#so you may be subjected to some nonsense

[dayurno]

[medicinemane]

The problem with people who are "right" because they insist they're right, and the only way to be right is to simply perfectly follow their every dictation on the subject unquestioningly is this...

Ok, let's just take it as a given that you're right... the problem here is that if that's what's right I'm afraid I have to dig my heels into being wrong. If you are as righteous and just as you insist you are then I've got no choice but to be the villain because I can't stand what you're saying I'd have to do to be good

Shockingly I even think it's wrong, which is odd because we've already defined it that you're inherently and unassailably right... yet here we are

Worst part is there's a lot of these things where I'm not even full stop against it, I actually might be on their side if they could stop and address a couple of issues I consider kind of important... but they won't, because they're morally right and don't have time for addressing nonexistent issues I'm clearly just dreaming up

Undoubtedly right they are, the defect must surely be my own... and yet here we are. Vile and wicked as it might make me, I still can't just go along with you

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Can't Leave Me

Pairing: Dark Hawks x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female Reader

SUMMARY: Seeing a darker side of Keigo has you rethinking your entire relationship. But it’s not like Keigo is planning on letting you go. 

WARNINGS: Murder; Kidnapping. 

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

–

His hand rubs comforting circles over the expanse of your back, innumerous apologies being mumbled as he kisses the crown of your head. 

“I should’ve eased you into it. I‘m so sorry, baby.” his tone is apologetic, almost regretful, but you can’t be bothered by that.

Not after what you witnessed. 

The queasiness in your stomach increases, and you swallow hard, closing your eyes in a poor attempt to control both yourself and the wave of nausea that threatens to rise. 

“Next time, I promise I’ll let you know beforehand, ‘kay? No more nasty surprises, I promise.” his cooing has you pushing your palms against the edge of the marble kitchen island, and you take a few stumbling steps backwards.

“I really thought you’d like to see my patriotic work.”

“You…” his golden eyes squint for a second when you dodge his hand from touching your arm, “That man-”

“He’s no one. Just some fucking dirtbag I caught the other day on patrol. No one even cares that he’s gone, if that makes you feel better.”

You look at him in bewilderment, unable to believe his words. Was Keigo - always so sweet and gentleman - trying to convince you that killing people was fine? That it was okay for his basement to have pools of blood and pieces of human limbs?

The pungent smell of fresh blood is still haunting your nose and you scrunch it, remembering the nasty scene your boyfriend presented you. 

When Keigo asked you to come to his house, telling you he had a surprise stored in his basement for you, your mind wandered to the idea of receiving a sweet gift.

Maybe a painting or a bracelet, anything with a romantic meaning. A normal thing. 

But when Keigo took you to his basement, chest inflated with pride at what he called “city scum cleaning” it wasn’t at all what you expected. 

“You’re worrying too much.” he sighs, his wings ruffling behind him. “I’m cleaning the city from the filthy scum, nothing else.”

“They’re human beings, Keigo. You can’t take justice into your own hands, that’s not your job.”

Keigo only shrugs his shoulders, disinterested at your attempt to bring some conscience to him.

“I know this upsetted you, baby, so why don’t we change the subject? How about we start making dinner and then watch a movie? I know you’re excited to see that new action movie, right?”

His proposition makes you feel sick to your stomach for more reasons than one, but the realization that your boyfriend is trying to distract you from the fact that he’s a serial killer is too much.

You need to leave. Immediately. 

But you’re scared. Terrified of becoming Keigo’s new addition to his basement, if he realizes that you’re not on his side. You’re not sure if he loves enough to spare you from such destiny.

You’re not sure of anything anymore. 

You shift the weight from one foot to the other, eyes drifting to the kitchen door. 

“I think…” your voice shakes, and you attempt to clear your throat, “Maybe I should go,  Keigo. I’m not…feeling great.”

His expression drops for a moment, cold anger being replaced with feigned sympathy so quickly that you almost believe you imagined it. 

“Sweet cheeks, if you’re not feeling well, then you can just sleep over.” he takes a minuscule step in your direction, his wings stretching behind him for a moment. Demonstrating their enormous size before he pulls them back.

A not very subtle threat.

“I can prepare a warm bath for you, and then get you in bed with some painkillers. How about that?” 

You shake your head, feeling helpless. 

“No, Keigo, it’s fine, really. I can just go home and-”

“Nonsense. Besides, I don’t like the idea of you all alone in your apartment, especially if you’re feeling sick.” he brushes you off, “I can’t have you puking or passing out when you’re on your own. What kind of boyfriend would that make me, am I right?” 

A few of his feathers gracefully fly in your direction, gently but effectively pushing you forward. 

The conflict inside your mind only fires up, but you’re hardly able to bitterly swallow down all the shabby excuses and useless begging that would only result in angering Keigo. 

Your body bumps against his and Keigo instantly wraps his arm around your waist, replacing the feathers that rejoin his wings. 

He kisses your cheek with an arm tightly gripping your waist, as if he’s waiting for you to bolt and run away. You’d be lying if you say the idea doesn’t seem awfully tempting.

Maybe if he looks away or gets distracted…maybe then  you could take the chance. 

“C’mon, let’s get you a bath, ‘kay? You’re really not looking too good.” 

The melancholic moonlight hits you in the face, seeping through the locked window. Your eyes are wide open, despite the ungodly time of the night. It’s quiet now, aside from the light cricket’s sounds and the occasional car speeding up through the street.

You barely move your head as you glance towards the fluorescent numbers of the digital clock on the bedside table next to you, careful enough to shift as little as you can.

The arm draped across your waist feels like a rope, keeping you bound to Keigo.

But it’s better than the red wing that lays wide open in all of its immense size, acting as a second blanket to your body, caging you to the bed with its oppressive weight. 

Despite your objections of becoming too hot during the night, Keigo still insisted on covering your body with it, shutting you down with a gentle kiss.

He sleeps soundly, his chest a few inches away from your chest, his deep calm breathing hitting your ear and neck. 

You can’t sleep. Your mind is too bothered, too upset to even consider something as futile as sleeping when there are more urgent necessities. Such as escaping this house. 

Keigo fell into a deep slumber a few hours ago while you remained awake, thinking about your next steps. You have to leave the bed, leave the house, leave him. 

But even the last step seems complicated when you can’t even pull yourself out of the bed - out of Keigo’s suffocating embrace. 

You’re frozen with fear, you begrudgingly admit. Scared of accidentally waking Keigo up and in the process, to wake a side of him that you don’t want to see. 

You have to do this.

The first step is to test the waters.

You take a deep breath, slowly shifting your body, your hand gently pushing his arm down and away from you. Nothing happens.

Your heartbeat speeds up as you embrace yourself for the final step. 

Looking down at the impending problem of escaping the red wing, you take the decision to slide underneath it. 

It’s awkward and embarrassing when you weirdly dive underneath the wing, squishing yourself against the bed as you try to touch the feathers as little as you can. They don’t pulse or move, remaining completely still as you make your escape. 

A relieved sigh gets caught in your throat when your feet touch the floor. Just a little more, you think, bending your body to slide down the curve of the bed. 

Premature hope makes your breathe faster. Maybe you can actually get away.

Oh god, you’re actually going to get away. 

Your whole body freezes for a scary moment when Keigo mumbles a few incoherent words, shifting and turning in bed, but thankfully he remains asleep. You can breathe again.

It’s a bit hard to walk in the darkness, only the dim light of the moon helping you guide yourself, as your feet take baby steps and you prod the walls with your hands until you finally find the closet room.

The door creaks slightly as you slowly close it, and you hold your breath for a moment. Nothing happens. 

You open the light, hoping it doesn’t infiltrate through the door’s crack and search the place with your eyes, looking for your clothes. Keigo kept them there before handing you one of his shirts earlier in the night, saying that it would be more comfortable for you to sleep in his clothes than in your outer clothes. 

It’s easy to find your shirt and pants, both of them tucked away in a corner of the room, the evident contrast between Keigo’s expensive clothing and your cheap casual outfit standing out. 

You quickly put them on, looking around for your purse before remembering that you had left it in the kitchen. Fuck. 

You close the light, and silently leave the closet. 

“Babe.” 

Your blood runs cold at the sight of Keigo casually standing in front of you, arms crossed in his chest. There’s no anger  in his face - nor sleepiness, you notice - but there are hints of annoyance. Did he really expect you not to try and run? 

“I’m kinda disappointed, I gotta say.” he shakes his head with a tired sigh. “I was really hoping you wouldn’t do anything stupid tonight. Guess I was wrong.”

“I wasn’t-” your words lose strength, and for a moment, the idea of dashing for the door with all of your speed seems incredibly enticing, “It’s not what you think.”

“Yeah? Pfft, c’mon, you seriously think you’re gonna fool me into believing any crappy excuse? Like I didn’t just catch you trying to sneak off on me?” he clicks his tongue, messy strands of blonde hair falling onto his forehead, “But you know what?”

It’s now. The moment he switches the flip on you and beats you and-

“Let’s continue this tomorrow, alright? It’s late, so how about we sleep on this and in the morning, we’ll talk.” 

You look at him, surprised. Isn’t he gonna drag you by the hair to his basement and beat you? 

Keigo directs you back to the closet, watching as you hesitate to change back into his shirt. 

“That was never gonna work, you know that, right?” he says. “It’s not like you could outrun me. I’m too fast for you, with or without quirk.”

When you get back on the bed, his wing covers you once again and his arm pulls you flush against his chest, suffocating you with his presence.

He kisses the nape of your neck. 

“Sleep tight.”

You wake up startled, mind buzzing with a chilling nightmare. Red blood and sticky viscera follow you even though you rise away from the realm of dreams. 

You breathe in. It was just a dream. 

Distant sounds coming from another room catch your attention and you remain quiet, catching the tiny rays of sunlight that come through the curtains, basking on pacific solitude. 

What are you supposed to do now? Relent and pretend that everything is peachy, to act as if the basement isn’t torture chamber and that your boyfriend isn’t some cold-hearted killer? 

You roll to the side, yelping when your leg gets caught on. 

A chain. 

A soft leather wrapped tightly around your ankle, connecting it to the links of metal that keep you in a short leash. There’s barely any length to it, meaning you won’t even be able to reach the bathroom if you need to. 

This can’t be real. 

You persistently rub your eyes, shaking your head as fear threatens to spill in the shape of a panic attack. 

Keigo wouldn’t do this. He can’t do this. He just can’t. 

Much to your consternation, you don’t wake up. This isn’t some wicked dream, after all. 

“No, no, please, no.” you cry, pulling and tugging on the solid chain with both of your hands. It doesn’t work, despite all the clicking it does. Doesn’t so much as move away from your ankle.

But it does make a shrilling noise and soon Keigo rushes into the room, a worried expression on his face before he understands what you’re doing. 

He plops next to you, firm hands pulling your shaky ones away from the chain, despite you not giving up and you yelp when he uses his strength to expertly twist your wrist, forcing you to let go of the chain.

“Keigo, please, don’t…don’t do this. I promise I won’t run away, I swear!” you plead, snot and tears pathetically dripping down your face as Keigo pulls you into his lap, a large hand securing both of your wrists. 

“Keigo…”

“Shh, it’s okay. Everything is fine, it’s all okay.” 

It only makes you cry harder. One of his hands rubs your back while the other holds the back of your neck, pushing your face to his chest. 

“C’mon, don’t cry.  You know how awful that makes me feel.” he presses a gentle kiss to your head, rocking your bodies back and forth, comforting you as if you were a child throwing a tantrum.

“You left me no choice. You were gonna leave me, abandon me like I never meant anything to you.” his voice is almost quiet and you know that if you looked up, his face would resemble a kicked puppy.

It almost makes you feel bad until the stupid chain in your ankle clinks, reminding you that Keigo isn’t a good man. 

“But it’s okay now. I know you’re not happy with… our current situation, but you’ll soon see it my way. I’m doing this for you - for us.” 

His arms tightened around your wriggling body, keeping you close to him. 

“I’m not letting anything get between us. Not even you.”

[lizardsfromspace]

So I guess Film Twitter is apoplectic with rage over some people suggesting they have intermissions in long movies. Not over theaters adding one without the director's consent, but like, at the concept of them

...by which I mean, getting mad at disabled people daring to have complaints. There's a lot of "HAHA are you so STUPID you can't go beforehand? You can't HOLD it for three hours?" and implying you don't deserve to experience art if you can't

And, of course, because Film Twitter is a bunch of insular discourse-addled dipshits, they're tying this...to Marvel. Yes, people are only saying they have health conditions that make sitting still for a three hour movie is because...they're Marvel fans mad at Scorsese, or something?

Why is this complaint new? Well, bc runtimes are ballooning to the levels of the old epic filmmaking days of the 50s-70s. And those movies...had intermissions. Multi-act plays have intermissions. Bollywood films have intermissions. Intermissions were literally just abandoned so studios could cram in more screenings, not out of an artistic ideal. But anyone saying "this would make it easy for me to access this film I want to see" needs to be viciously shouted down and called a moronic, lazy child hating on Scorsese bc of "discourse"

I've seen that meme multiple times and Jesus, look at the bizarre disdain for your fellow human beings embedded in it. You dare still bodily exist during a Martin Scorsese movie? You have a disability I don't? Well, I have no problem just peeing beforehand and not buying popcorn or a soda (you should really just sit their quietly until it's done, when you can pull out your phone to log it on Letterboxd), so what's your problem?

Calling people who are into non-blockbuster films "film bros" is mostly untrue, but man, the hardcore Film Twitter types unambiguously check every box. They're certainly dismissive of anyone outside their little box; extremely insulting, in fact, of how anyone who disagrees with them even slightly must be a Marvel-addled hysterical artless moron. Because nothing says "artistic appreciation" like preemptively calling analysis of a movie's choices "discourse" ("Ugh, I can't believe the DISCOURSE about how a movie portraying a morbidly obese man portrays obese people" - what should they talk about, then, if the movie's subject is instantly off the table?) They think the idea that someone out there may have a disability that prevents them from sitting in one place for three and a half hours is a laughable thing made up by the internet; or when people pointed out that a movie only getting one or two screenings a city may be inaccessible to working people, and these bloggers and podcast hosts dunked on the idea that working class people may like art as a hilarious, made-up thing.

I don't know, maaaaaaybe classing the life experiences and complaints of anyone who isn't you as "discourse" and presuming it's made-up kvetching about nothing as a matter of course is bad, cruel nonsense, actually?

[mochinek0]

Family Secrets

Damian couldn't believe his eyes. He had seen pieces of that costume when he lived in the League, but never did he expect to see his mother, disguised, in Paris! He carefully kept an eye on her as she walked into a bakery. He felt his own breath hitch as a young girl came and hugged her.

"Nonna!" she cried.

'Grandmother?'

"Hello, My Leetle Fairy." his mother replied, hugging her back.

"Are you having fun on your travels?" the girl questioned, "Where did you go this time?"

"Egypt." his mother declared.

The girl smiled, "Did you see the pyramids?"

His mother brought out a keychain of a pyramid and handed it to the girl.

"It's great!" the girl smiled, "I'll keep it on my desk so when I see it, I can think of you."

"I wish you could come with me." the disguised Talia declared.

"Maybe when I'm older?" the young girl answered.

Talia tapped the young girl's nose, "Possibly, but we know very well how hard you work."

"Mom!" announced a man, who seemed the size of Bane, "How are you?"

Damian watched on in shock. He was aware that his mother was much older than she appeared. Hearing someone around his father's age, refer to his mother as a maternal figure was unsettling.

"I'm fine, Tom." she answered.

"Would you like to put your bag down and rest?" he asked.

"Nonsense." his mother replied, "I may look older, but I'm fine. I wanted to see if Marinetta would like to take a ride around the city with me."

"Yes!" the girl cried.

Damian watched as they both got on a motorcycle and drove off.

It took awhile, but Damian finally spotted them near the Seine, eating ice cream. The girl was looking down at something, in her lap. His mother's eyes connected with his and he knew he had made her.

"I'll be right back." Gina spoke, kissing Marinette on the head.

Gina walked in Damian's direction.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Do you plan to kidnap her, Mother?" Damian questioned.

"Of course not!" Gina snapped.

"Who is she?" he asked.

Talia sighed, "Your niece; she's your age."

"So the man who called you mother-"Damian began.

"Your grandfather wanted me out of the way. He was looking for a male successor to take over." Talia began to explain, "He kicked me out of the League, briefly, and I had some semblance of a normal life. I fell in love with a baker. Tom is our son, before I ever met your father. Essentially, he is your older brother."

She sighed, "Everyhting was fine and I was happy, until he sent someone to exterminate us. Before I killed him, I learned my death was a test. Kill me and become successor to the League. I returned with his head and threw it at your grandfather's feet. He looked at me and said he would allow me back on one condition."

"What was it?" Damian asked.

"I had to leave my family." she admitted, "I said I understood and would be back in three months. I knew he would never stop coming after us."

"Why three months?" her son questioned, "You were already there. Did they not know of the League?"

"Tom was getting married and no, my family knew nothing about the League. I returned and told my family I would be 'traveling in my old age'. A few years after he got married, I came back to a three year old granddaughter. Your grandfather found out and forbid my return."

"Grandfather is dead." Damian spoke.-changing subject

"I've been stopping in more." she declared, "They aren't like us. They're not like your father. They know nothing about my past, aside from divorcing a man, who made me happy. I tell them I'm traveling around the word. I wear a wig and makeup. At some point, I will have to stop visiting all together since anyone else will grow old and pass on. The League........you lose sense of time when there. Two years ago, I thought she was still three. She was turning fourteen."

"What about the man?" her son asked.

Talia smiled, "Reminds me of your grandfather, actually. He's all about 'traditions', so perhaps it was for the best."

"Nonna!" Marinette cried out.

"Please, Damian, leave them alone." his mother whispered.

Damian watched as his mother walked away. He had never known her to beg for something.

"My Leetle Fairy, are you ready to go back home?" Gina asked, "Do you have new inspiration for your designs? I can't wait to see the clothes you create this time."

Damian watched as the girl put her sketchbook away.

'Clothes? Designs?'

He smiled softly. She was an artist, like him. He watched as his mother got on the motorcycle with his niece. What surprised him was seeing his niece glare at him. Damian chuckled.

'Mother may not see it, but she is a lot like them. A little fairy.'

"Damian, a Fairy is someone who helps people who are lost in the dark. It's not always in a literal sense; it can be figurative."

The young Al-Ghul turned and walked in the opposite direction.

'Fairy is a suitable name for my niece. I wonder how Mother would feel learning her true nature? A Fae who lures in her prey.'

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[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [36] - Middlemist Red

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Summary: Patience has its rewards.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of sex.

Word Count: 4200

Series Masterlist

Rumors were an inseparable part of the ton, and you were well aware of that. Every season people found different things to gossip about and you’d had your fair share of being the subject of the said gossip, so it wasn’t supposed to be this surprising that they kept talking even after you got married.

But it didn’t mean you liked this particular rumor.

This was the second time Lady Whistledown had mentioned just how close Margery and Benedict seemed to be with each other, joking and laughing in the park when they ran into each other and even though you knew it was nonsense, you still couldn’t help the discomfort at the pit of your stomach.

Especially now that you were seeing it happen on the other side of the park.

“If I see your parents, I’ll give them a piece of my mind,” Lottie said, making you turn your glances to her. “They show up and make you feel bad all of a sudden? How dare they?”

“Lottie—”

“And to think they’ve been mean to you all this time?”

Well, what your parents had done was a bit more than just being mean to you, but you weren’t going to correct her on that.

“Simply unacceptable,” Lottie said, pointing at you with the cookie she was holding. “I’ll be with you at all times starting now, so that if they dare bother you again, I can handle them.”

You repressed a laugh.

“Much appreciated,” you said. “But you can’t be with me at all times Lottie, you have a wedding to plan.”

A smile brightened up her face. “I do!” she said. “But nevertheless Y/N, you are alright are you not?”

“Sure,” you said. “We don’t even need to talk about it.”

Lottie took a deep breath.

“I hate to ask, you know I do,” she said. “But have you seen Whistledown?”

Your eyes found Margery and Benedict who looked very much interested in their own conversation, Benedict frowning before he nodded at something Margery told him.

“It’s nonsense,” you forced yourself to say, and Lottie pressed her lips together.

“It is, but…” she said. “You know what? I suddenly remembered I had something to say to Benny, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Wait—Lottie no!” you whispered but she had already walked away from you to Benedict and Margery. Benedict turned to her, and raised his brows at something she said, then quickly bid Margery goodbye and followed Lottie as she started walking towards the street vendor to buy some lemonade while Margery walked to Lucy.

“Y/N,” you heard Anthony’s voice and looked over your shoulder.

“Anthony,” you said. “Hello.”

“May I?” he motioned at the spot beside you and you tilted your head in confusion, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Of course.”

“How have you been?”

“Fine—you never ask me how I’ve been,” you said, confusion laced in your voice. “What is happening? Are you sick?”

“No?”

“Are you dying?” you asked, making him roll his eyes. “It would be very thoughtless of you to die before you spend a lot of years with Lottie as a married couple, she’s very much in love with you so if you—”

“I’m not,” he cut you off. “It’s just that, Benedict mentioned a pair of unwelcomed guests.”

You pursed your lips, trying to shake off the discomfort.

“And?” you asked. “What exactly did he tell you?”

“Not much to be honest,” Anthony said with a shrug of his shoulders. “I don’t know the details nor do I need to. I just want you to know that we’re family, so whatever you need, whatever you want, just tell me, alright? No questions asked.”

You blinked a couple of times. “…Easy as that?”

“Easy as that.”

“I thought you would have a thousand questions.”

“I don’t need to hear a thousand answers to protect my family,” he stated. “You’re one of us now. We will always be there for you, no matter what.”

You blinked a couple of times, the back of your eyes burning as a warmth spread through your chest, but before you could say anything, Benedict and Lottie approached you with the lemonade bottles. Benedict pulled his brows together, then motioned between you two.

“No one appears to be stabbed,” he commented. “Is it snowing in hell?”

“Benny!” Lottie elbowed him and he repressed a grin.

“Just wondering,” he said as he held out the lemonade bottle and you took it from him. “Would you like to walk?”

“I would actually,” you said and took his hand, your heart skipping a beat as he pulled you up to your feet, but he didn’t let go of your hand contrary to before. You repressed a smile, then stole a look at Lottie’s maid before turning to Lottie and Anthony.

“Don’t do something scandalous,” you said with a grin, making Benedict chuckle and Lottie gasp, then you started walking beside Benedict.

“So Lottie finally forgave you completely,” you asked him and he nodded his head.

“Took forever but yes,” he said and cleared his throat. “She did mention that Whistledown piece though.”

You raised your brows. “…Oh.”

“I hope you know there’s nothing like that,” he said. “Margery is a very good friend of mine, not to mention I would never do that to you.”

“No I know,” you said in a hurried manner. “I mean if I’m honest, I didn’t even bring it up because it was such nonsense that I almost forgot.”

Well, that was a complete and utter lie, but lucky for you, Benedict seemed to have bought it.

“Right,” he said, nodding his head fervently. “Of course. Lady Whistledown must be running out of gossip to write about.”

“Yeah!” you forced a dry laughter. “I mean you and Margery? Honestly?”

“Unbelievable.”

You took a sip of your lemonade, then motioned between you two. “Because, you know—we’re married.”

“Happily married,” he added in a haste and you nodded.

“Albeit a bit untraditionally.”

“Well—”

“Your mother assumed I was pregnant earlier.”

Perhaps you shouldn’t have said it right when he was sipping his lemonade because he choked on it, pulling the bottle from his lips and coughing before hitting his chest.

“Oh,” he said, taking a deep breath. “And what did you say?”

“Nonexistent Bridgerton remains to be nonexistent,” you joked and scrunched up your nose. “I just said no.”

“Interesting assumption.”

“Uh huh,” you said. “Interesting and impossible at the same time.”

“I’m quite familiar with that concept,” he murmured and you frowned.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” he said, clearing his throat. “Let’s go by the river, shall we?”

                                               *

After the park, you had decided to go to your uncle and aunt’s house to spend some time with them and Teddy. Granted you still felt on edge especially because you were very well aware of the fact that both your parents knew about their house, and Teddy living there. When you got off the carriage, you looked around and let out a relieved breath upon not seeing either of them, then made your way to the house.

Thankfully, your aunt had no idea about what happened between Benedict and your father because you had only told your uncle at the night of the ball that your father had shown up.

“I don’t know how you and Benedict did it,” your aunt told you, excitement and pride apparent in her voice as a maid brought you tea and biscuits. “But Sir Henry Granville and Lord Gordon Easton! At my ball!”

“They run in the same social circle, auntie,” you said with a small smile. “All artists do, as it turns out. Benedict introduced me to them.”

“Well everyone in my Social Picnic Club has congratulated me for throwing such a spectacular ball,” she said. “I’ve even heard some say that it would be impossible to top it off, can you believe that?”

“I absolutely can,” you said. “It was a wonderful ball, auntie. You put so much effort into it, and it paid off.”

“With your and Benedict’s contribution.”

“We barely did anything other than inviting some friends,” you said. “Will uncle be at the gentlemen’s club the whole day by the way?”

“Mm hm, he’s with his friends,” she said. “Why?”

“Oh no reason, I just thought I could see him.”

She hummed, looking at you over her teacup and you frowned.

“I know that look,” you said. “What is it?”

“Is this about…” she trailed off. “What was on Whistledown earlier?”

You let out a groan. “Auntie!”

She held up her hands, gesturing surrender.

“It was on Whistledown,” she said. “You cannot blame me for being worried.”

“Just because it’s on Whistledown doesn’t mean it’s the truth,” you said. “In fact, it couldn’t be farther away from the truth. Benedict and I are very happily married, and Margery is merely a friend.”

She raised her brows, taking another sip of her tea.

“I heard that Lady Margery is quite charming—not that she’s anywhere close to you!” she added in a haste. “You are the most charming of course.”

“More like harming,” you mused and she shot you a lighthearted glare.

“Y/N.”

“What?” you said. “Just saying.”

“Benedict is completely in love with you, we all know that,” she said. “The same with you obviously, you are very much in love with him, anyone who looks at you for more than a second could see that.”

You blinked a couple of times, shifting your weight.

“I mean I wouldn’t say—” you said with a nervous laugh. “One could assume it’s not as—”

“Obvious?” she completed your sentence for you and scoffed. “Of course it is. Have you two seen yourselves?”

You cleared your throat, then reached out to take a bite from the biscuit.

“I’m just trying to make sure these nonsense rumors do not affect you two badly, that is all,” she said and you shook your head.

“It’s not—” you started but before you could even complete your sentence, Teddy rushed into the drawing room.

“Y/N!”

“Oh hello there,” you said, opening your arms as he flung himself to you for you to hug him tight. “French lesson is over for the day?”

“Yes!” he said and you pulled back to look at him, then tilted your head at the clumsily tied cravat around his neck. You stole a look at your aunt who looked like she was trying her hardest to keep a straight face, and turned to Teddy.

“What is this?”

“It’s a cravat!” he said, excitement laced in his tone. “Benedict always wears them, did you notice that?”

You bit back at smile. “Oh does he?”

“He does!”

“And now you’re…wearing cravats?”

He nodded, his eyes sparkling.

“I want them in different colors because Benedict has them in different colors, I told uncle and he said he would get me many,” he said. “This is uncle’s as well, you see.”

Your lips curled upwards. “Ah?” you said. “And you chose a green one for today?”

“It’s pale green!”

“Pale green, my apologies.”

“It’s alright, auntie told me it was pale green,” he patted your hand as if trying to console you. “We can learn those together.”

You nodded solemnly.

“That would be wonderful,” you said, reminding yourself not to laugh. “And you chose pale green because…?”

“Benedict was wearing a pale green cravat the other day,” he said, proud of himself for remembering it and you pinched his cheek.

“It looks wonderful on you Teddy.”  

“Really?”

You kissed the top of his hair. “Really,”

“He is growing up so fast,” your aunt said, shaking her head with a smile. “I fear I will blink and he will be a gentleman of the ton.”

You let out a laugh and Teddy took a sharp breath.

“Y/N, I will show you my new sculptures!” he said, tugging you by the hand. “I made a dozen of them, come and see!”

“Am I allowed to boast about how I was the first one to see them when you’re a famous sculptor?”

“Yes!”

“I’ll be back auntie,” you said with a grin and stood up, letting Teddy lead you out of the room.

                                             *

You had spent more time in your uncle’s house than originally planned. Your uncle insisted you stayed for dinner, so you sent Benedict a short note to let him know, inviting him as well but he politely declined, saying that he was in the middle of a painting. After dinner, Teddy showed you how he made some of his sculptures the way Benedict had shown him so by the time you left there, it was already near midnight and raining. A carriage went past your carriage a minute before you arrived home, making you frown and look over your shoulder, but you didn’t have the time to dwell on it much before your carriage entered through the gates and stopped in front of your house. The coachman helped you out and you thanked him, then rushed home to get away from the rain.

“Ma’am,” the housekeeper greeted you and you smiled at her.

“Hello,” you said as a maid took your cloak. “Oh I must change my clothes, it’s raining like crazy outside! Is Paula asleep?”

“No ma’am, I’m here,” Paula said as she rushed to you and you shot her an apologetic grin.

“Please tell me you did not stay up for me.”

“Alright, I will not,” she said and you let out a giggle, then started walking upstairs with her.

“I don’t know where this storm came from, honestly…” you mused, turning the corner in the hallway before peeking at the other end of it where Benedict’s studio was, but there was no light coming from there. “Is Benedict asleep?”

Paula didn’t answer you so you turned your head to look at her better.

“Is Benedict asleep?” you asked again, thinking she didn’t hear you and she shifted her weight.

“No he’s not, ma’am.”

You stopped walking, a frown pinching your brows together.

“Oh?” you said. “Where is he?”

Paula averted her gaze, making your frown deeper.

“Paula?” you said. “What is happening?”

“N—nothing, ma’am.”

“No, something is happening,” you said. “What is it? Has he gone outside or something?”

“He’s home, ma’am.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Where?”

“He is still in the greenhouse I think,” she said, still not looking you in the eye and you blinked a couple of times.

“Greenhouse?”  you asked, “Benedict isn’t the gardening type, what is he doing in the greenhouse?”

“They went there earlier, ma’am.”

“They?” you repeated. “Who’s they?”

“Mr. Bridgerton and Lady Margery.”

Your head shot up, your heart dropping to your stomach.

“…I’m sorry?”

“Lady Margery came here an hour after your note saying you would be late arrived,” Paula said in a breath, “She left in her carriage just now, but they both went to the greenhouse straight away when she got here.”

It felt as if the hallway was spinning around you, the fire of fury spreading through your veins.

You had to have been an idiot for not listening to Lady Whistledown’s damn gossip, because apparently Benedict wasted not even a second to prove to you she was right. He was in fact sleeping around just as the rumors said, with Margery, right under your nose in the greenhouse he knew you never stepped foot into ever since you had moved here.

You spun around on your heels to go down the hallway where you came from, then rushed downstairs, your heels echoing on the marble floor. You passed through the foyer, then made your way to the back entrance that led to the backyard where the greenhouse was, but before you could reach there, Benedict stepped inside through the door, a look of surprise crossing his face as soon as he saw you.

“Y/N?”

You passed by him without even acknowledging him, your teeth clenched in anger.

“Wait, where are you—?” he started but you stepped outside into the heavy rain, and strode across the backyard, Benedict catching up with you in seconds.

“Where are you going?”

“Greenhouse,” you spat as the lightning struck in the sky and he stopped dead in his spot for a second before rushing to catch up with you.

“No you can’t—”

“Why not?” you asked through the boom of the thunder, “Can I not see your bachelor’s flat you so conveniently and disrespectfully put near my home?”

He frowned as if he was confused.

“My what?” he asked but you scoffed and kept walking, your head almost pounding from anger. “Y/N no, that’s not—”

“I’m such an idiot,” you said, shaking your head. “To think I was telling everyone Whistledown’s gossip was nonsense while you brought your fucking mistress here the moment you heard I would be late…”

“What?” he asked, shock apparent in his voice as you approached the greenhouse and reached out to hold the handle but he grabbed at your upper arm. “Y/N, just wait a moment—”

You could swear your vision went red as you yanked your arm out of his grip.

“You do not touch me!” you snapped. “I never want to see you ever again, do you hear me? I will apply for divorce tomorrow morning, I will—”

You stopped talking the second you slammed open the greenhouse door, your breath getting caught in your throat as you blinked a couple of times, trying to understand whether you were seeing was in fact real.

You had refused to enter the greenhouse just like you had refused to garden when you and Benedict got married and moved here, and before that, you had seen maybe only five greenhouses in total but none of them looked like this. The large greenhouse looked as if someone had plucked it out of a painting and brought it into life somehow, and you felt your body move on its own accord as you took a step inside almost in a haze. It was entirely made of glass with the plants covering the walls –ivy, if you weren’t mistaken- with a sharp arch on the high ceiling. Even under the moonlight, you could tell the various flowers surrounding you were not among those you could find in anyone’s garden, yours included. It looked so magical that for a couple of seconds you could only stand there and stare with your jaw hanging before approaching a Venus Flytrap, still breathing hard.

“I don’t…” you stammered. “What is this?”

“Well,” Benedict said, leaning back to one of the glass walls. “For starters, it’s not my bachelor’s flat because I don’t have one. It was supposed to be a surprise for tomorrow, I figured you could see it better in the sunlight.”

You blinked a couple of times, then turned to look at him. “But Margery—”

“Has been helping me prepare this, along with Mr. Binsted,” Benedict motioned around you. “They know the rare flowers better than I do. I was going to bring you here once it was completed, took more time than I thought it would. I figured since you were outside, it would be easier for the finishing touch. Like I said, I was going to show you tomorrow now that it’s complete.”

You swallowed thickly, all the fury leaving your body as disbelief took over.

“Complete?” you repeated and Benedict offered you a small smile, then nodded towards the center of the glass wall you were close to, making you turn your head to look at the shelf. The lightning struck the sky again, illuminating the whole greenhouse and you took a sharp breath as soon as your eyes fell on the flower.

Middlemist Red.

You had only seen it in the drawings on your plant books, but having spent over a decade wishing you could see it in real life, you would have recognized it anywhere. You weren’t even aware that Benedict had made a mental note of your favorite flower considering you had told him about it only once so many months ago and it was supposed to be impossible to even find it to gaze upon, let alone having it for yourself, for your own greenhouse.

And somehow Benedict had found it and brought it to you.

“It’s not possible,” you rasped out, still unable to look away from the flower. “It’s—it’s impossible to find Middlemist Red, everyone knows that. It’s the rarest flower in the world.”

“I actually sent word around after you told me about it back at the flower exhibit,” he said, making your head turn. “No one knew where to get it but Margery knows someone who knows someone who—well, you get the picture. At first it was just the Middlemist Red, but then we got married and I know you love flowers so I figured maybe you’d like to have all the rare flowers in a place that belonged to you, so…” he motioned around you. “The greenhouse that is.”

You swallowed thickly, still staring at him, both of you completely drenched with the rain pitter pattering against the glass walls.

“It was just a bud at first, the Middlemist,” he added, taking a step toward you. “And apparently you need to be very careful during that period so we had to wait around two months, and they sent it when it bloomed with a gardener who took care of it on the way here, and you obviously would have seen it if you were here so we took it to Margery’s house, and she brought it here and I—”

“You had someone grow the rarest flower in the world and then had it brought here just because I told you it was my favorite flower?” you cut him off, your heart beating in your throat, all your body warm despite the storm outside and he nodded.

“I know you said you wouldn’t garden but when you want to, it’ll all be here,” he said. “I actually have people building a greenhouse back at the country house as we speak, I figured you would want one there as well and—”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence when you rushed into his arms and pulled him down to crash your lips against his, standing on your tiptoes. Your head was spinning with excitement, the fire engulfing you in its flames once more like it had when he kissed you for the first time that night. He cradled the back of your head, pressing your body closer to his while you melted into his touch and it felt as if you two were the only people left in the world, as if the storm somehow took everything and everyone away but you two.

But much to your displeasure he pulled back, drawing a petulant whine from your lips.

“I can’t,” he stepped back, making you blink dumbly in confusion at just how tormented he looked. “You have no idea how much I want to but I told you before, I will not touch you until you—”

“I love you,” you cut him off, still trying to catch your breath and the lightning lit inside the greenhouse once again, letting you see the absolute shock on his handsome face. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, then shrugged your shoulders.

“I tempted fate just a little too much it seems,” you tried to joke. “I do – I love you. More than I thought it was possible, more than you could possibly know.”

The thunder boomed through the greenhouse and you took a deep breath, nervousness pulsing through you as the words left your lips.

“So, my heart is yours,” you managed to say, shifting your weight. “If you’ll have it.”

Benedict let out a breath, then strode to you to pull you into a kiss, taking your breath away. The feeling was so intoxicating that every single fear, every ounce of nervousness washed away from your mind until the only thing remained was him, and his burning touch, his lips on yours. He lifted you up, letting you wrap your legs around his waist without breaking the kiss and pressed you back to the wall, making you let out a squeal upon feeling the rustle of the ivy leaves behind you, one of the pots slipping a little on the shelf when you accidentally hit it with your elbow.

“No, not the flowers!” you exclaimed with a giggle. “Careful with the flowers!”

“Right, the flowers—” he let out a laugh and turned around with you still in his arms, then laid you down on the floor, his lips brushing yours again. You pushed his drenched shirt off of his body, dragging your fingertips over his chiseled torso, the fire of desire burning through your whole body. He looked so mesmerizing under the moonlight that for a moment you could do nothing but stare at him while he leaned on his forearm, his body covering yours, his hand going to your cheekbone to caress it gently.

“We can stop anytime you want, my love,” he murmured, his words making your heart feel like warm honey in your chest. “You know that, do you not?”

You bit back a smile, then leaned up to brush your lips against his.

“Benedict,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t you dare stop.”

Chapter 37

[goblin-enjoyer]

Normalize the tf2 mercs as being absolute genetic freaks of nature under the hood. Medic is crazy and we know he gets paid good so he’s probably got lots of bits in his bin if you know what I mean.

Pyro is straight up nonhuman. Pyro is a fire elemental that the Mann brothers have bound to a hazmat suit and medic made a real boy by giving them meat. Not making her a human body mind you, but rather every time he gets damaged, instead of bursting into flames meat forms around the wound and it bleeds instead of letting the inner crea tur out.how? Wizard. Moving on.

Soldier has massive lungs that make him 20% more louder. If he was smarter he could probably echolocate his way around. That or sound attacks idk he eats wizard pills he could have hollow bones for all I know. Sure he has hallow bones now for rocket jumping. Im the one typing I get to make nonsense on the fly.

Medic put pigeon dna in scout and that’s how he makes his trademark milk-like substance. How this happens you may ask? Scout saw medics doves have sex while getting his second Uber heart surgery and said “man I wish I could pick up chicks that well” and medic said “good idea I will help you with this” and then looked at the camera and smirked. The administrator does not spectate medics lab/operation room/dove breeding center anymore. Also scouts immune to radiation due to all the bonk he ingests, though sometimes he does become radioactive sometimes. 

We already know that demoman’s body creates alcohol and that he has a ghost eye, but did you know that if you shoot him with some sort of piercing explosive round he will combust into flames. I… I couldn’t really think of anything for demoman I don’t play him as much.

Engineer always wishes he could have kids, but doesn’t want to have sex. That and he removed most of his reproductive/unnecessary/extra/mid organs with machine parts like 30 years ago. So after the events of the games and comics where everyone is happy and junk, he teams up with medic to make himself some half robot half human half whatever dell conagher is at that point at time children. He asks if medic ever want kids he can do the same for him but he declines as at this point in time he has perfected the art of male impregnation.(on various ape parts) dell is a great father and yes I added this part because the whole humanized sentry thing that went around a while ago touched my heart because despite the words of almost every engineer main everywhere I get so attached to the sentries I build that I die a little bit inside every time I die and my buildings get sapped and I have to just watch as my babies get destroyed. I get too attached to my buildings to play engineer

Heavy doesn’t stop growing, similar to that of a reptile. His skin is as thick as a rhinos. He hibernates for a month in summer because I said so. He has accidentally killed/crushed medic before and is now eternally cautious when in bed with him. Medic doesn’t mind, he knows what he’s gotten himself into. Heavy can also talk to birds like a Disney princess. Medic didn’t add any bird parts for this to happen he just was always like this.

Sniper can dislocate every bone in his body and go through cracks that are at least the size of his head. He will use this to show up in the most unexpected places imaginable. Is legally classified as an tardigrade in some places due to his ability to be fine in almost any place (volcano,Arctic,sewer system, a walk in closet so large it took him 5 weeks to get out, space that one time). Can go up to a year without eating (the team found this out at the same time they figured out the space thing). Swallows things whole.

Spy can shift his flesh around to disguise as almost anything, keeps the mass and weight though. Breaths mostly through his skin so he doesn’t cough due to his decrepit lungs. Was hit by a car once. Doesn’t have anything to do with the subject matter of the tf2 mercs being freakish beings with human skin but I just wanted to include it here.

Medic. What isn’t medic? The only thing consistent with his biology is that he can regenerate somehow. He alters his body so much that it is roughly equivalent to 1 tyranid hive fleet and 2,million ork painboys.(the tf2 mercs would be more likely to work for the orks than to ever work for one of the human factions in 40k and I just needed to get that off my chest) This is how he manages to get away with all the things he’s done. Banned from this continent? Just become a new person who’s not banned from that continent and presto you’re good! The laws don’t account for the ship of Theseus!

[vasito-de-leche]

I love how you write, your interpretations of characters are my favorite. If you're okay with it, may I ask for romantic headcanons of Horropedia (Reverse 1999) x Reader? I would love to know what he is like when he's developing a crush, how he confronts his feelings when he realized them, what he's like when in a romantic relationship, etc. Thank you very much!

;R1999 HORROPEDIA - Relationship Headcanons

Compilation of headcanons about Horropedia in a romantic relationship.

awe! i'm glad you like my stuff! and thank you for the lovely words and request, cause i've been itching to write for horropedia <3

i got a liiiiittle carried away with this one, hope that's alright!

Horropedia as a character is fascinating because at a surface level he's a mess and a walking stereotype - a "nerdy nerd" with a very specific hyperfixation on the horror genre, the tall guy with glasses who explains the plot and does his own thing regardless of how others view him, the first one to die in a movie solely because he's perceived as cringe etc, etc.

And yet, his medium is "logic" - he, better than anyone, understands the nonsensical laws that make up the concept of horror, he sees the patterns and the reason why some things are done this way instead of that way. Through logic, pattern recognition and analysis, Horropedia can pretty much understand anything and work his way around any problem, no matter how unorthodox his solutions may be.

In a sense, I'd compare Horropedia to Pavia. Both are characters who are subject to the stereotypes and images others assign to them - but whereas Pavia both fights and plays into all of these roles, Horropedia just brushes it off and continues doing his own thing, being genuine and unapologetically himself.

When it comes to romance, it's easy to assume Horropedia has no interest in it - they're two different genres that don't go together most of the time. It's also easy to assume that he would be a troublesome partner, due to the laser focus attention he gives to his interests. And the latter is partially true: his lackluster love life is entirely because romance hasn't entered his radar, at least not enough to pull his attention away from his one true love.

But I think this is where the aspect of "logic" comes into play. All Horropedia needs is that spark, to find something to truly become invested in when it comes to romance - once he finds it, he'll dedicate the same amount of attention to detail and care as the horror movies he loves so much.

On the subject of Horropedia developing a crush.

Similar to Click, Horropedia would need some time to start noticing the signs of a crush - the difference is that Horropedia is a little quicker when it comes to realizing he's fallen for someone. His forte is horror movies, but he still knows a thing or two when it comes to other genres.

When he cannot rationalize his behaviour around you in a way that makes sense to his current fixation or situation, that's when he knows. And given how straightforward (to the point of bordering on obliviously rude) Horropedia can be, I'd say he'd also be the type to address this crush right away. Now that there's this brand new thing in his life, he'd like to understand it better - to dissect and study the way romance is potrayed, explore how it feels and just analyze it to hell and back. Basically, he wants to know the rules, to figure out how to best proceed.

Of course, he wouldn't dream of confronting you directly, only an amateur would do such a thing. Instead, he asks his friends and pretty much anyone within his general vicinity. He wants to understand romance from every angle, to hear about it from all sorts of people until he feels like he knows enough to start forming his own opinions.

His questions are all theoretical situations that begin rather innocent, innocuous. What does the hero of a romcom do to get the romantic interest? Does it follow a three act structure? And should the third act climax start with a confession or the breakup?

Overtime, they become a little more specific. To the point where his closest friends might suspect something is up, until Horropedia finds himself asking about your interests so that he can figure out the perfect gift for you. Just in case. He finds himself watching romcoms and making extensive research and charts and essays into the genres.

The funniest thing to me is that Horropedia would be extremely casual about this whole ordeal, this crush makes him extremely intrigued in the concept of romance (an oddity for someone so themed around horror), he finds himself staring at you from across the room (this is the third time he's walked into a door because of it) and so on and so forth. But he's so chill about it.

When confronted about his crush - should Blonney or anyone else decide to tease him a little by prodding - Horropedia has no problem blurting out that he has, indeed, fallen for someone. But he'll take your name to the grave, not out of shame or embarrassment but because "he doesn't want to spoil the plot, as obvious as it might be".

On the subject of Horropedia confronting his feelings and some more insight into his mentality.

I'd say there is this small possibility of Horropedia feeling disheartened if he begins to neglect his real passion for the sake of his feelings - it's that sort of guilt and shock one gets when they realize they've forgotten their wallet the moment they're meant to pay for dinner, or when they realize they've forgotten to turn off the oven.

Horror is a huge part of his life and who he is as a person - literally look at the name he's chosen for himself - and given how heavily coded he is to be neurodivergent, I can understand this aspect of him. The feeling like one must choose between two things they enjoy, and all the other things that might come with hyperfixation, both positive and negative.

This is the biggest obstacle for Horropedia when it comes to finally taking the first steps into forming a relationship with you or confessing - the irrational thought that by doing so, he's prioritizing you and romance over horror, something that he holds very dear. One of his stories gives some insight about Horropedia's relationship with horror and how it's something he shared with (and possibly was started by) his grandfather.

I feel like he'll grow a little distant, as a way to set some boundaries for himself or draw a line between his identity and his feelings for you, separate the two so that he doesn't have to feel guilty for giving one more attention than the other. Maybe he simply stops bringing up films around you, because "you're probably not that interested anyway". Masking, he's masking.

But overall, I can see Horropedia being capable enough to get out of this mindset by himself - or with a little help from someone else. Either way, he simply loops back to realizing the obvious: you two were friends, before he realized his feelings for you. You were fine with the whole Horropedia Experience. You liked him for who he was. And he liked you just as you were.

Horropedia is the one who confesses first, the one who asks you out. 100%. And it's so unnecessarily dramatic.

I DO think that Horropedia would make sure to be the one who confesses, just so he can put everything that he's learned about romance into play. And he delivers the most award worthy performance. It would be all about redirection, an unexpected reveal - his skills and animations are also all about fake outs and misleading the audience, after all.

In my head, there's this whole scene about Horropedia asking everyone to help him out confess to you, and everyone is so excited for it - but then he just asks them to fuel this slow rift that formed between you and him, to act vague, distant and mysterious should you ask Blonney or Tooth Fairy about him. Again, unorthodox and weird, but he's cooking. This is all done with the intention of forcing a confrontation between the two of you, just so he can pour his heart out right there - it's all or nothing.

Again, I want to insist that Horropedia, despite being a logical man, still makes as many aspects of his life revolve around the things that he loves and is interested in - he likes films, he likes you. And while romance is not his preferred genre, he still wants to explore all there is about it all thanks to you.

That alone should tell you how much you mean to him. Even if his methods aren't the "proper" way, you know he's putting his whole heart into this. It's all over the top, there's fake rain, etc etc. Of course, your reaction to this is up to you!

If you're mad at him for such convoluted plan, he'll sit there and allow you to scold him to your heart's content - he's used to it as one of the many troublemakers that the Foundation failed to raise as model students. If you laugh at him because of how ridiculous this guy can be sometimes, he'll laugh along, trying to get you to tell him what he could've been done better to get a third act reconciliation. And if you start crying, jump into his arms and play along then he'll be over the moon, trying every single impactful one-liner from every romcom he's watched in the past few weeks.

On the subject of Horropedia and how he acts when he's in a relationship.

Dating Horropedia is pretty easy, because you're dating your best friend. However, it is very easy to misunderstand Horropedia's way of showing affection - those who are more on the insecure side or less receptive to his subtleties may feel like there's been absolutely no shift in the dynamic, that he's treating you the same way he'd treat Tooth Fairy or Vertin.

This is far from the truth! Once Horropedia finally settles into the relationship, he grows very comfortable and allows himself to just exist around you - which isn't saying much since he doesn't mask as much around friends, but it's all about the subtle things!

I like to think Horropedia is very particular about space, as in he makes a point not to invade people's spaces if possible and he'd rather remain in his little bubble. But when it comes to you, he's very casual with physical touch. He's not as cuddly and touchy as characters like, let's say, Matilda, Jessica or Pavia, but being able to rest his head on your shoulder means a lot to him, or just have you lean on him when sitting together. This is pushed to the limit when you two pull all-nighters, binging all of your favorite movies.

He's on cloud nine when you pay attention to his ramblings and makes sure to listen when you ramble to him as well. More than often, he'll do his own little research into the topics you like, just so you have someone to properly discuss things with! Horropedia more than anyone knows what it's like to be brushed aside for being too much or too weird, to have no one listen. Despite his confidence, he has had days of feeling like he keeps on talking to a wall, so he doesn't want you to ever feel like that.

It's all about sharing interests and recommending things that you may like, keeping up with the latest events and so on and so forth, having looong discussions at night about whatever topic you two are extremely invested in.

If these discussions get a little heated and end up as arguments, expect Horropedia to insist on arguing because he's just stubborn like that - it'll take him time to realize that he might've hurt your feelings, or that he might've be hurting too, but he'll come around eventually to talk it out.

Overall, dating Horropedia would be fun because he's full of surprises and excitement, but he's also considerate in his own way.

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day twenty-seven: car sex

>>> no one will read these anyway based off of the reception for nobara, but i wanted to give the ladies some love this time around &lt;3

>>> starring: maki zen'in x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: jealousy, homophobia w the zen'ins, making my own cannon, oral and fingering, car sex, semi-exhibitionism? i don't think so but just in case >>> wc: 1.8k >>> event masterlist:

formal events were the bane of her existence. she hated all the ritualistic steps of looking presentable for a clan celebration, of all things. maki has never been celebrated amongst her clan and she knows they won’t start anytime soon—so why did she have to show up and celebrate them? even worse, why did she have to drag her girlfriend to such an event? she knows half the elders will spend their time whispering about either her supposed powerlessness or her lesbianism, and the other half would be thinking about it all night long. she hated having to subject you to such nonsense, but her mother insisted–and she knew she’d never hear the end of it from her if she didn’t just suck it up and go. 

so here the two of you are, shoved into the zen’in family banquet hall in a tight fit. maki was absolutely uncomfortable, forced to mingle with people she can’t stand while trying to keep a possessive hold on you. despite the controversial relationship, she wouldn’t let it be lost on anyone. you weren’t here as a plus one or just a friend, you were here as maki’s partner and she wasn’t shy about it. they hate her already, she couldn’t give less of a fuck. her anger will make her the perfect protector too, she won’t allow them to say anything offbeat to you or their reckoning may come early. 

she also hated formal wear. it was impractical and stuffy, and she didn’t like being painted up to the nines, either. at least you looked amazing. you might be enough to make her rethink all her earlier opinions. seeing you tucked into a gorgeous kimono was definitely a lifeline to get her through the night—naobito’s birthday celebrations could perhaps pass harmlessly by with nothing more than the memories of how good you look. the silk highlights your body for days, tight around your chest and flowing down your legs. whereas maki feels completely out of place with rouge and lipstick on he skin, somehow it makes you look even more elegant and graceful. you’re flawless, evidence that maki is indeed good enough to deserve happiness. she keeps your hand in hers for the better part of the evening, fake smiling to some clan members while she keeps her scowl for others, you couldn’t quite find a rhyme or reason to her reactions. it isn’t until she’s pulled away by her sister that you’re able to understand. 

of course you were familiar with the atrocities of the zen’in, and it made you more than just a little uncomfortable to be surrounded by them, but with maki by your side, you knew that no harm would possibly come to you. but with her gone, well. now you’re left wide open. 

they don’t waste any time, a wall of zen’in has formed around you with various men bidding for your attention by offering you drinks and compliments, swearing that a zen’in man could give you a much better time than any woman—but especially one as weak and powerless as maki. their sentiment makes you snarl, but you don’t know how far maki is—meaning you don’t know how crude you can be with all these disgustingly vile creatures. 

“weak? naobito’s birthday or no—we can test that theory.” her sharp voice cuts through the cacophony of others. the men are quieted instantly, and you feel yourself smirk. they start rattling off excuses as to why there should be no fighting here tonight—but you hear the real reason: they’re afraid. 

maki has always been far more powerful than they deign to acknowledge. she’s a talented fighter, and you knew most of these old fuckers would be dead to rights if she really wanted to cause a scene. her presence is scary enough, brows set with a menacing look in her eye. she stares above their heads, making eye contact with you. 

“come. i think it’s time we left, dear.” she extends her hand for you to take, holding the stare of the disgusting old men that came to hit on her girlfriend the moment she stepped away. you skip forward to take her hand, almost giddy at her demeanor as she squeezes your palm in hers. you knew that she was pissed. she was mad when she woke up this morning and remembered this stupid fucking party was today, but now she’s irate. everything she thought would happen, did, and she didn’t feel like subjecting you to any more ogling eyes. she starts to drag you both towards the door, hoping that the hour and a half she had managed to occupy the same space as her family would please her mother enough. not that she quite cared anyway, hearing your little giggles of excitement told her that you knew exactly how she would remedy her bad mood. 

maki has a track record of jealousy, and you knew this time was no exception. this time may be the worst of them all, your girlfriend’s grip on your hand tightening as the driver brings the car around. her mind was racing with the harassments from the crowd, different cousins and uncles offering to show her girlfriend a good time after the party. tch, she didn’t have to wait. she would have you now, the windows of the car are tinted anyway. she opens the backseat of the spacious suv, jutting her chin out to the backseat. 

your feel your face heat up as you obey her, crawling into the back on your hands and knees. maki turns to give the chauffeur a tip, patting his knowing shoulder. she doesn’t much care if people know what she’s about to do to you in this car. in fact, she hopes rumors spread about it. the windows being tinted was all she cared about—no one would get to see her pretty little girlfriend’s faces of pleasure but her. she steps into the car after you and pulls the door closed behind her. she’s thankful for the air conditioning and radio humming lowly in the background, your noses pressed together for a brief moment as she adjusts your seat, pushing you back and ensuring she has enough space in the floorboard. 

you giggle a little, parting your thighs to give her room to sit between. she slinks between them easily, resting her hands on your knees as she peers over her lenses. you lick your lips in anticipation, seeing that anger in her eyes. 

“worked up, babe?” you tease just a little, resting your hand on her head. she raises a brow at you, quietly warning you to watch your attitude. you grin a little, knowing you could push her to her limits after the night that you’ve had—but you’d be the one to reap the consequences. so you lean back against the seat a bit, easing your cunt closer. she looks down at your middle at the movement, but she nods. 

“yeah. i’m a bit worked up.” she groans, bunching your silken skirt up by your thighs. her mouth salivates the closer she leans to the apex of your thighs. she catches your scent, grinning at the arousal already leaking down your legs. “they’re all just dying for a chance at you, hm?” 

you roll your eyes with a satisfied little grin, shaking your head at her. you pull your skirt up some more for her, but you know not to worry about anything further or you’ll further irritate your already ticked off and overzealous girlfriend. “just too scared of you to come around.” you decide to stroke her ego instead. 

she scoffs a little, amusement sparkling in the vast darkness of her emerald eyes. her fingers stroke over the center of your panties, and she hums approvingly at the dampness she can feel beneath. her lips tilt into a smirk, “and you like that?” 

“i love that.” you purr, scratching her scalp a little bit. she smiles softly and pushes the flimsy fabric keeping your cunt from her to the side. she gives you a breathy chuckle, watching the strings of your arousal stick to your panties as she peels them away, she’s enamored. 

“and i love that sloppy pussy, pretty girl.” she whispers, letting her fingers spread your lips apart. you take your lip in between your teeth in anticipation. she lets her slender thumb drag figure eights along your clit, face focused on your hardening tits and shifting face. you’ve always been so sensitive, it’s one of maki’s favorite things about you—how you jerk into her hand as she’s barely touched you, little moans coming from your pursed lips as the sounds of tires squealing outside overtake the music in the car. maki grins—you’re holding up the line, leaving the other zen’in’s no choice but to pull around maki’s signature suv. she chuckles a bit as she leans in, attaching her pink lips to yours, letting her fingers work their magic over your bundle. 

your body drowns in warmth, looking down at your sexy and strong girlfriend giving you head never got old. she always knew how to get you going, possessively shoving you in the back of her car was on the list. you grip at her hair as the pressure from her fingers intensifies, tongue slipping past your lips and straight into the hole—and she moans at the taste of you. your head rolls against the rest behind you, hands weaved into green locks in an effort to grind yourself down on her tongue inside you without moving her fingers. one of her hands pushes your thigh away, keeping you from breaking yet another pair of her glasses. 

she works in perfect time, knowing exactly how to send you over the edge without much work at all. she knows no man could tend to you so easily—making you cum like it was chewing gum or breathing. that’s why only she gets to wear the remnants on her face. you buck into her mouth, whines going high pitched. she taps your thigh, giving you express permission to cum on her face. 

you whimper, the affection in her eyes was enough to send you toppling over the edge. your hips shake, the dam breaking in your gut—your release covers your girlfriend’s tongue as she curls it inside, gathering all the taste of you that she could with a few animalistic moans as she sucks you clean. 

she pants a little as she pulls away from your cunt, tucking your panties back over the mess with a little smile of arrogance. “did that make you feel better, sweetheart?” she asks, pulling your skirt back down as she leans up toward your face. you bend down to meet her, she was still on her knees after all. 

you chuckle, giving her a soft kiss. “i meant to ask you that.” 

[foryiujeans]

cupid’s arrow.

synopsis. a wall full of hearts and arrows written by mysterious cupids of ships around the school, what happens seeing your name with a certain someone?

pairings. crush!sung hanbin x fem!reader.

warnings. none.

word count. 3.0k

general taglist. @forsobeans

“cupid’s wall is finally here!”

you've never seen the campus so busy. large groups of students hanging around and just having a good time. you arrive with zhanghao and ricky, both of them who were staring quietly at the students. you, on the other hand, you were holding onto your phone for dear life.

within seconds you're caught up in the crowd, loosing all sense of direction as you're swept up in a sea of excited students.

“y/n!” matthew waves you over the second he spots you looking lost. a relived smile adorns your face when you see him, thankful to have found a friend when the three of you were confused by the sudden crowd.

“we’re sitting over here." yujin takes your hand to lead you to safety.

you spot gyuvin and gunwook first, the latter sending you a friendly wave as you reach them. you’re fully aware of the other presence at the table, you can feel his gaze on you but you don't get a chance to even quickly glance his way before your attention is diverted.

"scoot round." matthew laughs, indicating for them to make some room. zhanghao guides you to sit next to him, offering you a drink, which you accept right away.

ricky was standing, gazing at the people who were crowding over a wall and writing on it, “what’s with them?”

“it’s cupid’s wall,” jiwoong said, “you basically draw a heart and write two people you ship which may become true.”

the boys really wanted to check the cupid’s wall out after the crowd has cleared less. you were for sure thought it was nonsense but since they made it sound more interesting, you guessed you had to check it out as well, with your crush.

in the corner of your eye, you saw sung hanbin was conversing, joking around and talking with zhanghao who was doing his presentation on the spot with his laptop opened on the table. the sound multiple of footsteps were heard as it went away. you head lit up and saw that the cupid’s wall had no one there.

“oh cool, they all left. let’s go!” gunwook raced gyuvin to the wall and took the markers and pens that they had placed to write on.

zhanghao went after you, standing beside you as you both scanned the wall with names and hearts written on it. the introverted boy had nudged your side, catching your attention.

zhanghao x y/n.

you and zhanghao are best of friends since middle school. he had taught you how to play the violin and tutored you for the subjects that weakened you while you tutored him his weak subjects. the brunette only laughed at the two familiar names someone had written while you held onto a small smile, chuckling.

"hi y/n." the familiar voice made your heartbeat panic.

"hello hanbin."

you tried not to let your flustered state show at how endearing he was-but nonetheless still annoying.

you softly push at his shoulder which caused him to rock backwards as he was bending over with his hands on his knees to be leveled with you who was crouching. he let out a big smile, not wanting to laugh in the quiet atmosphere of the school, although tempting because of your actions that he found ridiculously adorable. shoot, he even found your deep-sleep-drooling face adorable, proved by the countless pictures of you in his phones gallery. he looked at the boys who were writing names and hearts in one same area.

"i saw your name with hao’s?" he asked me, referring to the cupid’s wall.

"ah, we’re just friends,” you sheepishly answered and frowned at the second, “i don’t know who wrote that.”

he pursed his lips into a thin line, his hand holding onto his bag, “you’re not gonna write?”

the moment you shook your head, hanbin only lets out a small laugh and ruffled your hair. the warm feeling in your stomach was about to burst and you know it. he then stared at his other friends in front of him who were pointing at names and laughing with each other.

“y/n, look!” yujin grabbed your hand and wanted to show you what he wrote. more like they wrote.

sung hanbin x y/n l/n.

the huge amount of your name and hanbin’s were scattered in the same area with pink and red hearts around it. the boys had written all of them in one big red heart with both of your names in pink hearts inside. the blush on your face was pretty visible to which gyuvin and taerae had teased you about.

with a nod, you quickly pull your hands back to break out of the visions. internally cursing yourself for being stupid enough to think that the lover in the visions had been you-just how delusional were you now? sure, you've always been a head in the clouds type of person, falling in love with the possibility that everywhere you go, the next person you meet might just be the love of your life. eye contact with the cute dog walker at the park turns into getting lost in their eyes while walking under the stars. a brush of hands with the hot barista at the local coffee shop turns into holding hands while reciting wedding vows.

and though hanbin was indeed good-looking, even with his face half hidden under the shadow of his hood, this wasn't the same. he was a friend, and you thought he only liked being friends with you. ut was silly to have thought of the possibility of being in his future in the first place, but even more ridiculous to say it out loud.

you immediately shake off the thoughts when you catch him staring.

"so?" he leans forward, looking at you like he has some big secret to share. "what did you see?"

"um, your love life will be just fine."

"yeah?"

"yeah." the small piece of lint on your sleeve becomes so interesting when trying to avoid his intense stare.

the moment of awkward silence between the two of you excluding the noises the others were making in the background was heard. it was only him staring at you with an adorned smile on his face while you were avoiding it.

“i saw it.”

"oh." you swallow the lump in your throat. "i’m not sure why it's there either."

he knew you liked him, you were just denying it.

if he does detect your lie, he doesn't say anything about it. instead, his expression morphs into something softer. "love can be found everywhere, Y/ N," he murmurs.

and how do you answer? it might be too soon for him to know about your feelings, but it's also too soon for your heart to be speeding up the way it does. for you to feel a small burst of butterflies in your stomach every time he so much as stares at you for a moment too long, and for this cover story and the re-enactments to feel more tangible than the abstract concepts they're meant to be.

"besides, i’ll be such a good date for you." hanbin releases you and steps back, smile turning shy as he holds out a hand. "or boyfriend?"

the wave of silence between the two of you didn’t even make you realise that the others were already gone.

hanbin breaks into a soft smile. "you know, i’ve always wondered what you keep thinking about. when you get lost in that world in your head, what do you see? what do you think about?"

"it’s different every time," you murmur, trying to ignore the way your palms feel all too hot intertwined with his. "but these days... it's you."

you don't tell him that it's also getting to know him, falling for him, and imagining how you should be the one doing all those things with him like in the reading. it’s picturing a love that flourishes ever so slowly, one that silently rests between the two of you, growing steadily until a day when it becomes the only thing you can hear.

and though you leave all that out, your answer seems to be enough for him.

"me?"

"yeah," you say softly, avoiding his gaze that was staring into your eyes.

your words feed the twinkle of hope in his eyes as well as the one that seemed to have been blossoming in your own heart for a while now. maybe you can finally admit it; this would be the last time you see him, so maybe it wouldn't matter what happens now.

you know it when he leans in, breath but a whisper at your ear as he says, "you’re really bad at lying that you love me, y/n."

now you don't have to look into his future to know that all the scenes you'd seen were about you. Now you can picture it — hanbin looking up from your laced hands on the table and seeing your smile, face no longer out of focus. pulling away from your kiss in the orchard has you seeing your own gaze, surprised but content. and then there's this very moment when you see yourself in hanbin’s eyes and you just know.

cupid’s wall really did brought two together.

a/n ! thank you so much for reading and giving me requests. i’m thankful that you guys enjoyed reading it and giving all the notes and support. i do not own any characters, music or pics given, will definitely work harder for the next ones !

signing out, miaaa hihi !

[luxenvulpies]

[Missing-Link] CBT1 Info

Since the closed beta began, there has been a lot of activity with testers posting images, videos, and details (and some streaming). I've compiled some for easier browsing:

Character customization

Body types A and B

Character creation

Earring (whose?)

Some customization

Maku's drip

More drip

FFXIV Black Mage but green

FFXVI Jill Warrick

Purchasable outfits named after Final Fantasy jobs (each cost 2k jewels you know the ones)

UI

Equipment menu

Vertical and horizontal resolution with seamless transition

Gameplay

Dive to the Heart tutorial (stained glass may be a spoiler)

More Dive to the Heart

Meeting other players in the hub area

Timed battles (apparently may not be all fights)

Timed battle footage (not enough info on who or what is the opponent)

Buzz Lightyear and Sulley piece usage

Charged attacks

Ranged Keyblade

Grand Chests that contains a piece

GPS and walking on buildings with no care in the world

Losing all health & reviving

Raid battle completion

Raid battle completion screens

Piece enhancement screens :worry:

Donald piece screen (JP)

Prince Phillip piece screen (JP)

Mickey piece screen (JP)

Sora piece screen (JP)

Defeating area bosses grant coins to exchange for accessories. Accessories are enhanced with a chance of failure. Using enhancement records will increase stats.

Ireland

Auto gameplay result screen (JP): AP gained, defeated enemies, times activated(?), recovery spots used, treasure chests obtained, pieces obtained

Elemental wheel (no, this was not stolen from another game, so stop that nonsense)

Gacha

Winnie the Pooh

Some pull rates (subject to change!)

2 banners

Sora, Riku, Kairi Pieces

Story (spoilers!!)

JP intro (not sure if the English version is dubbed No dub, yet anyway)

Scala ad Caelum logo appearing (not really a spoiler)

Posting any text here will spoil it - just click the link

Other

Scala ad Caelum logo

Beta data size (~1.9GB)

Guide Moogle (Cute, kupo!)

Astral Plane battle music

AimmsBear's experience thread

Key_Cast's thread on game mechanics and some lore

Summary of Nomura's visit to the Artnia Cafe in Japan with reports from those who attended (via lottery)

Streamers/Video Archives

[leeadamsmusic3630] Multiple videos with specific features

[Dive Hearts] Game records/growth log, UI editor

Our Stuff

Post on spreadsheets with data from the closed beta

---

[passportclown]

Shockwave x Reader

Warnings: Lack of humanity and empathy, denial of subtle emotional attachment

Basically, Shockwave has subtle feels and examines his human companion experiment. Meanwhile, human just wants to explain the FNAF lore. No actual explanations of FNAF lore aside from mentioning a name. Struggled to portray and characterize Shockwave despite him being one of my Favorite characters. I'm used to writing emotionally volatile individuals. I hope someone can enjoy this, I liked writing it.

Takes place after TFP and maybe sometime during RiD. Shockwave is living on his own in a laboratory he constructed on Earth. Might make this a series.

ao3 link

My kofi if you feel like donating

Companion? Negative. Experiment? Logical.

Shockwave considers himself to be a logical being. No- he doesn't consider himself to be logical- he is logical.

But his small organic experiment truly tests his rarely fluctuating patience.

Said organic is currently sitting on his desk, incessantly chatting and yapping, distracting him from his current experiment.

He originally procured the organic for study, curious about Earth's dominant lifeforms. The creature piqued his curiosity, so he originally refrained from dissecting it.

He's currently questioning that decision.

"So, his name was William Afton, okay?"

Shockwave continues to ignore the organic struggling to explain the story behind some Organic Youngling games. He hasn't the faintest clue why the organic is insistent on 'educating' him.

"Cease your nonsense." Shockwave interrupts the human, bluntly and unemotionally. Not angrily, of course, Shockwave is much too calm to be swayed by a human. Simply.. displeased. The human flinches and Shockwave stares curiously. His finials twitch briefly as he examines the micro-expressions on the Organic's face.

Humans are so similar to Cybertronians, yet so.. different at the same time. Perhaps it's due to humans being closely related to Unicron. He ponders whether that would make humans a cousin species to Cybertronians, or perhaps a less evolved fleshy variant. 

Despite their small organic processors, they're capable of intelligence and emotional capacity. Many of his fellow Decepticons compare humans to insects, which regarding their size is an exaggeration but not entirely inaccurate. 

Homo sapiens. A widespread primate species. Their method of fueling is primitive but effective enough. They digest their fuel and their body expells the waste produced afterwards.

Their designs are intricate and delicate. Shockwave is aware of his large size and thickness compared to other Cybertronians as well. If he were to angle his digit just the wrong way, his human experiment would be offline.

He barely noticed how he was caressing their small form- no, not caressing, studying. He examines them up and down, his digits lingering on their skin through their clothes.

Humans don't come with natural plating, they construct their own. Innovative. Intelligent. Humans are inherently illogical, emotionally driven, and messy. But at the same time, they're intelligent enough to create weaponry and protection and homes.

Compared to Cybertronians they're primitive, but they've existed for far less time. Shockwave ponders how humans would end up if left to their own devices. How would they evolve? How would they change?

"Shockwave?" His human speaks up.

His finials twitch, and he nods in acknowledgment.

"Can.. can I tell you more about the FNAF lore now?"

...The human may be illogical, but they are Shockwave's. He will continue to study them as they age and decompose. They are.. an interesting and prime test subject.

[idlerin]

LOVE SICK

a suna rintarou social media au

pairing. suna rintarou x f!reader

synopsis. cupid! calling cupid! as the resident matchmaker slash hopeless romantic of tokyo university, you are the person people look for to get love advice or to set them up with the love of their lives. when suna rintarou comes to you asking for the opposite, to help fend people away from trying to get with him, to the extremes of even asking to fake date you, you couldn't refuse! mostly because you did owe him since he was on the receiving end of a bunch of your clients’ unsuccessful love efforts (hey, you do warn them your matchmaking only has a 62.3% success rate).

tags. social media au, college au, fake dating, matchmaker, romance, crack, humor, fluff!

warnings. time stamps are irrelevant !!, foul language (aka cursing), drinking/alcohol

status. on-going (02/15/24 —)

— playlist.

teasers

[name]’s reading list | suna’s playlist | [name]’s in trouble !

profiles

ppl who think love sucks + [name] | inarizaki dogs

episodes !

chapter names may be subjected to change as the fic goes along.

( ❥ ) — has narrative parts

ACT I

01. romance 101 w [l/n] [name] !

02. aren’t you like, cupid

03. the bucket list

04. dead, shattered, devastated

05. it’s all cliché and full of obvious red flags

06. passion is a passing thing

07. keep your eyes on me

08. im a matchmaker not a mathematician

09. ur like an exothermic reaction

10. a witch! she's a witch!

ACT II

11. my dearest,

12. lol didn’t think u were mine

13. who cares if he’s a bit psychotic (he’s hot)

14. the grumpy x sunshine trope

15. shitty romance books

16. will they won’t they

17. season of hearts

18. touch some grass

19. and the world stills

20. being with you is ecstasy

ACT III

21. will they/won’t they

22. you hate me? so enemies to lovers?

tba !

taglist is OPEN !

to be added to the taglist you can just send in an ask or comment :)

notes. hi so this was like supposed to be posted on valentines but i got impatient and hey its still the month of love so whatever ehe will not start till i finish nonsense since i need to learn how to do stuff one at a time! but yeah super excited to make this bc i love fake dating and i love suna rintarou hohoho thank you guys sm for 400 followers i love you all <3

icons used as pfps are not mine but the content of this smau is. please do not repost this on any other platform. © idlerin 2023

[alithographica]

Re: Redbubble & Alternatives

Redbubble is doing some nonsense and I've deleted my account. I barely bothered with it anyway, was mostly there for people who've asked for specific images as posters.

Anyway in doing that I sacrificed the $4.35 that was still sitting in my earnings. They only let you cash out at $20, so rather than drum up sales and therefore make Redbubble more money, I'm gonna do what I feel is $4.35 in anti-publicity for them. 🥳

tl;dr there are new fees that hurt artist income at all sales levels. Redbubble is either looking to cut costs and raise profits for funsies, or is in serious financial trouble.

About the new fees:

Redbubble offers their services to artists by allowing artists to control their profit margin above a certain baseline manufacturing fee. This was pretty cool! There's now an additional fee that will be charged starting May 1, 2023. It is not an upfront fee that requires you to pay out of pocket, but it does directly cut your profit margin. How badly? Well...

By Redbubble's own example, if in one month you sell $300 in products that you had set at a 25% margin, you'd previously earn $75. Under the new structure, that earnings level means you pay a $28 fee, so you will now be paid $47. That $28 represents a 37% cut off what you were supposed to earn.

There's a full fee table in that link, but other highlights include a $1 fee if you earned $2 (aka 50%!) and big sellers who'd expect to take home $400 will now receive $320 (an $80 fee, 20%).

It also puts you in a weird spot that earning $1 more in a month may bump you to the next tier, causing you to actually take home less money. Make $1 more, end up losing $11. Make it make sense. 🤨

About the new tiers:

Each shop is evaluated and labeled Standard, Premium, or Pro. Premium and Pro shops are not subject to the new fees, but there's no clarity on how to move from one tier to another. Redbubble says it's under your control but it's clearly not. Many artists are reporting that they have accounts with next to no sales that have been labeled Pro, and accounts with thousands of annual sales that are labeled Standard.

Action items:

Look, I'm not gonna tell other artists that they have to close their shops, or tell buyers not to buy from Redbubble if your favorite artists have chosen to stay. What you do with the above info is up to you.

What I will say is that many artists are leaving because the new pay structure sucks. I encourage people who buy from Redbubble to expand their support to other sites.

Attrition is arguably their goal here—they know people will leave over this, and that'll probably lower their costs and lower competition for the remaining accounts. But goodwill is lost easily and they're playing a dangerous game on betting how many stay vs. leave. I'm out.

Feel free to leave your feedback on Redbubble's feedback form here, but it feels slightly like yelling into the void.

Alternatives:

tbh I don't have a good read on things. If you do know of any recommended (or unrecommended) print-on-demand sites, speak up!

I will say that as of now (April 2023), based on my research:

🟢 INPRNT sounds like a winner if your game is art prints and stickers. Does not have any wearable products like t-shirts.

🟡 Etsy + Printify/Printful might be viable? Etsy always had higher profit margins than POD marketplaces, but it's a bit more work and they also do weird things occasionally. Also has a listing fee so if you're the type to upload a ton of designs, pricey.

🔴 Teepublic is owned by Redbubble. Doesn't have the tier/new fee structure as of now but might be imminent. Have also heard their customer service sucks.

🔴 Society6 is going to charge artists shipping costs, and there's going to be a (mandatory?) subscription service launched in the fall, so that's not a winner anymore either.

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Don't Fear the Reaper [Part 2]

Gender Neutral Reader x Rook Hunt Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: 'Hello Darkness, my old friend. I see you've come to stalk my store again.' Or, why fear Death when you can just Pavlov him with cookies into carrying your groceries?

A/N: Based on this wonderful brain rot from a very lovely anon! Continued apologies to anyone who actually knows French, because I do not lol. So Rook's babbling is all Google baby

[PART 1] [PART 2]

“I hear you’ve been dealing with an infestation.”

You arched a brow and pointedly settled the last of the little, strawberry, tarts into its box with a heavy plap. You took your time piping a neat dollop of cream on the top and then fixing the tiny sugar berry adornments into a smiley face.

“You’re free to call the health inspector,” you intoned, handing over the box. “That’ll be ten copper, your highness.”

Riddle’s face went as red as the dessert in his hands.

“Don’t call me that!” he hissed, ducking back further beneath the hood of his cloak. The cloak that was clearly made of the finest, crimson, silks money could buy. The one with real gold embroidered along the crisp edges and an ivory clasp shaped into a literal crown. 

You shrugged. At least he’d moved past demanding outright that ‘of course he wasn’t the prince! How dare you! To think yourself so presumptuous! As if royalty would ever even consider visiting this hovel of yours! Off with your head!’ Those had been a fun few weeks.

You poked around in your stacks upon stacks of baked goods and unearthed a little, cherry, cookie. You slipped it into the box alongside his tart and hoped that counted as a metaphorical pat on the head. There, there, little lord. This humble one will tell no one of your secret, commoner, shames.

Some of that choked-red color started to fade from his cheeks, and Riddle accepted the offering with an expression that on any normal person you might have called a pout.  

“I was trying to be tactful,” he spat, tucking the bribe further into the packaging with a stiff twitch of the fingers. “But I don’t know why I even bother.”

You shrugged again and made brief eye contact with the terribly unsubtle guard stationed at your front door. Cater, or Carter, or something like that. He greeted everyone who walked by with a cheerful little wave and a wink. He was charismatic, and loud, and apparently—as you had discovered when you’d tried to hand him a little slice of cake as a consolation treat for putting up with his charge’s emotionally constipated nonsense—hated sweet things with every fiber of his being. You didn’t trust him for a second.

The pair of you locked gazes over Riddle’s shoulder, and his lips quirked into a smirk that was sharper than it was fond. Ah. So it was one of those days, was it?

“Is there something else you wanted?” you prodded intentionally, as Riddle turned to make his retreat.

The Prince paused for a moment, and you watched his teeth worry a bit at his lower lip—a nervous habit he claimed forwards and backwards he absolutely did not possess. After a moment of silent deliberation, he straightened his spine into something stiff and regal.

“There are rumors going around that your business may be suffering from a… pest problem,” he said, like he was chewing over each word individually. “And while I firmly believe that people should endeavor to work through their own problems, if this is indeed a problem…” he paused, hands tightening a bit around the pastry box tucked neatly between his palms before looking back up to meet your gaze with that harsh sort of determination that always made him seem very much like someone who ought to be ruling over entire kingdoms. “I’m certain the Royal Family would be more than happy to come to the aid any of their subjects, should they ask for it.”

You ducked your head in a nod that you hoped was the appropriate level of polite for such a declaration.

“Your concern is appreciated, your high—”

His face twisted up in a sneer and you beamed.

“—Highly esteemed customer,” you finished with a chirp. “But I’m perfectly capable of crushing a few cockroaches.”

Riddle nodded at you tightly and made a swift exit. Cater flicked his fingers at you in a half-salute and the pair continued on down the cobblestone street and out of sight.

“Do you actually have pests here?” a tiny old lady asked from her place perusing your shelves. She looked like an onion that had been left in the sun for a couple dozen years, and the question seemed kinder than it did probing. Like she would happily help you hunt down the little buggers herself. “Roaches, I mean…?”

“Oh no,” you reassured. “It’s much bigger.”

You watched the poor thing nearly go into conniptions and offered her a cup of fresh chai on the house.

.

.

As much as you had kindly reassured your most affluent patron otherwise, you were indeed suffering under the aforementioned ‘pest problem.’ And while your squishing abilities were normally the stuff of legend, you didn’t think there was a boot big enough in the whole world to rid you of your current guest.

“Quelle très belle matinée! And made all the better by my dearest friend!”

You grunted and let the door slip shut with a tinkle behind him. Rook nearly bounced to your oven and peered inside with all the eagerness of a wide-eyed child. You’d long since learned not to bother yanking him back from the flames. They never even seemed to warm his pale cheeks, let alone melt him into the puddle of charred goo that they rationally ought to.

“Macarons?” he chirped, and turned to you like he was waiting for a Good Noodle Sticker. He leaned closer, and you watched the sputtering heat sway around and away from him like a tangible thing. He sniffed a few times, looking thoughtful. “Flavored delightfully with that lovely rosewater syrup you were steeping last night?

You hummed in affirmation and handed him a little almond cookie for his efforts. It felt a bit like training a dog.

The first time you’d told a dejected looking Rook that he could eat his treat in your shop rather than using it an as excuse to punt him out the door, he’d practically glowed. And had apparently taken the offer as an extension of a permanent invitation. He still waited patiently at the front door each morning, still marveled at the merry jingle of the bell when you allowed him entrance, and always wiped his feet. You’d hoped a bit that perhaps overexposure to your meager, repetitive, livelihood would have him eventually bowing out from boredom. But if anything, he seemed to have become more enamored with your dealings as the weeks passed.

And now that you’d given him express permission to hover, his originally vested interest had become outright sticky. There was no more plastering himself distantly to the window when he could go and literally shove his face into an oven, or perch himself at your shoulder like a wide-eyed owl as you tried to whip egg whites into peaks without repeatedly elbowing him in the gut. He puttered after you like a duck quacking for its mother, spouting off every question under the sun about temperatures, and consistencies, and the merits of baking powder versus soda.

“And these are meant to be… burned? Yes?”

“Dehydrated,” you sighed. “And not these. You’re thinking of the meringue cookies.”

“Ah, I see. Those crunchy delicacies from yesterday that looked to be little clouds,” he hummed, nodding along. The feather on his hat bobbed over a hot coal and sparked with embers. You reached out with a frustrated huff to whack the walking fire hazard back into a gently smoking mess rather than the start of an outright blaze. “Merci, merci!” Rook trilled as you beat him with a damp towel. Black soot floated through the air like dust motes under the sun, and he grinned through your grouchy manhandling as he always did. “Ahh, cher pâtissier! You always do dote on me so!”

You were about to argue back about how keeping him from unintentionally annihilating your entire kitchen was not ‘doting,’ when your eyes trailed over something strangely gunky and off colored stuck on the back of his cloak. You leaned forward to pluck up whatever it was, and Rook’s fingers flew out to snatch up your wrist before you could even blink.

“Please pardon me, mon cœur!” he beamed, the lines of his leather gloves a soft weight against your flour dusted skin. “I have tried to be most diligent in keeping myself clean for our morning rendezvous! But alas, it would seem I’ve missed a spot this time around.”

Part of you was sorely tempted to ask what—who—had apparently dirtied his robes. But you decided ultimately that it was still far too early to be discussing the remnants of the unfortunate victims off his hit list, and honestly you really weren’t sure you would have cared even with another four hours of sleep and a full mug of caffeine in you. So you waved him off and went back to worrying over your spice racks and tallying cups of flour.

Rook pillowed his chin in his hand and watched you putter about with a sigh that sounded far too besotted for anyone’s good. Those eerily green eyes of his seemed to glow in the lowlight, and he only gushed even more ridiculously when you launched a wet rag at the mess on his back and demanded he mop up his own nonsense or get out.  

.

.

You didn’t realize that Rook was slowly staying later and later into the day until Ace came by to collect your weekly booklet of receipts and would not step through the door.

“What are you, contagious?” you harumphed, pointedly leaning over the threshold to shove your collection of bits and bobs into his waiting hands rather than stepping out into the street to join him.

“More like superstitious,” he snipped. He crossed his arms and gave your shop a pointed once over. “I thought Egg Boy was overexaggerating, but you really just…” He waved his hands around his head for a moment before letting out an angry huff that sounded a bit too much like an overboiled kettle. “Don’t you have any sense of self-preservation?!”

“You literally ate raw dough off my floor less than a month ago,” you accused.

“I already told you I didn’t know it wasn’t cooked!—And that’s not the point!” he seethed. “Don’t you realize who that is?” he continued, voice dipping into one of those angry whispers that was never really a whisper.

You rolled your eyes and turned to shout over your shoulder. “Rook Hunt?”

The blonde instantly perked up from his place perched by the counter, where he’d very clearly been watching this entire exchange with a lazily curling grin.

“Oui! However can I be of assistance to you, my lovely, darling, pâtis—”

You turned back to Ace.

“Yes, I know who he is.”

“—And of course I know who you are as well!” Rook barreled onwards, slipping forward to drape himself along your shadow like a cat might settle itself into a sunbeam. He never leaned on you outright, but he always made a point to get close enough that he may as well have. “The wonderful artiste who has shown me nothing but the greatest kindness! Ah, mon humain préféré! With your endless hospitality and words sweeter than even the finest of the confections you craft!”

Ace’s expression twisted up like the very idea of another living being considering you to be even halfway pleasant was a war crime. Which, you know, totally fair. But before your redheaded acquaintance could continue with his appalled gaping, Rook leaned over your shoulder with a smile that looked not quite right on his face. The wide brim of his hat obscured your view of the rest of him—casting the remaining slopes of his sharp features into inky darkness.

“And but of course, I know you as well, Monsieur Trappola!”

Whatever rotten, sour, look Ace had been pulling froze over into something nearly deathlike. He went so pale so quickly your thoughts swung back to wondering if maybe he really was contagious with something.

Your shaky friend? Fellow gossip? associate audibly gulped, but when neither he nor your leech of a guest said anything further, you prompted them both with a vaguely curious, “Oh? You’ve met before?”

“Not recently,” Rook trilled, sounding positively delighted. “But I suppose I am familiar with everyone in this petite ville one way or another.”

You hummed, not particularly satisfied with that non-answer of an explanation. But your brief bought of inquisitiveness was quickly being overshadowed by the very real risk that Ace may actually topple over frothing at the mouth and twitching like a rabid racoon at your doorstep. Which would no doubt be terrible for business.

“You better get going,” you prompted, debating giving him a shove with your foot. “Before you start running behind on your pickups.”

“Right…” Ace muttered, swallowing past a lump in his throat. “I should—I’ll be doing that. Leaving. I’ll be leaving.”

“Adieu, Monsieur Trappola!~” Rook called, as the door slid shut with a pleasant tingle. “I’m certain we’ll be seeing you!”

There was a lingering, creaking, da-dong sound from overhead and you wondered idly if maybe there was something a bit off with your bells.

.

.

That afternoon, after you finally heaved an exhausted sigh of relief and flipped the ‘OPEN’ sign at your storefront to ‘CLOSED,’ Rook was still perched on the little stool you’d set out for him. The late-day sunshine cast him in all sorts of unfamiliar shades of gold, and while the shadows beneath his feet had always seemed to stretch a bit long and sit a bit oddly, they twitched even more strangely in the glow of the summer light. You blinked at him in open surprise, and he blinked back at you.

“What are you still doing here?”

“Mon chéri, I am always here!” he chirped, and you rolled your eyes towards the ceiling in a silent bid for patience.

“No you’re not,” you argued. “I think I would have noticed.”

Rook held a gloved hand to his mouth to smother a laugh and shook his head at you like you were just the funniest little thing.

“As you say, my tenacious pâtissier.”

You sighed and moved to untie the ribbon of your apron. “Whatever. I suppose I could use your help anyways. I need to run to the markets.”

The Bounty Hunter’s eyes lit with that familiar, sparkling, enthusiasm and he clasped his fingers in his lap with a gust of breath that sounded like it rattled every one of his bones as it squeaked its way out of him.You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. You hoped he hadn’t caught whatever mystery ailment Ace had been sagging under when he’d arrived at your door that morning.

“Shopping!” he outright beamed, putting the glitter of the afternoon sun to shame. “Une nouvelle aventure avec mon amour! Et en journée! Temps à passer avec—”

“Enoughwith your nonsense,” you groaned, tossing your dirtied apron onto a free hook. “Do you want to come or not?”

“But of course! I would be most honored to—”

You shoved a wicker basket into his hands and hurriedly moved to usher him out the door before he could begin monologuing in earnest.

Rook walked the familiar path to the markets like a tourist on holiday—stopping every now and again to wax poetic about the way that a potted flower looked in the afternoon light, staring in awe at each bizarre crack in the pavement as if it was a natural marvel worth gawking at. He muttered something dazedly under his breath at one point about ‘what messes might embed themselves in these fissures of the earth,’ but you carried on like you’d gone blind and deaf. A skill you’d become incredibly proficient with as of late.

When you finally arrived at the little hub of stalls, there was an audible gasp from somewhere in the thin crowds. You decided once again that you were better off feigning impairment and pushed onwards as if you had no idea that people were parting around you and your new companion like the pair of you were riddled with plague sores. The gossipy man who sold you your favorite strawberries went a bit green when you approached, and you continued merrily with your farce.

You had only just leaned forward to get a better look at some of the berries you tended to hoard like a dragon to gold, when suddenly the bright reds and blues beneath your fingers went nearly grey—nearly rotten. There was a long, sharp, shadow curling along the fruit. Rook was hovering at your shoulder, as he of course tended to do, and you glanced between him and the twisting, creeping, darkness swallowing the contents of the little stall in front of you. Clearly it was his purple-clad frame blocking the sunlight and casting all these weird shadows, but it was still a bit bizarre. It was like the brightness itself was being sucked from the afternoon, rather than just the cool play of the light that it ought to be.

You reached out curiously to poke a finger into the dancing bits of darkness and were surprised to find that it felt like something solid. A tangible sort of bite against your skin. Something sharp, and cold as the grave—

“Perhaps the melons, mon cœur!” Rook chirped loudly, redirecting your prodding with a cheery nudge. “They smell enticingly ripe.”

You hummed, your musings on the unnatural settling into the back of your mind in favor of reaching out to give the fruits a good shake. They did feel quite nice.

Rook swayed a bit at your shoulder, and you glanced up at him with an arched brow.

“Are you alright?”

“I do not often spend time in the sun,” he admitted, and you blinked once again at those lanky shadows before turning on him with a tight, little, frown.

“You should have said something,” you scolded. “I would have brought you a—” your eyes landed on his wide brimmed hat and its cheerful, black, feather as it bobbed in the breeze. “…never mind. But you still should have told me.”

“Ah, your worry is a balm upon ma pauvre âme!” he crooned, resting his palm against his heart. “What has a wretched creature such as I done to earn such warm regard? And alas—what then could this poor beast do to maintain such a blessing?”

“He could help me find a bag of milled flour for one thing,” you sighed, hoping to derail the burgeoning soliloquy.

“But of course!” he chirped and immediately darted off around a corner to hunt down what you’d asked of him.

You gathered up a heaping portion of fresh berries (back to the their healthy, summer, glow now that your shadow had been sent away), and ruffled around in your bag to retrieve the coppers needed to pay for your haul. The vendor reached out a shaky hand to clasp at your wrist and you raised a brow at him curiously.

“Are you okay?” he hissed, still a very unpleasant shade of sea-sick.

“Are any of us really?” you intoned blandly, and dropped the required coins neatly on the cart.

You’d only just turned back around when Rook came trotting back through the rows of carts—three gigantic sacks of flour tossed over one shoulder. It looked absolutely ridiculous, with the mass of them rising far past his head and setting his hat at an awkward slope.

“That seems a little excessive,” you sighed.

“Non, non!” he argued. “You are nearly out! There will certainly not be enough to prepare both the croissants and that lovely chocolate cake you were planning to make.”

“Oh,” you blinked, and mentally tried to tally up whatever had remained of your provisions. He was probably right—you’d gone a bit overboard experimenting with different types of pretzel dough. “You don’t mind carrying that, do you?” you asked with a furrowed brow. “That all looks like it weighs nearly as much as you do.”

Rook chuckled pleasantly under his breath, and somehow managed to dip forward into a bow that didn’t end with the enormous sacks balanced atop his shoulders spilling forward all over the road.

“It would be my pleasure, mon cœur,” he smiled, very nearly a purr.

You shrugged and went back to meandering contentedly through the stalls, happy to push all of the menial physical labor off onto someone who seemed more than delighted to relish in its ache. Rook trailed merrily at your heels—the sun heavy at his back and highlighting each step with those dripping, inky, shadows. The faint outline of a ragged, hooded, robe brushed nearly unseen through the dirt, broken only by trailing, white, puffs of loose flour.

.

.

.

TAG LIST [CLOSED]

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[m-musings]

Headcanons: Roronoa Zoro as Your Boyfriend

A/N: can we get a little commotion for the swordsman, i love him sosososo much! anyway have some headcannons of how Zoro would behave with a romantic partner!

Word Count: 463 Warnings: none, it's all fluffy goodness!!!

Zoro is quite a dream of a significant other.

He might be kind of a sarcastic butthead at times, but he really would be the sweetest boyfriend to you!

To start, He's so kind in his own unique way. Whether that's reaching something for you that you can't or helping you train in whatever fighting style you use, he's always the one to lend a hand.

Also, while not always physically affectionate, he always makes sure to send a compliment or two your way when he thinks you deserve one.

No matter what you look like and as long as he's sure you're a good person in your heart, he's pretty much smitten with you, always subconsciously gravitating towards wherever you are at the current moment.

Zoro may be a bit quiet and reserved at times, but you're one of the only ones that can make him genuinely smile.

Be it by intentionally doing something that he finds funny, giving him something that he likes or simply being there for him when he needs support, just being around you during those times makes him that much happier to have you around.

Plus, your touch is one of the few things that can instantly soothe him when he's agitated.

And he is so supportive of you! If you have a talent or hobby you enjoy doing, he's watching from the sidelines, silently cheering you on with a hint of a smile on his usually stoic face.

Despite normally being a no nonsense kind of guy, Zoro loves to tease you to get a flustered reaction. He thinks you're so cute when you blush in embarrassment.

But it isn't always sunshine and rainbows between the two of you. There's definitely some fights about some of his habits.

Depending on the exact subject of the arguments, he will either ignore you or avoid you completely for a while, opting to go do other things until he can cool his temper down.

But once he's able to get a grip on his emotions, he's almost always the one to apologize first by knocking on your door with flowers or your favorite food/candy in hand as a way to say he's sorry.

And when all is said and done, Zoro's most favorite thing in the world to do would be spending time with you.

While he would never admit it out loud, he would trade all the money and riches on earth for just one night with you, gazing up at the star-lit night sky and kissing the top of your head while you rest it comfortably against his shoulder.

He'd sit there, cherishing the time alone with you on the deck of the ship and wondering exactly which being blessed him by giving him you to love.