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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year ago

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how about yan!dilf finding out that his darling has an onlyfans account?

Yandere DILF! Reaction to You Having an OnlyFans

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Manipulation, Blackmail, Infidelity, Pet Names, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except You.

Wordcount: 4364 words

♡ Good Lord, WHO gave this man internet access.

♡ Going to keep it real with you, babe, you’re finished if he finds your OnlyFans account. And so is he (in more ways than one) – but more on that later.

♡ Let’s say Domninic’s many, many hours of internet sleuthing (stalking) have led him to the pearly gates of your Only Fans account, the only thing separating him from whatever lies on the other side being a pay wall. One of the only kinds of walls that can’t stop Dominic.

♡ Of course, he buys a subscription. Of course, he does it under an alias, through an unlisted online banking app, on a burner laptop.

♡ And, upon seeing what you’re offering, he’s glad he took so many precautions.

♡ At first, the two emotions Dominic has felt most commonly throughout his lifetime flash in his ribcage, dance along the edge of his eyelids – make his eyes grow heavy.

♡ Lust and rage.

♡ Lust for the obvious. Rage for that which shouldn’t have angered Dominic.

♡ In a lot of ways, Dominic is a traditionalist; one’s significant other is for their partner and nobody else (even if Dominic doesn’t abide by this logic himself). Thus, to see you, the person he wishes he’d married, the person he knows is fated to be his, spreading their legs for any guy with enough money to buy a coffee, mortifies him.

♡ One, because you’re his. Two, because you sell yourself for such a low price.

♡ Dominic’s too wrapped up in his wrath to see to the vague throbbing between his legs. He’ll just make it Marilyn’s problem later when she returns from book club or whatever it is she does these days – and continue to make it her problem well into the morning when she struggles to emerge from bed, her legs buckling beneath the weight of his anger.

♡ For now, he paces around his office, checks the camera inside the bear he’d given to you months before.

♡ How had he not noticed sooner? He watched the footage from that bear enough times that he can recite everything you’ve ever said, can predict everything you’re going to do, has memorised all the unconscious quirks you adopt when you think no one’s watching.

♡ Dominic comes to the conclusion that you must be conducting your business in another location. One where you won’t be so easily found.

♡ Sure, he could go out, follow you to this location when you think you’re alone. He could even pay someone else to do it. But, amidst his rage, an idea sparks.

♡ No, he has a much better, much more cunning trick up his sleeve.

♡ The next day, Dominic comes to you with an offer he knows you can’t refuse.

♡ “Marilyn and I are going out tomorrow night and we’d like for you to babysit the boys for us.”

♡ You tried to refuse. You tried to make up a reason less nefarious than the one you held in your mind as to why you couldn’t do it. And Dominic only smiled, his eyes never crinkling, the sentiment never reaching them. He looked through you.

♡ He offered to raise your pay to an amount you both couldn’t accept and couldn’t pass up.

♡ This newfound amount was, considering how few subscribers you had on OnlyFans, irresistible. A godsend, in some respects. Especially when Dominic began taking his wife out more and more frequently, needing you to care for his children more often than not.

♡ To Marilyn, Dominic was finally, finally, trying to fix their marriage. To make good on the world he’d promised her those twenty-or-so years ago when he’d imprisoned her in a loveless marriage.

♡ To you, Dominic was being an understanding neighbour who was offering you a chance at a normal living wage out of the kindness of his heart.

♡ To Dominic, it was all a ploy to get you right where he wants you.

♡ The weeks passed. Dominic kept a close eye on your OnlyFans page.

♡ It would soon be time for you to upload your newest batch of material. If you ever found the time to do so, of course. What, with all the extra work Dominic had given you, he wouldn’t be surprised if you’d forgotten. Or simply hadn’t the time.

♡ It mattered little to Dominic now. He knew he had you on the ropes.

♡ The shift from one foot to the other as he offered you yet another night to babysit his boys, only for your eyes to lower. Uneasy.

♡ You’d tried the old “I’m sorry, Mr. Laurier–”

♡ “Please, (Y/N), we’ve been over this.” He smiles down at you. “Call me Dominic.”

♡ You try again.

♡ “Dominic – I’m sorry, but I just don’t think I’ll be able to tonight–”

♡ And Dominic used the tried and tested: “Oh…is it the pay? I can pay you more, if that’s the issue–”

♡ Issue. You’re making a problem out of this, not him.

♡ You backpedal. You sigh. You try to stand your ground.

♡ Unfortunately for you, the ground you’re standing on is merely a sheet Dominic is going to pull out from under you at any moment.

♡ You tried. Really, you did. Tried to reject Dominic’s kindness.

♡ And he looks down at you. He’s too beautiful for a grimace, he knows this. He puts on a mask he’s sculpted just for this moment – the false front.

♡ “I see,” he says, his voice low. His gaze shifts off to the side. He pretends to look for the right words to say. He already has them in his back pocket.

♡ “I understand. It’s just that…well…” He sighs. Places a hand on his hip. A change in posture. Something’s shifted about him. You’re paying attention, the oncoming of regret starting to form in the pit of your stomach.

♡ Dominic looks you dead in the eyes.

♡ “Don’t…tell anyone I told you this,” he looks behind him. Turns back to you. “But, Marilyn and I don’t really trust anyone else with our babies – we only keep asking you because…well, you’re brilliant with them.”

♡ He says it like it’s common sense. Flattery is every manipulator’s best friend.

♡ He senses reservation in you. He keeps going.

♡ “And…no, forget it, it’s fine. We’ll just cancel,” he smiles down at you. This time, the smile does reach his eyes. Makes it look like he’s hiding something else. Sorrow.

♡ You gasp inwardly, you take a step towards him.

♡ “Oh, I’m sorry! No, no, I can watch them tonight. I’ll just…do my work tomorrow,”

vYou try to smile. Dominic’s becomes genuine.

♡ “You sure? We–” Marilyn and I, halve the blame– “wouldn’t want to be keeping you from anything important.”

♡ You assure him they aren’t. That he isn’t. He’s won this round.

♡ He puts his hand on your shoulder. You’ve known each other long enough now that this is no longer a gesture that would inflict upon Dominic a problem he’d be lumbered with until he can, quite literally, take it into his own hands, and that you don’t flinch beneath his touch.

♡ There will be time enough for that. He knows this.

♡ And so, Dominic leaves you with an estimation of the time of his outing and his arrival.

♡ “We’ll be back before you know it,” he says. He smiles at you from the front door, the handle in his grip. He leaves, his victory ringing in his head, making his heart thrum.

♡ And he didn’t even need to bust out the old ‘My marriage is failing’ shtick.

♡ True to his word, Dominic and his wife leave early into the evening, a rehash of their sons’ bedtimes and snack preferences no longer necessary. Second nature to you now.

♡ Your work – your OnlyFans content – played on your mind for the whole evening. Time seemed to slip away and stand still – paradoxy – as you pleaded inwardly for Dominic and Marilyn to return.

♡ The hours bled into one another, tearing away from what you could have been doing instead of guarding the house while Marilyn’s children slept upstairs, for truly they were more Marilyn’s offspring than they were Dominic’s.

♡ A half hour passed. Forty-five minutes. An hour.

♡ You came to face the possibility – the likely reality – that you would simply have to announce to the few followers you had that there would be no new content this month; that you would supply them with what they paid for twice over in a few weeks’ time. And pray that you actually had an audience patient enough to outlast your absence before that.

♡ Amidst your planning of damage control, an idea poked its head from the shadows. A failsafe. A sequel to your desperation.

♡ You could always just…take a few pictures here.

♡ The idea flashed in your mind like a life alternate to your own; past, with the certainty of already having been lived. All consequences already tangible. Foreseen.

♡ Perhaps that was why the anxiety associated with such expeditions into unfamiliarity had failed to catch up with you.

♡ Or, perhaps something masked it. Desperation, or one of its subsidiaries.

♡ Of course, you tried to stifle the idea. Tried to suffocate it with the smoke through which it walked. Though, its fiery grasp had mastered the art of survival.

♡ It wouldn’t go away. Much like Dominic’s lingering gaze whenever his wife was out of eye-shot and only you remained.

♡ Ten minutes crawled by and you almost wished for the rapidity with which the last hours had passed to find you, seek you out amidst this frozen landscape Time had entombed you in.

♡ And, as is the folly of man, you entertained that which should not be. You considered the likelihood – the schematics – of indulging such a proposition.

♡ Nobody was home and the boys were asleep, out of the way. Most rooms were large enough and devoid of personality so to mask your location – especially if the Lauriers had more of the sterile white sheets they laid their bed with.

♡ Then, a memory.

♡ A basement, tucked away between the folds of your psyche as its location within the house. You recalled the couple having one – a sizable one at that – when Dominic had invited you down there with him to retrieve more seating for his lawn party.

♡ You knew where it was. Knew where the keys were kept.

♡ And so, with a hammering heart and a withering step, you sought your fortune.

♡ The keys were easily enough discovered. As was the creaking door of the basement. And, upon your descension – biblical in your visage as the light from the hallway, dim as it were, cast a glow about your silhouette amidst the depths of the basement – you found precisely what you needed.

♡ A space – clean, untouched – equipped with white sheets covering a mass of boxes. Sure, they were creased; stained with Age’s attempts at youth, gripping onto the sheets and leaving his spectral marks – wrinkles – in their cotton-thin sheets, but they were there.

♡ You cast a keen ear to the ceiling, the living room floor, every few minutes as you looked for a place to start filming, a place to lay the sheets down, something to cover your face.

♡ You find a place, retrieve a Halloween mask from one of the boxes, and, without much deliberation, begin filming.

♡ What you do is nobody’s business but your own. Well, yours and the hungry men who survey your account for any crumbs you deign to feed them.

♡ What you don’t hear through the conduct of your business is the return of the home’s owner.

♡ Dominic hung up his coat, made little show of announcing his presence, and went straight for the basement.

♡ Don’t ask how he knew you’d be there.

♡ His steps grew more deliberate, louder, the closer he grew.

♡ You didn’t even know he was home until it was too late.

♡ At the height of your percussion, just when you were about to reach the moment of your video that would make the lead up worth it, something hit the floor behind you.

♡ You jumped. Whipped round to see what had happened.

♡ And there was Dominic. Hair black as the corners of the room, eyes void of any discernible emotion as he looked down at you, arms crossed over his chest, the top of his shirt undone by two buttons, not even out of his work clothes.

♡ You fumbled, the apologies, explanations and defences lodged in your throat as you choked to get them out, slamming your thighs together and reaching for the camera in your bid to shut it down. You tore the mask from your head, revealing blushed cheeks and a light sheen of sweat forming from the neck up.

♡ Dominic made sure to stay out of the camera’s line of sight, to remain only an anonymous spectator as he circled the room. He said nothing. Did nothing. Just watched and waited, walking.

♡ It was only after he knew the camera was off, your confidence in tatters around you, that he approached.

♡ You tried explaining, but he just shushed you.

♡ “No need to explain, my Dear,” he told you. He sighed, deeply, brought the corner of his lip between his teeth. He donned the veneer of disappointment.

♡ “I suppose I’m just…shocked,” he said. He leaned against a stack of boxes, solid against his back. He ran a hand through his hair and looked off somewhere. “I never knew you were…that kind of person,”

♡ The way he said that, like it had bleached his tongue just to speak it, made your heart sink lower.

♡ “I mean, what do we do now?” He made sure he gave you an incredulous glance, feigned disappointed abashment. “I pay you to look after my sons and I find you here, doing…” He looked to the camera, briefly, then away. As if he could still see what you had done on the tiny screen attached to it.

♡ You apologised profusely, tried to defend yourself: “Mr. Laurier, please – I didn’t– I never–”

♡ He didn’t interrupt you. He let you tie yourself in knots. Like a pretty present, all for him.

♡ Once you had exhausted your ability to explain yourself, Dominic let your fear hang for a moment, let it sink before you like a darkness bowing the ceiling above you. The singular lightbulb flickered.

♡ Dominic sighed. Pushed off the boxes. Came to you.

♡ “Honestly, (Y/N), if you were that desperate for money, you could’ve just asked.”

♡ He knew that wasn’t why you were doing this. But he also knew you’d accept whatever out he gave you. You listened.

♡ “Have I not been paying you enough? Have I misvalued your capabilities for this position?”

♡ The way his eyes flickered to your locked-together legs as he said position made your skin shiver.

♡ “Or…” he looked down on you. Relaxed his posture.

♡ “Is there perhaps some other reason you chose to…conduct yourself here?”

♡ When you didn’t answer, trying to decode his crypticism, he cocked his head ever so slightly to the side.

♡ “Could it be that you…wanted me to find you like this?”

♡ You tried to deny it, tried your utmost to say you’d never do such a thing to anyone, least of all your married neighbour and employer, but Dominic would hear none of it.

♡ “I’m flattered, really.” He says. He cast his eyes down, as if mulling over a secret. “My wife and I’s deteriorating marriage must be worse than I thought if it was so apparent to you of all people.”

♡ You knew such a comment, especially under these circumstances, shouldn’t have stung the way it did. Dominic only let you ruminate on it for a moment.

♡ “Maybe you wanted to show me something you knew Marilyn couldn’t.”

♡ Your jaw dropped. Dominic came to stand behind the camera. He toyed with it, general, not looking at anything in particular. You begged that he wouldn’t find a way to review the footage.

♡ Domonic stood back, looked down at you.

♡ “How about a compromise,” he offered. You watched him, eyes wide, heart pounding, stomach churning, breath short. He gave a pale smile.

♡ “You help me burn off some of the tension I’ve had building up over the last few weeks,” his eyes darkened. “And we’ll never speak a word of what happened here tonight.”

♡ Your words caught in your throat again.

♡ You knew Dominic was attractive, sure, but to help him cheat on his wife? And one so kind and loving as Marilyn–

♡ Your head span. Dominic had thrown you a lifeline.

♡ With a sigh, you evaluated your options.

♡ Your OnlyFans rarely made enough money to keep you financially independent, even for a short while; you had more to lose if you couldn’t keep your babysitting job. And you knew there was no chance Dominic would let you babysit again if he thought this was what you’d be doing during the dark hours of the evening.

♡ And what if he told Marilyn? What if she told their neighbours, your parents–

♡ In your vulnerability, your worry for your own preservation, you quietly agreed.

♡ And besides, you rationalised with yourself as the weight of the situation, of Dominic settling behind you, sank in. Better for Marilyn that he’s doing this with me rather than someone she doesn’t know, right?

♡ Given your bottom half was already bare, Dominic didn’t have to waste time undressing you himself. Though, under any other circumstances, he’d have jumped at the privilege.

♡ He’d often dreamed of this entire process being slower, gentler, and in the comfort of a bed in some lush space – usually a hotel. Not the sheet-covered ground of his cold basement.

♡ That evening, the mask Dominic wore was that of the common thief, for from you he stole your dignity. Your future.

♡ What you hadn’t realised was, as Dominic had been stood by the camera, he’d set it to record. Premeditated.

♡ You didn’t question why he pulled the mask from beside you onto his head. You just assumed, in your post-panic haze, that this was something he was into. Something he hid from Marilyn.

♡ Dominic still wore his work pants and had them pulled down to the bottom of his thighs. He’d also done away with his shirt from what you could feel of his skin; he radiated heat like you’d never felt before, even when you’d been in close proximity to him prior to this.

♡ You didn’t even have chance to think of much, to let the guilt and abashment of this whole situation weigh in on you as, with Dominic’s hands about your waist as if to steady you, he pushed in, filling you by an inch or two.

♡ You were easy to penetrate given your recent activity, but that only served to quell the stretch by a slight margin. You gasped, jolted, and Dominic’s grip about your middle tightened. He pulled you back, inadvertently pushing more of himself into you. You bit your lip, trying not to enjoy the mortifying implications of this entire affair, the feeling of being filled by the man who held your future in his hands.

♡ He was, regardless of whether you’d done this before, nothing like you’d ever experienced. He alternated between being gentle and rough, eventually lodging himself inside you entirely and guiding you up and down his shaft at a rate that suggested patience. Just a minute later, he’d pick up the pace, pulling out and slamming back in, pushing you down so he could reach the deeper parts of you.

♡ And all the while, you could feel a tightness below your stomach. One which, to your panic, strengthened whenever you considered that you were helping a married man cheat on his wife, that your situation was buried beneath so many layers of complexity you feared you’d never see the light of clarity again.

♡ A married man. One who, if his soft touches and stifled moans were anything to go by, held rather a fondness for you in this moment.

♡ Dominic didn’t talk at all throughout the entire encounter, opting only to communicate with an occasional squeeze to your thighs, reaching around to your front to touch you in ways that had you whining and crying, and tugs to your hair whenever you tried to hide your face in your hands.

♡ The whole sordid affair hadn’t unfolded exactly how Dominic had wished – dreamed – it would.

♡ In his dreams, it had been gentler – consistently so. More private. Though, no less taboo.

♡ Now, he was harsher. Rough, though not enough to hurt you. Just enough to make sure you felt every inch of him; just what these subscribers of yours would pay to see.

♡ Dominic pressed close to you as the camera recorded, your face exposed for whoever came into possession of the video to see.

♡ Of course, so long as you remained an obedient little pet, Dominic would never have to release it to anyone.

♡ The transaction, one which left you breathless and sweltering, finished only when Dominic did. He made sure you were satiated, too, something to think about over the coming weeks as you curated more content for your subscribers, every moment no doubt a reminder of your encounter with him.

♡ Afterwards, he removed himself, though with much hesitance. He’d finally, finally attained that which he wanted most – you – and yet it hadn’t been under the circumstances he’d romanticised for so long.

♡ He tried not to think about it, storing it with the rest of the undesirable humanisms he had locked away elsewhere in his psyche. He focussed only on how explosive it had felt, how…alive he was in comparison to all the other times he’d been with someone, using them as nothing more than a mannequin to pump himself with rather than someone to give himself to.

♡ He let you lie on the floor, a blanket draped over you as he sorted himself out. He clicked the camera off, took out the memory card and kept it firmly attached to his palm – all while you weren’t looking, weren’t listening, senses still dazed with all Dominic had given you, done to you.

♡ As he removed the mask, there was a sheen to his skin and a passive glint in his smile that suggested something inhuman and false about him. Something you discovered too late, it would seem.

♡ After that evening, you had no choice but to continue on as if nothing had happened. For so long as Dominic was in possession of that night – that memory card – nothing had. You, of course, knew nothing of the card at first. Not until Dominic had let it slip that the camera had been rolling the entire time.

♡ And still, you didn’t question his use of the mask. The serendipitous timing of it all. You could hardly breathe for the ocean boiling in your stomach, your heart bleaching white and your brain paling as you realised you’d just filmed a sex tape that could ruin not just your life, but Dominic’s too.

♡ Oh, if only you knew just how little Dominic cared.

♡ Dominic told you not to worry, that he’d salvaged the memory card and put it somewhere safe only to now return it to you.

♡ He’d duplicated the video, of course. That, he kept somewhere even safer.

♡ Sure, he’d allowed you to upload it to your account when you asked him with wide eyes, your face blurred and his figure already unrecognisable to any of your simps. You still needed content, after all, so why not profit off your late-night tryst with your neighbour?

♡ Which was what led you to come to him now, eyes downcast as he stood before you, arms crossed, smile ready to split his face in half and reveal the parasites that made up his interior.

♡ The truth you gave him? Your account had garnered a great deal of traction since your…uploaded encounter. About three thousand new subscribers, to be exact.

♡ “Oh?” Dominic offered. “And why are you telling me this, mon Chèr? Do you plan on splitting your earnings with me?”

♡ He graced you with his charm, his humour. Tried keeping the situation light.

♡ A redness rolled across your face. Dominic smiled, slim and sly, and allowed you to foster his silence, his attention.

♡ You suggested filming something else. Something that could make the guilt you felt for your last encounter with him feel half worth it.

♡ Nothing ever would, of course. But you could at least try.

♡ And so began a lustrous alliance between yourself and Dominic, the man who had once been your neighbour, then your employer, now your owner.

♡ He used you as he pleased, donned the mask and bent you over under the guise of being the conduit for your growing fanbase. In reality, the scorching, pulsating, blistering reality you inhabited with him, you were his. His star who he made and will break when he sees fit.

♡ So long as he had that memory card, and the growing catalogue of blackmail you keep adding to in your bid to chase what you thought was the weight of your self-worth in cash, you were his.

♡ Infidelitous, yes. But that mattered little to Dominic. Nothing mattered more now that he had you in his hands, whimpering for him, coming undone for him, all while he maintained the safe anonymity of both his mask and the façade of a loving, caring family man.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

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professorsparklepants · 13 days ago

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Hello Desmond Miles enjoyers I have an au concept for you. He is tall, handsome, built, and lived in New York City. There is no way this boy has not been scouted by a modeling agency at LEAST once. I know this in my heart to be true. Canon-compliant version he probably laughs nervously, says he doesn't have a phone, and throws away the number they give him in the first trash can he can find.

BUT CONSIDER. It would be so fucking funny to make him a male model. Give him an Anok Yai style career where a street photo of him goes viral and agencies are calling him every day. No phone? No problem, you've got a job and a landlord. After a month of this he's like, you know what? Why *shouldn't* I be a male model? I ran away from home because I didn't want to be involved in a bullshit war between secret societies that probably isn't even real. What's the harm. And then a month later he opens a Prada show and his career explodes.

He'd do fantastic, he walks like a panther who's coming to eat you and has (and I am saying this because the modeling industry is notably racist) enough ethnic features to be interesting but not so many that he can't pass as white. Like a male Bella Hadid. Dolce & Gabbana would love him.

Anyway the really funny part is imagining Bill Miles tearing his hair out over the fact that his son has a Wikipedia page with his face on it. Asbtergo knows who he is ("why is Altair Ibn-La'Had in my copy of Vogue") but can't actually kidnap him easily because he's high profile enough that they can't just disappear him with no issues. Obviously they do kidnap him eventually but I think they put a lot more prep into it than "pull him out of his apartment 24 hours after they first ping his ID."

Lucy: yeah. You've been kidnapped. Sorry. They're going to keep you here indefinitely until they get everything they need from you through the Animus.

Desmond: I could break my diet.... Lucy can you get me a cheeseburger. Can I please have a cheeseburger and fries and a milkshake.

Rebecca, after he gets rescued: yeah they put you on the FBI most wanted list. Sorry.

Desmond: NOOO... MY CAREER...

The perception of his descent into terrorism would be amazing. Literally no discernable reason it just looks like he snapped under pressure and bombed a pharmaceutical company. The fashion industry is gonna get soooooooo much shit about it. Desmond is reading the New York Times article about it on Rebecca's phone like "not actually what happened but if it gets them to stop making sixteen year olds cry we'll call it a win."

Anyway you know the tumblr would be fucking insane about him. Discourse over whether it's ethical to be calling him hot if he blew up a building and killed dozens of people. Armchair sleuthing out the wazoo. There are multiple flower crown edits. Shaun leaks footage of Desmond's kidnapping and the true crime girlies go bananas.

#lectures #i'm not in this fandom #assassin's creed #desmond miles

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rhapsody-clown · 4 months ago

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Guys please I am BEGGING you to pay more attention to the art you're reblogging

I've seen 2 different posts this week in the poolverine tag of stolen art and they both had over a hundred notes and no one calling them out.

The easiest way to tell is to compare the watermark/signature on the image with the username (no signature in combo with weird cropping is an immediate red flag). Here's one that I've seen recently making the rounds, I highlighted the signature and username to compare

They don't match. HOWEVER, there are artists whose signature is different than their user, and if you're not sure, check the blog. If they're an actual artist, you should be able to tell immediately because there will be other art pieces that match the signature and style. Art thieves tend to post multiple pictures as well, but the key differences are: the speed at which they post (your average artist isn't posting 3 different pieces back to back in the same day, at least not without an explanation), the signatures and watermarks of course, and noticeable differences in artstyle (and even artists who practice different styles are still gonna have tells that it's their art like the shapes, anatomy, coloring, shading are going to resemble each other)

Back to the example blog, let's look at their other posts.

The first was posted the same day as the poolverine piece, and not only is there no signature + obvious cropping, it's a completely different artstyle. There was no credit for the og artist on the post. The second also has a different signature and artstyle, and of course no credit to the original artist. We know now that this person has no problems with posting other people's art and letting people believe it's theirs.

One of the most common excuses these reposters give is that they found it on pinterest or some other site, where there was no credit, and wanted to share it anyway. Except it took me 3 SECONDS to find the artist of the poolverine art by reverse image searching, which you can find HERE. I unfortunately couldn't find the source for the Scarlet Witch art, but I did find the source of "Y/N's hero suit" HERE. Of course, not being able to find the source is even less of an excuse, because you should always get the artist's permission to repost, and you can't do that if you don't even know who the artist is.

This isn't meant to make you feel terrible for unknowingly reblogging stolen art, I understand that if you're just scrolling along it's easy to just reblog something you like without thinking, I've done this myself before, which is why I'm so particular about the art I reblog now. If you're willingly reblogging art that you know is stolen, then you're up there with the thief in your shittiness and you can go fuck yourself.

You shouldn't have to go sleuthing just to reblog art you like, but unfortunately the internet has shitty people that steal, so it's better to be safe than sorry.

#poolverine #deadpool #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #marvel #art #support artists #art thieves

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lime-bloods · 4 months ago

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in Problem Sleuth, the rule is that for a demon to escape a black hole, an angel has to fall back in - or vice versa. I made this allusion back when Vriska was still stuck in the Plot Point, but I recognised then that this seemed like an unlikely direction for Beyond Canon to go in, and the events of 8r8k largely reinforce this feeling; the animation is about convergence, rather than divergence. (perhaps Vriska's angel- and devil-selves have merged into a demigoddess, instead?) but there are still a few crumbs I feel are worth taking note of. firstly, that 8r8k seems to be at least playing with the iconography of angels radiating from a black hole:

secondly; I now think the Plot Point storyline actually sets (Vriska) up as a symbolic angel? the segment opens with this kind of offbeat callback to Jaspers' tomb...

...which employs a trifecta of symbols that malo already figured out years ago - cats are angels are babies. but page 666 plays in this space in its own unique ways, too, frequently reiterating that the sprites and other hell-ghosts are eternal children. within the example set by Davepetasprite, the sense is that Vriska's eternal child-self must also be her angel-self.

(I also can't shake the feeling that the allusion to Jaspers' tomb - especially keeping in mind that it's Roxy herself who engineered one-half of the Plot Point* - is supposed to put us in the frame of mind of burying a child: that (Vriska) has to be buried for Vriska to ascend, in the same way I previously suggested an eight ball would have to be "sunk" to end the session? but it could be that I have things the complete wrong way around, and that the point is to exhume the child, as Rose does - if what follows is the "8r8k", then an eight ball is being set free rather than sunk? after all, Vriska's transformation also comes with being liberated from parenthesis!)

far more than vague symbols, though, there's one thing that page 666 directly calls attention to but which doesn't yet seem to have been paid off: the two-Nepeta problem.

right before Vriska comes face to face with herself, she calls attention to the fact that there are two Nepetas, and as a result one of them is whooshed away back to irrelevance. so what was that all about? if this hanging thread suggests the hatching of the meteor isn't necessarily the end of the Plot Point story thread, does it suggest, as I speculated previously, that the ascension of one Vriska means the descent of another? and so long as I am speculating: how sure can we be that a Twin Peaks scenario hasn't happened, and that the Vriska who 'ascended' is the one we think it was? Hell Tier Vriska's costume prominently evokes (Vriska)'s red belt and tall boots; is that because Vriska has come to accept (Vriska)'s existence, or because the new Vriska is Vriska? or maybe the distinction just isn't important anymore, like the 8r8k seems to be trying to tell us.

*if we can still think of Meenah as Roxy's doppelganger, it's hard for all of this not to be coloured by the fact that (Vriska) is Meenah's own 'little girl', too, even if it is in a slightly different way to the way that Jaspers is Roxy's 'little girl'... (though malo once argued that these things are more connected than they are distinct.) considering the consistent emphasis on (Vriska)'s youth and the vivid canny with which page 666 addressed Vriska's relationship to Doc Scratch, it would be an odd choice at this point to not ever address the situation with Meenah, especially now that the latter has risen to such a prominent role in the cast. the way Vriska subtly slips into the role of her own abuser over the last four years in the Plot Point only places emphasis on the lingering unease behind the whole thing. setting (Vriska) free for a bit could be one way to do that, though a merged Vriska could just as easily have the same confrontation.

#beyond canon #upd8 #vriska #theory #surely other tags. idk though. i'll think about it

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dingodad · 2 months ago

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ok i have just a couple tinfoil hat type thoughts before i think i've run out of things to say about addendum 1. i've been hesitant to straight up say that Vriska is the one 'doing' these addendums / retcons / whatever we're choosing to call this phenomenon because I feel there are a couple points where it's not 100% clear that's the case? keeping in mind we've been fooled by these giant blue lasers before in the leadup to 8r8k.

first of all, if we are presuming this new Jane is done with her therapyquest then does she get some kind of upgrade too? it's doubtful that the theoretical "Hell Tier" Jane would get the same fiery powers that Vriska has, true, but just worth keeping in mind that she might be capable of these kinds of narrative feats on her own now.

on a similar note:

okay, Jasprose helped put Jane on the right track so she could be transplanted back into the main timeline, and she had some help doing that - but if Vriska was the one doing the transplanting, who's here with Jasprose? consensus seems to be Snowman, which makes perfect sense. fuck it - you're hanging out in midnight crew world who else are you gonna lez out with - and if that's the case then fine, Snowman's a tertiary character at best and I don't think her being here has to mean anything.

but the hands are throwing me off, because to my eyes they look for all the world like an artefacted photograph! which to me could mean one of two things:

the original 'Diamonds, Dames, and Dads' story where Snowman last appeared used a lot of stock photography assets, often more than a little crunchy. so it could be that depictions of Midnight City and its inhabitants will continue to pay homage to that photobash sort of style, which would be fun!

it's some other character, important enough and novel enough to be depicted wearing weird photobashed JPEG gloves. and given all that we currently know there only really seems to be the one feasible candidate for such a character?!?

where there are retcons, we traditionally expect to see John, and I've been reminded that John's glimpse into the exploding Plot Point included a table from Problem Sleuth - so if we're to assume that all of those visions had to do with John's future specifically, it's really not so crazy to think that we might find a future version of John dining in a Problem Sleuth world! looked at this way, even the fact that the drink being poured is some nondescript blank liquid - in a panel otherwise dominated by a lavender-noir palette - comes across as meaningful. (@utopianparadoxist makes other arguments for John being the party responsible for this retcon, though these revolve more around the wispy blue smoke of Jasprose's cigarette, which to me would suggest John having just left, not still sitting at the table...)

ALL THAT SAID, it is right about time hs2 showed us what Vriska's new powers are, and I'm tentative to approach the story like it's trying to trick me. John's powers certainly lend themselves to changing history so that Jane and Jake joined the battleship journey at the start; but Jasprose's presence here and on page 666 tells us that this is the same Jane and Jake from Midnight City, and - if we exclude for the sake of argument the possibility that this Jane and Jake are just older than everyone else on the ship (funny, but seemingly unlikely) - that means we're looking at a Jane and Jake from one story re-incorporated into the past of another story. that sounds to me like something new, and in terms of powers, Hell Tier Vriska is what's new.

what's still open-ended is just what the process of getting from Midnight City back into the main space looks like (if that really ends up being important), and just how much agency we can assign to the character responsible for that. while it seems plausible that getting Mrs. and Mr. Crocker from A to B is something Vriska could have intuited to do as part of her newfound understanding of the medium, the transformation of Deltritus from blue to pink is different; not only is it difficult to justify the importance of such an act on the cosmic scale John and now Vriska operate on, it's hard to imagine how one might even go about achieving such a result through simple manipulation of past events!

so even if we determine that transporting the Crockers is conceptually within John's capabilities, there's still something going on here without the precision that necessarily comes with using those juju powers.

#upd8 #hs2

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sakashq · 7 months ago

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hey so as your self proclaimed new bff. yeah. give me some pedri fluff with light angst. but not like your psycho cheating type angst. Okay.???? Got it.??

Right Here. pedri gonzález x footballer!reader

🤍 summary: The wedge between Désirée and Pedri begins to thicken as their rival teams begin to instigate the downfall of their relationship.

🤍 warnings: slight angst😓 not ‘psycho cheating type angst’ tho!!

🤍 face claim: my baby naomie feller <3

🤍 wc: 700+

🤍 yap! hi bells ily 💕 (i’m sorry) @planetpedri @ar4ujos @halfwayhearted @iovepoem @joaoflms @hrts4havertz

There was only a minute left in the match and the Real Madrid Femenino were beating the Athletic Club Femenino 1-0. Désirée were on the pitch, running the ball down the field. As a striker, it was mostly up to her to score. However, this defender was down her back, giving her no choice but to pass the ball. Passing it to your winger teammate, she kept sprinting to give her teammate a place to pass to.

Getting ahead of her defender, Désirée’s teammate passed the ball to her again and she took the shot. . . Goal!

The fans in the stands had began screaming and cheering, along with her teammates celebrating with her. Désirée did a different celebration this time, posing like a model as her best friend on the team, Linda Caicedo, acted as her photographer. The rest of her teammates caught on, Carla Camacho actually joining in.

As soon as that was over, her nearby teammates hugged her and she pointed to the stands; where her boyfriend, Pedri was, cheering her on.

Now, not many people knew about Désirée and Pedri’s relationship. It was a secret that only Linda and Gavi really knew about, deciding that the rivalry was too deep for it to be public. She still went to his matches, although not in his jersey. He insisted on coming to this one, deciding that he would just sit in a spot where no one important would see him. Of course Pedri was always wrong and Désirée was always right, because as soon as that celebration went on the internet, the sleuths of Real Madrid and Barcelona put two and two together that he was in fact in attendance.

Gavi alerted Pedri immediately, sending him a screenshot of what appeared to be him in the stands. Pedri physically felt his heart drop, the text making him look around with anxiety. It wasn’t that people knew that was the problem— it was that Désirée didn’t yet know that they were public now. He knew she was adamant on keeping it a secret, knowing the rivalry was going to push something into them. Of course Désirée was always right.

After the match, her and her team hit the locker rooms and changed to get on with their days. After done, Désirée went to go find Pedri where he said he’d be — just around the corner from the locker rooms.

When she spotted him, she gave him a smile. He hesitantly smiled back, unsure whether or not to break her happiness.

“Hi baby!” She exclaimed. “Did you see my goal?” Désirée wrapped her arms around him, giving him a kiss on the cheek as she did.

“Hey,” he replied. “Yeah, I saw it. You did amazing out there, Dés. I’m proud of you.”

Désirée let go of him, trying to hold in another smile. “Wanna go get dinner? After I shower and get dressed obviously.”

“Yeah, um, actually can I tell you something?” Worst way to state a question when speaking to Désirée. She immediately thought something was wrong. Maybe it was, but now her head was going into the worst places imaginable. Was it going to be over between them? Was he finally done with her?

She inhaled sharply, preparing herself for what ever was to come. “Anything.”

“Your celebration… Everyone found out. We’re all over the internet,” Pedri said sheepishly, fearing her reaction.

Dés didn’t speak for a second, freezing up. They found out? All because of some dumb gesture she made after her goal? What did people think about them? What did they think about her? Instead of discussing her worries she just said, “Oh, okay.”

Pedri raised a brow. “You’re not mad?”

“No I…” She knew what was to come. The internet was going to turn against Pedri for betraying Barcelona by getting with a Real Madrid player. They were going to hate her. Slaughter her. She just had to mentally prepare herself for this. “It’s fine. I don’t care if you don’t.”

“Déssie, we’ve been together for three months and never have you said you wanted to be public. What’s going on?” Pedri inquired.

“Nothing. Maybe it was time to go public,” Désirée shrugged. “Come on, let’s go.”

Back at Dés’ apartment, Pedri waited for her to be done with her shower and getting ready so they could go to dinner together. What she didn’t know, though, was that Pedri’s friends began to influence him to leave her.

This wasn’t even the worst of it. Girls flooded Pedri’s DMs saying that they could treat him better than she ever could and even threatened to kill her. It made Pedri think, did he really want you to have to suffer through all of this? She didn’t deserve this treatment and most definitely didn’t deserve the death threats.

Désirée came out of the bathroom, freshly out of the shower. Pedri was sitting on her bed, scrolling through the endless messages of ‘Pedri, leave that Madrid girl!’ As soon as he saw her, he shut the phone off.

Dés noticed this immediately and asked concerningly, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. You check your phone since after the match?” Pedri questioned.

“No, why?”

“Nothing. I, um, don’t think I’m gonna make it to dinner tonight. They just pushed our training up to early in the morning and I’m kind of tired,” He told her. She frowned slightly, but understood.

Désirée nodded and said, “That’s fine. Let me know when you get home, okay?”

He nodded in return, getting up and leaving the bedroom. No hug or kiss? He never left her without giving her one or the other. He also never just left with barely an explanation. And his phone. Why’d he turn it off as soon as he saw her? Was there another girl he was going to see?

“Okay, bye?” She stood up, walking to her doorway and watching him open her front door. It came out like a question, like a ‘Hello, why didn’t you say anything?’

“Bye,” Pedri said.

“I love you,” she replied, just as he shut the door.

She’d checked his location. He was home and he had been for twenty minutes. No text, no call. Maybe he fell asleep. Maybe he was busy. Or maybe that other girl was at his house.

Désirée didn’t know anything. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to know. If he was cheating did she really want to find out, especially with their relationship still blossoming?

Despite trying to fight the urge, she called him. His voice sounded from the other line after three rings. “Hello?”

“Did I do something wrong?” She immediately asked. She just wanted to know answers.

“Dés, can we not do this right now?”

That set her off. “Are you serious? Are you fucking serious? I’m trying to have a genuine conversation with you and you’re saying ‘can we not do this right now?’”

“Désirée, have you even checked Instagram? My friends, my fans, my teammates are all saying things about you and our relationship and it’s throwing me off. People are threatening to kill you, Dés. You don’t deserve to be with someone whose fans will risk jail time for their idol.” She felt her heart break with these words, the tone in his voice physically killing her.

She didn’t even know how to respond. Once she did, her voice began to crack and tears stung in her eyes. “So what, you’re breaking up with me? Because of your fans?”

“Now that you say it, it sounds stupid but I… I don’t want to put you through that.”

Désirée wiped a stray tear from her face and replied, “Pedri, I’m willing to endure it all if it means I get to be with you. I don’t want our relationship to end over something this stupid.”

“I know, I know. Please don’t cry, Déssie. I love you. I just want what’s best for you. I’m right here.”

“Don’t do this, Pedri. Please.”

“Okay. But if anything happens that will hurt you, I can’t promise to stay. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

Désirée calmed herself down, wiping her face. “I’m sorry, I love you.”

“Why are you apologizing, baby?” He sounded genuinely concerned, like he felt awful for hurting her.

“I… I don’t know. Don’t scare me like that again, okay?”

“I promise. Always and forever.”

She repeated softly, “Always and forever.”

#barcelona #football #sakashq #la laliga #pedri angst #pedri imagine #naomie feller #real madrid femenino #real madrid #fc barcelona #pedri gonzalez #pedri x reader

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wachtelspinat · 13 days ago

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Mr Wachtel i want to eat your midnight crew and problem sleuth fanarts(especially boxcars), ALSOO..

What do you think about HBxDD? do you have a favorite ship between MC and PS too or headcanons?

OOOOH BOY hello midnight crew related asks

first of all thanks a lot, really appreciate it. these boys are still very dear to me and i miss the mc fandom times a lot 😭

i've been through a lot of ships here and there regarding the mc and the sleuthes, and my heart especially melted when reading @eyeballjazz 's "hello, my lovely" (which has a wonderful portrayal of boxcars and pickle inspector aaaa and comedy and fun and please go read it).

as far as HB/DD goes, i haven't read anything as far as i remember that made it make sense to me (which is also a bit due to the fact that i see DD as a very miserable man and boxcars as someone who is a lot more empathic and able to see the good things in life and he deserves better 😭😭), which ofc, doesn't mean that i'm against it, i'm against no ship, we're all just playing with dolls here.

having been very slick-hyperfixated most of the stuff i've read and thought about was ofc SS/snowman or /sleuth...

but i think my fave ship is SS/DD since forever... my headcanon always has been that droog is so. hard. in love with slick but he would never let that interfere with the big picture. except when droog is droog and acts like the b*tch he is (meaning being EXTREMELY petty towards people in slick's life who happen to be more than acquaintances aka sleuth, snowman (but he actually has a lot of respect for her that borders on fear. because no one is a match for snowman and no one can piss on her leg and sees the light of the next day) etc.. slick on the other hand is not romantically in love with droog. but he know. droog is his right-hand man after all, bffs in slick's opinion, if slick is even capable of sth like a normal human relationship. so it goes like:

DD >>> would do anything for his tantrum fit of a boss.

SS >>> knows exactly what's going on but lets the man do his thing, indulges in physical stuff when he's drunk, doesn't acknowledge any of this when sober again, much to droog's dismay.

there is so much more aaa

had big feelings for DD/PI too but ever since i've seen eyeballjazz's vision of HB/PI nothing else regarding these two made sense to me anymore.

#ending it here now bc i could go on and on about #the boys #midnight crew #the gang #the lads

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joelmillerlover123 · 8 months ago

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A Gentlemen's Burden - A romantic regency era Joel Miller story - Part 1

This is going to be a series!!!! Yay!!!!

Description : Your typical life with your sister is thrown upside down as a handsome visitor catches your eye.

Warnings : Um idek if this would be considered a pre/no outbreak AU but I guess it is?? Sarah is a pretty prominent character. Female reader. No use of y/n. Age gap (Joel is like 35ish and reader is like 23ish). Regency!Joel? Tried to keep Joel's character pretty consistent but you know... creative liberties were taken for the point of story telling.

Word count : 3.2k

Let me know if you like it!

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You had grown up in rural England, your father’s sprawling fortune overshadowed by his ‘tragic’ lack of sons. Not that he hadn’t tried, though. After your mother died in childbirth with you, he had married a sleuth of eager, young women, all waiting and wanting to give him that son he so craved. And yet, none of them ever fell pregnant. After his fourth wife and divorce, your father gave up, retreating to his office to manage the estate and figure out who would inherit his fortune.

That was when you were around thirteen.

This left you and your sister, Julia, to practically raise yourselves. However, your sister was sixteen and entering the marriage mart. Her beauty and wit earned her a husband in a short time and in her first season. Your father was absolutely overjoyed, because now he may have an heir in a few short years.

That was almost ten years ago, and your sister has popped out a male heir. In fact, she’s popped out about four children. Your nieces and nephews. They are wonderful.

Your sister married an extremely rich man and she likes to spend her days traveling and meeting interesting people. Good thing she has an exceptionally soft heart for you, her perpetual spinster of a sister.

You had entered the marriage mart, sure. Your first season came and went with nothing but uninteresting and shallow men at your door.

“Not even one of them?” Julia had said, pressing you to take at least one visitor.

“No,” You had replied, turning back out the window, “Send them away.”

“I’ll tell them,” Your sister had said sorrowfully.

It’s not that you didn’t want to marry. Sure you did. Marriage between Julia and her husband, Matthew, was quite beautiful. He doted on her and she on him. He gave her anything and everything she wanted. She wanted to come stay with you and your father during your social seasons, and he allowed her. She wanted you to move in with them after your third season and he allowed it. She wants to go and see the world and leave the children with you and the staff for months on end and he goes with her. She lives a good life and you are so grateful to be able to peek in.

Your sister often left you with her children and estate as she and Matthew went off to far lands and expensive travels. But you didn’t mind at all. Her children were delightful. You absolutely adored them. In order, it was Benjamin and then George and then Katherine and then the youngest, Ella.

All of them were delightful and you loved them as if they were your own. Ben and George favored Matthew but Katherine and Ella were copies of you and Julia. They even had the same age gap.

Julia was happy with her family and her husband, even if you find Matthew quite dull.

That’s the problem, you think. The men you’ve met have been quite dull. Conversations are all the same. Ranging from if you can play the pianoforte or if you can draw, nothing about your actual interests. You had grown bored of the marriage mart by your third season and stopped attending the balls and parties. Soon, the invitations stopped coming.

You and Julia were sitting in the drawing room. Your nieces and nephews were all playing around the two of you, causing you and your sister to sit in the eye of the storm. You were reading a book, something by Shakespeare but you weren’t quite paying attention. Your niece, Katherine, was sitting at the pianoforte, trying desperately to play something pleasant and failing miserably. Your sister had just returned from a month long trip to Italy, having left you with the children and estate, as usual.

“I think I’m going to host a ball,” Your sister’s voice pulled your attention from the empty words on the page.

“What?” You said, placing the book face down on your lap.

“Yes,” She said, her voice taking a thoughtful tone and her eyes growing wistful, “My time in Italy truly inspired me. They’re so free there, truly. They dance all night and wake up in the morning ready to do it all again,” She stopped to think and then turned back to you, “Yes. I’m going to host a ball, and there will be sprays of roses and begonias and lots of greenery, to transport me and all of us to Italy,” She clapped her hands together and stood, “Perfect. I was already growing quite bored.”

“Here?” You stood with her, your skirts ruffling and catching from standing so quickly.

“Well, where else would I have it?” She asked you the question as if you were dumb. She started walking out of the drawing room, her heels clicking on the tile of the hallway, “Come, come, you will help me plan it!” She waved you on, moving you from your spot on the floor.

“Julia, what about me? I don’t go to balls, I’m not a debutante anymore,” You said, silently begging her to not insist you come because if she insisted, you would go.

“Oh, don’t be silly,” Julia waved a hand in the air, poking a head into the staff kitchen, no doubt looking for her housekeeper, Margaret, “Matthew and I will be the hosts and I am inviting you. You must come. And, since you are not a debutante, you will not be badgered by the men you so despise. I’m sure they will scurry away from you just fine, no avoidance needed,” Your sister had a way of saying things that made perfect sense and convincing you quite quickly.

But a ball? That was the last thing you wanted to do. You have avoided them so successfully that people have stopped inviting you completely. That was the goal. It was perfect. You lived the great life of a pampered house cat and your nieces and nephews kept you sharp and entertained. You didn’t have to have painfully dull and long conversations with painfully unhandsome and dull men.

However, now that you have been deemed a spinster by society, maybe the single bachelors would look the other way. You definitely didn’t look like a debutante anymore, you are more mature and grown than the young women chasing after young bachelors. You often dressed differently than the young women as well, your sister embracing your independence and desires to be comfortable. What would you wear?

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧

The week that followed was a frenzy of glitter and colors and flowers. Your sister was absolutely in her element. She adored planning and being in charge. It was perfect for her.

“Oh, Matthew!” Your sister came barreling into the drawing room, screaming and holding a piece of paper to her chest, “Your friend, Mr. Miller is coming into town, just in time for our ball!”

“Mr. Miller?” Matthew stood from his place on the couch next to George, “Oh, I haven’t heard from him in ages. What a treat.”

“It says right here he will be arriving tomorrow, if all goes perfectly well. Oh, I am positively overjoyed! Not only are we going to have a ball, but one of our most interesting friends is coming to visit!” She spun around with a smile on her face and Matthew smiled with her, as did you. Her joy was infectious.

You had heard the two of them talk about Mr. Miller. A widowed father that lived on the opposite side of London. He was a successful businessman, owning multiple lumber companies and having fleets of ships to do his bidding. He hails all the way from America. Very interesting that he would want to settle here, especially since his daughter is also American, from what you hear. Hm. Maybe this ball wouldn’t be so dreadful, at least you could ask Mr. Miller questions about his life.

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You wake the next morning with the estate abuzz. Even the staff dressing you can’t stop talking about your sister’s visitor from America. Don’t they know he’s not coming all the way from America? Anyway, you don’t stop their chittering or gossiping, you like to hear the rumors the staff start to, more entertaining to report to your sister and laugh about later.

That is, until they insist your hair must be up for the new visitor. Wearing your hair up was positively dreadful as the pins poked and prodded your scalp. You refused and one of the younger maids frowned.

“Pray tell,” You say, startling the maids, “Why must I wear my hair up for any old visitor? My hair is never put up in pins. Did Matthew or my sister have anything to do with you requesting this?” You scan each of their faces in the mirror, waiting for something to flash across any of them.

“No, Miss,” They hung their heads in shame and you narrowed your eyes.

“Then what is the point of dressing me so… well,” You peered down at the beautiful gown they dressed you in. This was not your typical everyday dress.

“He’s a bachelor,” One of the younger maids blurted out.

“Ah,” You smile in recognition. They wanted you and Mr. Miller to hit it off. “I will not wear my hair in any particular way just because the visitor is a bachelor, alright? I enjoy my hair being down and so I will leave it down. Besides, I’m not even truly available to men anymore, ladies. No need to impress them.”

The maids continued their work and you watched in the mirror as the shock at your refusal never quite left their eyes until they all filed out of the room.

You look in the mirror before joining your sister and her family for breakfast and laugh slightly. Makeup was not something you wore regularly and this morning, your dressing maids had taken the liberty of putting some on you. How kind.

You were still laughing when you entered the dining room for breakfast.

“Oh my,” Julia watched you as you sat down next to her, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” You laughed again, “The staff wants me to marry this Mr. Miller.”

“Oh,” Julia said, realization coloring her face, “Oh, makes more sense.”

“Yes,” Matthew chimed in, digging into his breakfast and not particularly noticing you, “I heard some chatter about how you refused to put your hair up, yes?”

“Yes,” You laugh again, taking a fork in your hand, “Oh, I guess good news travels fast.”

You and Julia laugh together as you recount what you had heard them say about Mr. Miller and Julia took breakfast as an opportunity to gossip with the children about how rich Mr. Miller was. She even mentioned that Mr. Miller had a daughter that was to enter the marriage mart soon. Sarah, was her name. You listen as you eat your breakfast and soon find yourself floating from room to room, watching the staff flit about, still preparing for a ball and now a visitor.

You wonder downstairs to where everything is coated in romantic flowers and greenery. You had to say, your sister had quite the eye for a ball. It was still your home and yet you felt as if you had been transported. She had done a truly wonderful job. You must remember to compliment her and Margaret.

“Come now,” Julia’s hand slotted into your own, pulling you, “A carriage has pulled up and we must greet Mr. Miller.”

Oh.

The pressure of meeting this Mr. Miller slid off of you but you couldn’t help feeling a bit nervous. You’ve never met an American.

You lined up with the rest of the family, standing between Margaret and Ella, your rightful place as the lady of the house’s sister.

You cock your head as the most handsome man you’ve ever seen climbs out of the carriage. As he steps onto the ground, he smiles a warm smile towards Matthew and then turns again reaching a hand out to the carriage door to which a young girl allows him to help her out. She’s precious. Her dark curls framing her face and bouncing with her movements.

“Mr. Miller,” Matthew announces, extending his arms.

“Oh, no need for such formalities, old friend,” Mr. Miller rushes to Matthew and shakes his hand and then hugs him, laughing. His voice is deep and gravelly, but the smile on his face shoos away any sort of intimidation he might emit.

“Mr. Miller,” Julia says fondly, “How wonderful to see you again.” “Lady Langford,” He extends a handshake to your sister, “You’ve added another one,” She looks to Ella, who’s standing proudly, smoothing her skirt a little. You smile, looking at her. Then, Mr. Miller looks at you and cocks his head slightly. “This,” Julia steps out of line and starts walking towards you, “Is my sister,” She takes your shoulders in her hands. “Hello,” You curtsy as best you can and smile at him, “Lovely to meet you.”

The confidence Mr. Miller has falters slightly as he looks at you and he smiles politely.

“Lovely to meet you as well,” He extends a hand, but not for a handshake. Instead, he grabs your hand and presses a gentle, quick kiss to your knuckles, returning your hand to its place at your side.

“She’s unmarried,” Julia threw in, not so casually, “So, she resides with us and cares for the children while Lord Langford and I are away on holiday.”

“Oh, how I’ve missed English company,” He swiftly turns from you, smiling towards your sister. You exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding as his gaze leaves your face. His casual, collected demeanor is a stark contrast to the emotions written across his face just moments before. Have you met before? Were you being rude in some way? Surely that isn’t just his face.

“I’m Sarah,” His daughter’s melodic voice interrupted your train of thought as she curtsied to you, “Thank you Lady Langford for allowing us to visit.”

“Oh, of course!” Julia smiled from ear-to-ear at Sarah and then looked to Mr. Miller, “Come now, Lord Langford must surely want to give you both a tour.”

The four of them walked away, already chatting. You could have joined them for the tour of the estate but honestly, your brief interaction with Mr. Miller had thrown you for a loop.

“Back into the house,” You placed a gentle hand on the backs of your nieces and nephews, “We will rejoin them for dinner, yes?”

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀

As the few hours between Mr. Miller’s arrival and lunch passed on, you found yourself lost in thought wandering through the house again. You clutched a book in your hands but again, it was going unread. You couldn’t shake the thoughts of Mr. Miller. Of course, this was normal for anyone else. A strange visitor, a properly handsome one at that, with tales from America and you had barely scratched the surface. You allowed your mind to drift to daydreams of his American adventures as a businessman. Maybe he would have a tale of a daring adventure crossing the ocean. You thought of how he might look, a white billowy shirt on, see-through with water, pulling at heavy ropes and sails. You felt your chest grow hotter and you blushed at nothing.

“Hello,” A deep, gravelly voice interrupted your thoughts. You jumped slightly, completely startled.

“Oh!” You turned toward the source and of course found Mr. Miller, “Mr. Miller, I see you’ve found,” You looked around quickly, taking in your surroundings, “The library. Lord and Lady Langford have quite the collection,” You tried your hardest to keep your voice steady but failed miserably.

He smiled a gentle smile and looked around at the many books, taking steps into the room.

“Yes,” He agreed, “Lady Langford showed me earlier. She enjoys a guest,” He looked at you again, your breath spilling out of you quickly.

“Oh, she does indeed,” You smiled, dropping the book by your side.

“You two are close, I presume?” His smile dropped as he turned towards you fully now, his broad frame appearing even broader as his jacket stretched across his large muscles. You allowed yourself a peak at his biceps and then met his eyes again, hoping he didn’t notice.

“We are,” You said, a little too loudly. Why was he making you so nervous? “Best friends, we’d,” You faltered slightly, now answering the question truly instead of on auto-pilot, “We’d do anything for each other.”

“Any other siblings?” He said, his arms still clasped at the hands in front of him.

“No,” You replied, relaxing a bit into your stance, “Just us.”

“Hm,” He said, in thought, turning away from you again and looking towards the books, “And these? These are your choices, I presume?” He motioned to the book in your hand.

“What?” You look down at the book in your hand, taking in the title quickly and looking back to Mr. Miller, “Yes, yes. I love to read. I love literature and an occasional poem.”

“Really? I truly admire some of the new poets and their work. I actually just got back from France with Sarah where we met some wonderful new artists. Have you read anything recently published?”

“France? Wow. It must’ve been beautiful,” You mentally searched your mind for anything you’ve read that had been recently published, “On the Sea by John Keats.”

He nodded and smiled, “Yes,” He unclasped his hands and reached up to touch a book, “Quite a poet for someone your age.”

“Really?” You challenged, feeling your nerves melt away slightly, “Or is it just quite a poet for a woman?”

He laughed at that, retreating his hand from the shelf, “No, of course not. Just… I haven’t found someone under the age of thirty-five to read Keats.”

“Hm,” You purse your lips and return your attention to the book in your hand, “Well, I’d better go and get ready for dinner, it’s a formal occasion in this house.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from Lady Langford,” He smiled, almost laughing, “And, if you would, I’d love to discuss more poets with you. I have a female poet I think you’d love, if you like Keats.”

You smile, almost blushing.

“See you for dinner, Mr. Miller,” You turn on your heels out of the library, but not before allowing yourself a proper look at him. His dark hair was starting to curl at the edges, his graying beard was peppered across the bottom half of his face and his big, chocolate brown eyes were set in a permanent gentle smile. You committed the curves of his cheeks and regal nose to memory and allowed yourself to picture those brown eyes that night in bed as you lie awake.

You smiled to yourself like an idiot as you let your mind wander to places that pictured you, Mr. Miller and Sarah all happily laughing and smiling at some sprawling estate.

You silently begged yourself to find something wrong with him in the next coming days.

You have never acted this way about a man, ever. But, they had never piqued your interest even slightly.

Then, you silently hoped for a dream in which you and Mr. Miller were the main characters.

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Part 2 here!

#joelmiller #pedropascal #joel miller x reader #last of us #joel miller x you #regency era #regency

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curedigiqueen · 3 months ago

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I think if there was ever a follow up to Survive it'd probably be an 02 and/or Tamer's inspired sequel, and I do have thoughts about that, but I honestly think Frontier getting the Survive treatment would be coolest. I mean already Frontier is probably the anime most like Adventure outside of Adventure's reboot, so I think it would work really well for similar reasons as Survive. But it's got enough going that it'd be distinct too.

Survive deals with the horror in having another life form, a life form with the potential for incredible amounts of strength tied to you and your sense of identity. The horror of a group of children being spirited away to another world in the name of saving it (as sacrifices).

But with Frontier, the horror in asking what kind of kids, or for what reason kids would choose to follow a message and end up in another world. The horror in becoming something else.

Survive has 10 main characters, there are 10 legendary warriors.

Three Archangels and Lucemon instead of Four Holy Beasts and Fanglongmon

Instead of Haru and Miyuki a Strabimon (or Flamemon) who is later revealed to be a former human kid is found already in the Digital World

Instead of echoes of the human world the kids find chunks of land getting rearranged or just straight up missing

MagnaGarurumon and KaiserGreymon instead of Boltboutamon and Plutomon for route dependent evolutions and dependent on which kids survive to the end.

Susanoomon if all survive to the end/true ending

Karma/affinity levels determining attribute of characters (not how variable attribute usually works by tbh why not)

One route kids stay in digital world as digimon in another they leave the digital world forever in another they stay digimon but go home?

Light and Darkness can still be twins but like maybe codependent prior to being separated in the digital world. Like Strabimon is met by the group immediately and Duskmon is trying to hunt the kids down, but Strabimon weirdly won't let them hurt Duskmon?

Protag would be Flamemon(or equivalent) when they go back home in Takuya parallel and maybe have to fight human units without hurting them in the Ch 8 parallel

Character who dies because they'd rather die than become a Digimon.

Speaking of which what happens when these kids die?

Character who refuses to become human again because they never want to be weak again.

Character who loses themself to their beast form, maybe hurting themselves or someone else

If we want to include the concept of fractal code, the idea of the kids having parts of their code stolen/ changed/added to, affecting memories, physical traits, tastes, and skillsets.

Character conflicts leading to physical fighting in their Digimon forms

Being able to eat the strange foods in the digital world that would normally definitely be inedible

I think there's a lot of room for drama in what decisions lead the kids to end up in this world

Obviously one of the kids can be dragged their by their bullies so we have some bullies on the same team as their victim.

One kid went because they take any excuse not to go home so figured might as well check this out

Or another kid who desperately need money and were under the assumption this was a meet up for one of their jobs

Water can be the victim of toxic beauty standards/show industry/an idol

I think the fact the gender balance isn't as much of a problem as people might think as I think a lot of the Spirits are actually gender neutral looking enough to be female. I could see Darkness, Ice and/or Wood especially. (See Survive and Plutomon or Cyber Sleuth Alphamon for example).

#I just generally think it'd be really cool to reuse the armor and spirit evolution concepts #these were concepts introduced pretty early on in the franchises history at this point #and despite efforts to homogenize the franchise it seems they still don't know what to do with these #I honestly think they should just make new stories about these concepts so they aren't as intrinsically tied to their seasons of origin #let there be several warriors of fire etc.#let digimentals just casually be part of the lore in a season #digimon #digimon survive #digimon frontier

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davekat-sucks · 2 months ago

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The thing about Dirk is that we don't actually know anything about him. Whatever he might've been at 13 before he created AR is gone. Everything about Dirk is filtered through AR's dialogue and Dirk's damage control.

A lot of his actions in the comic were direct reactions to AR's meddling. His sole interest in Jake could be because he's gay. But it could be because Dirk is a genderbend of Rose, and dating black-haired dork boys is just in the genes for them. But it could also be because AR is the one who's interested in Jake and is projecting it onto Dirk, given how insistent he was about it. Separated from AR, we learn that he actually has a huge amount of respect for his friends and doesn't want to muddy the waters with unnecessary baggage or his own vulnerabilities.

Hell, when Roxy assumed he was gay, he flat out told her that's not the word he'd use. Given that gay is the word for a guy who's into guys and not into girls, that's pretty telling in itself. A side note in that conversation, Roxy also tacked on "not wanting anything to do with" her as part of the whole gay talk, which again, Dirk refuted. Don't know about you, but that looks to me a whole lot less like "Roxy, I am indeed what you would call the flamingoest of homosecksulls." and more like "Roxy, with all due respect, I cherish our friendship way too much to inflict that upon either of us." Because what self-respecting friend would want to inflict a girl with an alcohol problem and a guy with a self image problem on each other?

Dirk expresses the Lalondian phenomenon of believing there being a lot more layers to what people say than just the surface words. He throws out a lot of word salad hoping that people will actually read between the lines. Unfortunately, most people who read Homestuck are not good at reading between the lines. So instead of "I'm not interested in Roxy or Jane, specifically." and later tacking on his comment of sexy fish hitler eventually coming to the conclusion he might be bisexual with a bias and no free female options after the clipping of the cast, he's just gay now with no twist.

His thing with Rosebot and Terezi isn't even because they're girls. It's because they work as splinters of himself, which ironically makes them perfect matches. Terezi becomes the obvious stand-in for AR, while Rosebot becomes a far-stretched reference to Problem Sleuth, in which the guys' perfect partners are just feminine versions of themselves created with the power of imagination and brought to life with magic bullfuckery.

I think the real problem with post-canon Dirk is that he's not Dirk anymore. He's AR's personality glued onto Dirk, and the only real time we saw his real self squeak through was after he started having softer moments with Rosebot and Terezi. The quiet and vulnerable Dirk that was overshadowed by his overbearing robotic AI brotherson, who cared deeply for the people around him but couldn't resist fucking with them just a little bit. The Dirk who hates outdated and stringent labeling systems that don't even penetrate the surface layer of his nuances.

That being said, HalJake is better than DaveKat and DirkJake. Since Hal was the one more obsessed with Jake and trying to convince Dirk that he was as well.

HalJake aka Interchangeable Lenses is better than DaveKat and DirkJake.

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nohoperadio · 21 days ago

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In the second week of April 2016 the most important friendship of my life definitively ended (my fault). This was, among other things, bad. Another thing that happened in the second week of April 2016 was that Homestuck ended. I was both early and late to the party regarding Homestuck, I got into Problem Sleuth while that was still in progress so I was there for the beginning of Homestuck in '09 (including the brief Flash "beta"), but quickly got sick of trying to follow it through incremental updates and after a month or two I gave up and made a mental note to come back to it when it was complete. Seven years later, having just destroyed what I was then wont to think of as being the only source of good in my life past present or future (astute readers may be able to intuit subtle indications of what was perhaps not entirely healthy about the friendship in question), I was suddenly able to action this mental note.

The timing seems ridiculously providential in retrospect. The two things happened exactly back-to-back. Obviously I was in need of a good distraction at the time. And as well as having the useful demerit of being a billion pages long, I think Homestuck might be the only single piece of media in my adult life that I've successfully become truly obsessed with, which I know is something that comes naturally to a lot of people but it doesn't to me. Obsessed in the sense where it was the main content of my thoughts for several months. After I finished it I found all the liveblogs I could and experienced it again and again via other people's reactions. You could make an argument I was in a state of mind where I was primed to imprint on anything that could competently hold my attention, and there may be something to that but also Homestuck is kind of an excellent purpose-built attention sink right? I mean as long as the basic vibe is something that speaks to you. It's made such that you have to be willing to get quite obsessed with it just to experience it at all in any kind of adequate way, it forces you to synthesize ridiculous quantities of plot material largely on your own initiative, because somehow despite the length and slowness it manages to be exquisitely underwritten in terms of like, what is actually happening. If you're willing/hoping to not have much brain space left for real life, it's a good way to achieve that.

What was the point of this post? Nothing I think; actually I'm pretty sure the thing that got me thinking of this to begin with was that I suddenly remembered one of the livebloggers, who did their read-through in the form of commentated youtube videos, which was already a crazy idea and that must have been hundreds of hours of content, but the specific thing I remembered was that they stopped the series abruptly literally a few pages before the ending because they thought the Davepetasprite thing was too stupid to abide. Which is kind of an incredible power move when you think about it. I looked for their channel again a few years later and they'd deleted the whole thing.

Somehow I'd never seen those symbols for the zodiac before (or probably had but never really processed or retained them in my mind) and I thought the designs were original to the comic, experienced a surreal moment when I first saw them in a different context. I don't even know where he lives anymore. I really hope things are good with him.

#pastposting #uninteresting

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heylavellan · 7 months ago

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Hello and happy Friday! ^^ How about ""I don't want explanations. I want…" 💋" for Neve and Bellara?

did i get carried away? yes! i had so much fun writing from bellara's pov. veilguard spoilers, read at your own discretion! @dadrunkwriting

no takesies-backsies

rating: t

words: 1282

notes: bellara follows in varric's friend fiction footsteps and writes her self insert falling in love with neve's character. wingman lucanis

Maybe Bellara went just a bit toooo far. Sometimes that happened. More than sometimes. This whole writing thing had been Neve's suggestion. Well, Neve and Rook's. It was a nice break from interrogating the Nadas Dirthalen made by Anaris the Forgotten One and trying not to think about the fact her brother was serving said Forgotten One. Also that her gods thought it would be fun to try and Blight the world.

There was a lot going on, and sometimes Bellara would rather distract herself. The serials Neve brought her were great, but she always finished them before the next chapter was ready. Then she'd read the week's assigned reading for the book club and get bored, so she'd try one of those large academic tomes Emmrich brought. Which inevitably brought her back to the Nadas Dirthalen and all those thoughts she was trying to avoid.

So she started writing about the Veilguard! It was really fun at first, but she quickly ran into a problem. She caught up to the present day. Which was good, because it meant that she could write about things as they happened. But bad. Really bad, since it meant she was stuck with the original problem. Nothing to do.

One day when Bellara was complaining to Lace, the dwarf shared what she knew about Varric's books. About how Hard in Hightown was based on some of his friends in Kirkwall. Donnen was Donnic, Belladona was Isabela, and Maysie was Merrill. Friend fiction, he'd called it.

It was then that Bellara had the perfect idea. Neve was always saying that the press was giving her a bad rep in Minrathous. So why not write a story about how awesome she was? The Neve Gallus!

Well, clearly the main character couldn't be Neve Gallus exactly. Varric didn't drop his friends straight into the works. No, he gave them new names. So how about Guinevere? It had "neve" in the name, but it wasn't immediately obvious. She could be called 'Gee' for short! Agent Gee? No, that wasn't right.

Neve was a suave detective, so Gee needed to be too. But what was she sleuthing? Maybe... for stolen elven artifacts? No, that wouldn't sell in Tevinter. Which was where Neve needed to fix her image. No, she could be the Bloodhound of Minrathous, stopping blood rituals just in time and tracking down anything lost.

And every hero needed a sidekick. Lucanis seemed like a good option, but he didn't live in Minrathous. He was the Demon of Vyrantium. But maybe she could work with that. Maybe they were instead rival detectives, who shared a sidekick unknowingly. The Shadow of Vyrantium competing with the Bloodhound of Minrathous. Yes!

But who was the sidekick. Maybe they were telling the story. Maybe it was... her? Hmmm, that could work. Lucine, the elven sidekick who could sneak across the city unnoticed. She ran a repair shop in Dock Town and sold second hand and vintage wares.

As Bellara continued to shape the story and write the first chapters, it became quite clear that Lucine was in love with Guinevere. Which was strange. Because Bellara wasn't in love with Neve, right? She knew she liked women, after all she dated Irelin for a while. But Neve?

She continued to write. Gee was developing a crush on the Shadow, who she would later reveal to be Lucine's younger sibling Dellen. They both continued to solve crime in Minrathous and Vyrantium until Lucine got targeted by a scheme. The Shadow and the Bloodhound work together to retrieve Lucine, where they admit begrudging respect for each other. And Lucine confessed her love for Guinevere. And they lived happily ever after.

That felt like a good place to end the book. Rook helped her find a publisher, and it was out in Minrathous. She thought that was the end of that. She'd put her first book out in the world!

But with Neve Gallus, things weren't so. Publishing might have been the step too far. After an excursion to Arlathan with Rook and Lucanis (who politely informed Bellara that her book was very popular among the residents of Treviso), Neve was waiting in Bellara's room, reading through a copy of her book.

To be honest, she'd been shoving down her feelings for Neve in case they weren't returned. Until the crush went away, the book was a good enough outlet. "Guinevere took Lucine's hand and kissed her knuckles, looking reverently at her sidekick," quoted Neve, placing a ribbon in the passage she was on. "I was wondering why so many people were asking me if my full name was Guinevere recently."

Bellara blushed and stammered, "I'm sorry if I put your real name out there, but I wanted the character to be like you but also not you?"

Neve smiled -- a real smile, not the ones she wore when she was patiently putting up with Bellara's rambles. "No. I just think it's sweet what you think of me," she replied, setting the book down on the table. "I hope I have enough stories to fuel your next book."

If it was possible, she flushed an even brighter red. Neve drew closer, and Bellara became immediately aware of the curve of her body, the click of her shoes. The deep cut of her shirt. She gulped. "I think so? I don't know if I'll write another. I mean, you're awesome and deserve to have another written about you, but um. Only if you want me to. I really should have asked," she said, letting her mouth speak whatever words crossed her mind. Mythal'enaste, she hadn't been this flustered since she first met Irelin!

"I'm honoured that you want to write about me. But I think the one thing that's stumped me is who Lucine is. The Shadow, Dellen. That's like Lucanis. There's Guinevere, me. You even had Inge, that was a slick way to get Ingellvar in there. But Lucine?" Neve dissected the book and placed a hand on Bellara's shoulder.

She knew? She had to know, right? There was no way she didn't. She was a detective and had clearly picked up that she'd used last names to inspire first names. Guinevere - Gallus, Dellamorte - Dellen, Inge - Ingellvar. Leaving Lucine - Lutare. Neve had to know. And if she didn't she'd certainly have it confirmed by her facial expressions.

Before she could stammer out an apology or explain it away as just part of the book, Neve started, "Look, I don't need explanations. I need…"

Well, if the nug was out of the bag... Bellara cut her off by standing on her tiptoes to kiss Neve. It wasn't intense really, just a quick peck. Before she embarrassed herself. She already felt like she did, but... Whatever. Also, if she kissed Neve longer she'd want more. And Neve might not want that. "I'm sorry!" Bellara squeaked.

The second part of her apology was cut off by two warm hands grabbing her cheeks and a long kiss on her lips. It began to heat up, as Neve licked and nipped Bellara's lips. A small gasp left her mouth, allowing Neve to slip her tongue into Bellara's mouth.

Someone coughed at the doorway. "I'll just bring your tea later?" Lucanis asked, slowly backing out of Bellara's room. Bellara darted over, grabbing her tea from Lucanis with a smile. She missed the pointed look Lucanis shot Neve over Bellara's thank you hug.

Neve mouthed a thank you to Lucanis, and picked up the book. "I'll be back later, Bell. I'm certain we can come up with more ideas for the next book," she teased.

Elgar'nan, Neve was going to be the death of her.

#bellara #neve gallus #nevellara #bellara x neve #neve x bellara #veilguard #dadwc #my writing #dragon age fanfic #lucanis #veilguard spoilers #dragon age veilguard #da4 #datv

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