Per… wish…

Beel: “Per… wish?”

Belphie: I think he meant, “Perish…” 

Asmo: *groans* Of course his second word also means, “Die!”

Mammon: But he’s learnin’! That’s what Lucifer said, right? 

*Mammon comes over and carefully takes the sleeping Satan from Belphie, holding him not unlike how he used to do all of them when they were young*

Mammon: He’ll get better, alright? Believe your big brothers for once! Ya guys weren’t all that different than this...

Asmo: *rolls his eyes* That’s such a lie...

Mammon: Shuddup Asmo, I’m serious! We just gotta be patient…

Beel: Do you think Lilith could have calmed him down…?

*again, there’s another silence in the room… aside from Satan’s soft snoring. For once, it seems like his little brothers are looking at Mammon for something… comfort maybe?*

Mammon: Lilith… *he fights the urge to bite his lip by holding Satan a little tighter* Lilith woulda been patient with’em… Levi too. They’d have helped us out… 

Belphie: If they were still here…

Mammon: *sighs* Yeah Belphie. If they were still here… but we don’t gotta focus on that part, ya know?

*Mammon starts walking towards the exit, patting little Satan on his sleepy head*

Mammon: I’m puttin’ the little shit to bed. Ya got feedin’ duty again tomorrow, Beel. No forks this time.

Beel: *nods quietly* Alright…

Mammon: *stops at the doorway and looks back* Oh. And “not it” explainin’ this mess to Lucifer. Ya gotta figure that out yourselves!

*as his brothers start to shout out in protest, Mammon just laughs triumphantly while he starts down the hallway. Looks like something isn’t his fault for once*

~Meanwhile in the Deepest Depths of the Ocean~

*for the first time since his conquest began, Levi is completely alone in the darkness. Having conquered every part of the seas above, all he has left is the deepest trenches to explore… home to the nightmares even his army refuses to face*

*perhaps being a stranger to this world has helped him. Whatever force commanded his troops to stay above has no sway on his mind. Even Lotan, his most trusted general, wouldn't follow him into these shadows...*

*he's told only one thing lives here. A creature beyond all comprehension... A being without form, without thought, and without convention, and yet festers into consciousness like a blight on all existence... A creature for which all other monsters fear to the point of insanity yet, strangely, Levi remains undaunted...*

*his mantra of loathing shields him as much as it consumes him. He’ll bow to no beast who believes they're better than him, no matter their size or strength. No one can think they’re better than he is... He’ll prove their lives are worthless in the end*

*finding the creature proved easy. He only had to follow the strings of insanity attempting to strangle his mind, growing ever thicker the closer he’d come. A lesser being may have felt helpless approaching it… a shattering insignificance compared to One that Defies All: a primordial essence from which those below the depths are connected and yet through denial believe to be their own... A Greater Power. A God*

*... but he’s fought a God before. All he saw before him now was an Abomination*

*and what he eventually saw skewered on the end of his trident was just another step on his journey of conquest - even as blood the color of madness plumed in the water around him, boiling his skin and contorting his bones... When the ranting clutter in his mind finally quieted, Levi was something new entirely…*

*he didn’t need to return to his army to feel their presence now. His metamorphosis completed when a ghastly wail that escaped his throat, carried telepathically through the waters around him. A clear signal to all who felt it... Above the sea, you’d hear nothing. But below...*

*a cacophony of shrieks. A chorus of howls. The roar of a new Master and the response of an entire ocean now at his disposal...*

*An army of unspeakable terror flourishing just out of sight…*

Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9