#their most popular ones are the oldest

[vocalsynthbdays]

Bebo Akapane’s birthday is coming up on October 29th. Just a heads up. He’s not that well known but theres one person who makes covers with him! Im friends with said person btw!

- Bebo’s voice provider

oh thank you for letting me know !! i absolutely do not mind posting about unknown synths; ive got some with like literally zero covers, or with no wiki nor db entries, so ill gladly post about bebo !

[hahaweevil]

I made Smurfette’s Spotify Smurfify wrapped a while ago and wanted to do Brainy’s

[apotelesmaa]

One of the funniest things about hollow knight is that there’s a character named elder bug who is set up as an old man character yet confirmed to be younger than like 80% of the cast. The small baby shaped protagonist is actually older than most of the other characters, (probably) including hornet.

[lovevalley45]

here’s a fun thxgiving fact for y’all - the fierrochase thanksgiving fanfic i wrote in 2016 (!) remains the most popular single-chapter fic on my ao3

[vickorydickorydock]

I get why giving the turtles an age order can be fun sometimes, but I hate that assigning oldest-middle-youngest dynamics so often comes at the expense of canon characterization

[blapis-blazuli]

"Oh, Clay from Pokémon has a daughter? Did they mention who her other parent is?"

(Searching several threads and seeing multiple "eww but he's fat" and "eww but he's old" and "eww but he's ugly" comments later)

"...The internet was a mistake"

[choface]

-

[church-bread-official]

This founder feels like there are either people who are also very passionate about bread, or that they (this founder) are just being baited for reblogs./j

Either way, the increase of bread posts is nice.

[autolenaphilia]

I don’t care about accusations of ”pedophilia.” I will not give a fuck, I won't investigate your claims, I will just ignore it.

For one thing the accusation of pedophilia is often entirely meaningless. This is because pedophile/pedo etc are words that carry the taint of child rape, of calling up the disgust such an act naturally produces, but are accusations that don’t require such an act or a victim of it. If you call someone a “child rapist” that has weight, but you also have to back it up with a victim this person supposedly raped for the accusation to actually be meaningful. But words like “pedophile” carries no such demands, it literally just means “someone who has an attraction to children.” It doesn’t require an actual victim. It’s an accusation about how someone feels in their head and can thus be liberally applied. Someone criticizes your asinine submarine idea to rescue some children in a cave? Call them a pedo. And even words that once had a more specific meaning, such as “grooming” can be stretched beyond all meaning to mean whatever it wants to. Someone talked to under-18 people about sex and gender in a way you don’t want to? Call them a groomer.

In a culture of pedohysteria, pedojacketing is easy. And it’s especially easy to weaponize it against queer people, the idea that queerness spreads through queers recruiting children by molesting them is one of the oldest queerphobic narrativeness out there. I’m using “queer” here because this is a narrative used both against gay and trans people. But in the present transphobic/transmisogynistic backlash it’s most often used against trans people, especially transfems, as transmasc people are more often infantilized.

But on a more deeper level “pedophilia” is the wrong framing of the real problem of child sex abuse. It’s literally a medical term, a diagnosis. It makes child sex abuse a problem of some sick individuals with a diseased attraction.

This is of course a bad and antifeminist understanding of what rape and sexual violence is. It’s an inevitable and natural expression of power. The widespread rape of women is caused by the patriarchy, of men having power over women. And the misogynist oppression of women with sexual violence naturally extends to young girls. But all children are disempowered in our society. Adults have power over them in the patriarchal family, in the capitalist school system and other institutions of our society. Sexual violence against children flows from the power adults institutionally and systemically have over them. The vast majority of sexual violence towards children comes from the family and schools, not the “stranger danger” of creepy weirdoes hiding in bushes.

This is the reality that the framing of sexual violence as the result of sick individuals with a diseased attraction obscures. And it inevitably calls for a reactionary carceral and psychiatric response, justifying the police, prisons and psychiatric institutions. That’s why “what will we then do with the pedophiles?” is such a popular clichéd response to prison and police abolitionism. This very framing of the problem calls for a carceral response. If the problem of child sex abuse is sick individuals instead of the system, if we constantly root out and punish individuals we will eventually solve the problem.

In reality carceral responses actually make the problem of sexual violence much worse. The police, prisons and involuntary psychiatric hospitals are violent expressions of power and thus create the conditions for rape.

Pedohysteria is constantly used to justify the expansion of state power. Here in European Union we have had a legislative push to ban end-to-end encryption and make all online communication accessible to law enforcement, total online surveillance. And the reasoning is because otherwise pedophiles can use e2e communication to secretly send child porn to each other without the police being able to do anything, which is of course true, that does and will happen, but doesn’t justify killing all online privacy. This “chat control” act is literally called “regulation to prevent and combat child sexual abuse.”

The pedohysteria also justifies vigilantism, which tumblr callout culture is part of and is also a deeply reactionary and even fascist phenomenon. Vigilantism rests on the idea that what the police do is right, but they are not doing it well enough, because they are too reigned in by liberal ideas such as laws and regulations and the courts. So random people should take on the role of police to punish “criminals”, like pedophiles. And this goes through tumblr callout culture. A subtext running through pedojacketing callouts of transfems is the idea that transmisogyny does not exist and does not lead to transfems being disproportionately punished, but instead transfems are using their minority status to get away with sex crimes.

This standard conservative rhetoric about how liberals often literally let minorities get away with murder justifies their reactionary vigilantism. Of course in reality, transfems are far less likely to commit sexual abuse of children than other groups of people, because we are systematically excluded from the very institutions where such abuse happens, such as parenthood/the family or schools, because of the transmisogynist stereotype that we are all perverted child rapists. And the callouts of transfems as sex predators are in themselves abusive and protect actual abusers, just like how police and prisons are.

So no, I will continue to not give a fuck if you call someone a pedophile.

[sparrowlucero]

what's the flight rising art direction post?? I used to play that game

for everyone who doesn't know flight rising is a virtual pet site ala neopets, but with dragons. On its forums I made a thread pointing out that the dragon designs were becoming relatively more "same face" over time, with similar face shapes and often with a similar "noodly" anatomy my point being that they were both losing some of the charm of a lot of the animals they were based on (with bug, bird, and eel inspired dragons all looking somewhat similar and mammalian), and even more pertinently, not allowing for a wide variety of body types for user characters in the game - with most of the gameplay being a dressup/character creator, you see why having very few buff, chubby, stocky, etc character designs is a pretty big downside. These are the dragons released in the first half of the website's history, with the shapes outlined:

(these pairs are the same species but have somewhat different body shapes, so they were both outlined) And these are the dragons released recently. The stockier guy on the bottom left is the very oldest of these:

I also pointed out several of these designs have very similar faces, relative to the facial variety you could have with dragon designs (other two recent guys are outlined above):

In comparison, here's some of the head shapes from earlier dragon designs:

and yeah I think you can see what I mean about the shape language getting a bit more homogeneous. I expressed that I felt like the art team may have observed the popularity of the thinner, doglike dragons in comparison to the chubby reptilian ones and decided to err towards the former.

I also drew some dragons to better get across my point about shape language when people suggested I was failing to account for the fact that the "sameface" dragons weren't entirely identical:

(obviously I'm exaggerating shapes for clarity of point; clarifying here as some people believed I was knocking the art style and wanted it to be more cartoonish...) I also pointed out that you could easily draw very identifiable fanart of two breeds which people were saying looked different:

(someone told me these didn't read as fanart of either dragon. you be the judge, I guess) I did get a lot of very nice comments, both in agreement and disagreement, but also some comments that I was being disingenuous, arrogant, or (much more dishearteningly) suggesting that fat designs are simply too unappealing and that the artists can't waste their time on it because the website is a business.

yesterday they released a sneak peak at their newest dragons, which people believe are cetacean inspired. I tuned in as the initial preview (which only featured an arm) made it look pretty stocky:

but, shocker:

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[crowns-of-violets-and-roses]

There's an old probably apocryphal tale about Lyndon Johnson that was popularized by Hunter S. Thompson which goes like this:

This is one of the oldest and most effective tricks in politics.  Every hack in the business has used it in times of trouble, and it has even been elevated to the level of political mythology in a story about one of Lyndon Johnson’s early campaigns in Texas.  The race was close and Johnson was getting worried.  Finally he told his campaign manager to start a massive rumor campaign about his opponent’s life-long habit of enjoying carnal knowledge of his own barnyard sows. “Christ, we can’t get a way with calling him a pig-fucker,” the campaign manager protested.  “Nobody’s going to believe a thing like that.” “I know,” Johnson replied.  “But let’s make the sonofabitch deny it.”

Tumblr keeps making me think of this anecdote. There's a group of users on here who constantly demand if anyone mentions BDSM positively or even neutrally they caveat it by saying they aren't talking about abuse or if a man likes to call his boyfriend daddy they demand he disclaim that he doesn't support incest or if a trans girl likes to wear cat ears she needs to deny that she isn't into bestiality.

The point of this isn't that they actually believe it themselves or even a lot of the time it isn't about convincing other people that it's true but just to tar people by creating the association between two unrelated things by demanding that people constantly deny it.

[flowersandbigteeth]

Would you ever consider doing an Orc royalty arranged marriage? The Orcs have taken over a Human kingdom, because of their low birthrate (and because humans are universal breeders). The Orcs start scanning the Humans in their newly conquered territory for the most genetically compatible mates, which the royalty obviously gets the first pick of because the royal line is seen as the most important. Reader happens to be the most compatible with a member of the nobility, or maybe even the royal family, and so is married off to Orc King/warlord or the Warlord’s son/the crown prince/heir.

Yes! This one was so fun to write ^_^. I had an idea for a reader with a speech disability in my drafts, and this seemed like the perfect scenario to use it. It's a little long and very fluffy. Now that I've done this one, I kind of want to do one about Vola's romance, as well. (how they met, etc.)

Orc King (Golmad) x f reader with speech disability

Word Count: 8k

TW: there is a lot of orc fluff followed by nsfw orc smut, p in v sex, some light violence, bullying by family member, arranged marriage, size difference

“Straighten your back (Y/N),” your mother snapped as she adjusted the obnoxious pink bow on your head. “You must look perfect for the King.” 

She wrinkled her nose at you. 

“Considering your…deformity…You need to look as pretty as possible, so he won't toss you aside.” 

“Oh, shut it, Mauria!” Your father chuckled, taking a thirsty sip of his wine. “A silent wife is a blessing! He’s gonna be thrilled!”  

She gave him a withering look before turning back to you and fussing with a lock of hair. Tears burned at the back of your eyes, but as usual, you said nothing. 

“Don't make that face, darling, smile!” 

You pasted a fake smile on your lips, wishing you could be anywhere else. She licked her thumb and rubbed some stray blush off your cheek before she took a step back, looking you over. 

“Wonderful! Like a little doll!” 

“Oh look, the future Queen,” your perfect big sister Starla sneered as she wandered to the pile of olives at your father's side, popping one in her mouth. “You sure you don't want to fuck one of the stableboys before that Orc splits you in two? I’d hate for you to die before you have your first orgasm!” 

She and your father cackled in laughter, but your mother frowned. Not because she insulted you, but because your mother was the pinnacle of decorum. 

“Don't talk like that, Starla. It makes you sound cheap. You're going to be Queen soon. You need to learn grace and discretion.” 

She snorted, grabbing your father's goblet of wine and taking a big gulp.

“When I'm Queen, Rotham will defeat all these miserable monsters and put their heads on pikes! Too bad (Y/N) won't live to see it after that awful creature snaps her like a twig!” 

Your smile fell, and you looked away. As the oldest daughter, Starla should have been the offering to the King of the Orcs. But Starla was beautiful and brilliant and talented and popular and…blah blah blah. Your parents couldn’t waste her on the insurgent Orc king. The nobles all thought they’d make a comeback, stage a coup, and everything would go back as it should be. Starla would marry the human prince, Rotham, still in hiding, and become the real Queen. 

You were the spare, a sacrifice to placate the enemy. Suffering a sickness as a child, your vocal cords were fused. You couldn't speak or make any noise other than whimpers and mewls. The snobby nobles your parents spent time with had labeled you damaged. When they bothered to speak to you, they acted as though you were dim, as well, which you were not. That was the only thing you surpassed Starla at, you were a very fast reader and quite good with math. 

When the Orcs overthrew the former King, they said they were looking for fertile human wives. Humans bore children at twice the rate of the Orcs, so they’d taken the kingdom to secure their hold on the region with big, robust families. 

 You were all required to submit a blood sample to determine if you were compatible, and then you'd be assigned to an Orc husband. Your mother didn't dare submit Starla’s blood. She had to remain untouched for the human prince. So she sent yours and one of the maids. Yours was a match…to the King. 

You all turned as an Orc dressed in fine livery appeared at the door. 

“The King will see you now,” he said, then turned and left. 

“Look how they dress themselves,” Starla whispered. “As if they're civilized! What a joke! He didn't even stay to escort us! Savages.” 

Your parents chittered while you sucked in a deep breath. Your mother shoved you through the door, eager to get to the negotiations, her favorite part of any encounter. 

“Back straight! Chin up! You are representing our family.” 

You stumbled forward, following the direction the Orc butler had gone. You'd been in the castle before, attending court with your parents, but as you stepped into the large hall, you saw it had all changed. 

The old tapestries had been torn down, replaced with large pelts of animals you'd never even seen before, their heads preserved and their eyes replaced with glass balls. The old wooden furniture was now twisted iron, probably made by the mountain dwarves, allies of the Orcs. They’d provided most of the weapons that led them to victory. The new flag, green with a bear and an axe pictured in silhouette, was hanging behind his throne. 

Orcs lined the gallery, laughing and chattering, but they all fell silent as you entered. You took a thick breath, forcing yourself to put one foot in front of the other and ignore their curious eyes. 

You heard Starla snort behind you as if this was all hilarious. Her disdain made you lift your chin. You would not go to the King as her joke. 

Your first glimpse of your future husband from across the long hall made your eyes widen. Even from far away, he was massive. He must have been nine or ten feet tall and wide as an Ox. 

On his broad shoulders, he wore a thick fur stole over a neat indigo shirt lined with the same cream fur. His thick legs were tucked in matching navy pants and imposing black boots. His outfit was surprisingly human. Behind him, massive shining weapons were arranged on a stand, just within arm's reach. 

When you arrived at the end of the carpet leading you to him, you curtsied as you'd been taught. 

You couldn't greet him verbally, so you waited for your mother to present you. 

“Your majesty!” She crooned. “Please let me present my lovely daughter (Y/N), your perfect blood match!” 

You tried not to tremble in front of him, but this close, he was so very large! His gold eyes passed over you, cool as cold metal. You’d never seen an Orc close-up before, and everyone had told you they were ugly, but the King in front of you was…not. No, he didn't look human, but his jaw was thick and sharp, and his eyes were a beautiful, rich color, like the setting sun. 

Thick black hair fell over one shoulder, shaved to the skin on one side. A full bottom lip wrapped around large tusks that were more exciting than unappealing. His skin was flawless, olive green that reminded you of a mossy forest. Everything about his countenance screamed royalty, though he didn't wear a crown like a human King, his head tipped up, unafraid and confident. Instead, a chunky gold chain link necklace hung around his neck, with a large diamond set at the center, identifying him as the regent.

Your breath became labored as the reality that he would soon be your husband set in. You had no idea how you could be compatible. He was almost twice your height!  

The King nodded for your mother to go on. 

“Unfortunately, my dear daughter suffered a sickness in her youth that stole her voice, but she's otherwise healthy, untouched, and fertile. Fit for a crea- King.”

The casual discussion of your sexual history in front of a hundred-odd strangers made you blush and dip the chin you'd been trying so hard to keep up.  Before you could stop it, a tear slipped down your cheek, and you hurriedly wiped it away, probably smearing blush across your cheek. Behind you, your sister snickered. 

You peered back up at the King, wondering if he was disappointed. His eyes darted to her, and his frown deepened before they returned to you. Your heart sank, assuming he was comparing you to your stunning sister. Instead, he did the last thing you expected. He signed to you. 

“Is your family always this tiresome?”

You released an audible gasp, one of the few sounds you could make, but signed back. Learning to read sign language was something your parents and sister never bothered to do. You’d learned from the kind chaplain at the church, one of the few places your mother allowed you to go alone. He thought you ought to have a way to communicate that didn’t involve scribbling notes on paper—your parents and pretty much everyone else preferred to communicate at you, not with you. 

“I'm sorry if they displease you, Your Majesty.” 

A wide smile spread on his lips as he signed back. 

“You are incredibly polite for the daughter of such fools.”

You giggled, and your parent’s wide eyes danced between you. 

“You don't have to see them again if you'd rather not.”

At that, your breath caught in your throat, and you chose your next thought carefully. 

“Please don't kill them, Your Majesty.”

That drew a deep chuckle from his throat. It was rich and smooth, like chocolate. 

“Since you asked so politely….but if you change your mind, just let me know.”

You gave him a tight nod, unsure if he was joking or not. 

Your mother, not appreciating being out of the loop, cleared her throat. 

“Since the two of you seem to be getting along so…familiarly…there's only the matter of the reward you promised. Of course, considering the status of the match, (Y/N) being the Queen and all…we expect a significant...investment.”

The Orcs promised to compensate every family for whichever daughter they took. It was the only way they could get the citizenry not to revolt at every turn. Making each daughter valuable in gold appealed to their sensibilities, especially after the draining war. A thick eyebrow shot up on the King’s face, and your mother continued with her pitch. 

“You wouldn't want the family of the Queen living in squalor. Not because we are greedy, of course. Never that. We are incredibly humble. But we lost a great deal of our fortune during the war. What would the citizens think? You don't want them assuming you scraped some farm girl from the manure pile. We are a noble family and must exude a certain level of status, don't you agree? Especially considering her condition.” 

Your eyes widened that your mother would be so bold, but his eyes shifted to her and narrowed. He rolled a finger in her direction, signaling her to go on.   

“What exactly do you mean about her condition?” 

Seeing an opening, your mother gave him a genteel smile. 

“Well, we understand that (Y/N) will never take an active role in your rule- Her value lies in the heirs she can produce.” 

“And isn't that a blessing?” Your father piped in. “A pretty little quiet wife is preferable, no? Worth twice a chatty wench!” 

Your mother shot him a look, and swatted him. 

“I'm just saying…” he muttered before she went on. 

“What I mean is…people will assume things about her. Due to our status, the nobles all know she’s…not all there. I don't know how it is for Orcs, but the court here is…discerning.” 

She turned to Starla. 

“If my other daughter had been at all match, we would have sent her since she's a far superior candidate for Queen. Pity it didn't work out that way. In any case, I'm only thinking of your image.”

He glanced at you, signing. 

“Are you sure about keeping them alive? I’m growing tired of this nattering, aren’t you?”

You giggled again, your mother shooting you a look full of vinegar.  

“Killing them is probably not a good plan. My mother is made of tough stuff…I'm sure she’ll return as a noisy wraith and torment you about your posture,” you signed back.  

He let out a roll of laughter, crooking his finger at you. Blushing, your eyebrows rose, but you took slow steps towards him. When you were within grabbing reach, he snapped you up and settled you on his lap. He was very warm compared to the lofty, cool hall and smelled like ginger and leather. You couldn’t help but stroke the shiny black hair that fell on your side of his shoulder. You didn’t mean to be so curious, but you’d never seen an Orc up close, and he was quite the specimen. His skin was smooth and velvety to the touch. Without thinking, you poked one of his tusks with your finger. He flashed you a smile, amused at your interest, before he returned to your mother. 

“Since you are all so thoughtfully concerned with my image, it would be best to make you at home here, in the castle. You can get a taste of Orc society. You won't need any gold here. All your needs will be provided for.” 

Your mouth fell open, trying to read his thoughts, but he only smirked at you. 

“How…kind, your majesty,” your mother said, ever the diplomat. 

Starla was not happy and stomped her foot. 

“Mother! You can’t be serious! I can't be seen with these savages! Rotham will think I've been touched by beasts!” 

Your hand clapped over your mouth, never thinking clever Starla would say something so brash. 

The King’s face turned severe. His easy smile had tricked you into thinking he was a gentle giant, but his business face was terrifying. You were thankful it wasn't directed at you. 

“Rotham? Our enemy's son, leading a band of traitorous supporters? Are you saying you are harboring a fugitive and dare to show your face in my court?” 

Starla backpedaled as quickly as she could. 

“Of course not, Your Majesty, it's…it’s…another Rotham…a man from the village…a…butcher.” 

He relaxed. Which was odd to you because you knew he didn't believe her lie. 

“Good. He should be pleased he has a chance with the Queen’s sister. You can invite him to dinner if you like.” 

Starla’s face blanched, but she nodded obediently. He waved at one of the Orcs standing to the side. 

“Show them to their quarters. We will convene for a meal to welcome our new Queen shortly.” 

 When they were gone, the King turned his attention back to you.

“Would you like the chef to prepare something special for your first dinner in the castle?” 

You had no idea what to say. No one had ever asked your preference or opinion on anything. 

“We should eat what is traditional. You are welcoming me into your family, Your Majesty. I’d like to know more about your customs.”

Though he seemed satisfied with your answer, he waved a dismissive hand at you. 

“Don't call me Your Majesty. We're meant to be married. My name is Golmad.” 

He fingerspelled the letters, then showed you the sign he used for it– the gestures for gold and bear, together. You returned the sign you used for your own name. 

“May I ask a question, Golmad?” 

“Anything. I don't want you to fear me, (Y/N).”  

You organized your thoughts for a moment before you formulated your question. 

“Why do you know sign language? I can hear; you could speak if it is easier.” 

He looked you over, his expression warm. 

“I learned for you. I wanted to speak to you in your language. I knew you were for me long before you took the test– over a year ago. The test is for your human sensibilities. Your people don't rely on instinct. Demanding the test makes it something they can understand. I know by scent your sister is compatible, as well. But I don't desire her.”

Your eyebrows popped up at that admission, and your heart thumped in your chest. You never expected such care from a battle-hardened Orc king. 

“But how? I've never seen you before!” 

He smirked. 

“We Orcs are stealthier than you humans know. It's in our nature to hunt our match.” 

You frowned, a vicious thought pricking your mind. 

“Did you pick me because I'm silent?” 

His eyes narrowed, but the expression they held was not cruel. 

“You are not silent. You speak differently, but you are not a doll without thoughts. Your mother is wrong. You are the best candidate to be Queen. If I had chosen your sister, do you think she would have appeared before me as you did?” 

He patted your chest, not to fondle you, but over your heart. 

“You are a survivor, brave, and virtuous. I trust you at my side.” 

You gasped, feeling more seen than ever before, but also the weight of the responsibilities on your shoulders.

“Now, we must prepare you for Orc society.”

He tugged the big bow on your head, tossing it on the floor when he'd pulled it loose. 

“An Orc Queen will not be dressed like a puppy.”

A smile spread across his lips, and he stood, so large he could carry you with very little effort. As you passed the Orcs lining the hall, they bowed to the two of you, giving you the first taste of what it meant to be Queen. 

The bedroom he brought you to was very different from a human King’s bedroom. It had more plants than furniture, large leafy vegetation planted in a generous selection of iron pots. His bed reminded you of a nest, a wide pallet layered with thick furs in colors ranging from white to rust red to pitch black. There wasn't a spot you could stand in the room where a weapon was not in reach. Axes and swords were mounted on the walls, and iron stands on the floor. Daggers of varying sizes seemed splayed haphazardly on every horizontal surface. 

Golmad set you down and began stripping off the clothes he wore. Your cheeks burned as he revealed thick muscle after thick muscle, but you were also a bit frightened. Was he going to take you now? His eyes met yours, which had to be as large as saucers. 

“I only wore this to speak with your parents. There is wisdom in accommodating humans occasionally. They see us as monsters. Dressing like them makes them more comfortable, but now that you are mine, they will need to grow accustomed to our culture.” 

You nodded, forcing your mouth closed, and he stopped undressing when he got to his pants. The bulky planes of his chest were plenty of eye candy. You weren't sure if you were ready for the rest. 

He let out a loud call, and two Orc women appeared at the door, holding folded stacks of fur and leather.

“These are my sisters Vola and Cayenne. Don't mind their doting. Orc families are very affectionate.”

They gave you a polite bow. 

“Greetings, Your Majesty,” they signed together after they’d deposited the fabrics on a table. When Golmad stepped out of the way, they circled you with big smiles, patting your hair and pinching your cheeks as if you were a new kitten. 

“She’s so cute!” 

“I didn't believe she would be so tiny, but look at her. Precious!” 

Cayenne spun you around, examining your form. You weren’t exactly tiny in human terms, but compared to them, you were short stack. 

“We must choose something daring!” 

Vola nodded.

“Like a little wildcat!” 

You signed to Golmad, a little surprised at their sweetness. They even learned sign language for you! 

“The nobleman said the Orc women resent us and that they'll rip us to bits for stealing their men.” 

He chuckled. 

“That's nothing but propaganda. They want babies just as much as the males. A stout, fertile, submissive human husband is ideal for caring for their pups. Your people are obsessed with the purity of their women. We never had to organize a silly test for the males. The Orcesses just bop their mate on the head and drag him home.” 

He gave you a conspiratorial grin, his gold eyes glittering. 

I have a surprise for you at dinner. I think you’ll find it quite funny. 

You blinked, absorbing that fact, but decided to tuck it away for now and focus on what was happening in front of you. 

“It was kind of your sisters to learn sign language.” 

He looked slightly bashful at that comment, his green cheeks burning a bit darker. 

“Everyone is required to learn. Your staff will speak to you in your own language, not at you. Though I initially ordered it to accommodate you, we've since found tremendous value in practicing the skill.“

You didn't have time to think much more about it as the Orcesses started stripping your heavy dress off. Your cheeks burned as Golmad’s eyes roved over your bare skin, an appreciative glint in them. 

Vola wrapped a soft, asymmetrical skirt of spotted fur around your waist, and Cayenne pulled a leather crop top over your breasts. Then she secured a thick belt on top of your hips. She turned and started picking up and putting down daggers. Once she’d decided on the right one, she sheathed it in its stop at your side. 

“This one is perfect for you,” she explained—”light and sharp. You don't need might to wield a blade. Only speed and endurance.” 

She patted it. 

“We’ll help you train. Every Orc does morning training together before breakfast. We are a communal people. Training is another way to reinforce community. We hash out our disagreements on the training mat, and by the time we sit for our meal we are all on the same page. Our strength is not just our size. We win wars because our bonds are unbreakable.”

You nodded, feeling very special to be trusted with their secrets. 

They finished the outfit with fur-lined boots and a diamond necklace matching Golmad’s. Cayenne produced a makeup stick, drawing a long line across your nose from one cheek to the other and vertical lines from the center of your eyes down to your chin. 

“This is traditional for the Queen. We don’t wear crowns like your people. These markings identify your position at special events. When you are officially married, there will be tattoos and you won’t need the makeup anymore.” 

You blinked at her, wondering what your mother would say to that. An Orc appeared in the doorway, not dressed in human clothes. Instead, he wore leather pants, and was shirtless with an axe strapped to his back. 

He spoke as he signed, showing his respect for you. 

“Dinner is ready, Your Majesty.” 

You swallowed deeply as you were about to meet your future subjects, wearing less clothing than you’d ever worn in public before. Your arms and stomach were bare, as well as one leg where the skirt split. Golmad scooped you up and plopped you on his shoulder as he carried you to the dinner hall. You could hear the raucous laughter of Orcs celebrating, but when you walked through the door, all were silent and bowed in unison. 

It was difficult to find them amid the massive Orcs, but you finally spotted your family seated at the long table at the right of the King and Queen’s seats. Starla was dressed to impress in a low-cut gown emphasizing her assets, though she looked disgusted at the Orcs around her. When your mother caught sight of you, her mouth opened, and she covered it in horror as if they’d done something terrible to you. 

Golmad waved a hand, and the Orcs all took their seats at the table. As he got comfortable, arranging you on his lap, his sister Vola sat down with a familiar man on her lap. 

“Rotham?!” your sister screeched. “What the fuck are you doing here?!” 

You felt Golmad’s body shudder underneath you as he chuckled. Vola shot a glare at Starla, petting Rotham’s head. His cheeks darkened just a bit, but he snuggled against her ample breasts. 

“Don’t speak so familiarly with my mate,” Vola spat. 

Starla’s eyes looked like they might pop out of her head. 

“Rotham, how could you? We were supposed to be married! I was supposed to be Queen! How can you lay with that…monster?! What about your people? YOUR COUNTRY?” 

The table had grown silent as everyone watched the drama play out. 

“Vola is my mate,” Rotham said, looking down his nose at her. “I love her! Why would I want to sit on a throne waiting for someone pretending to be my friend to stab me in the back and fuck my wife when I can stay cozy and safe tending Vola’s hearth?” 

He shook his head as if he were knocking something unpleasant out of it. 

“Why do I have to be King, anyway?! Just because I'm a man? You know what, Starla? You've never once asked what I wanted! Do you realize that? You don't care about what I want, only that I fulfill what fantasy you have about conquering the Orcs and obtaining a sparkly trinket. You'd be happy to stand on the sidelines like a swooning maiden, spending money you haven't earned on meaningless crap, while I risk my life and limbs for a battle I don't even care about!”

Starla looked incensed, shocked, and confused by his position. 

“But she's a monster, Rotham. The enemy!”

His brow drew and jabbed a finger at her. 

“Don’t you dare call my mate a monster; she is no enemy! It’s cruel and disrespectful. Vola loves me for me! She likes my cooking! She kisses me when I get hurt! She listens to my fears and helps me accomplish my goals! My goals! Not a bunch of spoiled noble's goals. 

I'm warning you, don't provoke her. I don’t love you, but I don’t want to see you harmed, either.” 

His smile met Vola’s before his eyes dipped to her body, looking quite pleased with his wife. 

Starla stood up, knocking over her chair as her sense dissolved with her dream of becoming Queen. The real Starla came out, the snotty girl who used to throw tantrums when she didn’t get a toy she wanted at the Goddesses’ Supper.

“Kissing your boo-boos like a sniveling child? Chasing frivolous goals? What the fuck are you talking about? You are royalty! You have a responsibility to the country! To me! What could possibly be more appealing than being the King?” 

Rotham huffed. 

“I want to be a baker! That's all I ever wanted to do, and because I was born my father's child, I never even had the option to try. My parents planned out my life, then advisors, then generals, and even you. I could never do what I wanted. I was scolded if I ever went near the kitchen, even to bake in my spare time! It was hell!” 

Starla snorted. 

“A baker?! That's work for common folk! It's beneath you! You’re throwing away the crown to bake cookies?! That’s pathetic! Stop this nonsense right now!” 

Vola growled. 

“Do not speak to my mate that way. Rotham deserves to be as free as any of us. He's an excellent baker. You're just sour he's not putting himself in harm's way to elevate your status!” 

Starla's eyes narrowed on Vola.

“How dare you think, you, a filthy beast, are worthy of a Prince?! MY PRINCE?! You’re nothing but an ugly ogre!” 

You felt the tension rise as every Orc leaned in, watching what would happen next. Vola gave her a cool smile. 

“Do you mean to challenge me for my mate, little girl?” 

“He’s not your mate! He’s mine! MINE!” 

Golmad held up a hand. 

“The human has declared an official challenge for Vola’s mate. Take her to the ring.” 

Starla screamed as an Orc picked her up and awkwardly carried her out of the room. Everyone else at the table followed, including your parents, whispering between each other.

The battle ring was a simple dirt circle with thick ropes marking its outline. By the time you and Golmad arrived, Starla had been placed in the center, and someone had armed her with a thin rapier, probably the only weapon in the arsenal against the wall she could lift. 

You could see the terror on her face when Vola set Rotham down next to you and entered the ring, cracking her knuckles. 

“Wait! Wait! This is madness!” Starla screamed, realizing there was no chance she would win this fight. 

Golmad waved her screams away. 

“In our tradition, a mate challenge is binding. You should not have spoken so carelessly if you did not want to fight. You must follow through. Prepare yourself! Begin!” 

Your heart raced, wondering if you should do something to save your sister. Golmad caught your worried expression and signed to you with a small smile. 

“She won’t kill her. Death’s not necessary to teach her a lesson.” 

You let out a breath of relief, leaning into Golmad’s warm body. The two competitors circled one another…rather, Vola circled Starla, and Starla looked for an exit. The Orcs packed tightly around the ring, and there was no gap to escape. When she realized there was no way out, she raised her weapon with two hands as best as possible. 

“Stay back, beast! I’ll cut you!” 

Vola laughed, darting forward so fast she was only a green blur. You heard a crack, and Starla smacked the dirt, blood spraying across her pretty dress. Mercifully, Vola didn’t knock her out. Starla’s whining voice drifted up from the ground. 

“My nose! She broke my fucking nose!” 

Vola snatched her weapon up and pointed the blade at her throat. 

“Do you concede?” 

Starla’s eyes got big. She focused on the tip of the rapier and nodded. 

To make her point, Vola adjusted her grip and stabbed the sword into the ground next to Starla’s head. A clump of her hair fluttered to the ground beside her. 

Leaning in so close to her that their noses almost touched, Vola pinned her with an icy glare. 

“The next time you raise your voice to my mate, I will not miss, little girl.” 

Golmad lifted a hand, ending the fight. 

“Vola has defended her claim! To dinner!” 

The Orcs cheered, but Rotham cheered the loudest. When she returned to him, he squeezed her biceps, looking up at her with stars in his eyes. 

“You're so strong! You were fast, too, like a beautiful bolt of lightning!”

“Rotham, please…” Starla whimpered from the dirt, hoping to get sympathy from him. 

He only frowned and turned away. Vola scooped him up, swinging him around while she kissed him. 

“I'll always protect you and your honor, my darling,” she said. “To my dying breath.” 

They and the other Orcs piled out of the room, leaving your parents to help Starla with her bloody nose. As Golmad carried you out, you heard them speaking to her as your mother helped her to her feet. 

“Don’t be difficult, Starla. We need to return to the table. Buck up.” 

“Are you insane? My nose is broken, and I’m covered in blood! I’m not going back there!” 

For once, you heard your father sound stern. 

“You got yourself into this foolishness, Starla. If Rotham is not leading a rebellion, we must find favor with our new King. We cannot be absent from (Y/N)’s dinner. It would be disrespectful, and we don't have the money to live up to the standards we're used to without her grace! Living here is our best option. I’m not going to be tossed on the street to defend your ego.” 

When Golmad set you on his lap at the head of the table, Starla sulkily took her place beside your mother, a napkin on her nose to slow the bleeding. When she did look up from her plate, it was to glare across the table at Vola and Rotham, caught up in their own banter between lovers. 

Golmad cleared his throat to call everyone to attention, and the noise quickly quieted. 

He signed as he spoke, so everyone could understand. 

“We come together for this meal to welcome my lovely Queen (Y/N) to our fold!” 

He glanced down at your parents, his face a bit smug. 

“Family and community are a core value of our kind. I also welcome (Y/N)’s parents and sister to our castle. Please do your best to help them grow accustomed to our traditions.

This night marks a step forward in the blending of human and Orc society, and as I have found my match, I wish you all your own mates so that, from the wounds of war, another generation of both our peoples can flourish! Let’s enjoy the bounty of this land together!” 

That was the end of the speech, as Orcs carried out massive dishes of roasted meat, vegetables, and golden-crusted pies and arranged them on the table. 

Happy Orcs were loud and raucous, apparently enjoying giving toasts. Everyone guzzled ale as they tipped their glasses to speeches of triumphs in war, hunting their new mates, and lots of well wishes to your future children. 

Numerous Orcs lined up to kiss your hand and declare their devotion to your protection. Meanwhile, your parents focused their energy on courting Golmad’s favor, complimenting the food, the music, and whatever else they could think of that might endear them to him. Your mother even gave you a tight compliment on your skirt. 

While you tried to focus on greeting your subjects, your mind wandered to the warm body underneath you. Golmad’s firm, barrel chest brushed your arm with every deep breath. The bulging muscles of his thigh were like sitting on a stone chair covered in bulky leather, but those features aside, your absolute favorite part of his physique was his husky stomach. It was firm and toned from daily training but thick from eating well. Leaning into it was quite comfortable and cozy. 

Everything about him was so big, including the enormous shaft, you could feel at your back. Maybe it was the wine, but your initial fear of it had slowly changed to curious interest as the night progressed. What would it be like? How would it feel inside of you? What would it taste like? The lewd thoughts were incredibly distracting. You found yourself wiggling your bottom to brush it without thinking. Every time you did, you felt a low rumble in his chest no one else could hear above the merrymaking. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” He asked when there was finally a break in the production, and you could speak. 

You nodded and gave him a wan smile. 

“Your court is delightful. It's just…

When you paused his focus on you became intense. 

What's wrong? You can tell me, I won't be offended.”

You looked over the celebration, considering how your day played out compared to what you expected. 

“A lot has happened today…between the meeting and the fight…I'm a little tired, to be honest. I want to keep up with your people…but…” 

His gold eyes gleamed with predatory interest, making heat swell in your core. 

“I have a remedy for that. Orc celebrations take a bit of time to get used to. They'll all be up till dawn.” 

He stood before you could ask anything more, willing the Orcs to quiet down. 

“My Queen and I will retire for the evening! Enjoy the food and drink. Show our guests how Orcs celebrate!” 

A happy cry rang out, and the party started again as Golmad carried you out of the room. Your heartbeat thumped in your chest, realizing this was the first time the two of you would be alone for any length of time. He was so large he could do anything to you, and that thought had become far more exciting than frightening.  

When you arrived at his bedroom, he gently set you down on a table and turned his attention to starting a fire in the fireplace to warm the cool room. 

You swung your legs over the edge of the tall table, watching the muscles in his back flex as he loaded the hearth with logs. When he turned, he pulled off his boots and tucked them in a corner.  Finally, he approached you, his footsteps silent for someone so large. His eyes moved over your body as if deciding what part to engage first. 

“Do you think a back rub would help you relax? It’s been an eventful day.” 

You nodded, your heart skipping at the thought of his big hands on you. He tugged your boots off and set them next to his before settling the two of you on his bed, with you on his lap. 

You let out a long moan as his thick fingers pressed gently into the tense knots in your shoulder. His breath fanned across the nape of your neck, causing a pleasurable shiver to snake up your spine. Since his hands were busy, he spoked to you, his head dipping close to your ear. 

“I didn’t have a moment to tell you how beautiful you looked, today. In your human clothes, but especially so in ours.” 

You hummed a thank you, a sizzling tingle vibrating in your ear. As his thumbs slid down the curve of your waist, you realized he could circle both hands around your middle. His thumbs worked the knots away, but his other fingers smoothed over your bare skin. 

He seemed to get distracted by your arms, shifting his attention to one. He measured the diameter of your wrist with his thumb and forefinger. 

“You are delicate. I feel fortunate to have someone so sweet to protect and love.” 

At the word love, your cheeks burned, and you let out a quick mewl. You heard him chuckle behind you. He spun you around to face him, putting his hand lightly around your neck. Your breath came short, and your eyes widened at him, not sure what he was doing. 

“You are a precious blessing. I’ll never hurt you, (Y/N). If something hurts, pinch me, and I’ll know to stop, okay?” 

You nodded, relaxing just slightly. With his other hand, he tipped your head to the side, and the fingers around your neck massaged the muscles that had gotten tight from gritting your teeth. Your eyelashes fluttered as all of the tension slipped away. When you opened them again, Golmad’s eyes met yours, flickering as if they were lit from within and drawing you forward. 

He loosened his grip on your neck, and you pushed yourself up on your knees, pressing your small hands into his chest as you leaned up to him. 

For a moment, he looked surprised, but his eyes tracked yours as you looked over his features, pulled to his nicely shaped lips. He seemed to have no intention to push you to be intimate with him, but he was to be your husband. You were curious about him. You sucked in a quick breath before you tipped your head forward and brushed your lips against his. That’s what a wife was supposed to do, no? 

He let out a deep, rumbling grumble you felt between your legs. His big hand swept you up by the small of your back, while the other cradled your face. The next time your lips came together was a hungry, needy kiss. Your hand wrapped around his tusk, sliding over the smooth surface as you explored with your lips. 

You’d never kissed before, so you weren’t entirely sure what to do beyond the first taste. Pulling back you looked at him through the veil of your lashes, cheeks burning and lips swollen. 

“Was that good?” You asked. 

His eyebrows rose slightly, and he gave you a gentle nod. 

“Is this your first time kissing?” 

You looked away, embarrassed at your inexperience, but a thick finger pushed your chin back in his direction. 

“I didn’t mean it as an insult. I assumed the “untouched” bit of your mother’s introduction was a production. I mean…look at you. You’re gorgeous.”

You frowned, and he looked contrite. 

“I didn’t mean…to question your purity…I only meant-”

He huffed, and you were surprised to see a confident Orc King flustered by you. When his gaze met yours, it was open and vulnerable. 

“You’re so much smaller than me. I don’t want to scare you.” 

You searched his face for a moment. 

“You don’t scare me. I want to please you. Will you show me how?” 

His cheeks darkened to a rich forest, and his mouth fell open. You watched his pupils widen, and he nodded, eyes drifting over your body. You pushed yourself up on your knees, kissing him again, hoping to encourage whatever might come next. He groaned, thick hands wrapping around your waist. 

Feeling bolder, you let your hands move over his bare shoulders and gently trace every plane of his chest. He shuddered when your fingers slipped over a nipple, so you tried it again, earning you another rich groan. His tongue slipped past your lips, tasting you for the first time, and he hummed into your mouth.  

Beneath you, the shaft you’d already thought felt large suddenly got much firmer and larger. Curious, you gingerly let your fingers slip down his chest, palming him through his pants. A deep rumble vibrated his chest, and you mewled as he suddenly flipped you under him. You looked up at his massive body looming over you, panting. 

His eyes ate up your skin, glowing with appreciation. A fingertip traced your collarbone down the V of the little crop top you wore. It took only a flick of his fingers to rip it in half. You gasped, chest heaving. He met your gaze, searching for any indication you didn’t want him to go on. 

“Are you okay?” 

You nodded quickly, your nipples pebbling now exposed to the air. He smirked, dipping his head to press a kiss into the top of one breast and then the other before he moved lower. Pleasure you weren’t used to was intoxicating as he licked and sucked your nipples. Your breaths were heaving, and your thoughts scrambled. 

Though thick, his fingers were nimble, unbuckling the belt at your waist and stripping the skirt off you. 

Instinctively, you looked away, never having been so exposed in your life. A grunt brought your eyes back to him, and Galmod squeezed your cheek before he spoke. 

“It’s my job to please you. May I?”

Your nod was far more enthusiastic than you intended, and he grinned. A thumb teased a nipple, while his thick tongue traced your slit. A breathy mewl slipped out, and he glanced up without pulling away. His gaze was intent. Every hunting instinct he possessed focused on making sure you were enjoying what he had to give you. His tongue dipped inside of you the first time anything or anyone had touched you there. Your back arched, and your eyelashes fluttered. Your hand instinctively clutched his hair, your hips bucking into his mouth as wetness flooded your channel. 

He chuckled, the added sensation making you whimper. Though your flavor was appealing, Golmad had a second reason for filling you with his tongue. He also stretched you, preparing you to take something much larger. When you were eagerly rocking your hips to create more friction, he slipped out of you, turning his attention to your clit. Your irises crossed, your first real orgasm exploding between your legs and shooting through every nerve in your body. You were practically drooling as he slipped two fingers inside, bringing you right back where you started, needy and wanting. 

He stopped for a moment, cupping your chin to get your attention. 

“Do you want more?” 

Your fingers were shaking as you responded. 

“Yes…please?” 

He chuckled, leaning down and kissing you deeply before he rocked back on his knees. 

“It will hurt for just a second, then it will feel good…but if you want me to stop, just pinch me. I’ll stop.” 

You nodded quickly, wiggling your hips to entice him. You wanted whatever he planned on next. His gaze was ravenous, and you could tell staying in control of his instincts was work, but you trusted him, which made no sense since you'd only met. Something about him made you feel safe and protected, maybe the way he seemed so worried about hurting you. 

Your eyes popped as he slipped out of his pants. A thick cock bobbed in front of him. You’d never seen something so viscerally sexy, his bulky green body hovering over you, a thick hand fisting a massive shaft. A zip of sheer excitement made you quake. You felt a little mad. His cock had to be too big for you, but you wanted more than anything to take it. A fresh wave of slick leaked from inside of your spasming cunt. 

Your legs looked tiny in his hands as he spread them. He rubbed the large, round head of his cock against your slit, watching you whimper and beg for him with your eyes. 

Entering you maddeningly slow, you felt your pussy stretch to accommodate him. It felt good, the strain feeling more decadent than painful. There was no way you could fit his entire length inside, but he didn't seem concerned, gripping the base for more control. His fingers circled your clit, and you hardly felt a slight pinch through a veil of pleasure. Your eyes rolled back in your head as he filled you completely. 

When your gazes met, you could see the concentration on his face, his brow drawn, and his jaw locked. You nodded to him, asking him to go on, telling him that you wanted it. 

Pulling back, his hips snapped forward pushing a high-pitched mewl past your lips. He watched you, looking for any pain, but whatever he saw just egged him on. The concerned expression melted to a smug smirk, and he picked up the pace, heavy thrusts jerking your body against the soft furs. 

His long fingers wrapped around your neck, holding you in place while his strokes grew more intense. 

“That’s it, you can take it,” he groaned, his husky voice tickling your ears. 

You were amazed at your own body, your slippery fluids coating his shaft and allowing him to grind in and out of you despite his size. Though you could feel the strength in his hands, he only applied light pressure to your throat, making your heart skip. He could crush you easily, yet despite the rapture in his eyes, he held you like a baby dove.  

The tension in your thighs relaxed, your legs opening for him far wider than you even knew they could to accommodate his big body. 

The room filled with the sound of your sweet mewls and his guttural grunts. 

“So good,” he drawled, words slurring. “You were made for me.” 

You wanted to sign, “you, as well,” but your brain was mush. 

His cock battered you in just the right spot, while his free hand never left your clit, pinching and circling it until your eyes crossed and you were drooling. You soared, high on his musky scent, your body sparkling in ways you’d never felt before. Pleasure licked the tips of your nerves, zipping up and down your spine like lightning bolts. The only thing you could do was hold on tight to the hand circling your throat, your nails digging into the sinewy flesh. 

Your mother had made it seem like sex was a chore a wife did to please her husband and keep him from messing around. You had no idea it could be like this. Golmmad’s gold eyse lit as your wet cunt spasmed around him. A wet rush of bliss washed over you like the tide tugging you under. Your scream pierced the heady air as you reached your peak, spongey walls sucking him deeper. 

It was one thing to cum underneath him, but the look on his face as your body clamped around him, wet slick coating his cock, was sheer euphoria. His mouth fell open, eyes fluttering shut as he roared his finale. Making a large, powerful Orc king fall apart made you feel powerful and desirable in a way you’d never been allowed to feel before. It was a high that couldn’t be matched. You wanted to do this again and again until neither of you could walk or think. 

You felt his shaft grow impossibly harder, twitching inside you as he emptied himself into you in searing ropes. The ragged, stiff thrusts to seek his pleasure pulled another lingering orgasm from your pussy. You felt tears slipping down your cheeks as he slammed his hips into yours one last time. 

For a moment, the two of you just panted together, his head dipping down just an inch or so above yours. You felt a thick thumb trace your cheek, wiping your tears away. 

“I-I didn’t hurt you?” he whispered, and you forced your eyes open so he wouldn’t panic. 

A small smile and a slight jerk of your head told him no, you were just fine. He peeled himself off of you, sinking down into his bed and pulling you onto his lap. His fingers played lazily in your hair as he caught his breath. 

“What do you think?” he asked, his tone raw and vulnerable. 

You propped your head on one fist, elbows resting on his chest, while you wound a lock of dark hair around a finger, thinking of how to answer him. You felt his breath halt, waiting eagerly for your answer. Finally, you pulled your legs under you, sitting cross-legged on top of him so you could use your hands. 

“Can we do that again in the morning?” 

His eyebrows jumped before his lips stretched into a broad smile, responding with his free hands. 

“Of course, as many times as you like.”

You grinned and yawned, plastering your body on top of his. His warmth sunk into your bones, and sleep came easily. The last thing you felt before you dozed off was his hand stroking your hair as he muttered thanks to the goddess for bringing you to him. 

[diariesofthelover]

Wayne Brothers’ Gala Girl

synopsis: Bruce Wayne’s galas are held every once in a blue moon, but when they did occur, every Gotham socialite was sure to attend. The eldest sons of Gotham’s favorite billionaire always wound up in some trouble to entertain themselves, this time the brothers’ idea of fun was a beautiful woman who looked almost as bored as them.

notes: Jason Todd & Dick Grayson x reader, 3rd person pov, little bit 🌶️, inspired by the painting above.

The Eldest Wayne brothers found themselves in the quietest corner of the gala, bored with no idea of what they can get into this time around to beat last gala’s “performance” as they would call it.

“We could set off the fire alarm,” Dick suggests lazily to his younger brother.

“What are we twelve? Most of the people here already think we’re still fifteen.”

“No, they think you’re still fifteen because you were legally dead for like four years.”

“Shut up, dickwad.”

“HER!” Dick exclaimed, “Her, her, her, her!”

“You were Robin not a fucking parrot, her what?”

“That beautiful beautiful woman right there that looks even more miserable than we do with those tuxedo vultures circling her.”

Tuxedo vultures was spot on. These rich pigs had her trapped, all trying to win her attention one at a time, attempting a better pitch than the last guy. Any kind of manners that were instilled in her from an early age couldn’t apply after the third man insisted that he was the perfect man for her, actually, the perfect man for any proper woman, brains or not. All of the men here were the exact same, they believed their money and family were enough to flatter any woman here, that having any form of a likable personality or distanct traits besides snobbery was, “not something women really wanted.”

The woman couldn’t control her eye roll after the second attempted joke was made, averting her gaze where her eyes landed on the two men who already had their bright eyes on her, Bruce Wayne’s oldest sons.

She didn’t have a problem with the Wayne Family of course, she was after all attending their gala, it was just some of the guests that she wasn’t so fond of.

“What about her?” Jason looks over to who Dick was fawning over. Jason wasn’t blind, actually his vision only got better after he was resurrected, he too thought that the woman was beautiful, maybe one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, which is why he immediately shut Dick down, knowing what he was going to try to do.

“No, Dick. No chance, leave her alone.”

“I don’t think she wants me to,” Dick replies as the woman returns his famous flashy grin with a soft smile.

Dick had been trying to get Jason…well more out there after the whole dying, coming back to life, and then out in the public eye again thing. Jason died young, he barely got a chance to live his teenage years so whenever Jay’s attracted to someone, he starts acting like a teenage boy but at the age of twenty instead of sixteen.

Dick, make every girl swoon over him since his Robin days, Grayson mastered the whole girl thing by now and is trying to be his not so little brother’s tonight’s wingman.

“Follow me,” Dick whispers to Jason, not taking his eyes of the beauty across from him.

Dick and a hesitant Jason make their way over to the group of men that were all secretly jealous of their father, probably jealous of his sons too, interrupting the lifeless conversation and taking all of her focus off the vultures and onto him and Jason.

“Good evening gentlemen, how are we doing tonight?” Jason almost gagged at his at his brother’s fake politeness, he was always the better one at socializing, his charming personality didn’t stop at women.

“Richard Grayson, boy you’ve certainly grown up since I last saw you!” An older man around Bruce’s age greets him stirring up the rest of the men.

“Dick Grayson huh, pleasure to finally meet Gotham’s new prince.”

“I hear you’re very popular with the ladies,” the group erupted into laughter, these men really love any jokes to do with a woman don’t they?

“And you must be Bruce’s other son, Tim is it?” Jason’s takes his eyes off the woman to give the man a slight scowl, he promised Bruce he’d behave tonight.

“No, no, that’s Jason the one that…” one of the men tries to begin to tell the epic tale of Jason Todd.

“Say, we would love to stay and chat but our date has been waiting for us for quite a bit now,” Dick quickly interrupts him before Jason pulls out any kind of weapon on these men and offers his hand to the woman.

She places her hand into his thinking that she’d rather be a damsel in a in distress in need of saving by a knight, or in Gotham’s case a masked vigilante, instead of spending another moment with some men that are old enough to be her father thinking about how’d she make the perfect trophy wife and the younger who simply want to get laid after the gala. As Dick pulls her away from the hungry drunken men, she offers her hand to Jason who gives her a confused and flustered look.

“If I’m not mistaken, Mr. Grayson said our date,” she says to him in the most soothing and charming voice Jason’s ever heard.

Forcing himself to snap out of this teenage haze, Jason takes her hand earning a smile from both her and his brother.

“I hope you don’t mind us whisking you away like that, you just seemed like you weren’t enjoying yourself,” Dick started, never dropping his darling smile.

“I don’t mind at all, I needed an excuse to get away from them,” the woman looks back at the men as they watch the brothers walk away with their “prize” in envy, “god they’re pathetic,” she sighs.

“Tell me about it,” Jason mumbles beside her.

“All night I’ve been surrounded by these people that only talk about their money, their jobs, their mansion and penthouses, it’s a bit exhausting, they really can’t think of anything else to discuss. It’s fascinating that they really think that’s the way to win over a woman.”

“Well I can promise you we’re a lot more interesting than that,” Dick laughs, “We also have access to all parts of the manor, how about Jason and I give you a little tour?” Dick states rather than asks earning a questioning look from Jason about what he’s planning.

“If you insist.”

Jason knew how Dick wanted him to jump into the dating pool. He frequently tried to set him up with either other vigilantes so he wouldn’t have to worry about his partner 24/7, or an ordinary Gotham citizen where Jason could escape from Gotham’s criminals and Red Hood duties to enjoy a semi-normal life. What Jason wasn’t understanding was why Dick had a chosen a woman that he was madly attracted to as well.

As Dick began his small tour of the manor, Jason stood awkwardly alongside the woman who was attentively watching his older brother and the places he showed. Jason didn’t know if he should join in or take over, make some small talk, he was sort of frozen in place and shy. You’d think that the big bad Red Hood who always had a mouth on him since he was Robin and would break Batman’s moral code would be the last person to get nervous around a pretty girl, maybe Red Hood wouldn’t but Jason Todd would.

“And this is the library, Jason’s favorite place in the manor,” Jason was snapped out of his thoughts when Dick mentioned his name, “once he comes in here you won’t see him for hours.”

“Big reader?” It took a moment for Jason to realize that the question was for him and not Dick.

“Yea, um, yes, I love literature.”

“Really, would do you love to read?” She was now fully focused on Jason who was struggling to maintain eye contact as his cheeks and ears were colored red.

He couldn’t keep his cool physically but he could try verbally, “classics,” he responded simply, not adding more to his portion of the conversation to which Dick internally sighed to.

“Dostoevsky, Shakespeare, Austen?” The charming woman tried to get something out of the boy.

“All of them, and more of course,” Jason gave her a shy smile.

She heads towards the leather chair that Jason always sits in, making herself comfortable in his spot.

“This where you sit, get lost in all those stories you read?”

Something about her sitting in his chair made his blood rush. The way that she had made it look twice the size bigger being half the size of Jason, the way she relaxed into his chair, sinking into his molding. The boy was so mesmerized he forgot to answer her question.

Dick noticed and decided to swoop in, “Mhm, right here,” Dick drags now standing over her, “he’s a very smart guy you know with all the books he reads, runs in the family.”

She slowly shifted her gaze from Jason to Dick who was getting closer and closer, “I guess the looks do too, interesting for adopted brothers,” earning a smile from both boys.

“Excuse my brother for his shortness, we usually occupy ourselves with stunts at these galas, not beautiful women,” Dick says switching the attention back onto Jason, “he can get pretty shy.” Normally that statement would earn a punch to the shoulder or at least a nasty remark but Dick was right, Jason was pretty shy around pretty girls.

Dick and the mystery woman were now smiling at Jason who was leaned against the wall, close enough to where he can see the rise and fall of her chest, but far enough from engaging the way Dick was.

Dick gently tilts her head up with his large calloused hands forcing their gala girl to look up at him, “What do you think of my brother?”

Now it was the woman’s turn to be painted red, “I think he’s one of the most handsome and intriguing men I’ve ever seen.”

“And me?” Dick pouts.

“I think you’re one of the most handsome and charming man i’ve ever come across,” she says in a sultry tone that lures the boys in like sailors to a siren.

Both Dick and Jason’s blood is rushing, relishing in the fact that this goddess of a woman found the boys to be worthy of her attraction, that nobody else at the gala was as good as them.

“Tell me something, both of you,” she starts, “why stray from your usual chaos and shenanigans to show me around your manor?”

“You’re much more intriguing than anything we had in mind,” says Jason surprisingly boldly as he moves closer to her.

“You’re the most entertaining here tonight, baby,” adds in Dick who quickly got back his confidence after a brush to his ego.

“I heard I was beautiful too,” she teased, trying to get the higher ground again.

“I bet you get told that a lot, don’t you angel? You think that’s what those pigs were telling her Jay? How much of a pretty girl she is,” It was too late though, once Dick Grayson got wound up, he got complete control, “Now you tell me something doll, did they tell you how sexy you look in that dress of yours?” She shakes her head no, any kind of witty and teasing responses wiped from her pretty head, “Aw, well that’s just wrong, Jason tell her how good she looks in that dress.”

Both eyes are on Jason, waiting for his compliment, “She looks—you look stunning in that dress,” Dick was waiting for more, he knew Jason had the vocabulary he just needed the push, “You suit my color, red’s my favorite,” now they were getting something out of him.

“I’ll be sure to think of you when I wear red again,” god she was good. Dick had to bring the power back to him and Jason again, this all quickly became a game to him, his real entertainment for tonight’s gala.

“And what if we got rid of the red,” Dick slips the strap of her dress off her shoulder causing her to shudder, he’s in control again, “how’s that look?”

“Fuck,” Jason whispered under his breath.

“I think Jason feels the same way about it as I do,” with how quiet it was in the library his whisper was heard easily by the two, “what do you think pretty, you think it’s better?”

She felt like how Jason felt in the beginning, mesmerized and stunned. From Dick talking to her so confidently and his usage of pet names, to the way Jason was losing his fucking mind over her.

“Y’gonna answer me or are you gonna keep looking at Jay with fuck me eyes?” Dick wasn’t jealous, he was trying to tease the two, get them riled up.

Before she gets to respond there’s a knock at the door, “Master Richard and Master Jason, Master Bruce requests your attendance for at least another half hour.”

“We’ll be right out Alfred,” Richard quickly answered before Alfred could barge in on the scene, “shall we?”

Dick heads towards the door as Jason and their gala girl slowly fix themselves up, avoiding any kind of eye contact with each other.

Dick stops Jason before they head back out to the gala, “You’re welcome, Jaybird.”

[janmisali]

what do you think of tone indicators in general?

unfortunately my thoughts on tone indicators are somewhat nuanced. fortunately, this is tumblr not twitter, so I can just write out my full thoughts in one post and be as verbose about it as feels necessary.

speaking as an autistic person (and I know there are other autistic people who don't hold this same view, this is just my perspective), I think as an accessibility tool, the extended set tone indicators in current popular use is fundamentally misguided.

the oldest ones, /s for sarcasm and /j for jokes, make sense. their notation isn't the most intuitive thing ("does /s mean sarcastic or serious?") but it's not too difficult to explain what they mean. I've had to spend my whole life learning by brute force what different tones of voice mean and what they change about how I'm supposed to interpret something, so I already know what "read this in a sarcastic voice" and "read this as a joke" are supposed to mean. my existing skills can be translated into the new form without too much effort.

the same thing applies to emoji and emoticons. I know what facial expressions mean, because I had to learn what they mean. figuring out if :) is sincere or not from context is a skill I've already needed to develop. it doesn't come naturally for me, but it's something I already at least somewhat know how to do.

most of the tone indicators in current use uh. don't work like this.

tone indicators like /ref or /nbh don't correspond to specific tones of voice. I don't have a "I'm making a reference" voice or a "I'm not talking about a person who's here" voice that I can picture the sentence being read in. these do not indicate tones, they're purely disambiguators. they clarify what something means without necessarily changing how it would be read out loud.

and on paper, that's fine, right? like, it's theoretically a good thing to take an otherwise ambiguous statement and add something to it that clarifies what you meant by it. the problem is that these non-tone tone indicators are not even remotely self-explanatory. it's up to me, the person who is being clarified to, to know what all these acronyms are supposed to mean, and how they change the way I'm supposed to interpret what something means.

it's, quite literally, a newly-invented second set of social cues that I'm expected to learn separately from the set that I've already spent my whole life figuring out, and it works completely differently.

sure, these rules are (in principle) less arbitrary than the rules of facial expressions and tones of voice and how long you're supposed to wait before it's your turn to speak, but they're also fully artificial and recently invented, which means they're currently in a constant state of flux. tone indicators go in and out of fashion all the time, and the "comprehensive lists" are never helpful.

in theory, I appreciate the idea of people going out of their way to clarify what they mean by potentially ambiguous things they post online. if it worked, that would be a really nice thing to do.

however, sometimes I imagine what the internet would be like without them. what if instead of using /s, the expectation was that if you're sarcastic online there's no guarantee that strangers reading your post will know what you meant? what if instead of inventing more and more acronyms to cover every possible potentially confusing situation, we just... expected one another to speak less ambiguously in the first place?

so, I on paper like the idea of tone indicators. I think it's good that some people are trying to be considerate by being extra clear about what they mean by things. but if tone indicators didn't exist, and people who wanted to be considerate in this way instead just made a point of phrasing things more clearly to begin with, I think that would be vastly preferable to even the most well-implemented tone indicator system.

also /pos sucks because there's something deeply and profoundly wrong for an abbreviation that means "I don't mean this as an insult, don't worry" to be spelled the same way as an acronym that's an insult

[svnrisee]

Jealous le sserafim is a must!!!

( 6th member × le sserafim established relationship!! )

✨️ anon

↳ 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐌

[ A/N ] thanks ✨anon for requesting once again >D<, I had so much fun writing this lmao, I love your ideas sm :( keep sending requests

Warnings ✿ established relationship, jealousy

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐀

Sakura noticed the way chaewon kept holding your pinky finger during a live.

She tried her best to act professional and like she didn’t see it but deep down she was burning in jealousy.

Although she put a lot of effort into trying to suppress her jealousy, it was obvious from her looks. Eunchae was the first to notice.

“Heyy is kkura Unnie jealous of someone?” She teased smirking at the older girls shocked reaction also getting the attention of the rest of the members.

Sakura immediately denied it shaking her head

“Oo chaewon unnie! I advice you let YN unnie’s pinky finger go before something happens” yunjin pointed out, chaewon immediately let go of your pinky finger looking up at sakura with an apologetic look.

Sakura face palmed. “I said I’m not jealous—“

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐖𝐎𝐍

You, chaewon and yunjin decided to do a weverse live just to check up on fearnots.

Yunjin challenged you to read out the English comments watching and adoring as you spoke, constantly asking her if you pronounced it right.

Chaewon noticed the distance between you and yunjin getting to close as yunjin was practically leaning against you.

Furrowing her eyebrows, she spoke. “Yunjin I think you’re too close” she spoke lightly pulling you closer to herself.

“Ooo is someone je—“

“Shut up!” She yelled at yunjin who looked away like a child getting yelled at by their parent.

𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍

Lesserafim were playing a game on a popular YouTube channel. A competitive game to be specific.

Yunjin noticed how you kept on looking at the oldest member and picking her as your partner.

She couldn’t bear it anymore. As you looked up at sakura one more time, she placed her fingers below you chin. “Look at meee” she whined forcing you to look at her.

“But yun—“

“No buts.. don’t look at anyone else!” She interrupted. “Or else I’ll poke your eye and you won’t be able to see anything” she jokingly threaten.

𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀

There was one thing kazuha didn’t like. Whenever you baby eunchae. She absolutely hated it.

Well today was one of those days eunchae was being cute making it almost impossible for you to baby her.

You kept on complimenting her, not noticing the jealousy swarming inside of kazuha.

She pouted tugging onto the hem of your clothes. “Yn….” She called out softly. “Baby me not eunchae!” She blurted out pouting even more.

You turned around to face her completely stunned at her sudden needy attitude.

Eventually you gave in babying kazuha instead, earning a satisfied smile from the girl.

𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄

Everyone knew how much you loved physical touches.

Your members specifically eunchae were the ones who always rendered service to you.

It was like you and eunchae were a match made in heaven. Your clingy attitude plus her bubbly and sweet persona.

Today was one of the days you felt touch starved, but eunchae wasn’t at home at that moment. She was at mubank.

You couldn’t bare it anymore, so you got yourself comfortable with kazuha and clinged onto her like a koala.

You most likely got carried away because you didn’t even notice the door swing open and eunchae stepping into the dorm.

Her mouth opened and closed as she looked over at you cuddling with kazuha on the couch. Eunchae obviously didn’t like it because the next thing you knew she pulled you away from kazuha, hugging you tightly.

“Cuddle with me instead not Zuha Unnie!!”