#though very poorly maintained

[willsilvertongue]

i come on here i display unwell feelings about his dark materials i leave

[troublesomesnitch]

Meeting Vhagar - Drabble

Aemond x Wife!Reader

Much to your dismay, Prince Aemond insists on bringing your little son to Vhagar. Set sometime during the Dance.

Contents: Just a little practice thing... Dad!Aemond, Targaryen parenting, subtle fluff. Little bit of subtle angst too. No filth this time..

Words: 3000, and very sloppily proof read.

The carriage can only take you so far as to the Iron Gate. 

Beyond its massive doors, the Rosby Road winds North, poorly maintained and full of potholes, as it is the shortest of the main roads, and thus the least important. It is not as busy as others, and the gate is not guarded as well - clearly, as the men who should be protecting it are presently engaged in a game of cards, laid out on top of a large, flat rock.

That is where the driver will wait, but it is not your destination. 

There is another little trail. One that runs in the opposite direction, scarcely used and partially hidden, visible only to those who know it. No horse or wagon can make the journey, and there is no option but to walk - first along a narrow, trodden path, and then further still, down treacherous steps, carved into the very rock the city rests upon. Past the watchtower, and across the Northern beach, to the vast caves of Maegor the Cruel, where Vhagar has made her nest.

You walk alone, just the two of you. The prince in his coat and boots, and yourself in attire much less suited for the occasion. Fine shoes, fine skirts, and with your little son cradled in your arms. 

The gentle rocking of the carriage has lulled him to sleep. Four months old, he is, and a source of such joy that your poor heart can scarcely contain it. From his first high-pitched cry when you brought him into the world - oh, the pains of labour were all but forgotten, as was the threat of the raging war. And when the prince came to see his son, you could hardly even bear to let him hold him. 

He wanted to bring the boy much sooner, but both you and the dowager queen staunchly put your foot down against that. Children should not be brought outside the home until they have at least lived through the first perilous weeks, and possibly even their first fever. And even then, most would argue, they have no business being around ferocious animals. 

“I don’t like it,” you say, for the umpteenth time, taking the hand offered to you by the prince to help you cross a treacherous stretch. “It is mad, bringing an infant to such a beast - ” 

“Vhagar should know him,” he says, steadfast and determined. As he has done whenever you voiced your concern. 

It does nothing at all to calm your nerves. But it is his most compelling argument, and the only reason you have allowed this lunacy in the first place. So the dragon would recognise the boy as his, and as one of her own. So she would know to protect him, if - something should happen. 

You make it halfway across the pebbled beach before the prince pauses. And you do too, lifting your gaze to follow his line of sight; see what he is looking at. 

An enormous, greyish mass, some yards away, that at first you thought was a moss-grown rock, or years of washed up seaweed. But the mass makes a rumbling noise and begins to shift and lift itself, slowly and carefully, as though with much effort. Part of it becomes a leg, another part unfurls into a great wing, and the rock nearest to you becomes a head, with a mouth full of jagged teeth, and two eyes opening slowly. Amber in colour, and with slitted pupils staring straight at you. 

“She can sense me,” the prince declares, with no small amount of pride, lifting his chin and straightening his back. 

You, however, are paralysed, utterly shocked by her vastness. You have never seen Vhagar this close before, and though you knew of her impressive size, it is one thing to see her soaring across the sky, and quite another to be right next to her, unprotected and vulnerable.

It seems to you that the span of her wings could cover half the city, that entire buildings could fit in her mouth. And certainly, she could end all three of you with her fiery breath, or with a single swipe of her claw or her massive tail. One wrong move, even if accidental, even if she did not mean to - you would all be dead. 

“Come,” the prince says, pushing at the small of your back. But you stall, digging in your heels, frozen in place at the sight of her. 

“I’ve changed my mind,” you stammer. “We should go back - it is not safe…”

The prince gives an overbearing, if somewhat irritated sigh. 

“Dragons are loyal beasts,” he reassures. “Vhagar is loyal to me, she obeys me - ”

“She is a beast,” you hiss, hugging your drowsy son closer to your chest. “She cannot be trusted. It is too dangerous - I won’t let you bring him any closer - ”

Prince Aemond does not like to be challenged. He turns around to look at you coolly, his voice low and scornful as he speaks. 

“Is your opinion of me so unfavourable, wife, that you think I would risk harm to my own son?”

“No,” you respond, quietly, but truthfully. Since you were married, your opinion of the prince has only risen, slowly but surely. And it continues to do so, still - though perhaps not right now. “I don’t like it - ”

“Mhm - so you said,” your husband says dryly, all but wrenching the swaddled boy from your arms. 

He does not complain, the boy. Prince Aemond comes to visit often, at least once a day, and sometimes more. He sits with the child, reads to him, lets him fall asleep in his arms - not for very long each time, but it is at least enough for the little boy to recognise his father’s low voice and stern face as something safe and comfortable. As is evident from the way he now settles against the prince’s leather-clad chest, tangling his little fist into a lock of his hair. 

The beast remains still, pensive as her rider approaches, her serpent’s eyes fixed on the thing in his arms, on what he is bringing her. Your most precious treasure, your life’s very purpose, completely at the mercy of the greatest dragon in the world. 

You might have felt more at ease if the soft, sparse hair on his head had been silver like his father’s, but alas, it is not. It is exactly like yours, and only the bright violet of his eyes gives away his true inheritance. 

And that seems like too little a thing for such a large creature to notice. 

Prince Aemond calls out in that strange language of his, with the open vowels and the rolling R’s. It is beautiful, especially in his mouth, and the dragon responds at once, contorting herself to let him touch her wrinkled neck with affection. Which is a strange sight, but what is even stranger is the way she grumbles - as though she likes it. He speaks to her as if she was another person, in long, full sentences that are much too complicated for you to even attempt to understand. There is only one word you can make out, for the sole reason that he says it twice - yoreliatzeh, or yorelatzya, or something akin to that. You haven’t a clue as to what it means. 

Vhagar snorts once, and the prince steps back to give her room to move, to rise up onto her legs and bring her head closer, her nose almost touching his hip. While you stand at a distance, staring at the utterly bizarre scene playing out in front of you. A fearsome, vicious beast, sniffing the child like a dog would. Gently and carefully, only she is so big that each of her cautious breaths is like a small gust of wind, making your husband’s hair billow about his face. When she makes a grunting noise, he carefully unwraps some of the swaddlings, holding the child up to let her see him better, smell him better. 

He is bright, your darling boy, and curious, like all babes and children. His eyes are wide as they take in Vhagar’s scaly form, and he gives a soft squeal of surprise or wonder, kicking his little feet under the blankets. Reaching his arm towards the beast's massive head, her massive teeth -

“Aemond, please - ” you gasp, clutching your hands to your throat. 

The prince turns his head to give you a stern look, one that clearly shows he is running out of patience. And maybe this time it is justified, because your fearful outburst startles the boy, who begins to squirm unhappily in his father’s arms. Fussing and whimpering; a sound that is as painful to you as salt to an open wound. 

“Bring him to me,” you plead, “can’t you see that he is frightened - ” 

“He is frightened because you are frightened,” the prince says, as soft spoken as always, but with a hint of something sharp underneath.

He cradles the boy closer to his chest, bouncing him gently, holding his head and murmuring soothing words. Exactly as you would do, and to the same effect. It calms him down, and his big, round eyes start darting around again, taking in his surroundings. The dragon, the grey sea, the fine silver clasps on his father’s clothes. It does seem that the latter intrigues him the most. 

Vhagar lifts her neck and tilts her head just slightly, seemingly very interested in the child, in this tiny little creature; the way he moves his little limbs, and his soft coos and noises. There is an almost… thoughtful look in her eyes, or at the very least a curious one. 

It makes you wonder about the extent of her perception. Whether she truly knows that this is Aemond’s child, that it came from him, from his body, his flesh. If she can sense it somehow, through the bond they purportedly share, or if she understood it when he spoke to her. 

How intelligent is a dragon? Are they like dogs or horses, able to learn the meaning of certain words, but not the full breadth of language? Or do they think as people, with nuance and emotion, and a mind as vivid as your own. 

You do not know. You suppose no one really does. 

“Come,” the prince calls, reaching his arm towards you, beckoning you closer. However, a single glance at Vhagar, whose mighty gaze is now focused on you, is enough to inspire disobedience in even the most well-behaved wife.

“I would really rather not - ”

“She must know the both of you,” he insists. 

“Is that - necessary?” you squirm, wringing your hands, very much aware that you are not a dragon rider, that you haven’t a drop of Valyrian blood. “Vhagar has no reason to think fondly of me…”

The prince scoffs. 

“Are you not the mother of my child?” he says. “Now, come.” 

You must go to him. He is your lord husband, and he is a prince, and such is the way of things. But you are not at all glad to, and you walk with shaky, reluctant steps, gripping onto his elbow and cowering behind him like a frightened child. 

You close your eyes when the dragon lowers her head once more, bringing it towards you. A sudden, low-pitched growl makes your heart tremble, but the prince speaks a soft command. Lykirī, Vhagar. Lykirī.

It has a calming effect on you too. As does the arm he keeps outstretched in front of you - solely for your comfort, you assume, as it would make no difference whatsoever, should Vhagar decide that she does not like you. But you appreciate the gesture nonetheless.

The air is warm, this close to her, and your skirts move around your legs when she breathes, slowly and deeply, while the prince speaks to her in soft tones. That word again, the one from before, and many others. You know the words for wife, for king, for father, brother, sister, even for dragon, but he says none of those now, so you have no guess as to what he is telling her. Or if she understands. Or what he would call you, if not his wife. 

This woman is my - spouse? lady? lover?

You do have a kind of love for him, and sometimes you think he does for you, too. Sometimes. One can never be sure of anything with the prince, who keeps himself so closely guarded. Even after more than a year of marriage. Even now that you have given him a child. 

The birth went mercifully well, but your recovery was long, and he has only recently begun to come to your bed again. And so far, only a handful of times. The first time, it was so painful for you that the act could not be completed, and the second time, he finished so quickly that it barely even counts. The third was better. Pleasurable for both of you, but still strange after going so long without it - at least for you. It is both likely and possible that the prince satisfied his urges elsewhere while your body was indisposed. You do not know. Nor do you wish to. 

The ground shifts beneath your feet, and the heat around you lessens, as does the heavy smell of burned flesh and brimstone, the very same one that so often clings to your husband’s clothes. When you open your eyes it is to the sight of Vhagar, settled onto her belly, her head laid atop her claws. Calm and docile, and with a deep rumble coming from her chest - one that is probably a sign of contentment, even if it sounds utterly terrifying. 

“Touch her,” the prince commands, giving a gentle push to your back. “You have nothing to fear, touch her.” 

It is quite clear that Vhagar is unruffled by your presence, that she is resting. But with her eyes heavy and half-closed, it makes her look so menacing, so evil - even though you know that evil does not exist inherently in any beast. Only in those who train it. 

You draw in a steadying breath, gathering up your courage, reaching your hand out - only to then think better of it and let it fall. 

“I am afraid to,” you whisper.

The prince sighs. But his hand closes gently around yours, bringing it to rest on the side of her nose, first the tips of your fingers, and then your whole palm. 

It is like nothing else you have ever felt, her scales. You always imagined that a dragon’s skin would feel like leather, but Vhagar’s skin is so much tougher, so much rougher, like running your hand over little rocks. And she is warm - so warm, as though a fire is always burning somewhere in her throat. 

She does not object at all to your touch, even when the prince withdraws his own hand, leaving only yours. Only you and Vhagar. The largest, oldest being in the world. 

To think, the things she has seen. The conquest, the Dornish Wars, the very founding of the realm of the Seven Kingdoms. Dozens of castles have crumbled in her fire, and thousands of people have perished, and she has fought and won hundreds of battles; torn through stone, rock and earth as though it was boiled jelly. 

It is at once terrifying and romantic, like something from a fairytale, or stories of ancient times. A creature of such myth and legend that you almost feel as though you should bow down to her, as one does before a great matriarch.

Vhagar the Conqueror. Queen of all Dragons. 

She closes her eyes when you draw back. 

“He might ride her too, some day,” the prince says quietly. Wistfully. 

“But dragons only have one rider - ” you protest, cutting yourself off when you realise what he meant. What he left unsaid. 

This is war. The realm is at war. Death is everywhere; at the end of a blade, in the point of an arrow. And if not on the field of battle, then in tainted water or plague-ridden camps; empty bellies or festering wounds.

“You shouldn’t say such things,” you mutter, looking down at your feet. Your dirtied shoes. 

The prince does not answer. A heavy mood has settled over the rocky beach, something vast and bleak and empty, only compounded by the surroundings. The colourless sky, the sombre crashing of waves. Even Vhagar gives a doleful sigh, as though she too is weary of what is to come.

She has been the prince’s companion since childhood. He was born to the queen, but Vhagar made him what he is, made him ruthless, made him brutally ambitious. Made him Aemond One-Eye, Aemond the Kinslayer. Prince Regent, Protector of the Realm. She has known him boy and man, as well as any, and better than most. She has known him in life, and she may yet know him in death.

You push that thought away as forcefully as your mind allows. You shouldn’t think such things. 

A coo from your son breaks the tension, and his eyes turn to the sky, where a large heron is flapping its wings. The afternoon is turning to evening, and soon the bell will ring for supper - something warm and comforting, you hope. You are cold, your breasts feel sore, and you have most certainly had enough excitement for one day. For several days, in fact.

“Can we go, please,” you breathe, looking up at your husband with wide, pleading eyes. 

“She is tired,” he says, with a soft glance at Vhagar’s terrifying face, and a gentle touch to her side. “Yes, we should.”

—

You walk slower on the way back. Uphill, with sore feet, and your boy now fast asleep in your arms. Safe and snug where he belongs. 

“My Prince,” you begin, sweet and innocent. “What does… yoreliatzeh mean?”

There is a sly little smile on his face when you look at him, a self-assured look in his remaining eye.

“Jorrāeliarza,” he corrects, with an artful pause before he continues. As though to keep you in suspense. “It means dear. Or… beloved.”

If he sees the sudden blush on your face, he does not let on. 

“Jorālitzeh.”

“No,” he says. “Jor-rāe-liar-za.”

“Jor-rāe-liar-za,” you repeat, trying your very best to mimic the exact movements of his mouth, the way he gently rolls his tongue. “Jorrāeliarza.”

“Better,” he nods, and then you round a corner, just in time to see the guards hastily hide their cards away, and the driver shuffling back towards the carriage, eagerly shoving his winnings into a pocket. 

Jorrāeliarza. Jorrāeliarza. Jorrāeliarza. 

Dear. Beloved. 

You like that very much.  

Please feel free to come into my asks or DMs with critique of my fics! Constructive is preferred, but not required.

Tags. @arcielee, @targaryen-madness, @aemondsbabygirl, @qyburnsghost, @blackswxnn

I am a mess with the tagging, I'm so sorry if I forgot or wrongly tagged anyone. Let me know, I will fix it.

[luveline]

hi jade!!

if you’re still taking hurt/comfort requests could i request poly marauders and how they all respond to one of remus’ chronic pain flare ups/his chronic pain in general? i think you did one with reader a while ago so feel free to ignore if it feels too repetitive. i love the way you write remus and his chronic pain it means a lot to me as someone who has chronic pain too!! sometime when i have a flare up i reread all your remus fic and it makes me feel so much better ♥️

thank you lovely!! modern au, fem, 1k

“I just don’t know what to say to him,” James whispers. 

You wipe the lip of the bowl, the steam that’s billowing from it fragrant with fresh chopped basil and warm on your cheeks. “You do, Jamie, you’ll just say what you always say to him.” 

“I feel like he must get very tired of me, I just verbal diarrhoea at him while he’s crying.” 

You give James a loving smile. “And he appreciates it, I promise. Are you gonna come in and keep us company?” 

“No. I don’t know. Maybe you can have a look if he’s up for both of us and come and get me?” 

James is too much a sweetheart. He’s been taking care of Remus for years and he’s still never sure if he’s doing the right thing, especially when Sirius isn’t there. You promise James you’ll come and get him as soon as Remus says it’s okay, which he most likely will, and start up the stairs with Remus’ dinner tray to the master bedroom. 

Remus thankfully isn’t crying now despite a rough morning. He’s sitting against the headboard with his jaw locked and a loose neck pillow on his shoulders for support, the TV on a low volume opposite and lighting his face. 

“Can I turn on the light?” 

“Please.” 

You flick it on. “Your soup. Did you want toast?” 

“No… Thank you.” You put the tray on his lap carefully. He tips his head up, smiling weakly. “Thanks, dove.” 

“You’re welcome.” You sit down at the top of the bed with him. “Can I stay?” 

He’s insistent that you stay. You’ve not got much to say while he eats, his small mouthfuls a mixture of relief and wincing, but you take up station by his worst leg and run a loving hand up and down the front of it. When you’re sure he’s alright, you let your hand slide under, your finger to the soft part behind his knee and pushing downward.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” you say, beginning the familiar motions of a massage. 

“I don’t think you could,” he says over the lip of his glass of water. 

You turn away from him with a smile. Even poorly, he’s a wild flirt. “You’ll have to tell James he’s allowed to come and see you. He doesn’t want to be annoying.” 

“I’ll shout for him.” He sighs and holds his tray on either handle. “Jamie!” he calls, sounding himself but admittedly heartbreakingly tired. “Can you come here? Please?” 

James is straight up the stairs. He was probably waiting on the bottom step. “Yeah?” he asks, his irises like mint two pence pieces, his hand sliding down the door frame. 

“Can you move this for me? And sit down?” 

It’s as lovely an invitation from him as any when said so tenderly. James walks around to Remus opposite side, putting his tray on the wide window sill before situating himself in the mountain of blankets. It must be weird to be someone’s boyfriend but to have been their best friend for a long time before it; they fit together effortlessly in some ways and maintain a certain shyness in others. James has no problem sitting as close to Remus as he can, but he doesn’t look at him right away, not until Remus leans up to kiss James’ brown cheek. 

“You’re never annoying,” Remus says. 

James wraps an arm behind Remus’ back, confident though cautious not to hurt him. “If you say so,” he says sincerely. 

Time slugs slowly for you all when Remus is in pain, but eventually he has to lay down, his leg twitching frantically in your hold, his nose pressed hard to James’ arm. You persuade some painkillers into him and stay at his side with his water bottle, your cheek resting on his shoulder.

You get out your phone to text Sirius. He’ll get upset if he isn’t in the know. 

Hi Siri, Remus is in lots of pain, has had 600mg of ibuprofen and three co-codamol because he hasn’t had any paracetamol yet, is that okay? 

Sirius texts back quickly. That’s fine, don’t give him anything else even if he asks for it, three co-codamol is one too many 

Sirius again, on the way home. do we need anything from the shop ? miss you lovely 

You’d smile if you weren’t worried about the boy shaking under your cheek. I miss you too, don’t worry about getting anything

Sirius does worry, you can hear the crinkle of a shopping bag when he gets home a few minutes later. “He was quick,” you say, sitting up to kiss Remus’ cheek. “He’s gonna hog you now.” 

“Love you, dove.” 

“I love you.” 

Remus tries to savour that through the hot pain rushing all over. His pain is strange, it always has been, disobeying reason and often people’s belief. Half of it is a mystery, the other misery, and you and the boys have always believed him nonetheless. He’s never treated as childish or dramatic, only cared for, James’ endless stories and Sirius’ stern concern, and now you, his sweetheart, with all your soft touches and tone. You speak to him like he’s your favourite person on earth, voice underlain with fondness, always. And you’re selfless more often than not as you are right this moment, moving back to his leg, giving Sirius room to crawl breathlessly into bed beside him. 

“Hello, gorgeous. What’s hurting tonight?” Sirius asks.

Not said to undermine him, Sirius just needs to know. He wants to fix everything. 

“My back and my legs, mostly,” Remus confesses through a shiver. He’ll cry soon. No one will make him feel bad for it. 

“Maybe you should try laying on your front for a bit, yeah? James can still harass you,” —Sirius brings his hand to Remus’ cheek and strokes it gently with the bends of his knuckles— “it’s less pressure on your back, is all.” 

Remus feels himself calming already. It’s hard to feel hopeless when he’s well looked after. 

[jiraisupportgroup]

♡ Hair Care Tips for Hard Times ♡

Hair care is hard! Especially now that "clean girl" and similar things are super popular, everyone seems to have a 10+ step hair care routine and that is exhausting (/hyp).

Don't be afraid to have a basic routine! There is absolutely no shame in skipping extras like leave-in conditioner or oils, depending on your hair type you honestly might not even need them.

This post is mostly aimed towards bare basic "I cannot get myself into the shower but need to take care of my hair" tips for maintaining hair outside of the shower. Because of this (even though I just said skip all the extras), it does talk about leave-in conditioners, oils, etc, but mostly as an outside-of-the-shower alternative to conditioners, or as a way to freshen up in between showers.

On another note: I tried to add additional tips for textured hair because I know care can be very different. I spent a lot of time poking around Reddit for more tips, but if I worded anything incorrectly, or if you have more tips that you use, let me know! I'd love to edit or add to this with more tips you guys have!

♡ Greasy or in need of refreshing ♡

⟡ If you're feeling a bit more motivated, but not prepared to take a full shower, try washing your hair while sitting down in the shower or on the edge of the tub. Forget about leave-in conditioners, oils, etc, just do the basic shampoo -> conditioner -> done. Make it as easy for yourself as possible. If you need to use a 2-in-1 shampoo/conditioner combination, do it! They aren't the best for your hair, but if it makes the process easier for you, do it. Anything worth doing is worth doing poorly, do whatever you can to make it easier for yourself to get it done.

⟡ For some people, washing your hair in the sink works well since you don't have to worry about the rest of your body getting wet, and you can leave your clothes on. I recommend putting a towel over your shoulders and using a larger sink if possible (I have most definitely washed my hair in the kitchen sink before).

⟡ If you have thicker or more textured hair, the washing process can be exhausting sometimes. Sometimes running cool or lukewarm water through your hair just to wash off your scalp, then applying a light oil or leave-in conditioner to the ends to keep them hydrated can help freshen up without taking up too much of your day.

⟡ Dry shampoo is your best friend. You can use store-bought aerosols, or sprinkle cornstarch or baby powder onto your scalp, let it sit for a few minutes, then brush out the excess or if your hair is thicker you can shake it out over a bathtub to get the extra out. With thicker or more textured hair it can help to part your hair into sections so it can get to your scalp more easily.

⟡ Wetting and running your fingers through your hair just to fluff it up or break it up can help with upkeep, especially if you don't have the energy for (or your hair doesn't do well with) brushing it out.

♡ Dry or tangling easily ♡

⟡ If your hair is really dry at the ends (sometimes dry shampoo can dry out your hair a little too well), you can use a leave-in conditioner, or a little bit of an oil like jojoba oil or coconut oil to bring some moisture back into it. I recommend getting your hair a little bit wet for this, or diluting the oil with water and spraying it on your hair for better absorption. This can also help with keeping your hair pattern better, if you have wavy hair it can lose it's bounce if it's too dry, if you have textured hair it can lose it's fluff or be hard to style if it dries out, don't be afraid to oil those ends!

⟡ Oils or conditioners can also help prevent hair from tangling as easily. Dry or damaged hair can tangle much easier than moisturized hair, so keeping it a little oily can help prevent really bad tangling.

⟡ Be careful with straighteners! Depending on your hair type straightening it can make it a bit easier to maintain, but it can dry your hair out soooo much, especially if it is already damaged. Use a low setting and try to put just a little oil in the ends to keep them from tangling.

⟡ NOTE: When I say a little oil I mean a little. Like a teeny tiny bit, the least you can get away with using. This depends on your hair type, but especially if you have thinner hair you don't want to get into a cycle where you use dry shampoo because it's greasy and then you use too much oil and it gets greasy again. This is something you'll feel out as time goes on.

♡ Hairstyles or hiding ♡

⟡ Using bonnets or wrapping your hair in an old t-shirt while you sleep can help keep it from getting too tangled, losing texture, breaking, or losing moisture. It also helps keep your hair out of your way and off of your mind for a while.

⟡ For thinner hair, consider putting it into a ponytail or braid if it is long enough to keep it all together and out of your way. Try not to tie it too tightly, and stay away from those little rubber band-type holders if you can, using a thicker hair tie will help keep your hair from getting stuck in it, and will make it easier to take it down in the future. Try to take it down and put it back up if it starts getting tangled, I usually aim for about once a day if I can but I've definitely left my hair in braids for 4 days at a time before taking it out and re-doing it.

⟡ For thicker hair or more textured hair you have a few more options. Ponytails and buns work great, or you might consider braids or twists just to keep maintenance a bit lower for a while. This can be a lengthy process so ask friends or family for help! You also don't have to do it all at one time. Depending on what style you're doing you may be able to pull it up and wrap it with a scarf when you go out, or if you're braiding it sometimes you can wrap the braids you have done around the unbraided part to make a little braid bun situation.

⟡ If you're not feeling up to putting it up like that, or you want to just wrap it up and not think about it, things like headbands, scarves, beanies, hats, etc are great options. When I shaved my head I would wear beanies 24/7 and I didn't worry about hair maintenance until it was about shoulder length again because I just didn't know what to do with it T_T. But! No one even knew that I didn't brush it for like 6 months (I also was very grunge at the time so it fit the theme).

♡ Tackling matted hair ♡

⟡ If your hair is badly tangled but not quite matted, use a detangling spray, let it sit for a few minutes, then go in with a wide tooth comb first to break up the hair, then a thinner brush (like a wet brush) to continue brushing. Start from the ends and work up, hold the hair above where you’re brushing to avoid pulling on your scalp, and apply more spray as needed. Do this in a comfortable place like the couch or your bed, and have something to entertain yourself during this process like a movie or music or YouTube video, whatever you can do to make this process as bearable and comfortable as possible.

⟡ If your hair is matted (thick hard chunks of hair) it’s a bit more of a process. Do not panic, do not beat yourself up, it happens, it’s okay. It’s honestly more common than you would think, especially in people with depression or fatigue. Start with wetting the hair, do not try to use shampoo or wash it, just get it wet, then slather it with either a deep conditioning conditioner or a hair mask mixed with an oil like jojoba oil or coconut oil (or mineral oil surprisingly enough; works well for detangling but it can be kind of hard to get out of the hair afterward), and a little bit of apple cider vinegar. Let it sit for about 30 minutes, you want to give your hair time to soak up all the moisture it can. Take your hands and break apart the larger chunks into sections, if this causes tearing or hurts, leave that section alone and move on to another section or brushing. Take a hard brush (like a wet brush or a tangle teezer - really just don’t use a bristle brush) and start from the bottom. It can be hard to tell where the bottom of a mat is, just start from whatever part of it is furthest away from your scalp. During this process a lot of hair will come out, most of this is hair that has already fallen out and is trapped inside of the mat, don’t worry, you’re not balding or ripping your hair out. Apply more oils as needed, break the larger chunks into smaller ones when you can, and have patience! This is a lengthy and frustrating process, it might even feel like you’re not getting anywhere at times but I promise with time you will get there. You don’t have to do this all in one session either. If you can break it into smaller mats, just focus on one of the chunks at a time & go from there. If you can, ask for help! Friends or family, anyone who is willing to hang out and watch movies and brush your hair for a while, it is so much easier with just a little help. You might be surprised at who is willing to help you out (like one of my coworkers recently came over to help me clean my apartment and I really didn't expect her to, it was super nice! No shame in asking, the worst that will happen is they'll say no or they're busy, don't sweat it!)

Thank you for reading ~

Hopefully, some of these tips can help out! Don't forget that you're not alone! I sit writing this with hair that hasn't been properly washed in about 2 weeks so fear not! You're not gross or lazy or anything like that, sometimes it's just hard!

If you have any additional tips or edits feel free to message me or pop them in the comments below!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[satoruwiki]

Naoya nsfw and sfw relationship headcanons pleeeaasse . He's a terribly guilty pleasure and not many people write him (probably because he's a toxic sh*t)

omg anon you’re so right bc who would want an absolute toxic misogynistic fuck of a man (me, i do/j) i was supposed to post this yesterday but i forgor, sorry! btw i may or may not be working a second version of the atrocious fic i did a few days ago abt him… if its of anybody’s interest…

͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏ ♡₊˚ Naoya is the type of man to…𓈒 ˚ ⟡

content: jjk headcanons; half sfw/half nsfw; afab!reader; glimpse of the horrors you’d be going through as his partner lol

n/a: i’m making more content for naoya than my glorious blue eyed king lmao ;-;

these are my hcs! feel free to agree or disagree :b any request/interaction supporting this post is very much appreciated <3

sfw ver! ୨ৎ

Naoya is the type of man to… spoil you rotten. Not because you deserve it—maybe you do—but because one of Naoya’s biggest weaknesses is his pride and reputation, and yours affects his. He can’t have his gf/fiancée/wife wearing low-quality or average clothing, you have to look worthy of him (at least on the outside). So he will gift you kimonos made with the finest fabric and the finest accessories to pair with. If you’re smart enough, you might be able to take advantage of that and manipulate him to buy you whatever you want, but you better be kissing the soil he walks on afterwards.

Naoya is the type of man to… be overprotective and ridiculously jealous. You won’t be able to go out by yourself. Not without him being there or at least one of his servants, what if another man tries to have a conversation with you? What if you flirt back? He doesn’t trust you or anyone but himself. He has to make sure you aren’t fooling around. Besides, you’re so weak—or at least that’s what he thinks—you need someone to protect you. What if someone disrespects you? He can’t let that slide, the only one allowed to treat you poorly is him.

Naoya is the type of man to… secretly like your praises. He won’t tell you, of course, but he does like having someone recognizing his strength—the main reason he’s so protective of you, trying to look like a knight in shining armour—and how great he is on his day-to-day basis. He will be pissed whenever you get mad at him and don’t praise him. He won’t say it directly nor apologize for whatever he did, but you might find an ‘apology’ gift on your side of the bed. If it’s a mistake you did—which to him is always going to be your fault—an easy way to get him to be in a better mood is stroking his ego with lots of praise.

Naoya is the type of man to… expect you to be the perfect wife. Naoya is a very demanding man, he expects nothing but perfection. He expects you to always look pretty, cook, and clean, like your typical traditional wife. Being a conservative man, he will expect you to not speak when gathering with the other clansmen—or outside in general—unless you’re allowed to. It’s for your good, he’d hate for you to embarrass yourself.

Naoya is the type of man to… only marry you for benefits. In matters of love, he is quite unfeeling, however, to maintain his position as the head of the Hei, he must get married and have offspring. This burden, as he would call it, is likely to be done through an arranged marriage. Just because you were chosen over the other bachelorettes doesn't necessarily mean you're at the same level as him—you will always be below him, and perhaps unworthy of him to his eyes—but you're definitely better than the rest, or at least you were the prettiest one. You might be of use to him.

nsfw ver! ୨ৎ

Naoya is the type of man to… degrade the hell out of you. Naoya’s degradation IS NOT for the weak. If he already treats you relatively poorly daily, it gets worse when he fucks you. He’s also going to fuck you rough, so don’t even try to ask him to go slower, he won’t comply. Don’t worry though, he might make sure that you cum (even to the point of overstimulating you) as it boosts up his ego, it makes him think he’s so good he can have his partner squirting for him and begging for more—this is only when he's in a good mood though, otherwise, he couldn't care less if you cum or not.

Naoya is the type of man to… head push you on purpose for you to gag on his dick. He likes the messy and filthy look on your tear streaked face and drool running down your chin, it makes him want to shoot his load on you (which he will).

Naoya is the type of man to… slap you, during or outside sex. Naoya is very ill-tempered, he’s prone to get physical and slap you (just look at how he used to bully maki and mai) or have angry sex with you. Whether it was your fault or someone else’s, he’ll blow off some steam fucking you stupid, and expect you to have bruises frequently.

Naoya is the type of man to… punish you while fucking. Like I said before, Naoya is very prone to angry sex and will punish you as he fucks you. Expect lots of choking, spitting, clit and face slapping and probably your ass bruised as well as your scalp, he wont take in consideration of his strength and yank it hard.

Naoya is the type of man to… use you as his cum dumpster. He doesn’t care if you’re in the mood or not, that’s what you’re there for, basically. He just got back from a meeting with the clansmen and he’s stressed? Get on your knees and suck him off. He's mad? Bend over or spread your legs. You better not object or make any sort of complaint, just take it like a good girl. Chances are that you end up pregnant (because he’s the type to forbid you from using birth control), he hopes it's a boy or he’s gonna blame it on you. (even if he’s the one responsible for the baby’s gender but ok)

Naoya is the type of man to… have a feet kink. I literally have no explanation for this one, just look at his face and tell me he does not have a thing for feet 😭

[katzske]

Thoughts on Earthspark Season 2 (first half)

Spoiler Free:

I must admit I’m dissatisfied.

The animation and rendering definitely looks cheaper. Sometimes it feels like frames are missing, animations not polished, scenes not fully rendered. 2d and 3d poorly blends. It’s quite noticeable unfortunately. Characters also do the TFP Megatron stare now.

That being said, time was taken to revisit old models of characters and give them a new appearance. (4 i’ve noticed) It makes sense given a lot has changed during one year time skip.

The writing often feels either like exposition dumping or naruto filler episodes. I was never at the edge of my seat even during the climax. I ended up skipping through episodes due to the lack of relevant plot information.

Something ES managed to maintain were carefully composed shots that make great still images. While that’s nice for screenshots and redraws, I also feel like it’s the only unique aspect of ES’ animation style that remained. The rest, as previously mentioned, has lost quality.

Character Details I’ve noticed and want to talk about (spoilers ahead)

half of season 2 part 1 is filler. optimus trailer episode, great america with cosmos, a pachycephalosaurus-truck fighting mushrooms, hashtag taking ten years to dispose of hard drives…. each episode did have a few minutes of either cute or important moments. but the majority is a waste of time.

I was hoping that we would learn more about the decepticons. now that they’re free, what are they up to? how are their dynamics? how did season 1 finale change their perception on things? would they try to convince the terrans THEY are the good guys? nothing like that though.

There is no satisfying character development for starscream. ES Starscream was perfect to explore a more neutral version of him, who does not do bad things out of pleasure, but due to necessity; following his desire to be free. In the show he mentions he wanted to get rid of his oppressors (in his eyes autobots and humans), but a real “bruh” moment was when he told Hashtag the only reason he opened up to her last time was to tell her “take care of yourself first”. It completely disregards the fact he came to help in the season 1 finale after reflecting on Hashtags words. It also aggravates me that the writing could have been a very easy fix. “hey i’m not being selfish by destroying this town. im doing this for the decepticons, we have lived under the control of the autobots and then of humans. this needs to stop, we deserve freedom and i will do anything it takes.”

the show managed to establish some friction between starscream and shockwave but for deception standards it was very tame. overall i think it was written okay; he purposely let the Terrans escape with the fragments, and he bailed on Starscream once he went bonkers. I hope that he gets to be a Decepticon leader in the second half; i don’t think we have seen that in any TF TV show before. i also like that his antennae and eye color give away his emotions now.

i feel like the autobots are treated even worse than the decepticons this season ngl. they merely exist; and when they do have the spotlight it’s often for comedy.

why the fuck did shockwave not wait for hashtag to just dump the hard drives and leave. if someone walked up to me yelling “give me your trashbag” as i’m trying to dispose of it i’d be weirded out too lol.

i hope the chaos terrans don’t return. aftermath imo was, plot wise, redundant. spitfire at least was interesting and had an impact.

i wish there were more interesting fights like in season 1 instead of, oh no they’re hitting the trailer with sticks, oh no we are an abomination of dinosaur and vehicle for what feels like 15mins straight. i miss seeing soundwave slay.

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: oarfish

It's the first Wet Beast Wednesday of the year. A year is a long time, and do you know what else is long? Oarfish! (A+ segue right there). Oarfish are long, skinny, and large fish of the family Regalecidae known for their odd appearances. There are three known species of oarfish in two genera: Agrostichthys parkeri, Regalecus russelii, and the most famous: Regalecus glesne.

(image id: a giant oarfish swimming. It is a long, serpentine fish with silvery skin ands multiple black patches. A short, red dorsal fin runs down its back and a crest of fin rays is on the head. end id)

All oarfish are poorly understood due to their deep-sea habitats leaving it hard to study them in the wild. As such, most information about them is known from rare wild sightings and carcasses. Adults live between 250 and 1000 meters (660 to 3300 ft) down, but larvae are occasional juveniles are found near the surface. Living oarfish that end up near the surface are likely to quickly die of depressurization. All species are long, slender, and scaleless, with elongated fin rays at the leading edge of the dorsal and pectoral fins that result in training crests. Their mouths are small and usually toothless (though some have been found with vestigial teeth) and can protrude outward. This protrusion creates suction, which the oarfish uses to draw food into its mouth. Its diet consists of zooplankton, primarily krill and shrimp, but also jellyfish, squid, small fish, and other crustaceans. They lack swim bladders and likely have to actively swim to maintain their position in the water column. Oarfish are believed to use two kinds of locomotion. They can undulate their whole body or by holding the body straight and moving only the long dorsal fin. Regardless of method, oarfish are not strong swimmers. Many of the vertebrae in the tail are hyper-ossified, meaning they have excess bone growth. This is believed to provide support for the tail as it moves and prevent fractures. It also likely helps control buoyancy. In some specimens, the tail appears to be blunted. This is speculated to be the result of self-amputation. The hypothesis is that the oarfish can drop part of its tail to escape predators. The predator would then go after the tail rather than expend more energy attacking the fleeing fish. The ability to lose a body part like this is called autotomy. While some animals who practice autotomy can regrow the lost body part, there is no evidence that oarfish can regrow their tails. Little is known about oarfish reproduction, but they are presumed to reproduce externally and provide little or no parental care. Larval oarfish float below the ocean's surface and feed on plankton. Juvenile oarfish have occasionally been found swimming at shallow depths. It is not clear how long oarfish development takes or at what point they descend into the deep sea. The lifespan is also unknown. Footage of oarfish in their natural habitat shows that they spend a lot of their time positioned vertically in the water, with their heads facing the surface. This would help them spot prey silhouetted against the sunlit surface of the water.

(image id: a closeup of the head of a giant oarfish lying on sand. The head is indistinct from the body. It has a large, silver eye with black pupil. The mouth is oriented vertically, making it look very odd compared to most fish mouths. The rest on its head and elongated pectoral fin rays are visible. End id)

(image id: four pictures of larval Regalecus russelii. It is of a similar body shape to an adult, but shorter and without pigment. The first fin rays for the head and fin crests are visible. End id. source)

The smallest of the oarfish is Agrostichthys parkeri, sometimes called the streamer fish. Small is a relative term as it can grow up to 3 meters (9.8 ft) long. Unlike the other known oarfish, it has hard nodules on its skin that may help with defense. A. parkeri is the least-well known of the oarfish. Only seven specimens have ever been examined. They have only ever been found in the southern Pacific ocean. The next largest is Regalecus russelii, Russell's oarfish. It can reach 5.4 meters (18 ft) long and is found worldwide along the equator. The largest and most famous species is Regalecus glesne, the giant oarfish. At recorded sizes up to 8 meters (26 ft) and 270 kg (600 lbs) and unconfirmed reported sizes up to 11 meters (36 ft), the giant oarfish is the longest bony fish alive today. Truley the longest of bois. They are found worldwide between the equatorial and polar regions.

(image id: the head of a deceased Agrostichthys parkeri lying on sand. Its head is longer than that of the giant oarfish and the open mouth appears as an extension of the head. end id)

(image id: a juvenile Regalecus russelii found in the great barrier reef. It looks similar to the giant oarfish, but is considerably smaller and its body is a pale blue. end id)

Due to their long, slender bodies, relative rarity, and extreme size, sightings of oarfish are speculated to have been responsible for many sightings of sea serpents. While most sea serpents were described as terrifying monsters that would attack ships, oarfish are completely harmless to humans. The reverse is not the case, as oarfish are occasionally caught as bycatch. There is no commercial fishery for oarfish as their meat is too poor quality to be used as food. One common name for oarfish is "king of herrings". This came from early reports of them apparently swimming amongst schools of herring, with sailors assuming the oarfish were leading the herring. In Japanese mythology, oarfish are known as "Ryūgū-no-tsukai" which translates to "messengers from the palace of the sea god". A bit of Japanese folklore considers oarfish to be harbingers of earthquakes. There is no scientific evidence for any relationship between oarfish and earthquakes, but the belief got boosted after mass strandings of Russel's Oarfish happened in early 2010 and a massive earthquake occurred in 2011. Little is known about the conservation needs of all species of oarfish and no species currently has legal protection.

(image id: 17 people (with more in the background) holding up a deceased giant oarfish to show its scale. end id)

[wildrangers]

The Planets and the Fates and All the Stars Aligned // William Nylander

Word Count: 3.5K

Summary: The three times Willy almost asked you out and the one time he finally did

{This is my submission for the lovely @jackhues for The Winter Fic Exchange 2k24, organized by the amazing @wyattjohnston!}

Warnings/tropes: mutual pining, poor communication, resolved (minor) angst, fluff, cursing, drinking

You were grateful that Auston was taking you under his wing following your big move to Toronto—seriously. It was better to be at a New Year’s Eve party where you knew all of one person rather than alone in your apartment. Though…there were a lot of loud drunk men at this party which wasn’t your favorite vibe. You’d much prefer enjoying a nice cocktail with a view of Toronto over being stuffed in one of Tony’s teammate’s suburban homes. But really—you were grateful for Auston and this somewhat odd built in social network that came with him.

You were drawn from your thoughts by a cheer from the pong table and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the intense excitement of the younger guys currently facing off there. You flipped your wrist around to see the time again just as a large, familiar hand landed on your shoulder.

“That’s at least the fifth time you’ve checked the time since we got here…what, an hour ago?” Auston teased, grinning as he took the seat next to you.

“It’s only the fourth” you grumbled making Auston raise his hands in surrender.

“My apologies for the slander, miss.”

You rolled your eyes and jostled your shoulder into his before settling your head there instead. “I’m just tired from the move and everyone here seems very…extroverted?” you tried, not wanting to speak poorly of the group you barely knew.

“Look, I get it” he replied, ruffling your hair gently. “Can I please get you a drink now? At least your hands will be busy then.”

You nodded against his shoulder before raising your head so he could go grab your favorite drink. You were surprised when his place was quickly filled by a blonde-haired boy with mischievous blue eyes.

“You must be Julia, I’m Willy” he smiled, offering his hand for you to shake. You smirked, gripping his hand in your own. You were not, in fact, Julia, but this should be entertaining.

“Nice to meet you, Willy. I hope Auston hasn’t said anything too horrific about me.”

“Oh no, nothing like that. I just wanted to make sure I talked to you before things got too serious with him.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I mean a gorgeous girl like yourself should know that I am available and a much, much better catch” he stated confidently and you threw your head back with laughter.

“Well, I may as well hear the sales pitch now” you smirked, pleasantly surprised by the tipsy man before you.

“I mean first of all” he said, simply pointing to his hairline, which drew a gasp from your mouth as you whacked his arm, “I’m just saying!”

“What are you ‘just saying’ to my cousin, William?”

Will’s blue eyes widened as he processed Auston’s words. “Wait so you’re…not Julia?”

Auston handed you your drink, “No, this is Y/N, weirdo. I was going to bring Julia to dinner tomorrow night but maybe I won’t now. How long did she have you going?”

“Long enough to put my foot in my mouth” he admitted and you smirked, pleased at the pink tinge rising to his cheeks. “But not so long that I can’t recover?” he questioned.

“Stay tuned” you replied, maintaining eye contact as you took a sip of your drink. Luckily, Auston was called away leaving just you two again.

“I swear, I’m not usually like that” he began and you tilted your head slightly.

“Like what?”

He seemed at a loss for words so you chuckled, “You’re fine, I’ll stop fucking with you now. You were just so confidently wrong, I had to see where things went.”

He chuckled to himself, “Confidently wrong is kind of a good summary for me actually…”

“The great William Nylander? No, I’d say most the time your confidence is probably just right.”

“You even knew who I was and still let me make a fool of myself?!”

You giggled and nodded, “I obviously know who you are, I watch as many of Ton’s games as I can. You’re usually playing in them too.”

“Wait, so rewind. You’re Tony’s cousin?”

“Not by blood, but yeah. We grew up together and our families are super close. He’s been trying to get me out here forever, so when a better job opened up in my company’s Toronto location, how could I say no?”

“When did you move?”

You jokingly checked your watch, “About eight hours ago now.”

“Oh well, welcome! I love it here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah” he nodded, sipping his drink and you couldn’t help how your eyes were drawn to his mouth with the movement. “I moved around so much as a kid; this is the longest I’ve ever lived in one place. Minus summers in Sweden, obviously”

“I would love to go to Sweden” you admitted. “It looks so beautiful.”

As he began passionately talking about Sweden, conversation flowed seamlessly between you. He seemed genuinely interested in your answers to the questions he asked, eyes always remaining firmly on you in a way that made your stomach flip but also steadied you in the otherwise loud room.

You were dragged from your conversation as the countdown to the New Year began.

“Damn, it’s almost midnight already?” you questioned, checking your watch that had long since been forgotten.

“Guess so…do you want to ring in the New Year together?” Will asked and you were surprised by the tentative tone of his voice. Your eyes rose to meet his and you noted the nerves showing in the crinkle of his eyes.

“Yeah, sure” you smiled, scootching closer to him. “I have to admit, I’m surprised you didn’t seem confident I’d say yes.”

“I mean I wouldn’t want to come in too hot, making assumptions—that would be embarrassing, no?” he joked as he wrapped a tender arm around your shoulders.

“Of course, wouldn’t want to make that same mistake twice in one evening” you teased back and you earned a rich laugh from him that made your toes curl and you dipped your head to hide your grin. As the countdown entered single digits, your eyes rose to meet his again but he was focused somewhere just beyond your shoulder before turning his attention back to you.

“3…2…1…Happy New Year!” the room erupted but your world had shrunk to just you and Willy. You had a sneaking suspicion it had been Auston who briefly grabbed his attention from you, which was confirmed as he leaned in to place a gentle kiss to your cheek rather than going in for the kiss. You were disappointed until you felt his mouth brush your ear, sending a shiver down your spine, “Happy New Year, Y/N.”

***

Once Will had given the bottle of wine and his thanks to Mitch and Stephanie for hosting, his eyes were scanning the room for you. He’d been kicking himself for months since meeting you for not getting your number on New Year’s but Auston’s stern stare had scared him off, as embarrassed as he was to admit it. He just hadn’t wanted to risk his friendship with his teammate, or worse, make you uncomfortable since you’d just met. Plus, the firm “If you hurt her, you’re dead to me” lecture Auston had given him the next day at practice had driven the point home.

So, some combination of your new job and Auston’s protectiveness had kept you away from any team, family, and friends get together’s until now, just as the regular season was wrapping up. Just as he had begun to give up hope that he’d see you again, Mitch mentioned that Auston had RSVP’d for 3 people, you and a plus one that he assumed was whatever girl Tony was currently seeing. Will didn’t waste another minute before confirming his own attendance.

His heart sped up as he saw you chatting with Johnny, your body language so much more relaxed than when he met you months ago. He made his way to you and when your eyes met his, the broad grin you sent his way knocked him out.

“Willy!” you called, standing to greet him with a warm hug.

“Hey, it’s been too long, how have you been?” he asked, pulling away just far enough to take you in. “You look beautiful tonight, of course.”

He was rewarded with a dip of your head as you hid your shy smile at his compliment, “I’ve been good, busy, so I’m glad Tony mentioned this dinner, it’s nice to see everyone.”

A long pause filled the air as he simply gazed into your warm, smiling eyes. “Hey Willy, I’m here too” his captain called from behind you and Willy laughed, greeting him with a handshake.

“Sorry man, it’s just been a minute since I’ve seen Y/N here” he shrugged sheepishly. John nodded, clapping him on the back, “Since New Year’s, yeah?”

Will shot him a questioning look but Johnny only smirked before walking off to chat with another group.

“Will, you’ve been having such an amazing season, I’m so happy for you” you smiled, settling back down in your seat and patting the spot next to you. He quickly sat where directed, pleased that the small couch made his outer thigh gently press into yours—he was even more content when you didn’t shift your leg away but closer to his.

“Thanks, I appreciate it. Just trying to gear up for the Playoff’s now. How have you been, settling in well?”

As you two caught up with small talk, he wracked his brain on how to ask you out without making it weird in case you said no. This conversation flowed just as well as your first and your sly humor shone through even more now that you seemed more at ease.

“I’ve missed seeing you at other parties like this” he admitted when the conversation naturally lulled.

“I think Auston may have refrained from inviting me to a few” you admitted, rolling your eyes. “And then the last few just didn’t work with my schedule. I was happy when Ton mentioned you’d be here tonight though.”

“Yeah?” he asked, hopeful as his heart began pattering more intensely.

“Yeah” you grinned, knocking your shoulder into his. “I really enjoyed hanging with you last time.”

“Me too” he smiled, taking in the genuine joy on your face. “I was actually wondering…”

He trailed off as he saw your eyes shift behind him and widen. “Jake!” you called, standing up and waving over an unfamiliar guy who wrapped you in an embrace and quickly pecked your cheek.

“Hey pretty lady, sorry I’m a little late. The subway got delayed” he replied, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ears. “Is this Will?”

As introductions were made, Will’s heart sank as he realized your boyfriend was the plus one, not Auston’s girl. It looked like he’d missed his chance with you after all.

***

You worked your way through the crowd, pausing as people you’d grown close to since your move to Toronto stopped you to chat. Johnny and his wife were hosting the start of the season party, welcoming everyone back to Toronto after being wherever they called home in the off season. You were hoping Will would be here but had refrained from asking Auston to avoid his eye rolls and protective bullshit.

When you’d seen Will at that spring party, you couldn’t admit to him that you’d partially been avoiding him. Not because you didn’t like him, but the opposite—you’d felt so drawn to him on New Year’s only to have Auston insert himself in the middle of things. After enough time had passed, you’d finally let your coworker set you up on that blind date with Jake. Who was nice but had basically been wiped from your mind when you’d met Will’s eyes across the room that second night.

You’d let yourself get wrapped up in the press of his leg on yours, the intense focus of his eyes as you caught up. Had allowed yourself to slip into the flirtation that had flowed so naturally between you during your first meeting. Until Jake had arrived, and you’d noted Will deflate before excusing himself.

You’d seen him a few times since then but he kept a wide berth, which you understood. But it had sucked and drove home that as nice as Jake is, he wasn’t the one for you. Which is why, several months out from that split, you were determined to make your move on Will—enough with waiting.

You grabbed a drink and surveyed the room, heart fluttering as you heard Willy’s signature laugh from across the room. He was talking with a younger guy you didn’t recognize but you strode over anyway. “Will!” you called and he spun, wide-eyed, at your voice.

“Y/N?” he smiled uncertainly but you just pulled him into a tight embrace.

“How was your summer? Tell me all about Sweden” you grinned, quickly introducing yourself to the rookie beside him who made himself scarce.

“Sure, but you seem…different” he noted, scanning your form as if he could find the answer there.

“Do I? I mean, not much has changed except Jake and I broke up” you offered and his eyes widened slightly.

“I’m sorry?” he offered.

“Don’t be. He was nice but it just wasn’t it, you know?”

He nodded, eyes skimming around the room before pulling out his phone. “Here, let me show you some photos from back home.”

You leaned into the comfort of his warmth, your eyes either taking in each photo he selected to show you or tracing the familiar lines of his face as he swiped through his camera roll. He was just so beautiful.

“It looks like a great summer, are you bummed to be back?” you joked and he chuckled, shaking his head.

“No, I always love coming back to Toronto—this is home too” he replied, eyes boring into yours. You couldn’t help yourself as you reached up to sweep a strand of hair that had fallen into his face, your hand lingering there, cupping his cheek.

“Y/N…” he breathed and you were surprised when his eyes left yours to once again scan the room. His phone lit up, drawing your attention, just as he began. “I actually am…”  

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry” you cut him off, drawing your hand back, eyes fixed on his lock screen—a gorgeous shot of him with a beautiful woman tucked into his side.

His gaze followed yours and he quickly locked his phone screen, mouth forming a hard line. “No, I’m sorry. I should have been up front but whenever I see you, I just…”

“You just what?” you asked quietly, unable to stop yourself.

“I can only think of keeping you close. Even when I know I can’t, so I’m sorry.”

You sadly shook your head forcing a smile, “No, I did the same thing to you, didn’t I? I get it. I hope she makes you happy Will, have a great season” you assured him, squeezing his shoulder before excusing yourself from the party altogether.

***

Will wasn’t one to believe in fate but it seemed like the stars may be finally aligning as he entered Auston’s apartment to celebrate New Year’s Eve. He’d done his homework this time, enlisting Steph to make sure you weren’t seeing anyone. After your last encounter, his fledgling relationship hadn’t lasted long—not when all he could think about was you. That wasn’t fair to her, so he’d broken things off and thrown himself into the season. It was a contract year for him, he had to focus. But that focus didn’t stop him from noting that some of his best games were ones where he knew you’d be in the crowd.

Will wandered over to the large windows filling Ton’s living room, taking in the city skyline. He’d done a few laps but had yet to see you. Truth be told, he wasn’t in much of a party mood—he just wanted to see you. So, he wondered off from the main party down the hallway to what he knew to be Ton’s guest room for some quiet. He didn’t hear any noise from behind the door so he gently opened it, startling when he saw you curled up on the bed.

You hadn’t noticed the door opening, your head buried in a book with Taylor Swift playing softly from your phone. He took a moment to enjoy the sight before him—you, dressed to the nine’s, feet wrapped in fuzzy socks, eyes fervently scanning the pages before you, heels forgotten beside him by the door.

“Y/N?” he spoke softly, as to not startle you but you jumped anyway.

“Will?” you questioned, your head tilting to the side. “What are you doing here?”

“The New Year’s Eve party, silly, what are you doing locked away in here looking so beautiful?”

He was thrilled when you ducked your head, trying to hide the flattered smile that bloomed on your face. “Promise not to laugh.”

“Scout’s honor” he promised, settling on the foot of the bed.

“I’m on the last book of this fantasy series and I just wanted to make sure everyone got through the battle okay” you chuckled, holding up your nearly finished book. “I said hi to everyone but when I didn’t see you, I just wondered in here to try and finish it before midnight.”

“Well, is everyone safe and sound? I wouldn’t want to disturb you” he teased lightly and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, I have like ten pages left” you chuckled. “I’ll come out and join the party in a few, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry” he shrugged, standing up but then stopped himself. “Would you actually care if I hung in here with you? I’m not in much of a party mood.”

“Sure” you beamed, scooting over on the bed to make room for him beside you. He slipped his shoes off, crawling up the bed to settle into your side, arm wrapped around your middle as you lifted your book.

“Is this okay?” he questioned quietly and you hummed in answer.

“Here, just lay down—that way I can rest my book on your shoulders” you motioned towards your lap and he didn’t have to be told twice, settling his head on your satin covered thighs.

A comfortable silence filled the room, broken only by you flipping the pages of your book. Will could stay this way forever, your scent wrapped around him, his breathing slowing to match your own.

As he began drifting off, you closed the book and set it aside. He felt your focus shift fully to him but he kept his eyes closed, not wanting to break this peaceful spell. He could have purred when your fingers gently ran through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp whenever your hand returned to the top of his head.

“I’m single” he murmured, nuzzling deeper into your lap.

“I know” you answered and he turned to look up into your eyes, confusion evident there judging by your chuckle. “I asked Stephanie.”

He let out a loud laugh, gently taking your hand in his own, “I may have done the same thing” he admitted, causing you to snort and shake your head.

“So, what does that mean?” you asked quietly.

“Hopefully, it means that when I ask you out, you’ll say yes” he questioned, nerves oddly not coming to his stomach. He knew how long you both had wanted this, the timing just never being quite right.

“Well, I can’t wait to say yes then” you smiled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his brow bone as your alarm rang from the nightstand. “Oh, time to get up, it’s 11:55.”

He shifted in response, sitting up and stretching, attempting to smooth out his shirt.

“Here” you offered walking towards him, heels firmly on your feet. He paused his fussing, allowing you to straighten his collar and smooth out the wrinkles that had developed on his chest. Your hand gently ran through his hair, settling down any stray hairs that had fallen out of place. “All better. Do I look alright?”

“You look perfect” he said honestly, rising off the bed and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. As you both exited the room, he marveled at how perfectly you fit there, tucked into his side.

The countdown had begun and Will’s eyes scanned the room, noting Auston immediately finding the two of you in the crowd.

“He’s intolerable” you mumbled, eyes also falling on Tony across the room. As the crowd counted down from ten, a giggle rose in his throat as you jokingly raised your middle finger to your cousin before turning back to him.

His hands settled on your hips, pulling you flush against him as your hands cupped his jaw, thumb caressing his cheek. With the New Year beginning, your lips finally met his and he wound his fingers through your hair to pull you closer. As your mouths moved in perfect harmony together, the rightness of this moment settled around him.

As the crowd picked back up again, he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. “Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow night?”

“You have a game tomorrow, silly” you answered, chuckling. “But you can take me out the next night.”

A/N: I hope y'all enjoyed! Please forgive any typos, I am in fact working through a concussion currently. It turns out writing for Willy has become one of my new favorite things to do. Always happy to hear feedback :)

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

I’m Hot, Sticky Sweet

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Commonwealth (after series end)

Warnings: Poorly written smut, food and sex, p in v, cunnilingus

Summary: You and Daryl haven’t been able to spend much time together. With only a certain amount of time available, you’re able to make the best of it by killing two birds with one stone.

A/N: I have no idea what I’m doing as a fanfic writer. Please forgive me for this insanity.

*gif is not mine

“What’s goin’ on here?” Daryl could smell the delicious scent of spices the moment he opened the door. He knew you could cook, but there really had never been enough resources or time for anything fancy. He was salivating by the time he reached the dining room, taking in the spread on the four person table. 

The archer was always up before the sun and home long after it had set, helping around the Commonwealth in any way he could. Some days, Mercer would have him beyond the walls, pushing back herds. Other days, he’d be part of the labor responsible for reinforcing those walls. He did what he could, rarely turning down a request for his assistance. Runs were still necessary in order to maintain the life to which you all had grown accustomed. Daryl would be gone for hours, sometimes even days. 

He was always so tired. He was sore. He missed his family. 

Once Pamela had been imprisoned and Ezekiel eventually took over the position as governor, Daryl was given a larger house. The two of you had turned it down, though. There was a quaint little home, still bigger than the apartment, away from the town center. It was your idea of perfect for your little family. Its four bedrooms were small but none of you had very many belongings anyway.

You settled in quickly. Daryl didn’t worry about Judith and RJ. They were safe in your capable hands. While you fit the role of the stay at home mom, you wouldn’t hesitate to pick up your knives and bring them down on anyone that threatened the safety of those kids. 

“Hey, you.” You were beaming at him, a bowl of steamed vegetables in your hand, when Daryl shook himself out of his thoughts. 

“S’all this? Where the kids?”

“Well,” you began, wiping your hands in the apron you had just removed. “We haven’t had a lot of time for ourselves lately. Carol took Jude, RJ, and Dog for the evening and I grabbed some extra venison from the market.” When he simply stared at you, doubt eased in slowly and then all at once. You knew you could afford the extra meat. Daryl was paid well for all the hours he put in for the community. The leftovers could be used for his lunch tomorrow and dinner for you and the kids. Still, you twisted your hands in the soft fabric of your sundress and avoided his eyes. “I’m sorry. I should have asked if—”

“Whoa, slow down. I ain’t upset or nothin’.” He had his hands up placatingly, a ghost of a smile adorning his lips. “Just didn’t know if I fucked up an’ forgot somethin’ impor’ant like our anniversary.”

Your self doubt ebbed away into amused adoration. “You remember our anniversary?” 

He was taking off his vest and gloves, glancing over at you with a sarcastic smirk. “Yep, s’that one day that looks just like ev’ry other day.” You laughed and gave his shoulder a playful shove. He didn’t let you push him too far and wound his arm around your side to pull you into him. “If we had a way to keep up with that shit, I’d mark that day up with a lil’ heart an’ blame Jude.” He nuzzled his nose against your jaw. 

“Daryl, that’s mean.” You chuckled, letting him press a quick kiss to your mouth. He hummed, continuing with his quick kisses while guiding you backward. 

“Pretty sure I told ya from the start that I’m a asshole.” He mumbled against your lips, pulling your bottom one in between his teeth. There was no stopping the small whimper that managed to escape your throat, earning a pleasant growl from deep in his chest. You let your arms wind around his neck and tugged at the wavy hair you found there. 

“Mmm, Daryl—food—table.” You managed between his increasing assault on your mouth. 

“Mhmm.”

He shifted in front of you but kept you close, the legs of one of the chairs scraping across the floor. Soon, the small of your back met the edge of the table but you were already too far gone to care. Your head was thrown back with his lips attached to the front of your neck when his large hands squeezed the backs of your thighs and hoisted you up. 

Your ass had barely met the cool surface when he was reaching underneath your dress and dragging your panties down your legs. You could hear the shifting of the dinnerware behind you but couldn’t entertain why that should be concerning. The damp heat between your legs was demanding your focus, and you let yourself be consumed. 

“Shirt.” You panted, crossing your ankles behind his back to pull his groin against yours while he removed the offensive garment, tossing it into the void of ‘I’ll find that later.’ Your mouths crashed together again, your hands working open his belt and fly while he shoved your dress up and out of the way. 

Tenderness was not on the table tonight, so to speak. Daryl grabbed your hips and pulled you down, wasting no time in entering you. Your mouths separated, your teeth clamping down on your bottom lip while his jaw went slack, satisfied breaths and quiet moans mingling somewhere in the air between you. 

“Fuck.” His fingers flexed against your hips, his hold damn near bruising your soft skin. You couldn’t suppress the drawn out moan you offered him as he pulled his hips back, dragging each and every inch of him against your fluttering walls until only the tip remained. He was just as slow pushing back in, swallowing your little sounds of pleasure. 

The next few thrusts were faster. The ones after that, faster still. Soon enough, his pelvis was slamming against you. Your small hands gripped his shoulders but couldn’t seem to remain there. You needed to feel more of his skin. Your hands slid down his back and grabbed the waistband of his pants, pushing them down past his hips. Daryl chuckled against your mouth when you grabbed handfuls of his ass and dug your nails in to leave crescent moons indented in the skin. 

“I’ve missed you.” You whispered, bowing your head to suck on the skin where you could feel his pulse hammering away. The archer rewarded you with a hard snap of his hips before reaching behind him to pull your hands away. He pressed you down against the table and quickly pulled out, leaving your cunt empty and clenching. “Daryl.” You whined, but before you could sit up, his face was buried between your thighs, tongue lapping and lavishing your clit until it was swollen and throbbing.

“Cum for me.” You heard him growl, his hot breath fanning against your sensitive nub while a finger prodded at your entrance. Daryl slid his middle finger past your opening and began pumping hard and fast, desperately seeking to pull your orgasm from you. He curled that finger slightly, finding that soft spot inside you that had you near screaming and grasping for anything that you could hold onto. Plates and silverware crashed to the floor. You thought one may have shattered. “Did ya not hear me, woman? I said cum.” 

Your chest heaved for the breath you couldn’t seem to catch, all cognitive function absent as the coil in your belly began to pull taunt. “Daryl—I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“Good girl. Give it to me.” He went back to flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit. You were clenching around his finger in waves now. He knew you were seconds from climaxing. Wrapping his lips around the bundle of nerves, he gently took it between his teeth and started to suck. 

“Fuck!” Your back arched off the table, your body vibrating through the throes of pleasure. It started in your stomach and spiderwebbed out through your limbs. Your hands found his hair and pulled, soliciting a deep grunt against your flesh. 

When you began to come down, your cunt was suddenly empty. But not for long. 

Daryl entered you again, roughly thrusting into your body at a punishing pace that shook the table beneath you. His right hand creeped around the back of your neck and pulled you up to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss that was all spit and tongues and teeth. 

He never slowed down, bringing your second orgasm on quickly while he slipped the spaghetti straps of your dress down your shoulders. You let his attentions fall to your neck while you pulled your arms from the straps and pushed both the dress and your bra down, giving the man access to your breasts. He wasted no time in placing his lips around a pert nipple. 

“Fuck, Daryl!” Your fingers found their way into his hair once again, urging him toward your mouth. He allowed himself to be led away from your breast but not without replacing his mouth with his hand. “Just—just like that. I’m so close!”

“Yeah,” he panted against your mouth, “me too.” 

Neither of you lasted long after, the room filled with your cries of his name and his drawn out moans. You fell back onto the table, still pulsing around him as he softened inside you. Daryl leaned forward to rest his forehead against your upper stomach while you ran your fingers through his sweat-damp hair. 

“That was incredible.” You breathed, staring up at the ceiling with a beaming smile. 

“Yeah. I missed ya, sunshine.” He said into the wadded up fabric of your dress. You hummed and gave his hair a gentle tug, encouraging him to look at you. When he did, you caught the gleam in his pretty blue eyes. 

“What?” You asked cautiously. 

“I ain’t nowhere near done with ya yet.” He went for your nipple but your hands quickly left his hair and caught each side of his face. 

“We need to eat before we spill something.” Somehow the food had indeed survived. 

“Can wait.” He muttered, shaking your hands off. When he tried a second time, you caught him again. This time he huffed in annoyance. 

“It’ll be cold. Well—colder.” You pouted. The archer watched you for a moment, ready to pull out and reset the table when he got the most brilliant idea. You saw the spark in his eyes and drew in your brows, feeling a little concerned. “I know that look. What scheme is rattling around in that head of yours, Daryl Dixon?”

With a Cheshire grin, he rose slightly and stretched an arm behind the top of your head, pulling back with a dollop of mashed potatoes on the tip of his finger. “We can both get what we want.” Without giving you time to consider his meaning, the bowman smeared the side dish across one of your nipples, dragging his tongue over it to clean up the mess. Your eyes sparkled. 

“You, sir, are a genius.”

More than an hour and a half later, half empty serving dishes still littered the table, but you and Daryl were on the floor, the area around you a complete disaster. Daryl sat next to you, propped up on the wall with his legs stretched out. His pants were up but not buttoned. The left side of his face was dripping brown gravy, a portion of his hair wet with it. Remnants of mashed potatoes and macaroni and cheese were smeared from his neck all the down to disappear past his waistband. 

You looked no better. Shavings and juices of venison were stuck to the swell of your breasts and side of your neck, anything between that and the lower part of your dress— pulled up to cover you by now— was hidden by the fabric itself. Your hair was a mess, with a half of a baby carrot dangling from a thin strand. What could be seen of your inner thighs was sticky with apple pie filling. 

You were both panting and even Daryl mirrored your small smile and chuckled when you looked at one another. He had been absolutely right. You were sated and full. 

But you probably wouldn’t serve the leftovers to the kids after all, though you were almost certain Daryl wouldn’t mind taking some for lunch. 

You were just about to suggest getting cleaned up when you heard a key enter and then turn in the front door lock. When you heard Carol call “hello,” you snapped your attention back to Daryl. 

“You gave her a key?!” You whisper-yelled. 

“Why wouldn’t I!?” He returned at the same volume. You gestured broadly at the two of you, and Daryl relented with a nod. “I see your point.”

“What happened?!” 

You both turned to the doorway, finding RJ and Judith staring at you with wide eyes. 

“What do you mean what— oh.” Carol hurried into the room and her eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline. Dog bounded around her leg and immediately began to sniff the floor, licking up any scraps he found dropped or smeared there. Daryl couldn’t even bring himself to correct the canine. “So,” Carol began, crossing her arms, “what did happen, you two?” From the knowing smile plastered on the woman’s face, you knew you needn’t explain to her. 

But shit, the kids. 

“There, uh—there was a, um, a spider!” You shrugged a shoulder when Daryl gave you a look that blatantly said ‘really, Y/N?’ 

“A spider.” Carol repeated, licking her lips to wipe away the grin. 

“Was huge.” Daryl nodded, carefully avoiding any of the eyes that were on him. “An’ mean.”

“Ew. Did you kill it?” RJ asked with a small cringe. 

“Sure did.” The archer lied. 

“How big?” Judith queried, crossing her arms like Carol. 

“Like—real big.” You supplied, covering your thighs a little more with your dress when you caught Carol looking at the mess there.

“Cool! Can we see?” RJ, who had seemed afraid just moments before was now very interested in this make believe monster arachnid that had slathered both you and Daryl as well as half the dining room in tonight’s dinner before meeting its untimely demise at the bowman’s hand. 

“No!” Daryl barked. RJ froze midstep. “S’ uh—s’in the gravy.”

“Gross. I’m not eating that, aunt Y/N.” The young boy curled his lip. 

“Of course not, baby.” You soothed, relieved that you two had seemingly gotten away with this. 

“Not to mention your bra.” Judith smirked. Your eyes widened. “Your bra is in the gravy too, aunt Y/N.”

Your eyes slid slowly toward where the gravy boat sat, a few feet from Daryl’s leg. The man was already hooking a finger under a strap and lifting the article, staring almost blankly ahead as he passed the dripping thing across his lap and let it dangle for you to grab it. 

“Damn huge spider.”

“Bra removing spiders in gravy boats.” Carol nodded, chuckling when Daryl put his red face in his hands and you rubbed the back of your neck. “Right. Well, don’t worry. These guys and that guy,” she pointed to Dog, who was gnawing on a piece of broccoli, “have already eaten. I’ll just go get them settled.” 

“Thanks.” You mumbled, looking defeated. Footsteps disappeared up the stairs before you and Daryl looked at one another. 

“She ain’t never gonna let this go.” He commented sourly. “Just feed me ta the walkers, sunshine. M’beggin’ ya.”

“If I have to hear it, then you do too.” You chuckled, leaning over against him when he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. 

“She won’t pick on ya too bad.”

“She saves it all for you cause I’ll cry.”

“Guess I need to start cryin’ then.” You giggled and tilted your head back just in time for him to press a kiss between your eyes. “Was fun, huh?”

“Yeah, you make a nice buffet, Dixon.”

He hummed, drumming his fingers against your upper arm. “I wouldn’t mind s’more pie.” 

“How about a plate this time?”

[sammaggs]

1x02 Diefenbaker’s Day Off // 2x08 One Good Man // 2x13 White Men Can’t Jump to Conclusions // 3x01 Burning Down the House | Normalized

due South does a main character re-casting better than any other show on TV, and they do it by playing with television's own accepted meta-narrative.

Recasting a character has a long tradition in television, creating a viewership that knows and understands the storytelling short form at play. As viewers, we realize that sometimes actors aren't available to reprise a role (or simply aren't interested in it anymore); but, for the sake of the story, sometimes the show needs that character to come back. So we lean hard into suspended disbelief and just go with it. After all, the characters in the show accept the parareality of it—why shouldn't we?

Of course, the most famous example of a character recast would be the Dick/Darren disaster on 1960s sitcom Bewitched, when Dick York was unceremoniously replaced by Dick Sargent in the role of Darrin Stephens. ("The Dick Wars" would have gone absolutely insane).

it was... not successful

But they weren't the only ones to do it. Aunt Viv from Fresh Prince, Becky from Roseanne, Daario Naharis from Game of Thrones, Greg Serrano from Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (pain, agony)—recasting characters but maintaining the fiction is a storied tradition in TV. New actor, same character; totally normalized.

And shows continue to do it, even today, with a—uh—similar dedication to fucking it up doing it poorly.

why must we be punished like this

due South even engages in this trope itself in season 2, when hard-hitting investigative journalist Mackenzie King is recast and they don't even try to find an actress who looks similar. In 1x02 Diefenbaker's Day Off, she's played by brunette Madolyn Smith-Osborne; in 2x08 One Good Man, she's been replaced by blonde Maria Bello, and nobody talks about it.

yeah i'm absolutely the same person, obviously

Everyone diegetically (within the world of the show) is just like, oh yeah, that's hard-hitting investigative journalist Mackenzie King. Totally. Only non-diegetically (outside of the world of the show) does the viewer go "No, that's not the same person." Internally, the fiction proceeds as usual.

So what would happen if, say, Samantha Stephens turned to Dick Sargent and said "You're not Darrin," when everyone else in the show continued to treat him as though he was? Or if Jaskier told Geralt that he knows he's not actually Geralt, and everyone treated him like he was delusional?

Or if Fraser, even, had recognized Mackenzie King as someone entirely different, and everyone treated him like he had a hole in his bag of marbles because of it? Of course that's Mackenzie King; even her boss knows it. No, she's never been a brunette. What are you talking about?

And that's exactly what happens in Burning Down the House.

the rays vecchio

Diagetically, everyone else treats Callum Keith Rennie's character as though he is Ray Vecchio. "Oh, good, you found him," says Det. Huey. Elaine, Franchesca, literally everyone else both at the station and outside of it treat Callum Keith Rennie Ray Vecchio as though he is David Marciano Ray Vecchio. They're acting exactly as any other TV character would in the face of a recasting: as though absolutely nothing had happened.

Except for Fraser.

Fraser's specific brand of parareal Canadian plot magic means that he's immune to the recasting blindness; he's acting as an agent of the viewer, voicing our non-diegetic concerns. Fraser is (as he so often is) a character with one foot outside of the narrative. He's just always been like this and he doesn't know why.

oh this man is infuriating and hot, fuck. shit.

And for a character who already thinks he is likely insane (he sees the ghost of his dead father! He communicates with his deaf half-wolf! He is instantly committed to a mental institution upon voicing the actual true story of his life!), this is very extremely distressing. Fraser thinks he's actually lost it this time, because everyone else in due South is acting like a TV character, and Benton Fraser is acting like a viewer.

This is so brilliant on so many levels. They just fully lampshade the damn thing. It allows our protagonist to speak for disgruntled or confused viewers. It engages at a postmodern level with television as a medium with a storied history (and due South is incredibly postmodern; nearly every episode is or contains a reference to another piece of media). It's written from the perspective of someone who loves and is knowledgeable about TV tropes.

And it gives us an entirely new Ray while still maintaining respect and loyalty to the original, something no other straight (lol) recast could ever do.

Genuinely one of the most clever, witty, well-crafted hours of television ever made. I could write essays about so many different parts of it. And I guess I will!!!!!!

It’s Burning Down the House week in our dS Stacked Rewatch!

[dduane]

That time the Goddess transitioned

Because on a Trans Day of Visibility, it's not a bad thing to remember how the maker of a universe stopped into a bar one night to see how a particular paladin was holding up after a tough evening's work.

Though he was very plainly, almost poorly dressed, in worn dark linen-canvas trews and boots and a thinner linen shirt mended at the elbows, [the Stuck Pig's bouncer] felt an urge to kneel to that man in the doorway as if he wore a king’s robes. He was into his early middle years, and his features weren’t what anyone would have called classically handsome. But he wore manhood in all its best grace and gentleness and power as if he had invented it; and somehow the moonlight outside seemed to have followed him into the room, clinging to his hair. 
 Dusty saw him, and lowered that burning sword. With what looked like deliberate enjoyment he bowed, very slowly, very low. “Sir,” he said, quietly, respectfully, with a look of tired joy. “Or Madam—as the case may be.”
 The man in the doorway glanced down at his hands, as if checking something— then looked up at Dusty with a grin. “Sir will do,” he said— He said. On once hearing the voice, all doubt vanished as to who that might be; the words lingered in the ear like glad thunder even when they were spoken and gone. “And why not? I’ve a balance to maintain, after all. …But you’ve had a hard night of it. Would you care to come out and take a cup of something with me, for your health?”
 Dusty nodded. “My Lord,” he said. He went back to the table to fetch his sword’s scabbard, sheathed it, hung it up over his shoulder, and went to the doorway, where he stuck out an elbow, offering the Goddess his arm. With a courteous bow of His head, He took it. 
 Then He cocked his head at Dusty, putting an eyebrow up, and out the two of them went into the moonlight, into the straw and the mud of the street. ...Their voices could be heard for a short time more, chatting warmly like old lovers who haven’t seen one another in a while...

[phantobats]

Hi! Hi! Hi! I was wondering if I could get some comic recs? I'm particularly into Batman but more of him actually working alone- as much as llove the batfam, my mind can't keep up when there's too many characters, you know? I can just barely finish any Justice League comic.

A lot of comics are poorly characterized. I still shiver at the thought of All Star Batman and Robin. Seeing how your views match a lot with mine, l'd appreciate some recs!

Hi, sweetheart! Of course I can.

I get that sometimes comics with a huge cast of characters can be very overwhelming, so no worries, I've got you.

Here are my own personal favorite comics focused on Bruce/Batman:

Batman: Ego (2000)

Batman: Ego dives deep into Bruce Wayne's psyche, exploring his inner conflict between being Batman and his more compassionate, human side. This introspective one-shot is about Bruce trying to reconcile his mission with the toll it takes on his mental health. It's not overly dark, focusing instead on the emotional and psychological weight of being Batman.

A series that fully focuses on Batman is the Batman: The Legends of the Dark Knight comic series. I totally recommend reading through it, but here are my favorite storylines within the series:

Prey ( Issues #11-15 )

Prey is an underrated psychological thriller featuring Hugo Strange as the villain. The story emphasizes Batman's tactics, his psychology, and his early struggles in Gotham. It's well-paced, focusing entirely on Batman and his developing relationship with the GCPD.

Gothic ( Issues #6-10 )

Batman: Gothic is filled with symbolism and metaphysical elements that explore Bruce Wayne’s traumatic past and his drive as Batman. It’s very much a story about Batman’s mind, his motivations, and the weight of his mission, with a heavy focus on the noir aspect of the character.

Batman: Ghosts (1995)

Batman: Ghosts is a retelling of Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol with Batman as Scrooge. It features Bruce Wayne being visited by three spirits who force him to reflect on his life choices and mission as Batman. This is a more introspective story that emphasizes Bruce's inner struggle, not unlike Batman: Ego. It explores his guilt and the cost of his crusade against crime, though with a more optimistic tone.

Batman: Blind Justice (1989)

Written by the screenwriter of Tim Burton’s Batman, Blind Justice is a detective story with strong psychological elements. It focuses on Bruce Wayne more than his alter ego and explores his sense of guilt, responsibility, and the price of being Batman

However, if you do feel like reading more light-hearted series/comics, here are two I've recently finished and had so much fun reading:

Batman: Gotham Adventures (1998-2003)

Batman: Gotham Adventures is a comic series that spun out of Batman: The Animated Series and continued the tone, character designs, and storytelling style of the show. It is a more all-ages-friendly series, with self-contained issues that often focus on Batman solving crimes, battling his iconic rogues' gallery, and protecting Gotham City. The series mixes action with the detective work that defined the animated series, showcasing Batman as a sharp investigator and a moral force in a crime-ridden city.

Joker: One Operation Joker ( 2021– )

Joker: One Operation Joker is a humorous and highly unconventional take on the Batman-Joker dynamic. The premise is wildly different from typical Batman stories: after an accident during one of their confrontations, Batman is transformed into a baby. The Joker, of all people, takes on the role of caregiver, with his new goal being to raise baby Bruce Wayne back into adulthood—while maintaining his usual chaotic nature.

Don't hesitate to DM/ask for more! And if you'd like to ramble together over some of them, since you did mention having similar views, definitely don't shy back from sending me a text!

[msmk11]

The Infamous Wings

Sirius Black x fem!reader

WC: 751

CW: Fluff

Summary: Sirius attempts to do his own eyeliner.

Day 18 of mk’s mad dash

Sirius knows he should’ve just asked for your help, but he’s usually too stubborn and proud to do it.

In his defense, doing eyeliner seemed a lot easier than it’s turned out to be. You, at least, make it look easy, always drawing on the two thick, black lines quickly and with ease.

He’s beginning to understand that it’s only easy with a practiced hand. And for the unpracticed? Well, they probably look a lot like Sirius does now- like a raccoon.

Every attempt so far has been a failure.

His first try, he stabbed himself in the eye. And when he tried to rub away the stinging pain, he smeared the still wet eyeliner all over his eyelid.

On Sirius’ second attempt, while he didn’t stab himself, he only managed to draw two squiggles that strayed far from their designated spots by his eyelashes.

He was more successful on his third attempt, drawing a decent, but somewhat shaky, line across each eyelid. Sirius felt quite proud of himself until he attempted to add a wing to his look.

It turned out to be a mistake. With each attempt to even out the poorly drawn wing, the triangle on the side of Sirius’ eye only got bigger and bigger, leaving him to look pretty silly.

Of course, Sirius notes, this is the time you decide to return back to your dorm. Though it’s not unusual to find Sirius waiting for you in your room, the shocked expression that arises on your face when you see your boyfriend’s predicament sends you into a fit of giggles.

“Sirius, what happened to your face?”

“Shut up, don’t laugh at me,” he whines, burying his face in his hands.

Sirius can tell that you’re trying to choke back your laughter, but you’re not doing a very good job of it.

“I’m not laughing at you I’m just-“

He looks at you unimpressed.

“Okay, I am laughing at you. But only because you look very silly. I’m not laughing at you for trying makeup. It’s hard, and I applaud your efforts!”

Sirius grumbles and tosses the eyeliner onto the desk, “it’s pointless, love. I’m never gonna get it.”

You tsk at Sirius and move to stand behind him, gripping his shoulders as you look at his face in the mirror, “It’s really not that bad. Or at least the line part isn’t! And you have to remember it takes tons and tons of practice.”

“You just look so cool with eyeliner on and I wanna look cool too,” he pouts.

“Baby, I already think you look cool. But if you really wanna do eyeliner, I’m happy to help. Ya just had to ask.”

Though Sirius is shy to admit he needs the help, he thanks Merlin that you’re such a wonderful girlfriend and don’t tease him for it.

“Here, I’ll do it on you first, and then you can practice on me, okay?”

You reach out and grab the eyeliner off the desk, looking to Sirius for approval before continuing. He nods, so you make your way around the desk chair to straddle his lap.

His hands instantly gravitate towards your hips, gripping them tightly as you lean in towards his eyes.

“Okay, close your eyes and hold still,” you whisper, your breath fanning his face.

Sirius obliges you and his eyelashes flutter closed. Your fingers come to rest right above and below his eye as the thin, cold pen touches his eyelid. He naturally wants to flinch away but he holds still, squeezing your hips again to maintain his composure.

It doesn’t take you long at all before you’re telling him that you’ve finished and that he can open his eyes.

Sirius is beyond thrilled at what he finds staring back at him in the mirror. Just like when you do your own makeup, the eyeliner is perfect. The lines aren’t shaky, the wings are the perfect size, and it’s just dark enough to bring out the color of his eyes.

“You look so pretty baby,” you mumble softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I love it.”

He truly is in awe.

Not just because of your talent, but because of how good the eyeliner makes him feel in his own skin. He doesn’t think he can ever go back to not wearing it.

And, Sirius decides, even if he never perfects the art of the infamous wings, he’ll always have a pretty girl to sit atop his lap and do it for him.

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

Something meh I wrote for luca, def not my best work due to stress lol

Rated Explicit | Warning: oral (reader receiving), light (very) electro stimulation

Silence. Late evening it usually is quiet in the dormitory area of the manor. The occasional sound of Luca tinkering though but nothing else. Dark and silent, you creep towards the door before you go still in front of the door. He told you if you ever could not sleep, you could join him in his room.

Usually, you stay there listening to him work. The ambiance of an inventor at work is rather soothing and amusing when shouts “Ow!” when he messes up a wire or two. Luca is tenacious and ambitious, though he does not remember much and often forgets to the point he has to journal everything important, he is like the spark of electricity fighting to find a connection.

Currently, though, he is not working when you come to visit. After an intense match with the new hunter Ivy, he had just finished bathing and greeted you with only his pajama pants on, hair wet, and for the first time, you see the scars of what electricity can do to the body.

The Decoder lets you in though it is inappropriate given his both lack of clothing and how late it is, something you both never cared about like some others do.

He sits on his bed and resumes drying his hair with a damp towel, idle chatter as you sit on the poorly maintained couch. It is not uncomfortable but definitely has seen better days. You lay on it while talking, him keeping the conversation going as you expect of a former aristocrat.

Though he was from a family of wealth, and clearly educated, you never felt how you do around Frederick or Edgar… Uncomfortable. The sort of peacock-ness air about them that often makes you not acknowledge even when waiting for a match. In the matches, of course, you help but post you are immediately getting away from them. Luca does not give you that feeling and maybe it is because he has “fallen from grace” sort of speak, or maybe he is just likable.

“You stare a lot these days.” Teasing, he likes to flirt when in the mood.

“Can't help it,” As your eyes shift to his face, “Does It hurt?”

He looks at his chest, his eyes staring hard, “It gets irritated but not so much hurting.” Then looking up, then pointing at the table near the couch, “Those usually help.” Bandages with a bottle next to them.

“Can I help?”

“If you want, you don't have to.” The shyness is unlike him yet you figure it is because no one has seen him like this.

It was unexpectedly intimate, you did anticipate being so close to him using the ointment and applying the bandages would create a new situation. You have been close to both dancing, patching each other during matches, hell, sharing the same bed when you both could not sleep. It was like you are seeing the vulnerable Luca Balsa, not the inventor but a man who is fragile and lost trying to achieve something beyond himself.

When you kiss him it is funny the shock of low-grade electricity that zaps you both, the laughter is sweet and silly.

Luca does not want that to end the moment he has thought of for many days and is trying to build the nerve to get here. He ushers you lay on the bed, his thin frame on top of you. The partly wet brown hair is like curtains blocking your peripheral vision, you can only see Luca and his smiling face. Kissing your lips, face, neck, and a few hickeys on the way down to your chest; the second to remove your shirt before he is on you again.

By the time he is between your legs, your body feels a buzz from his uncontrollably electrical minor shocks and his skillful hands and mouth. Your hands in his messy hair gripping it with one hand as your other hand grips the pillow behind your head.

[flower-boi16]

I think what's actually alarming about Helluva Boss and Vivziepop is that the shower suffers from heavy creator-fan enmeshment, and the writers/Vivziepop don't see themselves as the problem for it. It's like they see themselves as the victims, too, while encouraging their fandom's toxic mindset and behaviors.

The writers/Vivziepop are not only too entangled with their fans, but they're THINKING like fan artists/fanfic writers instead of actually making a show. There's a difference between writers of a show and fanfic writing. When you take up the mantel to create a show you have to carry yourself in a way and write your show with a point otherwise you end up with shows like Helluva Boss/Hazbin Hotel, Miraculous Lady Bug, SVFOE, SPOP, and other shows that fall into that category. Some of them focus more on the shipping than the point of their show to begin with.

What makes a good show is having that distinction or maintaining that professionalism. Creators of shows should NEVER let themselves sink into the cesspool of their Fandoms because they should be focused on their story/message instead of all this shipping/woobing bullshit.

TLDR: Helluva Boss never had potential with VivziePop holding the reigns to begin with. It's too disorganized and unfocused, and with the Fan Enmeshment, it was never going to grow or expand from its fanfic-y feeling. If the creator of the show never grew up, we should never expect the show to grow, too.

Though it is a shame since it could have been charming, had someone more professional taken the show.

Viv definitely was never cut out to handle a big project like this. I’ve said this many times before, but ya, Viv writes like a fanfic writer; everything with how messy the structuring of how her shows is and how poorly they are planned makes me think this.

It reminds me of when I tried to make my first fanfic and just went in without a plan with how to structure it which led to me just abandoning it early on. Viv writes like that.

She didn't listen to criticism of her Zoophobia comic and she still isn’t listing here. She shifted the focus of HB away from the premise to shipping nonsense and now we have this weird mess of a show that doesn’t even know what it wants to be anymore.

Season 2 seems to prioritize relationship drama over the actual premise which caused the show’s downfall. Hazbin feels a bit less fan-ficy but it’s still very messy.

Viv just crams too much shit into too little time which results in the pacing being awful. She paces her shows like a fan fic writer. It feels like she only came In with a small understanding of how show running works and jumped right into the industry because she was excited to show off her gizzalion OCs she had since high school.

Everything about HH/HB feels amateur. I really think that before you get into storytelling you need to actually study how to create good stories, like there are YouTube videos out there you could watch for free that give a run down of what is good or bad writing.

You don’t need to spend 20+ in school to be a good writer but you need to have a basic understanding of how to even write your ideas before you start making stories…which Viv clearly does not.

HB Season 2 in general doesn’t feel like a natural continuation of the first season. It feels like a fan-fic written by a fan after season 1 ended posted on wattpad that the show runners decided to animate and voice into a full season.

Viv should have learned how to run a show before jumping into something as ambitious as this, but she didn’t, and look at what we got.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I re-read your Fellow Honest study, and one thing to mention is that Riddle is immensely proud of having no one drop out or transfer out of Heartslabyul/NRC, right? His dorm is the only one at full capacity? This means dropping out of NRC isn't that uncommon, whether it's a money issue or a grades issue, and that's more people discarded simply because they couldn't keep up.

[Referencing this analysis!]

Mmm, that's true 🤔 I wonder how NRC's dropout rates compare to those of other magic schools and regular schools that do not train mages... I can't imagine that NRC has a ton of dropouts though, because otherwise I feel like more dorm leaders and staff would express concern about it? Like if a ton of students were dropping out, it would reflect poorly on their leadership and teaching skills, wouldn't it...? Maybe it's not mentioned because it isn't that relevant to the main story or Riddle in particular is super fixated on it (given how strict he is). At the very least, we know that NRC has a non-zero dropout rate. Even at a school that supposedly has the best and brightest mages-in-training, some will not make the cut.

As cruel as this may sound (sorry, Fellow), it's 100% understandable from a school's perspective why they wouldn't want to keep supporting students who continuously do not succeed and ultimately dismiss them. Many programs irl (especially those in higher education) set standards that students must meet and maintain until graduation if they want to remain in their program. It could harm the school's educational reputation if they do not produce "results".

In some cases, schools that fail to maintain a certain "pass" rate on specialized exams their students take may lose accreditation (an official “quality seal”) for their program(s). For example, irl nursing programs in the U.S. and Canada are put on probation if they have a class of students with an 80% or lower passing score on the NCLEX exam. They are given 2 years to "fix" this low passing rate; if this is not corrected, then the school's accreditation is revoked completely. A loss of accreditation can result in many other negatives, such as less financial aid dispersement and fewer job opportunities (/your diploma not being seen as “legitimate”).

That's unfortunately how it works. Granted, a school shouldn’t spite a student for not being able to keep up with the workload (which sadly may have been the reality for Fellow), but it really is in the institutions’ best interests to drop a student they fear won’t perform well.