#praying that I phrased this well and clearly

[fandomsoda]

Last night someone said something that was somewhat yikesy and it just got blind likes and stuff from everyone else.

This is not a call-out post. This is not here to belittle or shame the person in question and I hope that is understood. I’m currently working on a much larger post to address this issue broadly because it is an issue that is bigger than one person’s bad take and I already have attempted to explain why the take is… wrong and very evident of a lack of understanding of how the topic at hand works because I see it from many people.

but y’all I am pretty disappointed. Because everyone just sat there and accepted that claim. And it shows y’all have a lot of learning to do when it comes to understanding of the caveats of life and social issues and oppression.

For now I will just say this.

A member of a minority making a member of the majority uncomfortable or being rude to them regarding their identity IS NOT EQUAL TO OPPRESSION. Is it nice? Probably not. Should a minority person have to be polite in order to have what they say be valid? Hell no. Are there times where what’s being said is wrong? Yes. Are the majority person’s feelings hurt? Maybe. Is that oppression? No.

There is no heterophobia, there is no cisphoba, to my knowledge y’all seem to understand that. So you should understand it regarding other situations. Because that group has the systematic upper hand, it’s punching up, not punching down.

of course there are always complexities and caveats and exceptions to rules, but broadly that’s how it usually works.

And insinuating that minorities fighting back or being somewhat rude to their oppressors is “oppression” is not only insensitive and offensive, it is downright harmful to that minority. It might hurt their feelings, it might not be nice, hell it might even be too cruel or wrong, but it’s still not oppression. And I know people who hold this take are not intentionally being harmful or cruel and I know you may feel the urge to defend yourself, that’s human, but stop and wait before getting defensive. Understand that you are not under attack. No one is calling you a bad person. And chances are that you aren’t. You are simply being criticized. And I know that can be hard to handle, but in order to grow and become better people and better at understanding the world around us we must be willing to accept that sometimes we are wrong.

That’s all for now but this is just a small, specific part of a wider issue I’m noticing.

Do better, people. I understand you’re gonna make mistakes and mistakes are a part of learning but you’ve gotta be willing to learn and understand the matter. Because if you don’t learn now from someone who is being very gentle about it, you might have to learn it later from someone who is not nearly as patient or nice. Or you may never learn at all. And that’s not good either.

final note- please do not attempt to go looking for and shame the “someone” in question. Do not mention them in the notes either if you know who I may be referring to. They have responded very well to this criticism and should not be attacked for something they are willing to get better on.

[theminecraftbee]

the case of docm77 v zombiecleo: a very incomplete summary of events

i, of course, strongly recommend going to doc's video (or bdubs, cleo, joe, or skizz's, once they exist) and watching the whole thing for yourself i could NOT stop laughing. but for those of you who want a vague summary of some stuff that happens in the courtroom:

bdubs is insisting on being called "your highness" as opposed to "your honor".

we START with bdubs explaining he has set up a dramatic five-strike system; if either side gets five strikes (things that upset bdubs lol) he will "uh, not give them the death penalty, but--"

doc immediately tries to use this to take advantage of the system and get cleo strikes.

he instead accidentally immediately murders his own counsel.

it has been like One Minute.

"just in case anyone dies, there's a jury deliberation room under construction, there's a bed in there"

bdubs is paying everyone a diamond block for showing up if they listen to his judgement. help.

"thrust his sword into said swine" so skizz's opening speech is GREAT.

"wow, that was really good. but the camera is over here, so if you could do that again and look into the camera for me--"

"defense, first off, how do you plead?" (doc, grasping for his vague knowledge of american legal dramas) "i plead the fifth. i plead the fifth. uh. right?"

joe, in his opening speech: "this is esteemed around the world as a place where two adults who act like children can come to have their differences settled by you in the most entertaining manner."

HELP. "cleo is bringing to the court not an affair between two adults with an unsettled matter, but an adult and a large baby."

HELP IS JOE'S DEFENSE THAT DOC IS A LARGE BABY AND THEREFORE CAN'T BE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR HIS ACTIONS.

joe: "you know, cleo has a lot of communication problems." bdubs, with great feeling: "yikes."

cleo, under her breath: "i'm gonna kill him."

"just a minute i'm setting up my lawyer", ren says, carrying the armor stand he had in the stands with him to the bench and putting false's head on it,

ren: "i cannot recall." bdubs: "YOU CAN'T RECALL WHAT HAPPENED?" ren: "i cannot recall if i cannot recall."

why is skizz doing a foghorn leghorn accent now,

skizz, about doc: "this is proof this man likes to intimidate, that he gets off on it." no one comments on this phrasing.

sorry ren making an armor stand falsesymmetry as his lawyer and companion in the stands is so funny.

"this is more evidence cleo is a poor communicator. she can't control her man--"

joe is very clearly just trying to make everyone in the room mad and it's really funny.

HELP. BDUBS BUILT A HEADS AND TAILS MACHINE TO DECIDE IF THEY'RE GOING TO ALLOW OBJECTIONS.

anyway it rolls tails so it overrules skizz's objection.

skizz's accent and vocabulary just keeps getting more and more exaggerated i think he's going for approximately benoit blanc,

beef: "he forcefully approached us and said he's the guy who wants all the wood." cleo and doc, snorting and giggling at this as one,

i feel like i should note that bdubs has a fireworks crossbow that he's calling his "whip" and hitting people with when they do something he considers wrong.

this leads me to wonder if bdubs thinks whipping is normal in a courtroom...?

i think its really funny that skizz is actively doing like, correct types and moments to do an objection, and it almost sounds like good lawyering, and then IMMEDIATELY bdubs goes "it's time to HEADS AND TAILS!!!" and breaks that illusion completely.

"well, it's heads, objection sustained, strike that from the record." joe: "well then i guess you'll never know what my point was." beat of silence. bdubs: "never mind, let's just add a strike, and you can say it,"

"i don't know how the esophagus entered this situation at all?" "let's pray it didn't. geez." "i was not thinking of doc's esophagus when i built the giant fish for his hourglass." <- this only barely makes more sense in context,

"no further questions your honor." "seriously???"

every time joe calls doc either a baby or a manchild is SO FUNNY. why is this his argument. it's SO FUNNY.

"but he has not proven mens rhea, which you your highness are very familiar with but for the viewers at home is not a gendered form of diarrhea--"

cleo, to doc: "doc are you sure you want to win this one?" doc, in clear and obvious distress: "i'm not sure of anything anymore man i just, i don't know,"

bdubs then interrupts to do the sponsored segment of court.

"the tall claims court is brought to you by!" bdubs puts a disc in. 13 starts playing. "shoot that's the spooky record. that's the worst one." he continues with his bamboo shop sponsored segment spiel anyway, with 13 continuing to play,

"i'm not going to ask for money, i'm just asking for a simple injunction against doc. he won't be allowed to use diamonds for redstone anymore." "WHAT??? THERE'S LIMITS TO THIS, OKAY????" "calm down doc, we're not gonna--" "WHAT NO WHAT CALM DOWN???"

"cleo i have to say that's way better than anything skizz said. skizz was talking and all i heard was bla bla bla bla bla but that was real heartfelt. if you're thinking about paying him, maybe don't."

doc: "i want to make peace and love that's all i care about i'm just a humble boutiquer"

"i felt like as her friend i needed to teach her what it feels like to lose something" i love how deranged that is doc keep going

"but it happened and i think i'm insane, right," doc says, then nods at joe.

"yeah this is really good" cleo responds, perfectly happy with the idea of doc declaring himself insane for no good reason,

cleo: "doc is just completely unhinged when people mess with his redstone, and i feel like my punishment would take away that emotional bond."

joe: "objection your honor, my client is unhinged in every context."

i like how this is "make fun of doc" day.

bdubs: "i'm going to deliberate quickly then i'll come back with my judgement." (turns around for like five seconds.) "and i'm back!"

HELP DOC HAS BEEN BANISHED TO A SINGLE BLOCK IN THE SKY WITH A CHEST ON IT FOR TWO WEEKS

THREE IF HE TOUCHES THE GROUND

AIR JAIL...........

bdubs adjourns court. doc, immediately: "WHAT THE HELL JOE??" "i did my best, man :/"

"DO YOU KNOW THE VEINS ON MY NECK ARE ABOUT TO EXPLODE????"

jevin in the background of doc losing his shit just kinda murdering skizzleman for fun,

doc's main objection to the sky island is "BUT I HAVE THINGS TO DO :(((((("

doc ends the video standing here:

in conclusion: yeah this seems like a very fair trial with no ridiculous elements at all. very serious and befitting the sanctity of court. yes. you should watch it for a very serious hermitcraft experience,

[envy-of-the-apple]

Total Care

Dark!Illumi Zoldyck x reader

18+ content

This was a request....that i accidentally deleted...sorry anon!

(Dark Content, Dubious consent, forced masturbation, voyeurism, implied kidnapping)

One of the more aggravating things about Illumi's personality is his attentiveness.

You eat three times a day. You sleep for exactly 9 hours. You get sunlight, time to move around. Physically, you're well-taken care of, curtesy of your diligent captor.

Even pleasure was moderated by him.

"Well?" You cringe at his voice. You still refused to look at Illumi. Looking would make it even worse.

You fought the first time he crawled into bed with you. The second, third, and fourth time too. Your orgasms were always inevitable.

Sex is very important for your health, he'd often say after the 'session'. Like he was being altruistic about fucking you. Like you were the crazy one for resisting when he pinned you down with superhuman strength, making you cum on his fingers, his tongue, his cock.

You don't fight as much these days, but you still make excuses, 'Illumi, not tonight', 'Illumi I'm tired', 'Illumi please-'

To your surprise, he relented at that.

He pulls back, staring at you with eyes that died lifetimes ago. Or maybe they were never alive in the first place.

"You aren't satisfied with the sex," he says, always blunt, always straight to the point.

You don't answer. Saying anything he wanted you to say would be a lie so you keep your mouth shut and pray that this won't accelerate to something violent.

Still, nothing could compare you to what he says next.

"Fine. You do it, then."

That phrase brought you to your current predicament: With you on the rumpled bed far too big for just two. With Illumi sitting on a chair, legs elegantly crossed.

He's so pretty. Even in his worst moments, despite your fear, you could never convince yourself otherwise. Tall. Shiny hair, long and black. A slender shape that's surprisingly well-built. An angular jaw.

He reminds you of a carnivorous plant. They use their sweet nectar to distract flies from their voracious appetite. It makes you wonder if Illumi is using the same trick on you.

You still have your clothes on, but you feel just as naked underneath his gaze as you cower on the bed. His eyes are stripping, bleach that burns your skin. You shift the blankets closer, but you don't cover your body. Illumi hates it when you hide from him.

You know what he wants you to do. You just can't bring yourself to. Hands hover over your shirt, twitching and waiting.

Illumi, as always, picks up on your hesitance.

"Or, I'd be glad to-"

"No." You reel yourself in, sucking in a dry breath, "I'll-I'll do it."

Because anything is better than him touching you. Raking sharp nails over your soft skin. His teeth.

Anything is better. Even this, you try to convince yourself.

When your fingers hesitantly trail toward your covered cunt, he clicks his tongue.

"Take it off," Illumi demands, "I need to see that you're doing it right."

You shudder at his words, but you comply because anything is better.

You should be used to being naked around him. You don't think you ever will. Even if one day, when your mind is obedient to him, your nerves will never forget.

It's not cold, but you still shiver when you hike up your nightgown, right up to your stomach. He's clearly displeased that you don't take it off, but he doesn't say anything about it. Your panties come next. You roll them off your legs, bunching them right by the blankets.

"Spread your legs." Illumi's voice is back to that monotone lilt. You do as he says, widening the gap a little. When he gives a disapproving scoff, you spread them a little more, fully showing your bare cunt.

It's already humiliating, with you half-naked and him fully clothed, but his sheer nonchalance made it even worse. He looked the same, eyeing your body with a blank stare. It was far worse than a punishment.

He gives a wordless nod. You swallow, and then you can't maintain the eye-contact anymore. It's better to pretend that it's just you. It's better to just look down, ignore his stare.

You're already wet. Your body has gotten used to his touches. Your clit is already sensitive. You jolt when you touch it.

It's something familiar. You've done this before. Months ago, before you woke up in this cold mansion, a large empty room. When you were at home (your real home), with a toy that sank into you just right. Illumi didn't provide such luxuries.

You force yourself to drift off, squeezing your eyes tight, thinking about anything else. A hot celebrity, your ex, or just no one at all. You rub your clit faster as your body responds. Your hips twitch, your walls squeeze around nothing.

But he's watching. And it's too much—it's too much—

You stop, breaking down into humiliated sobs. It's enough to make him draw closer. In an instant, he's right there, enveloping you underneath him.

"Don't you see?" He coos, enveloping you within his arms. "You couldn't do it, by yourself, could you?"

He doesn't even give you the luxury to disagree. You find yourself nestled within his grip. His cold fingers replace your own. A long finger sinks into your clenching pussy. A thumb rubs circles on your swollen clit.

You come like that, hiding in his arms, no longer having to see your own debauchery. He gives a soft kiss on your hairline, kind enough to let you ride his fingers.

"You need me, my love," he says. He almost sounds kind.

His smile digs into the top of your head.

"You need me for everything."

[julia4today]

hiii!!!

Can I request Hobbie w/ a gyaru gf, I can imagine it working with gyaru starting off as a rebellion against japan's beuty/ social standard <3

落ち着く？(calm down?)

(hobie x gyaru!gf)

warning: really bad translations!! i don’t speak japanese #sorry

a/n: technically, no gender is named in this. but it is DEFINITELY a fem fic. anyway: be who you want because at the end of the day, you're opinion is the only one that truly matters. #reqsopen #messageme #sorry this took so long my dad had surgery and i was stuck taking care of him but he's all good

ill provide translations dw

the stares weren’t unfamiliar, in fact, you embraced it. it came with having some semblance of a personality that these people clearly feared admired. you just wish yours, and hobie’s, appearance alike weren’t so abstract to the general public.

it's as if you were committing a war crime by having a tan. in japan, any difference from the norm is seen as an insult to those who surround you. truthfully though, that was why you began dressing gyaru in the first place.

conforming had never been your thing, especially when it came to how you dressed. you were always one to disobey even when you got a nagging grandmother in your ear.

"おじさんたちの前に姿をさらすことになる、" (cover up, you're exposing yourself to your uncles.)

a common phrase that plagues the minds of all young teens in japan. the idea that you need to cover up, instead of your uncles needing not to stare. she means well truly but it's just a showcase of how plagued the mind is of those who grew up and reside in japan.

"looking lovely as always my dear," his thick english accent coats your mind. a hand wraps around your shoulder.

hobie. at least you had one person that you could voice your woes to.

"hungry?" he asks as he stretches slightly. the two of you met in the heart of kawaramachi. a charming street that over looks a dazzling river. although you couldn't bring yourself to care in this moment.

you turn to look up at him, covering in diy piercings and tattered clothes that, even in london, are seen as trashy. although, he didn't seem nearly as bothered by the situation at hand. how people now adays sneer and turn away from any expression of a sense of self.

"いいえ, ぼくのおばあちゃん practically shoved fruit down my throat this morning," you say with a slightly exasperated tone. (no, my grandma practically shoved fruit down my throat this morning)

"wha's up, luv?" he say in a cool tone, but lying underneath holds a bit of concern for your, clearly annoyed, timbre.

"don't you think this is a bit bullshit?" you say looking forward as you walk side by side down the streets of kyoto. "like even a little," you say referencing the people who can' t seem to take their eyes off the two of you. like you're some zoo animal.

"wha? them people? don' pay attention to them. they're bloody barmy." he says, you're suprised he's missing the point.

you grumble at his words. "why do i have to be the one to ignore it. why can't they just not stare in the first place. we've got a myriad of tourist attractions and yet my makeup and clothes are the only things they can keep their fucking eyes on."

ordinarily, you'd wait to voice your opinions until you reach a more secluded area. especially since foul language is a more frowned upon subject. but today you felt like pointing out the issues with society. with the standards for women.

thin, fair skin, straight hair, minimal makeup.

pray tell you experiment with makeup. maybe wear a short skirt and vibrant colors. god forbid you wear anything revealing in public. may as well give your obaasan a heart attack the second you put any jewelry with color on yourself. (a commonly used name for grandmother, in japanese)

hobie hums and looks down at you. "you're really chuffed 'bout this aren't you dove?"

"you aren't?"

"im formulatin'" responds non chalantly. you take a deep breath. you knew you couldn't change the who world over night but if one person wouldn't gawk at you as you walked down the street that would be mighty nice. you lean into his side. "how 'bout we think how daft this is over a cuppa,"

you nod softly, almost undetectable to those who aren't paying attention to your every move. "do you get bothered by the stares?"

hobie looks up. considering his height, he practically towers over you and the rest of japan. his eyes scan the crowd, catching all the eyes that fall over him and you. he sighs.

"no' anymore," he says

"anymore?" you half expected hobie to just say no. to have always been as unbothered as he is now. to never have needed to learn the skill of ignoring the whispers and distraught stares that befall him.

he nods silently and leads you into a small restaurant. it smells of herbs and soup. a mix between sweet and salty. the scent of a tea immediately calms your nervous system. hobie slots the two of you into a corner.

"luv, i wasn't always li' this,"

"well i know, i just, you always seems so confident. like nothing gets on your nerves besides capitalism and those white dogs that are always barking." you say it semi sincerely but you smile when your joke earns a chuckle from hobie.

"you are a sight," he says glancing over you. it's a comforting feeling as he takes in your unique appearance. the tan you sport, even though it's nearing winter, and the colors too. almost completely neon, sans the animal print that you don on your boots.

he scans over your face. your eccentric makeup, all perfectly practiced and executed on your face. he grins.

"you 'on't need anybody else to tell you tha'," he says. "sure they might stare, but their opinion is rubbish."

you smile. it's rare you get hobie in such a state where he truly speaks from his heart. but you can't get enough. it's just you and hobie. at the end of the day, that's all you truly need.

[nyrobnua8983]

Relationship Headcanons [1/?]

female reader, She/Her

Dr. Clef

• You're the first woman with whom he managed to start a normal conversation without using hurtful phrases or insults.

• He was the first to confess his feelings, and it happened when he was drunk. Some doctors, including Clef, secretly gathered to drink and take a break from their overwhelming work.

• He’ll come to you in the evening, closer to midnight, just as you were getting ready for bed. He interrupts your peace to confess how much he loves you and wants to be together.

• Many tried to talk you out of it, but your love for the blonde is far stronger than their empty words.

• The Foundation didn't immediately approve of the relationship, but eventually, they understood and gave you a few packs of tranquilizers. At first, you didn't understand why, but later... you got it

• Undoubtedly, this will be the strangest relationship in the Foundation and perhaps in its entire history.

• In the relationship, he still occasionally makes hurtful jokes about you, which can lead to arguments of varying intensity.

• By the way, SCP-166-V will start calling you "mom," and Clef will find it hilarious.

• Bright will always mediate and reconcile you both in any situation, using all sorts of methods—from faking his own death to whatever else pops into his ginger head.

• If you're in a bad mood, he'll first find out what happened and then take down everyone responsible under the pretext, "Well, they shouldn't have messed with Y/N!"

• Occasionally, you and Bright prank him by putting various insects in his desk or closet, laughing at his funny reactions.

• You might marry him because he dreams of it and asks you 24/7, but the decision is ultimately yours.

• At times, he suggests the craziest ideas and experiments, not just in life but also in intimate matters. It makes you wonder whether he's immortal or just out of his mind.

• Kondraki always bets on the latter, just like you do.

• For the sake of your peace of mind, Clef made peace with Kondraki, but they still secretly try to kill each other whenever you're not around or aren't looking

Dr. Bright

• This will definitely be the most challenging relationship experience of your life.

•You were the one who initiated the relationship. You confessed your feelings through a note you slipped into his documents, praying it would get lost. But when Bright found it, he was shocked, a smirk playing on his lips as he realized he now held the fate of Dr. Y/N’s heart in his hands. He decided to find you and call you over to discuss it:

_______________________________________

–Dr. Bright, did you need something? I have a lot of work, so let’s make this quick,"

You said quietly, your voice trembling as you stared at the floor.

–Dr. Y/N, care to explain this useless little note you left on my desk while I was out?

Bright said with a playful smile, holding up the damned note written in your favorite black pen, each letter of your confession carefully crafted.

–It’s all clearly written there, or have you forgotten how to read?

you responded with a hint of sarcasm, lifting your eye eyes to meet the face of the man who had stolen your heart. As he laughed, nearly doubling over, you felt tears welling up in your eyes and a painful ache in your heart.

–Even if this is just a failed prank or someone put you up to it, I’ll still accept your dubious proposal," he said with a mischievous grin.

______________________________________

• At that moment, you wanted to kill him, but you held back.

• No one knew about your relationship for the first three weeks, but rumors spread quickly in the Foundation, so soon everyone knew.- The first time he died, and you didn’t know about his abilities, you cried-a lot, and very bitterly, while your beloved stood behind you with a smile.

• The Foundation saw your relationship as beneficial since you could sometimes talk him out of his ideas to "earn a new restriction on something!"

•You can’t always keep track of his antics and actions that seem crazy to most of the Foundation, but when he gets hurt, he comes to you, not to the medical wing!

• A perk of this relationship for you is that he quietly takes over half of your paperwork so you can get more rest, though you caught him once, and now he just takes it openly.

•Only he can keep you up at night with strange questions like "How can I ruin everyone’s mood?" or "How can I multiply SCPs?" and many others.

• He’s been in many relationships and always cheated on his partners, but he’s truly faithful to you. Maybe it’s because Rights beats him up whenever she sees tears on your cute little face.

Dr. Glass

_______________________________________

He was the first to propose starting a relationship. It was early morning in the Foundation, and life was just beginning to stir after the calm of the night. Everyone was going about their tasks and duties. Every staff member must undergo a mental health checkup each month, and today was your turn. You weren't worried since the tests were simple and almost always the same. At 11:30 AM, you entered the office of the blue-eyed blond who you quite liked, but there was one little issue that kept you from confessing your feelings - a rather silly reason! You didn’t know if he felt the same, and you didn’t want to embarrass yourself. As you entered the office, there he stood, smiling his usual charming smile, the one he gave to everyone. Maybe it was that smile you fell in love with, but that’s just a guess. He handed you the usual test, and you quickly started filling it out without looking up since the questions hadn’t changed in all the years you’d worked there. But then a soft male voice distracted you by asking something.

–Dr. Y/N?

Startled, thinking you might have done something wrong, you looked at him with slight apprehension.

–Yes, Simon? Is something wrong?

–Is there someone you're in a relationship with, or someone you'd like to be with?

–What’s the point of that question?Confused by the sudden inquiry, you put the test aside and waited for his answer.

–Well… here goes nothing. Dr. Y/N, I’ve liked you for a long time, and I wanted to…

–I accept!

_______________________________________

• He often forgets to take care of himself because he’s so busy taking care of everyone else at the Foundation.

• So, when you help him out of your own desire, not because you have to, it’s super appreciated. He gets lost in his work and melts when you tell him to take a break, go for a walk, or just spend time together.

• He might open up to you about what truly makes him happy. This makes him feel like he’s not alone in this rotten place and that it’s okay for him to feel down without having to find a solution to his problems.

• He loves your kisses, hugs, and all those physical displays of affection - they’re his weakness. He’s naturally affectionate, so when you’re alone in a room or any place where it’s just the two of you, he’ll hold you, his face flushed as he looks down at the floor.

• I think Simon really melts around you. You have such a positive influence on him that he couldn’t resist even if he tried.

• He’s so sweet, but always so anxious. He’s constantly checking on you - how you’re feeling, which SCPs you’re working with, and so much more.

• There are many tender moments between the two of you, like hanging out in his office, chatting over a cup of coffee, tea, or hot chocolate.

• I think you’re a bit more assertive than he is. It’s not that he doesn’t know when enough is enough, but sometimes it’s really hard for him to say or show it.

• He’s very gentle when he touches you, always asking for permission - whether it’s to kiss you or hug you, both verbally and non-verbally.

• He tends to bring you food. It’s incredibly sweet.

Dr. Iceberg

•Surprisingly, he was the one who suggested dating, which was shocking given his nature.

_______________________________________

Iceberg was naturally a confrontational person, so it was no surprise that arguments between you two occurred at every opportunity. Almost everyone had gotten used to his yelling at various staff members whenever they did something wrong in his eyes. What was surprising, though, was that he would often shout at you for seemingly no reason. If you dressed in a way he didn’t like - an argument. If you did something he disapproved of -another fight. This started from the very first day the MTF brought you into the Foundation and continued to this day. He seemed to enjoy making you uncomfortable with his outbursts, taking pleasure in watching you struggle to come up with reasonable excuses for your actions. After every argument, Iceberg would retreat to his office with a victorious smile, but no one knew what went on behind those closed doors. Every time he reduced you to tears during a fight, he would roll his eyes and leave to find a secluded spot where he could suppress the feelings of guilt and love that were slowly consuming him. Yes, you understood correctly - he loved you, deeply. But because of his reputation, he couldn't admit it. It was easier for everyone to believe that he didn’t care about anyone, that he was indifferent to everyone - except you. All the fights were his way of trying to suppress the uncomfortable feelings in his heart. He thought you hated him more than anything, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. Only Glass knew about your feelings for Dr. Iceberg and tried to help you both sort things out, but nothing really worked. Whenever Iceberg saw you, he would roll his eyes and click his tongue in annoyance, trying to show disinterest. But we all know the truth…

–Dr. Y/N! Can you do anything right? Or are you a cripple? Maybe you’re just an invalid!

–I did everything perfectly and on time! If something’s wrong, that’s not my problem! My work is done!

–DON’T YOU DARE TALK TO ME IN THAT TONE!

–Then stop treating me like garbage or a D-Class! I haven’t done anything wrong, and yet you treat me like I’m beneath you! What did I ever do to make you hate me so much?!

Tears Salty, bitter tears started streaming uncontrollably from your eyes, and you couldn’t stop them. The feeling of guilt began to creep into Iceberg’s body, slowly taking over his legs and eventually his mind. How he hated seeing you cry. After looking around and realizing no one was around to witness what was about to happen, he approached you and pulled you into a tight embrace, his gloved hand rubbing your back.

–Shh… please, don’t cry..

Calm words? He was hugging you and stroking your back? Were you dreaming, or was this real life? Shocked by the doctor’s unexpected action, you stopped crying and simply melted into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his cold body in return.

–Would you like me to answer your question about why I treat you so poorly, Dr. Y/N? –That would be nice because none of my theories have proven correct… –Because of your beautiful eyes, I couldn’t sleep peacefully. Because of your delicate hands, I couldn’t concentrate on my work. All my thoughts were about you, Y/N… To my surprise, I’m in love with you ___________________________________ •He gently took your chin and kissed you with his dry, cold lips. • He has the ability to be soft, but it takes a long time to truly see that side of him.- You are much more physically affectionate than he is. •You bring him coffee, food, remind him to take breaks, and so on. • You tend to just hug him? Hug him a lot? It’s very sweet. He always maintains a biting attitude towards these physical displays of affection, but he secretly adores them. •He’s very much like a house cat that doesn’t want to show affection. Sometimes he’ll nudge your bicep or shoulder with his head just so he can fall asleep on your shoulder. •He’ll do your work for you. This is his love language, which he expresses especially for you. • He can be surprisingly verbally affectionate when he wants to be. • He’ll never show your relationship in public; at first, he even pretended to hate you. But when you started getting frustrated about it, he finally decided to treat you normally in front of others.- He always warms up from the heat of your hands and body when he’s really cold, but when you’re not comfortable and try to warm yourself up too, the two of you end up bundled under three blankets, fully clothed, in his office. • The entire Foundation was shocked to learn that Iceberg had a girlfriend - alive, no less! And that she worked there too! • Clef and Bright thought it was one of Iceberg’s bad jokes or that you two were pulling a prank, but you both proved them wrong. • The O5 Council thought you were being held hostage or something similar in the relationship, so you had to prove them wrong to prevent Iceberg from being punished. • You two sleep in separate rooms because of his cold body. You tried sleeping together once, but Iceberg kept pressing against you and absorbing all your warmth, leaving you freezing.- You’ll become a real star in the facility because of your strange relationship - the warm, sunny Dr. Y/N and the cold, always-angry Dr. Iceberg. • If you take his favorite scarf without asking, there will be an argument. If you ask first, he’ll complain about the cold. If you don’t take his scarf, he’ll complain about the other staff and his entire life there. • The only way to calm him down and keep him from yelling is for him to hold you and stroke your hair. So don’t be surprised if other staff members frequently call you to calm him down during your workday.

Dr. Gears

Surprisingly, it was you who suggested dating, and in the strangest of places-the library.

____________________________________

A quiet evening had settled over the SCP Foundation. It was well past 11 PM, and most of the researchers had already gone home, while those who lived on-site were asleep, wrapped in the peaceful embrace of Morpheus. Dr. Y/N had been sitting in the library since the end of her shift, engrossed in some mediocre novel (or genre of your choice). The silence filled the small library, broken only by the faint sound of her breathing. As she turned a page, Y/N heard a faint noise - someone was approaching. But she paid little attention to it; the library was open 24/7, and you could stay there all night if you wanted, without anyone saying a word - except for Dr. Gears, the one who watched over you, the one you loved but couldn’t confess to because of his emotions, or rather, the lack thereof. You didn’t want to be among those he had rejected without hesitation.- Hearing someone approach, picking a book from the "Detective" section and sitting down beside you, you were surprised when they initiated the conversation:

–Good evening, Dr. Y/N. Why aren’t you in your room sleeping at this late hour? You would recognize that voice anywhere - cold and indifferent. Only one person had such a voice, the object of your affection.

–Good evening to you too, Dr. Gears… I’m not sleeping because of this book… I’ll finish this chapter and then go!

Trying to avoid looking at him, you continued reading, though the words were now just a blur. Dr. Gears sat beside you, starting to read his own book. After an hour or maybe two - you couldn’t tell, and didn’t particularly care - Charles Gears was quietly asleep beside you, a book in his hand. Overcoming your fear of rejection and the possibility of a harsh response, you gently stroked his head.

–If only you knew how many tears I’ve shed because of you… Oh, how I love you…

Suddenly, your hand was gently but firmly grabbed, and looking into your eyes, a deep voice replied:

–And I love you too.

_______________________________________

Charles doesn’t understand love. No matter how many people hinted at or outright proposed to him, he would either ignore them or respond bluntly with a clear and immediate “No.” But this situation turned out to be special for both of you.

You excel at expressing your love for him in ways that are considered "normal" and that he doesn't find odd or unsettling. In turn, he expresses his affection in the ways he knows how.

He is very verbose, and this is his love language towards you, but it’s endearing in its own way.

Every word of love he speaks to you is sincere, regardless of the situation.

He never allows you to interact with Keter-class objects without his presence. He wants to be there to protect you, even if it means putting himself at risk.

Like Dr. Iceberg, he does a lot of work for you. Even if you argue, shout, or fight, he will continue doing it, ignoring your protests.- This doesn’t mean he doesn’t listen to you or ignores you like he does with other people. Your opinion matters to him, and he will ask for it whenever possible. But if it involves dangerous objects, don’t even bother starting the conversation.

He can accomplish a lot - many people at the Foundation respect him, and some even fear him. So trust that if he wants to keep you away from Keters, he will do whatever it takes to ensure it.

As strange as it may sound, Dr. Charles can be affectionate. He enjoys spending time with you - in his office, chatting in the break room, or simply resting together without prying eyes or judgment. In the silence, saying nothing, just savoring the moment that you’re both alive and nothing threatens your life.

He’s very prone to writing you little notes throughout the day and either slipping them to you or passing them through other staff members. It’s incredibly sweet, knowing that it’s unlikely he would say such things to your face; he expresses himself better through writing when it comes to those he loves deeply.

Many Foundation staff members couldn’t understand how you could be in a relationship with someone as emotionless as Gears! According to them, he can’t feel love or show affection towards you. But that’s their problem because you’re happy with how things are.

[mellowsadistic]

Ellie sucked her thumb urgently, hopping from foot to foot with her plastic pants around her ankles while Rosie tried to remove her nappy for her. They’d tried removing the horrible things themselves, but it was impossible! Changing their own nappies wasn’t something they normally had to do. When they needed changies it was Daddy who did it, and when either of them needed to go number two, it was him who tugged their diapers down for them so they could sit on their little plastic potties. But still, it shouldn’t have been so hard!

Babies don’t change themselves. Something about that phrase echoed inside Ellie’s mind. She’d been wondering for a while whether there was something more to the tinkling baby music that played constantly in their nursery, if there might be hidden messages getting inside their heads, telling them how to behave. It was either that, or drugs in their bottles and baby food. Drugs to make them impressionable while Daddy told them how silly and stupid and babyish they were.

“Huwwy up, Wosie!” she lisped around her thumb. Her sister could be so slow and stupid sometimes!

No! Not her sister. She had to remember that. Rosie wasn’t her sister. They were friends who’d been travelling together when Daddy found them and took them home with him. And he wasn’t her Daddy either. She had to remember that too.

“Ewww!” Rosie whined once she finally got Ellie’s nappy off. “You did pee-pee!”

Ellie blushed. She didn’t remember doing that. But sure enough, her nappy was clearly soaked. It reeked of piss. How had she not noticed?! Was it more hypnotic conditioning, to make it so she couldn’t even tell when she needed a nappy change? All the more reason to get out of here now, before she ended up totally diaper dependent. She just prayed whatever Daddy had done to them wasn’t permanent. She wanted to be a proper adult again, not a grown woman who wasn’t even toilet trained!

Rosie wrinkled her nose and dropped Ellie’s yucky nappy to the floor.

“Okay, wet’s go,” Ellie whispered urgently.

“No!” Rosie squealed, far too loudly. “You hafta take my nappy off too!” She’d managed to tug her own nappy and plastic pants down to her mid-thighs, but that had only confused her more. Getting them back on would be easy – she’d just have to pull them back up! But what was the opposite of that? She didn’t know.

“Shhh! No time!” Ellie insisted. She didn’t really care if Rosie still had to wear her stupid nappy. “We gotta go now!”

Rosie spat her dummy out of her mouth to whine and complain, but at that moment they both heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside, and the door to their nursery opened.

“Naughty babies!” came Daddy’s voice, deep and stern. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Ellie felt her stomach drop, and Rosie whimpered.

“You do not take your nappies off. I think I know two little girls who just lost their potty privileges for the rest of the week.”

“No!” Ellie squealed.

“Yes, baby. You know what that means; you have to go poo-poo in your pants as well, not just pee-pee.”

“Daddy pwease!” Rosie mewled. “I’m sowwy!”

“I’m sure you are, sweetheart,” Daddy said, a little more softly, “but naughty girls who try to take off their nappies get punished, and that means demoting you to littler babies who make yucky messes in their pants.”

“But whyyyy!” Ellie whined. She’d tried to sound confident and demanding, but just as it had been for a while now, it was as though everything she said had to pass through some stupid babyish filter to make her words sound silly and petulant.

“Because Daddy said so, sweetheart.”

Ellie popped her thumb out of her mouth and stomped her foot angrily, making her plastic pants crinkle. “You not… You’re not our Daddy! You kidna… kidnappied… you stoled us! We big girls an’ you’ve been turning us into stupid babies!”

Rosie stared at Ellie in shock, and Ellie squirmed nervously on the spot. A part of her knew that she was an adult woman who’d been kidnapped, that she had to stand up to this man and try to escape him if she didn’t want to end up as an overgrown toddler for the rest of her life, but another part of her felt like a naughty little girl who’d just said something bad to her Dada.

There were a few moments of silence. Then Daddy said, “I think I know a little girl who needs a spanking.”

Ellie’s eyes went wide. Her lower lip trembled, and her thumb slipped back into her mouth. She wanted to scream that she was an adult woman, that he couldn’t just spank her like a naughty child, that he had to let her go right away unless he wanted to spend the rest of his life in prison. Instead she started peeing on the plastic mat.

“Silly baby,” Daddy chuckled, as a yucky puddle formed beneath her. Ellie just stood there, sucking her thumb fearfully. “This is exactly why that cute little butt of yours needs to be diapered 24/7. And what about you, sweetie?” he asked, turning to look at Rosie. “Are you a big girl who needs a sore, red bottom? Or are you just a baby?”

“I’m a baby, Daddy!” Rosie insisted desperately. “I’m a big dumb baby!” She pulled a silly face, as if to prove it, and hurriedly tugged her soggy nappy back up over her bottom, realising only then that she’d pissed in it.

“Good girl,” Daddy said gently. “You’ve still lost your potty privileges for being naughty, okay? And you can wear that icky wet nappy to bed tonight.”

“Yeth Daddy!” she squeaked, shoving her dummy back into her mouth and sucking on it fearfully. “Me sowwy!”

“That’s okay, sweetie. Daddy knows you try to be a good girl. Your sister’s the naughty one, isn’t she?”

Rosie nodded fervently, while Ellie looked on in horror.

“How would you like to be her big sister, Rosie?” Daddy asked, looking contemplative. “Maybe once your punishment is over, we can try pull-ups! Just for you. Your sister can stay in her yucky nappies, doing all her pee-pees and poo-poos in her pants because she’s just a big stinky baby. But you’ll get to use your little plastic potty like a big girl! And you can help me take care of your little sister, and tell me whenever she does anything naughty like take her nappy off and try to run away. Would you like that, sweetheart? Would you like to be Daddy’s little helper?”

“Yeth Daddy!” Rosie said eagerly. She was thrilled at the idea of getting to be the big sister. Ellie always ordered her around, but now she’d get to tell on her to Daddy whenever she was naughty!

Ellie could only stare in disbelief. Rosie was betraying her, announcing her intent to snitch on her if she ever tried to escape! Was it because of the hypnosis, or the drugs? Or was it just because she was so pathetic and desperate to be out of diapers that she was willing to throw her friend under the bus?

“Okay baby,” Daddy said, turning back to look at Ellie. “Time to turn that pretty tushy bright red.” He walked over to her, grabbed her by the arm, sat down, and pulled her over his knees. Then, while Rosie watched, he spanked her until she screamed and cried and promised to be a good little baby for the rest of her life.

She wouldn’t have much choice.

[devils-dares]

The Key You Wear

summary: you get a voicemail from your ex, who is very much not well. you visit him the next day to make sure all is well (spoiler alert: it's not)

pairing: matt murdock x gn!reader

warnings: angst, blood, injuries, depressive episode, mentions of a breakup, crying, kissing

wordcount: 1864

a/n: i vote we start a "dev needs a hug" campaign because the way life has shitted on me recently is preposterous, lmk if there's any errors, i'm still sleep deprived and also it was like 2am when i finished this

-----

Exhaustion had a way of creeping into the depths of your body, and finding a home within the ache of your bones. Matt and exhaustion were long time acquaintances, with the mental portion setting in throughout his day job and the physical aspect at night.

He slipped up. Majorly. He didn’t notice the fourth guy, not until he was already overpowered by the first three, and he had, to put it lightly, been beaten to a pulp. He could count about four broken ribs and a fractured wrist, among a concussion and a few other things.

He didn’t go out tonight, he hasn’t gone out for a few nights, his apartment is a mess of take-out boxes and empty gauze wrappers. There’s empty beer bottles placed on his coffee table, another open one in his hand.

He’s tired, so tired. The minutes are bleeding together from the perpetual state of intoxication he’s allowed himself, and he hasn’t shown up to work in three days, which he brushed off as healing and meditation time.

Matt’s phone dangles between his fingers, his hand hanging off the couch just over where the most recent pile-up of containers are. He thinks, searches his mind for what went wrong. Clearly he’s drunk, because his mind wanders to you. It’s three in the morning, and he finds himself sitting up on his couch and crying because you’re not here.

It was his fault, just like everything else, he thinks. You’d asked him just for a few days off of the night shift, and he disagreed, raising his voice at you. It wasn’t until you walked in on him in a state quite close to this one where you realized it was out of your control, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

That was a year ago, when you’d emptied out the drawer in his dresser he’d reserved for you and walked out. The dresser was still empty, he remembers, as deft fingers scroll through his phone, pausing when the voice-to-text reads your name.

He shouldn’t have done it. He really shouldn’t have, but he clicks the call button before his mind can catch up with his actions, and his heart sinks a little when you don’t pick up. Then again, it’s three in the morning on a Friday night, you weren’t going to pick up anyways. He leaves a half-assed voicemail, slurring voice mixing with tears as he tells you exactly what he thinks, and he’s sure his sober self would slap him silly if he could hear how pathetic the message sounded.

He shut the phone off and chugged the rest of his drink. He turned over, groaning out when he lay directly on a few fractured ribs, and he doesn’t remember anything after that.

-----

When he wakes, the smell of fresh air greets him. There’s no longer a stench of days old food, or the collection of empty bottles on his coffee table. He can hear movement in the kitchen, quiet humming. There’s a certain scent in the air from whatever’s cooking, and he sits up slowly, praying he isn’t imagining you right now.

You look over and see Matt’s head peek over the back of the couch, his hand braced on his side. Grabbing a glass of water and some painkillers, you make your way over to him.

“Take these, it’ll help with the inflammation too.” You say, and he takes them gratefully. After taking a sip of water and allowing the throbbing in his head to grow to its peak, he finally speaks.

“You’re here.” He says, dumb comment, but he meant to phrase it like a question.

“Yeah, I heard your message this morning. Sounded serious, so I thought I’d stop by.”

“And you’re still here because…?” You sigh, rubbing your forehead.

“As much as we might be over, I still care for you, Matt. And I couldn’t stand to see you like that. Speaking of, you need a shower.” He nods.

“What time is it?” He asks as he rises to his feet.

“One in the afternoon. I did your laundry, by the way, clean clothes are put away.”

Matt’s floored. Not because he’s confused on why you bothered to come or still care, but you cleaned up for him, you’re taking care of him and he doesn’t know what to do or how to cope other than to get that fluttering in his stomach again.

“I’ll- I’m gonna go shower, thanks for doing the laundry.” He walks away as quick as he can, admittedly not that fast, so he doesn’t hear your response.

You hear the shower start, and it’s almost automatic that the tears flood your eyes. God, you love him, you still do. It hurt you immensely to see Matt down in the dumps, not a care in the world about himself or his life. You wish you could shake him out of this trance, wrap him up in a hug and not let go until you get the man you fell in love with back. You gave yourself this break, let your tears flow knowing that Matt would probably smell the salt in the air as soon as he got out.

He’d forgotten what panic he felt whenever he sensed your tears. It’d been so long, and the last time you’d cried he was the cause. He rubbed out the water from his hair with a towel as quickly as he could after throwing his clothes on, and he threw the bathroom door open to find you sniffling and scrubbing relentlessly at the kitchen counters.

Matt walks over to you, taking the dishcloth out of your hands. You glance up at him, he looks so much fresher and so much like your Matt that you’re thrown for a second. He’d trimmed his beard to its usual stubbly length, and the dried blood on his face was gone.

“Why were you crying?” He asks, and his voice is impossibly soft coupled with the hand that comes up to cup your cheek makes tears burn at your eyes again.

“Just been a while, missed you a little.” He hums.

“Would it be okay if I asked for a hug?” You nod at his request, and he pulls you into his arms just before the first tear rolls down your cheek. You ball his shirt up in your fists, and you’re very aware of how embarrassing the situation is, crying in your ex’s arms. His hands rub your back, and you aren’t sure how long he holds you until you separate, but the ache in your chest makes it very clear that you wish he held on for just a little longer.

“Thank you for coming.” Matt says, his hand resting on your bicep and you’re sure he can feel the absurd amount of heat that just flushed you.

“It’s nothing.”

“It is, you had no reason to come back here, not after… not after how I treated you.”

“It was a year ago. We’re both adults, Matt, and you’ve already apologized.” He hums his agreement.

“How’d you get in, by the way?” The question causes a blush to flush your face, and Matt’s interest in the answer increases tenfold.

“Do you remember when we had that conversation about moving in? I really wanted to but my lease wasn’t up yet so you gave me a key to your place anyways? The night I left, I forgot to leave it here, and then I just didn’t have the heart to return it.” You fish your necklace out from underneath your shirt, his key dangling from it.

His heart breaks into a million pieces, and his only solace is the fact that you kept it. He remembered both of those events like it was yesterday. You couldn’t stop smiling when he gave you the key, and he rubbed at the back of his neck, unsure of what to do until you threw your arms around him and tugged him into you for a kiss. He’d never had a relationship that made him yearn for the future until you.

“I guess I can leave it here today, yeah?” You say with a laugh, but your voice is deeply rooted in sadness, and Matt knows that if you leave without that hunk of metal with you, it closes the door on whatever past and future sits in the thick tension between the two of you.

“You should keep it, for emergencies, you know.”

“For emergencies?” You laugh, looking confused.

“Yeah! Anything happens, pipe bursts or you need a beer or whatever,” he’s rambling, turning red, and you can’t help but get the same flutters he was feeling earlier unbeknownst to you, “you can always come here.”

“That’s what I have friends for, Matthew.” You sass back.

“They don’t have shitty beer.”

“Neither do you, seeing as you drank yourself out of your stock.” Your hand slaps over your mouth.

“I’m sorry, that was so mean.” But Matt’s already shaking in silent laughter.

“Yeah, it was mean. Well deserved, but definitely mean.” He smiles down at you, a full grin, and you take a few moments to appreciate how happy he looks, his developing crow’s feet making you unbelievably happy that he’s getting laugh lines.

“I missed you too, you know.” He takes a step forward, bringing both of his hands to rest on your body.

“How much?”

“My life fell apart.”

“That was happening with me here anyways.” His smile falls, and you wince at your quick quip comeback.

“Ouch.” He says, withdrawing his hands.

“Sorry, I just-”

“No, it’s the truth. It’s okay.”

“Matty,” his breath hitches when the nickname slips from your mouth, “you’re a good person, and sometimes humans are complicated and we get angry about things we’re passionate about. Look, that night, it was a year ago, and I’m ready to move past it if you are.”

“I’m not ready to move past you.” You’re pretty sure you stop breathing for a few seconds.

“Matthew-”

“Just listen to me for a minute, okay? There hasn’t been anyone after you, and there won’t be. You are the one I want to spend my life with, and it’s okay that you don’t want to. I just need you to know where my head is at.”

“Are you done?” You ask, he nods, and suddenly he’s gasping as the collar of his shirt is yanked in a tight grip and- oh. Your lips are on his and his hands are on your hips and your hands are in his hair and he’s been dreaming about this moment since the day you left. He pulls you close, your body flush with his, and he tries his best to convey all his emotions into this one kiss.

You pull away first, chest heaving for air, and the smile on your face matches that of the one on Matt’s.

“Well, that was something.” You say.

“That it was.” That’s all he says before kissing you again.

The talks about the future and the complications this causes can happen later, but for now you’ve got Matt back in more ways than one, and he’s never letting you go again.

[v3nusxsky]

Request: Larissa x Reader-reader is also a shapeshifter, reader/dom x Larissa/sub, shapeshifted cock, daddy kink, breeding kink

Precious doll 18+

*Authors note~ couldn't help but combine these asks into one smut filled fic. If you know me... no you don't. It's pure smut with no plot😳*

Trigger warnings~ daddy Larissa sub reader breeding kink shape shifted cock, breeding kink, squirting r toys, humiliation mirrors restraints oral marking kink

Prompt~see ask ^^^^^

+

tumblr anon~ may i request a larissa x reader smut where larissa makes reader squirt and makes it her all time goal to make her squirt as much as possible?

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

The loud crack that filled the room just covered the cry you let lose, your rear end being tortured by your girlfriend holding her deep red paddle. Each ass cheek was getting five hits each and you had only managed three in each side before sobbing. You knew your safe word, but you also trusted Larissa with your life and knew she wouldn't ever hurt you. Well unless you enjoyed it. Which of the slick coating your thighs was any indication, you most certainly we're enjoying it.

"One more pet" she murmured before bringing the paddle down once more. Gently rubbing one the abused skin before wiping your tears away with her thumbs. "Almost done baby just one more thing okay?" She murmured cupping your cheek, to which you nodded in understanding. You'd reduced the amount of spanks by agreeing to a new mystery form of punishment that you'd never experienced before.

That's how you ended up arms and limbs bound In front of previously set up mirrors. Lots of planning and thought went into the punishment as Larissa even had one hung above the spot you were in. There was no way of escaping the sight of yourself. Larissa sat behind you as her hands ran all over your body, her lips making home in your neck. Dark blues and purples littered the skin there, not that any of you cared. That's what makeup was for and well if all else fails you have your potions to rely on.

Lost in thought, starring at the trail her hands left behind feeling heat lingering on your skin, Larissa had managed to secure a little vibrating toy to your clit without your knowledge. The sting of your previous first half of the punishment still there but mixing with pleasure when the toy started to vibrate. "Oh daddy" you muttered rolling your head back to her shoulder, exposing more of your neck to the older woman. Her hands found their place on your breasts, squeezing and pinching at the pert buds. Larissa was enjoying your whimpers and whines of pleasure as she steadily worked you to your peak. You'd been together long enough that Larissa knew your body better than you sometimes, so it was unsurprising when the toy shut off and her hand's stopped their movements when you were just at the edge of your peak.

You'd lost count how many times she did that, each and every time forcing you to look at yourself, so needy and desperate for her, eyes hooded as you pleaded for more. Every time she'd murmur the same phrase, "you're such a precious doll, look how beautiful you are, look how needy you our doll" as you battled to comply. "Daddy no more need cum you'd whine hoping and praying that this time she'd hear the plead and take pity on you. Clearly her humiliating you this was giving the desired effect because she didn't ever want to stop. To lose this sight. And truly you didn't want to lose the feeling of her. Every sense was engulfed by her and it was extremely intoxicating, addictive and desirable.

You were sobbing with need once more before Larissa took pity on you. You'd been pushed to the edge so many times now that it was borderline cruel, she knew that but it was so perfect she almost didn't care. Leaving you bound she moved around your body, her extra appendage standing proudly too attention. Subconsciously, your tongue darted around your lips, wetting them before your doe eyes found hers, "please daddy" you whimpered and she couldn't help but smirk. "You've been so good doll go ahead" she purred and you wasted no time in wrapping your lips around the head of her cock and sucking the pre cum that lay there.

Larissa's hand tangled in your hair controlling the bobbing of your head along her member in the rhythm she desired forcing you to take inch after inch as you coughed and gagged around her. She could've came there and then but truly that's not where she wanted her seed to be so she slipped her cock from your swollen lips and untied your limbs. You allowed Larissa to manipulate your body however she wanted, which meant you found yourself in your girlfriends favourite position. Doggy style.

Her hands coming to rub the flesh that had been rosy red earlier, admiring the work of art she created in blue bruises. Beautiful. "Oh doll, you're so wet is that all for me ?" She teased you with her words as her member teased your soaked hole. "All for you daddy please fuck me" you whined hoping for some relief. That's when she slipped into your cunt, her size stretching your walls wider than ever before, as she stilled balls deep within you.

"Fuck move please. Fuck daddy god your so big" you purred pushing your hips back trying to encourage her. That was all it took for larissa to behind pounding into you. All you could do is whimper and moan for the older woman as she pressed down on your shoulders, forcing your face into the bed and muffling your beautiful noises.

"Daddy! Need to please god" you whined accepting her brutal assault on your worked up body. "Cum doll" was all it took for you to fall violently over the edge into bliss. Larissa never stopping as she lent over you to circle your clit. "Please! Please please please fuck" you mewled as you came another time.

Larissa expertly flipped your body, you laying on your back as she slipped back into your awaiting core, your walks instantly clenching around her. "Daddy! Fuck I can't no more please more fuck " you whined incoherently. Never stopping her movement she brought her right hand down to rub slow but firm circles on your clit. The next orgasm hit you like a fright train, cum gushing around her, unbeknownst to you, you squirted for the very first time.

"Oh god doll, such a good girl. So hot baby. Do it again. Do it again for daddy" she praised as your hazy mind tried best to understand the words she was saying. "Doll, daddy wants to cum inside your eager cunt, you'd look so pretty all round with my babies, gonna take it all doll? Take it all for daddy" she panted out as her thrusts got you over that edge again with a scream. Squirting all over the woman as she painted your fluttering walls with her cum. "So good, god I love your pussy doll, taking my load so well."

You winced when she slipped from your core, "I'm sorry doll. Did daddy hurt you?" Your girlfriend murmured, her gaze starring intently down on you as she looked for any signs that you could be hurt. "I'm okay daddy, just fuck" you whined squirming uncomfortably. "Baby come let's go bath and I'll change the seats, and tomorrow we can see just how many times I can get you to squirt all over me again hmm?" She whispered before kissing you gently, you couldn't help the satisfied smile that adorned your lips. More would definitely be welcomed by you.

Word count~ 1304

[alpaca-clouds]

What people need to understand about the Edda

To continue on my rant about the middle ages, let me quickly verge into the area of the Norse. To start, please remember: The culture was named "the norse", viking was just a job description so to speak. The vikings were all norse, but not all norse were vikings.

Here is the thing: Every kind of fantasy nerd loves the edda. No matter whether we talk the prose edda or the poetic edda. It does also not matter whether we are talking queer fantasy nerds - or the kinda white conservative one. Sure, they gonna focus on very different parts of the edda, but they sure fucking love the edda never the less.

There is only one problem a lot of folks do not talk about: The Edda is not really a good source. Because it was not written down by the Norse, it was written down by Snorri Sturluson, who was a Christian and he very much imposed his Christian views onto the Edda. Or to phrase it differently: We actually do not know a lot about the actual Norse mythology, partly because the Norse did not use their runes to write anything down, partly because a lot of religious sites and idols were once again destroyed as Christianity became the main religion adopted by the Norse.

Loki is the best example. We... actually do not know whether there was a god named Loki in the actual Norse mythology. Because outside of the Edda we have little to no evidence for it. And what little evidence we have does not point towards Loki, the trickster, but rather Loki, god of the heath. And we can see that a lot of the symbolism used for Loki actually does mirror very well typical medieval symbolism of Satan. Which would also explain why Loki does a lot of bullshit and gets away with it - until he doesn't and ends up with that "cruel and unusual punishment", you know?

Yes, it is to assume that quite a few aspects of the Edda are very much based on actual mythology. We have enough evidence of some of the gods existing and being prayed to, like Odin and Thor for example. We also have more than enough evidence for the people believing in dwarves and elves to some degree. But the details of most of the stories? Yeah, that is actually a lot more questionable. Because if you look at it from a comparative lense, you will actually find a lot of Christian influences in there.

This is also why this is a whole field in comparative mythology: Trying to find all those Christian influences in the Edda and then analyse why they are there and go by context and historical findings to get an understanding of what the original mythology might have been before that.

I might note, that the Norse mythology still is a lot more complete in our understanding, of course, than the Gaelic mythology. Because in the way the Gaelic mythology was written down we find a lot more stuff that clearly has been added from a Christian point of view. Like the tuatha de danann being linked to fucking Moses.

But I am really begging people to not always go "Well, actually" when it comes to Norse mythology, because even if you have memorized the Edda word for word... you still are mostly guessing which parts are Christian influence and which parts are actually Norse.

[ananke-xiii]

T stands for Tara (or maybe for Trauma)

Rewatching S9 sure is a lesson in paying attention for me 'cause I missed so many things the first time it's almost like I'm watching a new season now. The biggest example is, of course, Dean's emotions vs Responsibility/Accountability.

The Gadreel Thing is so much more layered than I thought and this was on me cause the show was spitting facts: Dean gets manipulated by the angel, there's no doubt about that. The show makes it abundantly clear from episode 1 that angels are, generally speaking, not to mess with and now even more so, now that they're on earth, fallen and in pain they are even more deranged and dangerous than usual. They're desperate for vessels and it's a real fucking mess, it's absolutely ugly.

Now, Dean doesn't really know about all this but he does know that angels are dicks, I think he even trademarked the phrase. However, Dean's desperate cause a fucking doctor told him that Sam's life is in God's hands (as he had a right to be, fuck you Doctor but also, in hindsight, LOL if only they knew they were indeed in God's hands all along...). He prays for Cas, Cas doesn't answer and what does he do? He prays for angels, any angel who will listen.

And this is Dean's fatal flaw: one might say he's too emotional or that he's emotional disregulated but Dean acts based on what he feels at the moment and he has two modes: either he feels nothing or too much and this is unfortunately not healthy, talking from experience.

The thing is that Dean's emotions are treated as a sort of moral compass in the show, as something that either justifies or blames him and I'm not sure that's fair to Dean, to the other characters and to the audience too.

But back to S9, S9 really pointed the finger at Dean's emotions and said this is what happens when you're not centered in yourself: people take advantage of you. Because Dean was taken advantage of by Gadreel, by Crowley and even by Cain. it's abysmally sad.

So, in my view, Dean was responsible for making a desperate call to desperate monsters based on desparate emotions and that sets off a chain of events that he cannot be entirely held accountable for. This doesn't mean Sam shouldn't be pissed, he has all the right to be so. What I'm saying is that they're so focused on their issues (the same they had by the end of s8 that s9 has just taken to its tragic extremes) that they're not seeing the bigger picture. And while Sam can be justified for failing to see it because he was also a victim of manipulation (a manipulation where his own brother has a hand in) and literally not in his sound mind, Dean should be able to start gathering the pieces but he fails to do so. Why?

I think an extremely interesting episode is "Bad Boys", if I remember the title correctly. The one where we come to know that Dean was in a boys' home for 2 months. Full disclosure I don't like the episode for its overly sentimental tone and 'cause there are a lot of factual incorrect things but it very well succeeds in showing us the root of Dean's behavior.

In this episode Dean clearly states (and he seems to believe it) that it wasn't John's fault (as Sam pointed out) that he got arrested and brought to Sonny's boys' house. It was his fault.

And we, we absolutely see that this is 100% not true. Like, none at all. All the fault was 100% on John, period. But here they are, something like 15 or more years later and Dean, a full adult now, still thinks that it was his fault.

So, once again, in case we had forgotten, the show reminded us that the main source of Dean's issue with responsibility stems from his childhood trauma.

This is why he now blames himself for Kevin's death and Sam's possession. Which it's actually true cause he did call the angels in a reckless, illogical, desperate moment, bringing havoc on that poor hospital instead of waiting for 5 fucking minutes and calm down. So yeah, Dean's got a problem. However he is NOT responsible for Gadreel's con just like he wasn't responsible for John being a neglectful and abusive father. And yet he takes these burdens on himself because he did call the angels and he did steal the bread but both times he acted from a place of desperation and both symbolical and literal starvation.

it's still a problem but it's another kind of problem.

Now, what does S9 in this regard? It made it all worse. Yeah.

Dean makes the same mistake twice but this time I will hold Dean if not responsible, surely accountable for it.

Tara is the glaring example of what I'm trying to say.

Tara is the woman John Winchester had a thing with while they were hunting a knight of hell together. Or something like that. She dies because of Dean but this time Dean doesn't blame himself, he blames Crowley and he's in the wrong.

Crowley manipulates Dean just like Gadreel did. In fact, Dean was hunting for his prey, Gadreel, when Crowley shows up promising to do something fun fun fun together. And Dean capitulates because this is what he thinks the solution to his problems is: fun without consequences. Except, there are. like. tons of them.

Of course, Crowley's not Gadreel and he knows Dean so much better and uses the ghost pf John Winchester to lure him in ("Does T stand for terrible father?" etc). Together they go to one of John's storage units (parents trapped in demonic storage units while their sons become ghosts or even demons is a literal thing in s9, ask Linda Tran; the symbolic implications are simply delicious, I'll forever love Carver for his command of symbolism) and the dance begins.

They end up in Tara's shop and here Dean is the absolute worst: he fucking shows there with the literal King of Hell by his side, downright lies about it and fucking reassures Tara that it's all good and she should trust them. Them?! A literal stanger AND the King of Hell? Dean was out of his mind with grief and hurt etc but this is borderline stupid and demanding and all sorts of bad things that got Tara dead by skin-peeling. Ugh.

Tara immediately calls his bullshit because she has the knee thingy: her knee aches in the presence of a demon. Yeah, yeah, Dean's a demon foreshadowing, cool, but also. like. Dean lied and he came clean just cause he couldn't do otherwise.

He vouches for Crowley and this leads to admittedly even stupider Tara to believe this stranger and put a bullet in her demon trap, an action that will later prove fatal for her.

So Tara dies horribly because of the Capital Sin of Trusting Impossibly Beautiful White Men Who Claim They Want to Save&Protect People but really, mainly because of Dean.

And I find it sooo interesting and telling that Dean is ready to beat himself up for Kevin and Sam to the point of taking on the fucking Mark of Cain because he didn't have the tools to handle big emotions (not his fault but it is his responsibility as an adult to try and look into this since it's apparenlty hurting people). However, he promptly distanced himself from Tara: that was on Crowley.

And maybe it was. Because Crowley was manipulating Dean etc. But how come Dean CAN see where responsibility lies NOW and yet he cannot see it in the Gadreel Thing? How can he absolve himself so easily?

Here lies Dean's second fatal flaw, one that he shares with his brother: for all their talks about saving people and the world, at the end of the day they only care about their own world, that is strictly each other. And they do that because SURPRISE!SURPRISE! their only caregiver didn't care for their well-being and closed them off from the real world. Literally so. Dean didn't go to the dance, supposedly didn't keep learning how to play guitar, didn't do any other boxing match or whatever he did in high school.

The show presents it as HIS choice but was it really??? He was a goddamn kid, of course he wanted those things AND he wanted to be with his brother. If choice it was, it was an utterly unfair one and definitely a choice too big for a 16 yo teenager. Similar thing applies to the Gadreel Thing: it was Dean's choice but was it really? People see it differently but I'd say that choice under coercion is not a real choice, add trauma and unresolved issues to the mix and you've got a recipe for disaster.

Now, I'm not one for "John's the monster in this story" cause he's another complicated character but also yes, as a parent he is a monstrous parent and understanding his trauma doesn't justify him, just like with any other character.

This is, of course, the core of the Carver era and one of the reasons why I like it: because it doesn't shy away from showing Sam and Dean's hypocrisy and where it comes from.

Finally, I just want to say that Tara in Buddhism is "The Venerable Mother of Liberation", the one who compassionately saves people in the samsara. It's ironic that she gets brutally killed right before Dean takes on the mark, am I right? It's also not ironic that Carver era ended with the Resurrection of Mary Winchester after Dean was released of the Mark and released The Darkness in the world. They did a thing.

[starfall-spirit]

🍪 Cookies and Consequences 🍪

Based off of this HC by @shallyne

Thanks for letting me use it, lovely!

Summary: Rhys struggles for an excuse not to accept a late night snack from Feyre before she discovers the mating bond.

Word Count: 908

This wasn't supposed to be a heart-to-heart moment, but whatever.

~~~~~

Rhys needed a break. Fifty years. Five decades. Half a century. You could phrase it how you want it, but one fact remained constant. Fifty years had passed with a High Lord absent from both sides of his court. Even with months of work behind him, his family picking up tasks and correspondence that shouldn’t be theirs, things still needed done. He huffed, running a hand through his hair as he turned down the hall leading to his bedroom.

He glanced to the room adjacent to his, the action habitual at this point. He was surprised to find Feyre’s door cracked, a fae light providing a dim glow somewhere near the bed. Despite the late hour, he couldn’t resist checking in on her tonight.

A soft knock at the door and she called for him to come in. Though the town house was warmed by magic, Feyre was guarding against the chilly night under an impressive pile of ridiculously fuzzy blankets he knew his cousin favored. 

“Running a bit cold?” he teased, draping the final blanket around her hunched shoulders.

She drew her eyes from her book, giving him a look he knew was on the foreground of a sassy comment. “Your magic must be failing you oh Mighty High Lord. This house is freezing.”

He chuckled, settling into the chair against the other wall and watching her return to her book. Legs stretched in front of him, he let himself relax, content in the easy silence between them. A few months ago an evening like this was nothing short of a fantasy. And yet there were more and more evenings she accepted his offer of dining together and talking late into the night. He could only pray she wouldn’t discover something unforgivable about him and his past.

“You don’t have to play entertainer, you know.” He just realized his eyes were drooping closed as he lifted his head to meet her gaze. “Rough day?”

“You have no idea.” She cocked her head slightly. “This is all I was raised for. All I let myself want to do. And yet some days I wonder what a simpler life would be like.”

Illyria couldn’t exactly be called simple.

“A life without a crown and mask? Velaris—”

“Velaris calls me by my name. Citizens are affectionate. But at the end of the day someone is still going to write stories of my reign. Stories of my friends' battle glory.”

Unspoken words hung between them. She too was training as a member of Rhys’ circle. And she too was a name historians would mark. Feyre Cursebreaker. Savior of Prythian. Darling of the people.

A queen among them, if he could have it his way.

She sighed, twisting towards her nightstand to pick up a plate of cookies, one of the three halfway eaten. She took the bitten cookie off, extending the plate in his direction. “Here. Join me in having some simple cookies.” His heart shot straight to his throat and he was left staring at that plate. At that simple, ignorant offering of a late night snack. One he couldn’t yet accept. “Rhys? Cookie?”

He laced his fingers together to keep them from trembling. “No, thank you,” he murmured, eyes glued to the plate.

“Are you sure, because it looks like you want one,” she said. The wraiths likely made them. If Feyre didn’t actually make them, would the presentation hold the same significance? What was he thinking? Food was food, his mate was his mate, whether she stood over the oven or not. “I made them myself. Well, I made the batter under the twins’ watch.” He gave a tense smile. She was not making this easy. “Rhys, are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. The cookies are yours. I won’t snatch any away from you.” She narrowed her eyes, clearly suspicious. “Besides, my brothers can still kick my ass with my healthy eating and exercise. Cookies won’t do me any favors in getting back in shape.” A pathetic excuse and she knew it.

Still, her eyes slowly swept down his figure, and with her shields down, unconsciously or not…

One cookie isn’t going to do a figure like that any harm.

A resonating laugh tore out of him then and she blushed, shields snapping into place once more. “Glad to see you're still attracted to me, Feyre darling.”

“Prick,” she hissed, chucking an offending cooking at his chest as her blush brightened. Oh what a shame, it hit the floor. What slow reflexes he had. “Besides," she snipped, eyes dipping to her book this time. An impressive novel that surpassed "Rhysand is the most cunning High Lord". “—Azriel’s the pretty one and we all know it.”

“Darling, you wound me.” A wave of his hand had the floor clean. “I should be going. We both need our beauty rest.”

She gave a dramatic sigh. “Good night, Rhysand.”

He paused in the doorway, glancing back towards the bed. “Feyre, only my enemies call me Rhysand.”

“And acquaintances. If we can’t even share cookies, are we friends?”

He suppressed a smirk, passing the theatrics off as a consequence of delirium. “Now, Feyre.”

“Good night, Rhysand.”

He sighed, turning and stooping down to brush his lips to the back of her hand. “Sleep well, Feyre. Dream of me, will you?”

Her snort followed him even as their two doors snicked shut. There closed another evening with the female who held his heart.

Taglist: Reach out to be added or removed.

@faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @goddess-aelin // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @reverie-tales // @acourtofwips // @jealousveronya // @darling-archeron

[sasseebeee]

i just posted a fic! it's not the first thing i've written, but it is the first one i published somewhere! there's also a version under the cut for anyone who wants to read it here!

Rana felt as if she was in a fairytale.

Here she was, in the prettiest ball gown she had ever seen in her life, dancing in the arms of the man she held dearest.

“This has to be a dream,” she murmured.

Her partner gazed into her eyes, looking at Rana with a lovestruck expression. “Rana…” Oh, how her name sounded so divine when it passed his lips! Suddenly, he leaned in, his lips ever so close to her ear. She could feel his breath hot on her neck as he whispered…

“Of course it's a dream.”

And then Rana woke up.

She was in her bed, in her room in Revenant’s Toll, and definitely not dancing with G’raha Tia. Of course. Rana buried her head in her hands and groaned. Gods, she was beyond saving.

Rana looked out of her window and slumped as she saw how early it was. The sun hadn't even risen yet! She cursed her hyperactive mind and nestled back into her covers, preparing to drift back into slumber…

…But each time she closed her eyes, Rana found herself plagued by reminders of her dream. Especially the way G’raha had looked at her…with such fervent love in his eyes…and the way her heart had pounded when he’d leaned in…

Nope. Nope. Nope. Absolutely not. Rana was not thinking about that. She threw the covers off of herself and hopped out of her bed. She would just have to start the day early. 

-

Rana stood in front of the stove, watching her food like a hawk. She was acutely aware of the phrase about the watched pot, but whoever came up with that had *clearly* never burned food before. Luckily, Rana's food was not (too) burnt today, a fact that manifested a proud grin on her face as she plated her food. As she moved to one of the tables, she heard the familiar sound of boots approaching.

“Ah, good morning, my fellow early riser.” 

Rana immediately felt heat rise to her face as she heard the voice of the man who had starred in her dreams. Stop. Thinking. About. It. She turned around and prayed that her friend did not notice her reddening cheeks.

“Morning! What’s got you up so early?”

“Ah. Well…I haven't had the best time sleeping after the tower. I imagine all that time sleeping might have impacted my circadian rhythm quite a bit…” G’raha gave a solemn smile. “But what of you, my friend? I know you are often up early, but never before the sun.”

“Oh! Well. Um. I…” 

What was she supposed to say? Oh, I just had a dream that you were madly in love with me, and it's giving me a lot of feelings right now! Gods above, that would be mortifying. Rana would have to throw herself into a bottomless pit.

What if she twisted it a bit and said she had a nightmare? That seemed a little cruel though. It wasn't as if she didn't like it… Her tail was swaying even now as she thought of the scene. 

“I…guess I just woke up. And couldn't go back to sleep. Yeah.”

“...I see.” 

Oh Gods he definitely knew she was lying. Thankfully, G’raha refrained from pushing further and merely gave her a sympathetic smile. “Well, nevertheless, I am glad I get to spend this morning with you.”

“Yeah. Likewise!” Rana tried her best to give the most natural smile she could, but if the flash of worry on her friend’s face gave any indication, she knew she was only raising concern. “Uhhhhh anyways…how are you adjusting to life back on the source?”

“‘Tis…strange. To say the least.” G’raha moved to one of the tables, as Rana trailed behind, carrying her plate of food. “Not unpleasant, mind you. But…I’ve been so used to the conveniences of the tower for so long, that it might take some time for me to…readjust. But…” He slipped a sausage link from Rana’s plate. “I’m certainly looking forward to all the joys that come with it.”

“You could've just asked.” Rana rolled her eyes as G’raha popped the sausage into his mouth. “But it's good to hear you have such a positive outlook on things.” She took a bite of one of her own sausages. “Oh yeah, have you got any plans yet?”

“For where I’ll go once things are settled with the tower?” Rana nodded. “Mmm…I’m not quite sure yet. I could return to Sharlayan, as I was planning to do after our original expedition into the tower, but…”

“You don't want to?”

“Not exactly…well, that's not far off…”

“So join the Scions!”

“I…” G’raha let out a sharp exhale. “...It's complicated.”

“How so?”

G’raha’s ears flattened against his head. “Well, I…I don't exactly feel up to par with the rest of you.”

What. “I’m sorry?”

“I mean, you all have done such amazing things for the sake of the star–Hells, Rana you had a book written about your adventures in Ishgard!--’Tis difficult to not feel inferior to the rest of you.”

He cannot be serious. Rana stood up from the table and looked her friend dead in the eyes. “G’raha Tia, in my opinion, you are the most impressive out of all of us.” G'raha's ears perked up and he looked at Rana with great intrigue. “You created a method of shard travel, you built an entire community during your time in the First, you did and were prepared to make any sacrifice in order to see the Source and the First saved, hells, you can fill more roles in battle than I can! And honestly, I think of you as equal to me in combat. So personally? I think you absolutely deserve to be a Scion.”

G’raha was silent for a moment, and then began to ponder Rana’s words. “I…see. I shall take your words into consideration, my friend. Thank you.” Rana swore she could see his cheeks redden slightly. She suddenly remembered her dream and abruptly rose from the table, swiftly moving to the door.”

“Well, with that being said, I’d better be off! You know, monsters to slay, people to save, stuff like that!”

“You’re leaving already?! Ah, but your breakfast…!” 

“You can have it! I gotta run!” Rana dashed out of the building and stood by the aetheryte a moment, catching her breath. Her breathing had slowed, but her heart still pounded. Could her mind be playing tricks on her? Had he really looked at her like that? Rana buried her head in her hands and silently screamed. 

Because, for a moment, she could’ve sworn she’d seen G’raha Tia wore the exact same expression he’d had in her dream.

[sadruru]

For Melissa!

🍉: Does your OC have a particular piece of jewellery that they always wear or refuse to part with?

🌽: How does this OC feel about acts of affection? What's their favourite act of affection, physical or emotional?

🍻: What's your OC's favourite comfort ritual? How do they calm themselves down after a rough day?

Awww thanks for the questions ♥ I'd better tell everyone about Melissa!

🍉: Does your OC have a particular piece of jewellery that they always wear or refuse to part with?

"One amulet. One owner. Two different sides. Two paths." She has a wooden amulet, already clearly worn by time. She always keeps it close by, in a pocket on her belt. On one side was carved the symbol of Cayden Cailean, clearly made by a skillful hand. Her father had made and given it to her as a child, it was her first piece of jewelry. At the time, her family owned a tavern called the Dancing Lights. Therefore, she has a special affection for such places. When she was little, she often prayed to Cayden Cailean for silly things like the most normal child, trying to believe that tomorrow would be better than today and not get discouraged. But prayers didn't keep her from the future.

On the other side was a rather crudely made symbol of Calistria. Melissa had carved it herself when she was a teenager, under the influence of strong emotions. There was still some dried blood from the cuts on this side. Now she was closer to the goddess aspects like lust and revenge. But whether her revenge will bring her peace of mind remains to be seen…

On one hand, anyone might think: "Why didn't she throw it away or destroy it? It reminds her of the past!" Knowing her character, she could have done so, but she didn't. After all, this simple amulet was the only valuable thing in her life that had always been with her and belonged only to her. Perhaps she still remembered and loved her parents, and it was a piece of her then good childhood. Later, she would definitely ask Trever to teach her how to carve something out of wood (but to no avail, she has no talent for it, just like she has no talent for singing, and I emphasize this for a reason your ears will hurt). Melissa claims she doesn't care about the gods and doesn't believe in anything, but it's not uncommon to hear her talk about them or utter phrases that one would only hear from a believer. I've already made an illustration of this in advance, ehehe:

🌽: How does this OC feel about acts of affection? What's their favourite act of affection, physical or emotional?

Sounds like a pretty interesting question… Gosh, I hope I got the point of the question right. At the beginning of the game, Melissa was afraid to feel affection for someone. It's hard and painful. For so many years of her life, she has firmly believed that love and affection are temporary. It is very easy to take advantage of another person's trust in this way. And even if you have friends or family, they will be gone and she will be alone. Again. But even a wild cat can be tamed with love and attention, right? As the story progresses, some companions show their good attitudes towards her and it works, her opinion on the matter changes for the better. So... Melissa loves acts of physical affection. She doesn't mind at all if you just give her a hug or a pat on the head, although she will grumble a bit. You don't need much more than that. She rarely received such simple signs of affection from anyone, except for two close friends from her past… But one of them is dead, and the other betrayed her at a crucial moment. As for acts of emotional affection… Melissa still has a problem fully opening up to even her closest people and honestly telling them what's wrong with her. She easily dodges uncomfortable questions (especially about her past or well-being) with jokes and diverts your attention. But now she is trying to correct this bad habit, because it can bring even more problems and misunderstandings.

BONUS: A sketch that will probably become a full art in time. I liked it too much. They're so cute. Here are all the ones Melissa has made really good friends with. That doesn't mean she has a bad attitude towards the others, each companion needs a separate explanation. Poor Sosiel… Patience and strength to you.

🍻: What's your OC's favourite comfort ritual? How do they calm themselves down after a rough day?

The dragon, the lost squad, the ever attacking demons, the x200 reports from Regill that she still has to sign ХD… She has some very "fun" days. She's a hedonist. That ACTUALLY says it all, how she likes to relax after a hard day. And in general, after paperwork or after returning to Drezen, she likes to go to a tavern and have a good drink. Preferably with someone. Better yet, get drunk with EVERYONE she can. She's usually joined by Seelah, Lann, Woljif, Daeran, and of course Arushalae (she's always the most sober). Of the slightly unusual rituals… She may, when she feels the need, sit somewhere alone or with Fluffy. Fortunately, of course, she'll find someone who will forever brighten her loneliness (I really don't want to make her life any more bleak).

To be honest, she doesn't like to be alone for long. That's when bad and sad thoughts start coming into Melissa's head. She prefers to distract herself from them any way she can. But in the future this will play a cruel joke on her.

I feel a kind of sadness and loneliness from this picture...

[futurepastme]

Before the Dawn of Man in Castles Made of Sand

For the past year i've been trying to write my first fic and I barely even started at all, but from time to time I imagine a few scenes that might or not - probably not- be included on the main story and SOMETIMES I write them down anyway I can, as fast as I can. And sometimes I actually take the time to try writing something decent.

So here is a scene that I though of that supposedly is part of the fic I'm writing but will never happen: ≈2.5k words

Three hundred-ish years ago, the first King of Camelot, King Bruta, signed a very detailed peace treaty with the King of Essetir, Éamonn. It wasn’t a ‘now-we-are-buddies’ agreement or a ‘you’re-in-trouble-let-me-help’ agreement, no, it was a ‘keep-our-shit-to-ourselves’ agreement.

Bonded by blood magic, the treaty stated that as long as a descendant of both the original kings set on the throne of their respective kingdoms, no acts of war, military or otherwise, would be allowed between their kingdoms on penalty of the immediate interruption of the lives of the current rulers and all of their living relatives. 

A complete ending of the bloodline, with no one left to salvage it in any way.

The treaty was signed by both Kings and any living heirs they had, so as to make sure that the bloodline was completely bounded by the contract. 

The magic, though, had an expiration date. It was powerful, ancient magic, but as the seasons change and the days turn to night, magic, too, is frail against the will of time, and as it passes it would slowly fade into nothingness.

It was stated then at the bottom of the contract, just before the fancy signatures with the swirling loops, that when the time should come for the magic to disappear, both Kingdoms’ current rulers should reunite in a meeting for the reinforcement of the spell and a renewal of the contract. ♦

Some would say that Merlin ran out of time. Which was clearly an exaggeration seeing as he still has plenty of time left. No, really, he still had like, at least five hours before things really go to shit. That’s what he thought, anyway.

But some people, well, everybody but Merlin, would say that he ran out of time a week ago, when the announcement was made; or four days ago when the party was ready to leave and Merlin sat on his horse; or even yesterday when they were still outside of the Kingdom, camping for the night.

But no, he definitely still has a few hours. The party still wouldn't even be able to see the castle for another three, and they wouldn’t reach the lower town for another half hour after that.

Merlin was out of time.

He sat on his saddle, restlessly sweating his nerves out. If Arthur could see him, he would order him to stop, ask what is wrong and call him a girl, all in a single phrase. Arthur couldn't see him, though.

If this were a simple hunting trip, Merlin would be by his side, chattering his ears off and completely disregarding every royal protocol ever written in the history of mankind. But this was a Royal Camelot Party led by King Uther himself, which, of course meant that Merlin was far off the back riding along with the rest of the servants of the Royal Household. 

Which meant that he could barely even see Arthur’s stupid golden hair, let alone talk to him about anything.

So, the battle plan, now that he still had plenty of time was that he would avoid everything and everyone that has a mouth or ears or eyes, run for Arthur’s assigned chambers, tell him everything without crying at all and then pray that he could leave said chambers alive and sane. And with his heart unscathed. 

It is not every day you tell your master, friend and secret crush that not only your existence is illegal in his father’s kingdom, but you are actually royalty yourself. Royalty of the kingdom they were currently at.

So, Merlin was having a great day, and a stressless week.

And it only got better when the knights arrived.

A small party of seven men, dressed in armor very similar-looking to the ones from Camelot, the only apparent difference being the blue capes and the lack of a royal crest on the chest piece, slowly approached, led by an almost completely gray-haired knight with dark eyes and an almost charming smile.

“Welcome to Essetir, your Majesty, Your Highness. I’m Sir Griogair, we are here to safely escort your Majesty and your party to the gates of the keep.” Merlin hastily pulled his hood and sank lower on the saddle. 

Griogair was, in Merlin’s opinion, a slimy little man greedy with power, he has loathed the guy since the day he sat foot in Essetir, every hair on his body reacting with the man’s disgusting nature. But of course, ‘bad feeling’ wasn’t a good excuse not to knight the bravest looking guy his father had seen in years. Especially when you are only thirteen and don't know better yet.

He deserved credit, though, for Griogair was, at the time and still, a very handsome man with charms to spare. He had won over almost everyone in the keep within the week, was knighted within the month, and when Merlin left, he was one of the most high-ranked knights of the kingdom.

But now, for the looks of it, and from the few words he managed to hear all the way from the back, Griogair was not only a First Assembly Knight, and a Dragon Rider of the Kingdom, but has snatched for himself the position of War Mage.

That meant that not only the fucker had learnt magic, but it was skilled and powerful enough to be able to qualify for the position and now could use it freely on behalf of the kingdom. It also meant that, when in mission out of the keep, he would be responsible for dealing with the magical creatures and beings that lived within the borders of the kingdom, interfering as necessary.

Also, that meant that the bastard had clearly taken advantage of Merlin’s absence to ensure the one position Merlin could and would have stopped him from getting. 

Anger aside, Merlin took a second to recompose himself and to try to identify the other knights that came with Slimy Griogair. He knew his father wouldn’t send a bunch of low-ranking knights to deal with burn-innocents-at-a-pyre-for-fun Uther Pendrasshole and his entourage.

The three knights that rode on the left side of Slimy Griogair he couldn’t see. Actually, he barely couldn’t see the Snake himself, which he was equally parts glad and concerned.  

Of the other three knights that he could see, two he failed to recognize. 

But at the front, riding almost side by side with Griogair, he caught a glimpse of curly snow-white hair. Sir Llywelyn was by far his closest knight, 5 years older than himself, the man was a true friend and a fierce knight. 

Ending his quick inspection of his men, Merlin lowered his head further, letting the hood blind his vision fully and trusting his horse to follow the others. Friend or foe, Llywelyn or Griogair, it didn’t matter, Merlin had to get home unrecognized by either of them or the other knights.

♦

At this point in his life, one would think Merlin was used to things not going as planned. From magical creatures that appear from nowhere to bandit attacks, Merlin’s day never went as he expected since the day he decided to leave home and follow his magic to the great unknown. The great unknown that led to Camelot and to the unending headache that his life became.

You would think that somebody as powerful and as used to ambushes as Merlin would have been able to feel the approach of a huge flying magical creature, but he had better things to worry about then to be attacked by his own dragon.

The betrayal, honestly.

They had been on the road for another hour since his knights joined Camelot’s Party. Merlin still had his head down, but now his hooded cape had a small spell that kept his hoodie from falling unless he wanted it down.

He was bored. Not only far away from Arthur and from Leon, but he still had to ride at George’s side.

The man has been rambling on for hours about all that was known of Essetir culture and servants’ etiquette, which wasn’t much, but he somehow managed to stretch a 3 pages lost-through-time knowledge into a 40-minute-and-still-going monologue, and also somehow made it more boring than the grain reports.

It went down really fast

One second, he was on his horse, trying to not listen to George and still stay awake, and the other he was on the ground with an extremely heavy, horse-sized, white dragon licking his face.

The second that his brain took to understand the situation was enough to hell break loose.

Camelot’s knights stood on one side, weapons drawn, ready to kill the beast, while his knights tried to protect Aithusa.

There were shouts and threats from both sides, and stupid Griogair, instead of trying to appease the situation and take the unknown Camelot servant from under the huge magic creature that he should be responsible for, no, he was aggravating the situation even more.

He had to do something, now.

By the time he got back on his feet, both sides were ready to attack each other, Arthur’s arm raised slightly, ready for the first strike.

“Enough” he said, walking to put himself between Arthur and Griogair. His voice was loud and clear. A voice of command and power, a voice he hadn’t used in years. It was the strong voice of someone born to lead legions to war. Camelot’s knights relaxed a little, if by shock or relief he didn’t know, but they kept their stance as Arthur scanned him “I’m fine, no harm done.”

He turned fully toward his knights “Lower your weapons, now.”

The problem was, Merlin was still hooded and Griogair was still an asshole “Is this how Camelot’s servants speak with their superiors?” Stupid said, while grabbing Merlin by his clothes and suspending him in midair.

“Put my servant down. Now.” Arthur commanded, his voice dangerously low and calm.

“The boy might have harmed the dragon, until I say he didn’t, he stays in our custody” Griogair, the idiot that can’t read the room, said.

That’s also when Merlin decided to let his hoodie fall.

He heard a few shocked gasps, and felt more then saw his nights stand down and lower his weapons. But nothing would make him loose the amazing sight of Griogair’s shocked face as he began paling to death. “Put. Me. Down.” He said for Griogair’s ears only.

“Y-your Highness” He dropped Merlin like he burned his hands taking half a step back, Merlin would have fallen but right now he wasn’t the clumsy servant anymore, he was the Crown Prince Merlin Ambrosius of Essetir, trained in combat from a young age, and with a political situation on his hands that could lead to war.

“Forgive me, My Lord. I hadn’t realized we were graced with your illustrious presence” His head in a low bow, but his eyes never leaving Merlin’s.

“Sir Griogair”

“It is really good to have you back, Sire. The people start to talk, you see? Rumors about your death spread, but not me, Sire. I knew better, you see? I told them all; No one in the five Kingdoms have more skill or bravery or the complete…”

“Stop talking”

The amusement Merlin felt when he first saw Sir Griogair’s shocked face had slowly diminished and was long gone. Every second that he stood there, posture straight, facing his knights in his kingdom, with the feeling of the stares of another Royal Household burning his right side; the further away he was from the happy servant he was this morning, and now the phantom weight of his crown started pressing down on his head.

“I’m sure you are aware, Sir Griogair, of my reticence towards you when my father first started rising your rank within the knights”

“I’m sure I more than proved myself, Your Highness. The king himself knows; my position was more than des…”

“I’m not done” Merlin interrupted again. His posture as straight as possible, his head held high.

“I’m aware of the King’s feelings in regards of your person; and I’m sure you somehow proved yourself to him in many occasions, my father wouldn’t reward with higher ranks a man he deemed undeserving.” Griogair has stopped bowing, straightening his body and letting a smile that was meant to be charming form on his face.

“Unfortunately,” Merlin continued “I have yet to see the actions that would grant rewards such as your high ranks, and today you have, at my eyes, failed the crown and your kingdom.” His voice was loud enough to be heard by all of the Camelot’s entourage, even George and the other servants at the back.

“Your Highness, surely I can’t be blamed for the actions of a brainless…”

“What my dragon did is irrelevant, as a knight your actions reflect on the kingdom more than anything Aithusa could possibly do, you carry our colours and is responsible for the safety and well being of every living being inside our borders, not only our citizens and creatures, but our guests as well.”

“Sire! I…” He wasn’t smiling anymore; panic was back on his face.

“Unfortunately, your actions today can’t be left unpunished, and at the absence of the king, I’ll be the one to define such punishment; my decision here will be final and would only be overruled by the King himself.”

“Please… Sire!” He fell to his knees, grabbing the hems of Merlin’s cape.

“I hope you know, Sir Griogair, that despite my personal feelings towards you, I take no pleasure in punishing you, in fact, it saddens me deeply that today I have been proven right.” Merlin truly meant that, like it or hate it, the guy was still his knight, he was still his man. “You will be happy to know that, as Crown Prince, I have not the power to permanently remove your knighthood, as it was granted by the King, however I can suspend it.”

The knights started moving behind Griogair, getting into formation. Two lines with three men each, positioned by rank in a way that put Merlin and Griogair at the center. It was the same position they took when somebody was knighted.

With everybody settled in their positions, Merlin twisted his wrist and raised his finger pointing towards Griogair’s chest.

Now, everybody from the Camelot Entourage has at least once seen a knighting ceremony, and surely, most have seen how it goes when such knighthood is removed. However, none of them has ever seen one to the likes of Essetir’s

As a Kingdom with magic at its throne, Essetir’s knighthood works differently.

The king doesn’t simply stand in a pretty room, says some inspiring words, wave around a fancy sword an BAM! you’re a knight, you may rise.

In summary, the knights are essentially bound, to the crown and to each other, by magic. It isn’t the type of bound that forcefully traps them without escape; they can choose to leave if they so desire. No, the bound is connection. It is brotherhood.

When Merlin twisted his wrist, it activated the bound. Only the King and his direct heir could activate the bound in such a way.

On every Essetir Knight’s, at the right side almost on their shoulders, now set a fist-sized symbol, a shield shaped blue light, with the Ambrosius crest. The same shield now also appeared on Merlin, except his was big enough to cover his chest completely.

The pretty crests weren’t the most impressive thing, though. For when Merling flicked his wrist, his clothes, too, changed. As the Crown Prince of Essetir, the activation of the bound by his hand is considered a matter of state; and as such, his clothes must reflect his position and his rank. That is why now, at the middle of the forest stood a Merlin in expensive looking clothing, a cape matching the ones of the knights, and most importantly, a silver circlet with blue and green gemstones.

End English not my first language

[thesoftboiledegg]

OK guys, I have a confession to make today: I am a dudebro. The tech geniuses in my Elon Musk discord sent me here to infiltrate Tumblr. I chug a Toxic Rick energy drink every morning even though it makes my bones rattle and spiders crawl at the edges of my vision. I go to Birdrick threads on Reddit, comment "is rick gay," get two downvotes and leave. Every day, I pray that Rick will say "I'm not arguing, I'm explaining why I'm right" in the show so that I can point at the shirt that I'm wearing with the same phrase on it and say "Haha, it's official now! You to want hear me say it out loud? Huh? You want me to throw that badassery right in your face? Fuck up my McDonald's order one more time, and it's coming at you!" Do it, Rick. Do it for me.

I've jacked it to Rick a few times, but I only did that because it was funny. In fact, it was funnier than everything in seasons 4-6 combined. I think that Rick and Morty has been the worst shit on TV since season three, but I haven't stopped watching it. Instead, I watch every new episode and make rage-fueled videos in my $1,000 gaming chair. This week's topic: Rick and Morty has gone woke. What was up with that joke in season five about the cops being racist? The cops aren't racist! They kill ALL races equally, Jesus Christ.

Anyway, back to Birdrick: I KNOW that Birdrick is platonic because I tell my male friends that I love them all the time. That's not romantic. In fact, I say it while looking directly into their eyes, thinking about all the great times that we had together, thinking that they should leave their bitch of a girlfriend because I know more about Rick and Morty than she ever will. I think about how hilarious it would be if we went on a long vacation and shared a hammock and watched the sun set, the light glittering on the waves as insects start to hum in the grass. Haha, it's all a joke, bro.

Once, I was DJing in a club and trying to figure out how to play Kanye West's entire discography at once when a guy handed me an acid tab with Morty's screaming face on it. I flew off into outer space and floated around until Rick picked me up in his ship. We made out for a while so that he could teach me how to make out with all the hot alien babies on Neptune. Of course, I already know how to make out with babes because I kissed a chick wearing a Rick and Morty hoodie once. She was clearly shit at it because I didn't enjoy it, and I should have known better because girls, queers and Tumblrinas don't actually like Rick and Morty. They just pretend to like it because they want male attention.

Oh, I'm sorry--CIS male attention. Is that woke enough for you? And by the way, libsharts: Rick is a CIS MALE. I would know because he runs around naked in every other episode, and I made a compilation of every scene for hard evidence. Cry about it all you want, but you're not going to win this debate. No one's looked at Rick Sanchez naked more than me!

Anyhoo, Rick called out the woke crowd in the season one classic "Raising Gazorpazorp," which brilliantly deconstructs feminazi bullshit, especially Rick's speech at the end. Something about Rick's voice really sells it. Something about the way it's so gravely but familiar at the same time, like rain hitting a tin roof while we're sipping iced tea on the porch. Do you ever feel like you're only going out with girls because all your bros are doing it?

HAHA uh, Birdrick is a sack of puke and just the thought of it makes me shit rage diarrhea. (Uh oh, was that too CRUDE for the purity police? Well, get used to it, because I have to.) If I ever see a Bird Person cosplayer on the streets of LA, I'm going to hit him with my Tesla, killing him instantly. I'm hoping that it might explode a little bit for maximum damage. In fact, I'm just going to program my Tesla to hit every pedestrian that resembles a human-sized bird. It's in Elon Musk's genius hands now!

So what the fuck has happened to Rick and Morty? That show was great before they hired women writers. I'm pretty sure that they hired a bunch of queers, too, because only a gay man would come up with that suit and tie he wore in season six. He looked way too good in that outfit. Which one of you homos designed that shit? Jesus Christ, get out of the writers' room and let the straight men take control again. If I ever win a giveaway or something and get to visit the studio, I better be surrounded by men!

Season one was just winner after winner and winner. We need to get back to the original show--the REAL show--where Rick was a cool-headed and rational scientist instead of the weeping "wah wah I'm so sad morty" baby we're stuck with now. I would know because I'm basically the real-life Rick. I say what I want, when I want. Don't like it? Too bad. You just don't want to hear the truth. Rick Sanchez walked so that white men with beards could run...to their Teslas and run over Bird Person cosplayers, killing them instantly.

And Rick USED to tell the truth. Love is a chemical reaction, nothing means anything, existence is pain, marriage is bullshit (ESPECIALLY when you're married to a female), everyone's too politically correct now, it's stupid that we can't call stuff "retarded," "PICKLE RICK!!!!!", focus on science, girls are too sensitive about everything. Wubba lubba dub dub! Shit, what does that mean again? I'm so used to saying that at parties when someone hands me a Rick and Morty bong and I just smoke whatever's in it because that's what Rick would do. I think I smoked oregano a couple of weeks ago. My nostrils have been burning ever since, but I'm sure it's fine. Nothing can kill a man who pounds Toxic Rick energy drinks!

Haha, wouldn't it be funny if I left the last two words off that last sentence? That would be the funniest shit ever. I'm crying with laughter!

People didn't understand Dan Harmon's genius when they whined about the show, and it apparently made him so depressed that he gave up and surrendered to the woke crowd. Christ, I hate the Internet. I only get on here to check Reddit, scroll through Elon Musk's Twitter feed and see if Dan Harmon updated his Instagram. He reminds me of Rick a lot. They're both geniuses, but the major difference with Dan Harmon is that he's got that scraggly beard. It's probably scratchy when you make out with him. I took a bunch of molly at a party once and kissed a guy who looked like a lumberjack because I thought he was a lady lumberjack, and his beard was pretty scratchy. I said "Wow, that's what kissing Dan Harmon is like!" And he said "Want to go back to my place?" And I said "Fuck no, you're not ACTUALLY Dan Harmon." LOL!!!!!!!

Remember when I mentioned McDonald's at the start? I've been in Mickey D's this whole time, and if you're wondering how I had time to type this, it's because the 16-year-old fucktards behind the counter don't know what they're doing. (And yes, I'm getting McNuggets! Haha! #szechaunsauce) Rick wouldn't put up with this shit. Not only is he a badass, but he's got badass friends all over the galaxy who would back him up. I had a dream a month ago where Rick was hanging out with these buff guys that were probably his personal bodyguards. Some weird stuff happened, and when I told my therapist about it, she said "It sounds like you had a dream about Rick having sex with a group of men," and I said "No, I didn't," and she said "You just loudly and audibly said that you had a dream about Rick having sex with a group of men," and I said "Haha, I was manipulating you! I'm a master manipulator like Rick! It was a social experiment! What made you think about gay sex anyway? If I said 'And then Rick got gangbanged by a bunch of dudes' and you immediately thought 'Wow, it sounds like you had a gay sex dream,' that's on you, honey! Hear me? THAT'S ON YOU!!!'"

So, uh...

Let's close this off with a classic: Wubba lubba dub dub! Haha. Anyway, since you Tumblrites love analyzing every frame of every episode because it makes you feel like you "get it" (spoiler alert: you don't), why is this GIF so hypnotic? I've been watching it for twenty minutes and can't figure it out.

Lord have mercy.

[hummingbird-hunter]

You know, I was with y'all on the landlord hate, until y'all expanded the definition of "landlords we hate" from "rich people who are buying out entire apartment blocks and then rent them out for extremely inflated prices because they know people can't buy/rent anywhere else" to "anyone who owns and/or rents out property", which then, of course, turns to "people who get money without working". And when disabled people are rightfully calling you out on your bulshit you scramble to backtrack and say "well actually I said we hate those who capitalize on people's lives" or shit like that, parroting some shit that you neither thought about nor included in your original post.

Recently I saw a post which had a phrase “They’re not smarter or faster they’re buying up others’ lifetimes to do their chores” in relation to rich people; which, is, well, look at the phrasing yourself — it phrases hiring cleaning stuff as "buying up others' liferimes to do their chores"; and when a disabled person in the notes said about how stuff like this makes them feel bad about hiring a maid, people reblogged it, scrambling to explain, "of course hiring a cleaning service is not exploitative! It saddens me that in conversation about worker exploitation people respond like this! No one says that hiring cleaning service is exploitative, just how you treat your workers!". And, yes. That person is correct. Hiring cleaning services is not inherently exploitative.

The original post, however, is very clearly phrased like it is. And the reblog criticizing it did not "miss the point"; they got the point exactly — it was other people scrambling to correct the "misunderstanding" who were backtracking.

And I see this stuff a lot — someone says something not thought-through about working and money, a disabled person criticizing them, and people scrambling to correct themselves — of course it's fine for you to do, it is not inherently bad, it's just that they use it in exploitative way! And, pray tell, what's the difference between us and them? That they are rich? Well, we've already established that y'all can't differentiate between people who buy out entire apartment blocks and someone who owns two apartments, so not that. Their disability status? So are some things just morally correct for disabled people that are immoral for able-bodied people? All that does is forces disabled people to reveal their disability status to be heard, and prove that they're "disabled enough".

Because, let's be real, a lot of you did think all those things — owning property, hiring cleaning service, etc — were somehow immoral, and that someone who doesn't work is a freeloader and should "get a real job"; and you are only forced to rethink that when criticized by a disabled person; and you don't even rethink — just scramble for an excuse.