#(i can't be bothered to redo all the tags)

[leconcombrerit]

Sometimes I feel like drawing Sanders Sides again even if just for the dopamine rush of getting tons of likes and reblogs but then I get in front of my tablet, pen in hand, and remember why I've stopped in the first place.

My head gets full of void even for a mere redraw, like it's not just that the passion died and the hyperfixation shriveled like it's normally the case, it straight up turned into some kind of antimatter.

[fuck-customers]

I desperately wish I could explain to my coworker that really wants me to become a manager for whatever reason that the main reasons why I don't want to become a manager are:

1. If I become a manager, I'd have to work under the store manager, who I don't have a shred of respect for. I think she's nice, but is a complete moron who couldn't run a store if her life depended on it. Up until now, I encounter her every 4th or 5th shift for 20-30 minutes. Very minimal interaction.

2. Building off of point 1, our store manager just doesn't do shit that is her job to do or assign someone to do to run a store. I do that shit because it bothers me on a personal level and the dumb bitch undoes it and I redo it. Tbh it's kinda fun, because I'm petty. If I were a manager, I would not have the time to do these things. (These things being price tagging the merchandise at the front end. It's asinine that 90% of the products in the store don't have prices. I suppose if I were a manager, I'd have the freedom to roam the store to tag other aisles, but managers are given long lists of tasks to do and I'd never have spare time)

3. If I became a manager, I'd be a lead and the chain of command would be store manager-->assistant store manager-->me. And I HATE the assistant store manager. 1000x worse than the store manager. I actually don't mind the store manager as a person, I just think she's an absolute moron and a shit manager. However, the assistant store manager is a CUNT. I genuinely hate her, but as a non-management employee, I don't have to interact with her too often, as she's usually working in the back of the store. But if I were a lead, I'd have to work with her and report to her.

4. I am doing shit to sabotage the store and our store manager, because she won't do her fucking job. I've reported the store to OSHA (and they got a big ass fine el em ay oh) I've been stealing customer receipts out of the garbage to write bad reviews on the store survey that our DM reads and I've also submitted fake negative customer reviews to corporate about our location specifically. If I became a lead, I would not have the time or opportunity to steal the receipts and I would have more eyes on me because I would now be a Manager who is In Charge.

I also have several other reasons that I've given (lead isn't a full-time position and my hours would not increase at all, but I'd be doing 10x the work for $2 more) but these are my real reasons, which I obviously can't tell her or anyone at work.

Posted by admin Rodney

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hidden Treasure 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your quiet life is interrupted by a tempestuous man. (reader is Blair from Follow You Anywhere)

Characters: Thor

Note: I'm currently in the denial and procrastination stages of schoolwork. I'm doing the readings but damn this shit is kinda complex and my brain can't function.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

There's that jeep again. 

You've never been the most observant. You tend to stick in your lane, keep your head straight, and just rush by the world around you. If you don't bother anyone, you're safe. If you don't draw attention, you can't be a problem. 

But that jeep is there again. Parked by the curb across from your building. There's a million logical explanations; a new neighbour or someone visiting family, yet it sticks out sorely in the neighbourhood. Too nice, too new.  

You let the black curtain hang straight and back up to sit at the table. You bend the lamp closer to shine on your work, fussing with the gears of an old cuckoo clock. The darn thing ticks backwards. You squint and hunch over, carefully realigning the replacement gear. 

The tiny screwdriver jams down as you jump and let out a tiny yelp. Thunder rolls around the building and a torrent of rain whips against the window pane. The storm is so sudden and unexpected that you wonder if maybe you lost track of the time. 

You refocus and redo the work, checking that you didn't do too much damage. You can't focus for the way the windows rattle and the rain pelts harder and harder. Another peel of thunder shakes you and lightning flashes around the curtain. You haven't seen a storm like this in years. Or ever. 

You get up and leave the clock unfinished. You peek around the curtain. The sky is so grey, the streetlights are on. You can hardly see more than the rain speckled abstraction of the streets below. 

Another blindly strike of lightning illuminates the world and you back away, the hair on your arms standing on edge. Loud noises always make you nervous. You retreat to the couch and pull the knitted throw from over the back. 

The shelves against the walls tremble as the storm seems to center on your building. You look around, terrified, and watch the figurines and books as they shift on the wood. Oh no. 

You get up and let the blanket fall to your feet. You grab an armful of cushions and frantically set them around the shelves to catch anything that might tumble. This can't be real! The way the whole building quakes is like a movie. 

Once you have pillows scattered all around, the air grows stagnant and silence shrouds the world. You look around, feeling rather foolish as you see your manic safeguards littered on the floor. All these things you worry so much about and why? There's always more to be found. Never enough.  

You return to the window and once more look out. You cling to the curtain as you pull it back. The sun is out again and the street is slick and shining with the aftermath of the storm. Your eyes narrow along the curb; the grey jeep is gone. You don't know if it matters but you notice it. It's just a strange coincidence.  

🕰️

The next day, you descend with a new box of good for sale. You leave most of your things in the car, covering them with a blanket against greedy eyes, but there’s no use in the up and down, back and forth. You rarely have the energy after a long day amidst the market crowds. 

You nearly drop your armful as you come in sight of your car. You blink. It can’t be real. Your mouth falls open as you slow and near the ruins of the old auto. The metal of the hood is crumpled and singed, as if it was burnt by some unearthly force. You recall the storm. 

What rotten luck that it should land on your car, of all things. It had seemed quite close and yet, you didn’t even think something like this could happen. You walk around the car and take in the breadth of the damage. What do you do? 

The windshield is cracked, a spider web in the glass, ready to shadow at the merest touch, and the left tire if flat. Even if the engine isn’t cooked, you don’t think it’s safe to drive. You hug the box in your arms and stare. 

Crying can’t help you. It never does. You don’t do that. Not since you were a child. You’ve dealt with worse anyhow. You still have a roof over your head. There’s that at least. 

Still ,you can’t hold onto that one bright side without an income. You can’t afford a rental and you don’t know anyone who would lend you a car, let alone spare a ride. You look down at the box, ready to accept defeat. 

You have to try... it’s not about being easy, it’s about getting it done. You don’t have a choice. You need what little you can make from selling your antiques. Come rain or shine, rather literally, you have to find a way. 

Your body reacts without a clear plan. You put the box down next to the rear tire. You open the back door and fling back the blanket. You sift through your crates and find what you need; the sign. You take that and your hand-written stack of cards, and put them in next to the lockbox in the box on the ground. You grab a few extra trinkets and the bag of embroidered coin purses and a few other light items. As much as you can do alone. 

You should be able to make back the bus fare, even if the journey might be a bit awkward. 

🕰️

You get to the market and realise another pitfall. You have your things and your sign and just about nothing else. As you wander to the empty space meant to be yours, the one you pay a fee for, you have only a box and yourself. You don’t know that it will attract many people. It’s hardly professional. 

As you stand on the empty patch of grass, watching other sellers set up, you contemplate the transition to an online marketplace. You tried once but never really moved any pieces. The shipping costs were enough to deter you and prospective buyers. 

You sigh and think of the wasted three bucks. Why did you come all the way down here to stand around like some weirdo? You are a bit off but this is a bit much. 

“Hey,” a voice startles you and you turn to face the plant seller. You recognise him as he’s come to buy a gift or two for his mother from time to time. He’s always talkative, always smiling. He’s a bit much. “Uh, we going minimalist?” 

You peer around and shrug, “car troubles.” 

“Hm, that’s too bad. Um, I was just making my rounds and saw you looking a bit lost. You remember me, right? Cole.” 

“Yes,” you answer sheepishly. 

“Well, we stick around. Us vendors. If you need some table space for the day, I can move the cacti over--” 

You can’t help your surprise from showing in the creases of your forehead, “really?” 

“Yeah, of course. Did I ever mention my mom loved that new lampshade? They discontinued the style ages ago and she was ecstatic. I mean come on, I sell flowers, you think she’s beaming with pride.” 

“Erm, I don’t know,” you try not to show your discomfort. He does talk so much. Beggars can’t be choosers and you’ve settled for far worse than a chatty companion. “If you don’t mind, I would be so grateful.” You rub your neck, “I... I can’t offer much but if you want a few items. Maybe for you mom—oh, I could bring you this vase I found. I can show you a picture.” 

“It’s no problem,” he steps forward and you shy away at his suddenness. He slows down and shows his palms, “woah, sorry, I was just going to grab your stuff.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to--” 

“Please, I make a habit of helping out pretty women. My pleasure,” he assures and scoops up the box of goods. 

“Mm, thanks,” you roll your tongue against the roof of your mouth, chewing on that comment. Charming but a bit unnerving. He tries just a little bit too much. 

You follow him across the row of booths and stands and around the corner to his own. He has a much better location than your own but it makes sense. Flowers sell better than used doilies. 

He puts the box down behind his table and starts to rearrange his goods. You wait until there’s a clear space and start setting out your own things. You pick out only the stuff you know will sell and prop up your sign. You leave the lock box underneath with the leftovers. 

“You mind if I go use the bathroom?” You ask Cole as he folds up his jacket and lays it over his chair. 

“Sure, I’ll keep an eye on things,” he says. “Need anything?” 

“No, no, I’m good,” you assure him and flit off. 

You head down to the brick building that houses the public restrooms. You use the solitary to collect yourself after the disaster-stricken morning. As you emerge, you wander along and pause just outside the booth selling iced drinks and hand-made tumblers. They’re all very cute but you can’t afford a cup, yet you can splurge for some of the tea. 

You chew your cheek as you consider the menu. You’re not sure what to pick. Hm, he likes flowers. 

You order two lavender lemonades and wait patiently as you count out the money. A little treat is much needed after the morning you’ve had. You claim your drinks and turn, nearly colliding with someone else. You back up and look up at the towering man. You recognise him. 

“Ah, there she is,” the man booms, “I feared you were not attending today.” 

“Oh, uh,” you furrow your brow. He’s that man who left you waiting then came back with his mother. He seems to be a regular though you’d never seen him before a few weeks back. “Hi?” 

“Thor,” he supplies, “I don’t think I introduced myself yet. And you, little treasure?” 

You hesitate before you muster an answer. Little treasure? How strange.  

“So, have you relocated?” He wonders. 

“Um, for today,” you say, his curiosity tweaking your nerves. “My car... well, I’ll figure it out.” 

“Oh, how unfortunate,” he frowns, “well, where can I find you? My mother is due soon, I believe my brother will be with her. A family day, you see?” 

“Mm, oh, I’m... down there,” you motion with the drinks, “at the flower booth.” 

“Flowers? Wonderful, mother will like those,” he grins brightly, “well, don’t let me keep you. You must have many customers waiting and those do you look delicious. Enjoy.” 

You look down at the drinks and nod. As you look back up, he’s already heading off. It isn’t very often you remember a face and his is becoming familiar. He must not have very much to do if he’s here every weekend. Who are you to speak? 

You go back to the stall as Cole speaks to some customers and wraps up two tall irises for sale. You wait to the side, hoping they might have some interest but they shuffle by with polite smiles. You do your best to smile back then turn to Cole. 

“Hey, um, I know it’s not much,” you take one of the cups and offer it, “I didn’t know if you’d like it but, lavender lemonade?” 

“Oo, is this from the Tea Time place? I’ve been dying to try it,” he perks up, “thank you so much. That’s too nice.” 

“Mm, well, you’ve done so much and you don’t have to.” 

“We all have bad days, huh?” 

“I guess,” you take your own drink and taste it. Different, but not bad. You’ll stick to your regular stuff at home though. 

You put the cup under the booth as more people approach. You have a few asking about the purses and browsing the sleepers. You sell some of the baby clothes but the purses are left unpurchased. Better than nothing. You’re all breaking even. That’s a weight off. 

Further down, you hear a deep roll like thunder. It’s that big burly blond. Thor? He’s there with the same blonde woman and a slimmer man nearly the same height but much thinner. His hair is dark where the other two are fair. 

Thor meets your eye, frightening you, and you quickly look down at your wares and arranges them. You sense his shadow coming closer as his mother continues her conversation with Cole about the amaryllis. The other man looks disinterested as he glares at Cole. 

“Mother,” the slender man sighs, “you could have a better bargain with the florist in town.” 

“Oh, hush,” she jabs him and returns to her barter. 

“Ah, yes,” Thor cuts into your intrusion, “I see you’ve got yourself set up. Oh, and you’ve made friends.” 

He glances over at Cole and you follow his gaze. You back up and fold your hands over your stomach. He turns back to you and narrows his eyes. 

“Friendly fellow, isn’t he?” 

“Mm, sure, he... he’s helpful,” you move your hand to grip your other wrist. “I don’t have too much today.” 

“Yes, I see. No jewelry? I was hoping to find some pendant for mother.” 

“Uh, no, sorry, like I said--” 

“Or a ring,” he insists. “She is a fan of jewelry. Back home... well, where we resided prior, she had so many pieces...” he smiles and exhales, his chest rising and fall, “ah, it isn’t any matter. I do like this.” He picks up the figurine of squirrel with an acorn, “it’s adorable.” He meets your eye and smiles broadly, “I like cute things.” 

You nod, unsure how to respond. You give him the price and he reaches for his wallet without pause. He pays and you stop yourself from offering to wrap it up. You don’t have your newspaper or little paper bags. 

“Thanks,” you cheep, “hope you have a good day.” 

“It’s already been lovely,” he purrs and wobbles the squirrel with a grin, “I do hope yours gets better as well.” 

[da3dm]

In the deep blue sea, there isn't a place for me

—

Got the second part done, yay! This time from Vara's perspective!

I didn't redo the tilted words this time I'm too tired to bother, but enjoy!

Taglist: @brick-a-doodle-do @i-am-beckyu @justarandomsloth @awkwardgtace @nobodywritingao3 @local-squishmallow (if you want to be tagged you HAVE to tell me, I can't magically know)

TW: Unintentional fearplay, begging to die (Noone dies), blood, one curse word...not sure what else, most is the same as last chapter

Word Count: 3.3k

Part 2/2

His days were slow and peaceful, any given second put thinking about what he'd do to help out next. For now, he planned on heading down to the beach to clean up the aftermath of the storm. Trash always washed up in the waves, but storms seemed to bring a whole truck full onto the usually beautiful sand. It made him sad to see it all dirty, so he was bringing some big trash bags and some gloves for the worst of the trash he finds. Alongside it, he stashed a small kit of first aid in the back…wouldn't be much he could do, but sometimes animals got stuck in the trash too. He wanted to make sure they were safe too, just as much as anyone else.

With not much else to do today, he went ahead and got started, climbing into his truck to drive down there. It was about half an hour away from his house, and his favorite place to visit. Not very many people went there…probably because it was hard to get to, kinda secluded. His ears and tail wiggled happily at the thought of that neat little spot being cleaned up. No need to do more than just picking up the trash. People never using it only made it an even better place to be, in his opinion. He loved helping people, but he didn't like crowds very much. Or being pressured into something.

His ears swiveled and he hit the brakes in time to avoid a rude driver, ignoring their horn and continuing onwards. His mood was soured for no more than a few seconds, as he hummed in delight over his thoughts again. Why stay upset when it was already in the past? Instead, he turned on his blinker to head off onto a dirt road. He glanced around to watch for animals, enjoying the lush plants all around him. It didn't take long for the truck to start bouncing, the only half made road ending as he entered what was mostly just a dirt path. A path worn by use rather than being constructed.

Soon, the trees ended and he was greeted by glimmering waters, a bright sun, and…a dirty beach. His smile faltered for a brief moment, but he went ahead and parked his truck after turning off, keeping himself to the side. With his truck safely out of the way, he shoved the gloves and keys in his pocket, then grabbed the trash bags and hopped out. The sun was beating down rather hot today for being past noon. He gave a curious hum and set about his self appointed task, gazing at the water every now and then, sometimes wishing he could know its secrets. He stopped. How could it be so beautiful, and yet so dangerous?

He turned away from the sea at that question to return to his repetitive task. There was no room for a question like that. He'd be stuck trying to know for the rest of his life otherwise. Although…there were a lot more seagulls than he remembered usually being here. This made him speed up a tad, looking for an injured animal they might be picking on. If it was still alive, the birds might peck it to death! That spurred him forward, searching for whatever might be needing help. Of course, he also knew it could be the trash itself, but harm in being on guard to be sure he helped instead of missing it. He'd rather do it for no reason than let one die.

However, he didn't look for very long until he came across a seagull attacking what looked like an empty bottle. He waved the bird off, including a few others that had been coming closer. The bottle just seemed empty to him, half buried and sand obscuring what might be in it. So as he reached for it, he instead looked at the birds, wondering why they were still sticking around. He was a cat beastman, and yet they weren't leaving? His attention returned to the bottle when he found that it was heavier than expected, strangely enough. Maybe it was full of water? He tilted the bottle to pour it out so he didn't get the trash bag wet.

Then a sound entered his sensitive ears. They swiveled toward the bottle and he tipped it back to how it was, confused. Was there something in there? His hand shifted so he could see in better and…froze up, eyes going wide. What he saw there, was a tiny person. He knew that there were plenty of nonhuman things out there, himself included, but tiny people?? Well, not entirely…it looked like it had a tail replacing legs. He'd almost thought they were a fish, honestly. All he could manage was to stare in silence, struck by this thing even existing.

He raised the bottle higher in a hurry to see it better. As he did, the expression was clearer and…was it snarling at him?? Then there was a quiet, muffled sound and he stiffened. It was hard to not find that, probably a growl, adorable. He knew it was a threat, yeah, but the sound was just so small to him. And yet the little thing didn't even try to communicate better and seemed to be trying to get away from him. Did pressing itself against the other side actually make it feel better? He could kinda feel something cold against his hand through the plastic from its new position though, leading him to tilt his head curiously. Why was it so cold?

He paused. Would it be better to try talking? "...hello? Can you understand me? Are you okay?" Just because it looked sentient didn't mean it was. Still…he wasn't getting a response. Not really wanting to believe this was just an animal yet and overall wanting to help regardless, worry filled him. "Alright…I'll get you out of there. Trust me for a few seconds, okay? I'm gonna tip the bottle." After warning, he prepared his free hand to catch it when dumped out. He was very gentle and slow with the action, but winced seeing it scramble for purchase, but steeled himself. He didn't have something to cut it open with and it couldn't be healthy to be in there. If it got in…it could get back out. Maybe he'd have to squeeze the bottle to get it out if it got stuck in the opening.

Except what it chose to do startled him and he stopped, keeping still. It…did it just spread its arms to get stuck? On purpose? That was…a much more intelligent action. Maybe they just didn't speak the same language? "Please, you have to get out before I can help you." When he saw no change, he decided to not move and wait it out. It appeared to have a rather stubborn personality. Well…so did he! He kept himself calm, remaining unmoving and entirely silent, even when it gave out an even angrier growl. This was starting to be make it harder to truly discern sentience. Everyone did something to survive, but was he really seen as such a threat? He wouldn't hurt anyone for anything.

Finally, his patience paid off and it landed right on his palm, the small body rather cold. He sighed in relief, but grew concerned when it didn't move at all at first. When he was about to try and prompt a reaction to make sure it was okay, the creature became so suddenly stiff he could've thought he held an ice cube. In this situation, he normally would've tried to comfort it, but when it looked up at him, his heart felt like it shattered. He chose to watch wordlessly as it sat up, then hung its head. Instantly, the beastman wanted to fret over the small being. Had he hurt it after all? What if it was so stressed it just died?

Soon it turned its gaze back up to meet his and hope blossomed—only to immediately get bitten really hard for something so small. As much as he wanted to, he could only muffle the sound of pain, but not stop his reactive flinch. In a hurry, he let his fingers curl up to keep it from falling off his hand, confused. Why was it biting him now? Before he could even try for an answer, it latched onto one of his fingers, drawing a suppressed whimper out of him. That was more painful than it had a right to be. In a way…it disturbed him to see how much blood was dripping off that bite. As much as he wanted to stop the bleeding, he needed to focus on the scared creature.

Gently, he tried to move his other fingers safely out of harm's way slowly, hoping to avoid eliciting another bad response. All he could think of to do now was attempt to speak again. "Uhm...will you please let go...? That...it kinda hurts?" It seemed to freeze and for a moment he thought it listened, only for just admittedly adorable snarl to ring out, followed by nastily twisting the bite. He winced, nearly gasping in shock at level of pain it could induce. Not a lot of damage, but definitely hurt. Still, he just bit his lip with a solemn nod, muttering, "Yeah, okay, that's fair." He'd scared it after all. It paused again, only to start clawing at his finger this time. He could only take so much, so this time he tried bending his finger to dislodge it.

It worked, but now he had yet another problem. It had a brief look of realization and changed. While its teeth were still bared, the angry look slowly shifted to a fearful one the more it stared at him. He kinda felt like he was being studied. Did it notice he was a cat based beastman? Though that fear didn't last long, and accompanied by what felt like pinpricks on his palm, it looked at him with rage, of all things. He planned to say something else, but it took a breath and screamed, "The hell are you even going to do?! Stop staring and just do something damnit! You're too loud and toying with me! If you're going to do something to me, just do it!" At the very least, he thought it was a scream based on the tone…it was still quieter than one to him.

Regardless, he was taken aback by the harsh implications of that shout. It…no, he, based off the voice, definitely had sentience. Then…what was this small guy? Why…did he sound so scared and angry? He hurriedly raised his hand up to his face, letting his fingers curl in to be sure the fish person didn't fall. It felt a little risky so he gently held them in place and only stopped when level with his eyes. He could feel his stress building as he started to ramble, "What?? You...do you think I want to hurt you? I'm sorry I was too loud...did I really scare you that badly? I wasn't trying really hard not to—" He faltered, trying not to be loud but struggling. "—but I...I messed up? What did I do? How do I fix it? Is there something you want?" Maybe if he got an answer he'd be able to make him feel safe…being seen as scary kinda hurt.

Then all at once, he ended up feeling worse. They had looked up to meet his eyes, only for them for scramble away with a rather heavy shiver. Those tiny eyes were full of so much fear he wanted to cry for them. They weren't answering his questions and they were only getting scared. How could he fix this? Stressing, he brought his hand a little closer to softly asked, "Hey, are you okay? Can't you speak?" He wanted to help if he could. Maybe they got hurt.

But he was interrupted by him snarling again, the tiny voice growling, "Get the fuck away from me." He blinked in surprise and guilt flooded him. Had he really messed up so badly? His voice sounded so weak. Seeing them lean away, he wanted to say something, but was cut off a second time. "Just...just leave me alone or kill me already. I don't want to play these games anymore." The voice was so frightened, but so full of anger that he almost whined.

Then he registered what had been said to him. "Kill you?! I'm not going to kill you!" He was horrified and quickly tried to fix this. Letting go of them, he cupped his hands together to be more gentle and keep them safer. His heart squeezed when this got him glared at. Was this even fixable? Or had he already ruined everything by just trying to help? He hoped not.

He was pulled out of his spiral when the tiny person snapped, "Why not?! You're bigger than me, you're a predator, I shouldn't even still be alive except to be a handy little plaything for your own entertainment!" This time, he was stunned enough he couldn't even begin to reply. How could he? When someone was so hysterical you couldn't reason with them. He probably had a look of pity mixed with his worry, but…plaything? Predator? What did being bigger have anything to do with it? Maybe it was just a sealife thing he didn't understand. Then he got bit. He winced, hand shaking briefly as he fought to not react. He gasped from the spike of pain he got when they twisted their head to make it worse with a growl.

Whining a little, he started to move his other hand. "Please don't do that…" He carefully cupped his hand over the other one, in a manner like a child might use to catch a butterfly. He'd been hoping this would work, but he felt a sharp pain only seconds later from a different spot. Right. Being bitten all over his hand now. Pleasant. He waited, but…the bite was still going. He sighed, "I'll just put you back in the ocean…" Maybe he just needed to free them. He glanced at the birds warily though, worried they'd come after the small man. There wasn't a response though, so he just started walking, keeping an eye on the birds while searching for a good spot to put him. He did notice he wasn't being bitten anymore and his steps seemed to almost toss them around.

He tried to walk a little more carefully, but found himself being amazed at the feeling of a tiny heart racing against his palm. Only for a muffled voice to ring out and startled him into freezing, his ears angling forward to listen. "Wait wait wait!" He could tell it was meant to be shouted really loud, but…he still didn't match that volume he was used to. He felt them move and needle claws grab his skin when he stopped, so he paused to listen in case something else was said.

When nothing came, only silence, he prodded for an explanation instead. "Don't you live there? I'll put you back, are you sure?" It didn't make any sense for them to be scared but not want to be in the ocean. The silent stillness wasn't very promising but he simply took a deep breath and waited this time. It might help to just give time to think.

Finally, it paid off. He could feel movement before the small voice carried to him again. "...I don't want to be in the ocean. Do whatever you want with me, just get rid of me already, but not the ocean…" The tone was faint and almost shaky…it must be stressful to say something like that.

Except he didn't hesitate to agree, though he was a bit regretful to. "Okay, I won't." He felt them stiffen, so he softly added, "I'll just...take you home. You're probably needing some water about now and my skin can't be helping that, not to mention it's really hot out today, huh? And it's not like there's any other water sources around...I don't even know what else you want if you don't want the ocean. Maybe you'll tell me once you're not so dried up?" Silence. He got a very long, drawn out silence. It made him stress all over again. Did he say the wrong thing?

There was a shift in weight before he heard a very soft, "...fine." He'd barely been able to hear it, but now he'd gotten permission. He nodded to himself and turned back around, leaving his trash bag for now. It was more important to help him than to clean the beach. While walking, it kinda felt like they were laying down now and he started to smile, only to feel pricks from claws. He hissed through his teeth but chose not to comment on it.

Rather, he took a deep breath and tried to be himself instead. "Alright, then let's go! I'll take and get a good look at you to make sure you're not injured and try to find a good place for you to stay!" It would be good to check. He wasn't sure what would happen if they dried out, but he doubted it was good. By the time he got to his truck though and went to open the door, they weren't moving anymore. He pulled his hands apart so he could grab the handle, only to see they were entirely limp. A lurch of fear sent cold down his veins and he immediately yanked the door open, jumping inside and reaching for his water canister. He watched them closely while carefully pouring a little bit of water over them, only to stop when he realized he'd run out of water to transport them.

He took a deep breath to calm down. It's fine. They were fine. The tiny fish man was fine. He could see the chest moving. Shaking his head, he decided to put them inside his water canister and set it in the cup holder. Now he just needed to remember not to drink it. With a smile, he shut the door and made his way back over to get the bag of trash he'd abandoned. On his way, he looked around to make sure there wasn't anyone else that needed help. Luckily there wasn't and the trip to his bag was uneventful, so he just collected some trash and dragged the bag away. He'd been out here cleaning the place…he didn't intend to leave what he'd already gathered. Though as he tossed it in the back, he wondered what he'd do with his new acquaintance.

Amidst his pondering he automatically got in his truck, following the smooth, autonomous actions of getting everything set up and started. He glanced to his water and stared, hand flexing as he remembered the feeling of holding such a small body. The cold touch of scales…the fear. He shuddered, his ears pinning back in discomfort. After a moment of staring again, he shifted around until he could drape his tail around the water while in the seat and nodded, satisfied. How long would he be stuck with them though? It wasn't like he could just keep them in cups all the time either…should he get a fishbowl? That seemed mean, the guy hadn't even said where they wanted to go, just away from the ocean. He studied their sleeping form for a moment. He'd probably get to talk to them for a long time, perhaps going on trips or simply being each other's company. Maybe they'd even become good friends.

——

The end

Part 1/2

[sad--fem]

redoing my intro. hello, I'm Sydney, a 28 year old detransitioned female. learning about radical feminism and gender criticism. I'm mostly here to learn and discuss feminism with other like minded women, particularly fellow detransitioners.

I'm open to discussion about anything I espouse, and my beliefs are subject to change.

more detail on my trans beliefs (since that's probably all anyone's here for) and disclaimers below

I am not necessarily trans exclusionary. I do not believe that transition is inherently always a "wrong choice", and I especially don't believe trans people are "evil", need to die, don't face any oppression, or are an insidious threat of some sort.

I do disagree with the majority of the dominant trans community ideology and the current state of the trans rights movement, and I do believe that feminism is, and should only be, a movement exclusively for female empowerment. Thus transmen and nonbinary females are part of feminism regardless of how they identify. You cannot identify out of misogyny.

Women have the right to female-only spaces. Full stop.

Transition is not a catch-all. Medical transition should be approached with a great degree of caution, is under-researched, largely experimental, and comes with a great deal of side effects and health consequences. I do NOT believe, however, that the overwhelming majority of doctors and surgeons providing trans care are malicious, profit-driven (gender was made up by big pharma to sell more gender etc etc), or committing malpractice. They are largely genuinely trying to help their patients and this is the pathway to do so that has been normalized.

Puberty blockers, hormones, and surgery for children however are unacceptable. Medical effects aside, your understanding of your identity is absolutely not fully formed even by the age of 18. You do not have a fully developed brain. You do not understand the concept of "permanent". Elective cosmetic procedures, tattoos, and body mods are not allowed if you are under 18 for a reason.

I don't block people for disagreeing but I will block people for being unnecessarily mean or threatening. I don't respond to hate anons or bad faith arguments.

I use the queue a lot but I can't bother tagging queued posts, sorry.

[limitlessscion]

‎ "—I had fun"

Tracking #LimitlessScion

Independent Satoru Gojo ∞ Jujutsu Kaisen Mutuals-only ∞ Duplicates and OC friendly ∞ Minors DNI Written by Cherry (They/Them/Any ∞ 30+ ∞ EST) Manga current + spoilers

By default canon-compliant in broad strokes, but portrayal + interpretation heavily influenced by headcanons and verse-specific interactions. An emphasis is placed on the agony of loneliness and being human in a world that denies your humanity.

Nav: about ∞ verses ∞ mun ∞ headcanons ∞ prompts

1 ∞ I have absolutely no tolerance for drama, I will not engage in or comment. My lack of engagement is not an indication of any opinion on the matter. Contact me privately if you need to hash out any issues.

2 ∞ I do best with ample plotting and discussion, my Discord is available to any mutuals upon request for such a purpose.

Mutual daydreaming about potential scenarios and relationship details until ideas for threads and interactions click into existence is the bread and butter of writing with me, and I thrive the most when I have many unique discussion points to feed off of when writing.

I am still happy to jump straight into interactions without plotting though!

3 ∞ Please do not make assumptions about my portrayal based off of fanon! There are many unique aspects about my Satoru that are very important to me and can diverge pretty heavily from popular interpretations. Please don't hesitate to ask me if you are ever unsure, I am always happy to explain, and in return I will always work with your own unique portrayal as well.

4 ∞ I think that the fact there can be so many different ways to interpret a character when everyone has the same starting material is a beautiful thing to be celebrated. I am happy to write with multiples of the same muse and each will be treated with the respect of being their own unique character.

I am also more than happy to follow other Satoru blogs if you are comfortable with it, and I do want to interact when given the chance.

5 ∞ Shipping: Your muses are allowed to have crushes on him, but please approach me with the assumption that he will likely never reciprocate in the right way. I love the idea of exploring flings or short-lived relationships that don't work out, but long term romance-like relationships are rare and only works if a lot of chemistry occurs naturally through interactions. I write Satoru as aro/ace and I do take the aromantic part of his identity seriously; it will affect how he approaches things.

I love all kinds of platonic dynamics, from friends, to antagonists and familial. All interactions regardless of the type of dynamic are in separate verses unless plotted otherwise

6 ∞ Dead Dove: do not eat. Many mature themes make potential and frequent appearances on this blog, due to the nature of the source material and just my preference in writing: I have a great love of writing violence and uncomfortable characterizations. I generally won't bother tagging the likes of violence and gore in prose, though I will tag any explicit visuals and things I have been asked to tag with "_ cw"

I won't be writing any explicit sexual content, but suggestive content including up to a fade to black might occur

7 ∞ My primary goal here is to have fun, and to make sure that my writing partner is also having fun. I'm really not picky on the length, formatting, grammar or whatever from my partner as long as effort is being put in and we're having a good time. I write as much as I feel like, I reply to things I have muse for, and I won't necessarily answer prompts I can't think of a reply to. I expect my partners to have the same freedom without any pressure to inform me.

I am happy as needed to drop threads, redo concepts, write short scenarios that only lasts a round or two; anything goes in the name of enjoying ourselves shamelessly.

Art Credit: all graphics used on blog are either official content or used with explicit permission

[Mobile banner] by mercuryartes

[vaicomcas]

One More Bitter Cas Girl Vent Fic

I fulfilled my promise in my tags and wrote a ficlet to incorporate my own version of Castiel's "confession" for a redo of 15x18. (I did change it a bit to fit the story) Because I can't stand how that confession took everything good Castiel ever did and gave all the credit to Dean Winchester.

This is not a proper fic; it's badly written, it's pure self-indulgence, it's contrived and doesn't make too much sense, but it's my truth. You've been warned.

CW: subverting 15x18. hostile to Dean Winchester. Does not have a happy ending. Cas still sacrificed himself, but at least he was the hero who saved the world and Jack.

This can be considered a companion piece to my other bitter Cas girl vent fic The Miracle that is an alternate explanation of 15x20.

synopsis:

In shock and disillusion from Dean's betrayal Amara let herself be absorbed into Chuck, but in the last moment, she realized she wanted to be free and could use the darkness of the Empty to power herself. If was too late but she transmitted the message to the next celestiel being which happened to be Cas.

Cas used Dean's attack of Billie as opportunity to draw Billie out of her library to the bunker, where Chuck killed Billie. Then Cas summoned the Empty, knowing that Amara could use the Empty to bury Chuck forever. His happiness came from: he let go of his self-hate and asserted his own worth to Dean; he knew that his action would lead to a world without Chuck where Jack will be free.

The Truth

scene 1 is from 15x17 Unity. The other 2 are from 15x18 Despair. Lines from the show are in italics.

---------------------------------------------

Amara

“Sam and Dean, they are using Jack to destroy us.”

Amara knew then already.  But she still didn’t want to believe it.

“No, but…Dean can’t hurt me.”

Chuck looked at his sister with pity.

“No, but he could send you to the meat grinder with a wink and a smile.”

Amara was stunned. 

Dean lied to her.  Dean had looked her in the eye with such sincerity, and told her he could never hurt her.

She had cared about Dean.  She had cared about the world.  She was willing to put her own eternal life on the line to fight God.

Her love meant nothing, less than nothing.  It was turned into a weapon against both her brother and herself.  A disposable weapon at that.

Amara was surprised that it wasn’t anger she felt.  It was exhaustion. Everything in sight exhausted her.  The mildewed walls.  The dented shelves.  The dim lights. 

Every sensation in this world that she had cherished, now felt like an assault on her being.  An ugly, cold, hateful assault that came at her relentlessly.

She was the darkness.  Darkness at the beginning of time.  Darkness without end.  She longed for that all-encompassing darkness now. Away from this ugly deceitful world.

But there was no going back.  She had allowed herself to be entangled with her omnipotent twin.  She had been betrayed, and now she was trapped. 

Chuck said words about balance, about a fresh start.  But she didn’t bother listening. 

When Chuck smiled at her and held out his hand, Amara took it.  And let herself be absorbed into her brother.  What else was left for her?

Yet, in the millisecond before their hands touched, a spark of self-preservation broke through her disillusionment.  No, this was not what she wanted.

 Too late, she realized how she could find her strength.  How she could find her peace.  How she could become herself once again. 

Not how, but where.

She didn’t have time to act with her powerful brother right there.  But in the last microsecond of the last millisecond, she sent out a cloaked message to the nearest celestial being capable of receiving it.

“Take me to eternal darkness, and there will be peace for all of us.”

The nearest celestial being was right next door. 

Castiel didn’t have time to wonder what the message meant.  At that moment, he was preoccupied with Jack’s agony, as cracks of light spread on the Nephilim's face. Then the next moment, his father burst through the door, one eye glowing silver, one eye glowing black.

A sickening realization hit Castiel.  God was so powerful, he was capable of consuming his sister, his equal.  Billie’s plan was never going to work.  They could never have killed God using Jack, using anything that was part of this world, part of God’s creation. 

-----------------

2. Jack

“How are you feeling? You’ve been quiet.”

Cas looked at Jack while they leaned on the Impala, waiting for Sam and Dean.

“How long have you been waiting to ask me that?” 

Jack was expecting it.  He could tell Cas was worried in the few hours of relative peace since he was brought back from the Empty.  Not that Cas showed it.  But Jack could feel it the whole time.

Jack could always feel how Castiel was feeling, even when he was soulless.  Even now, when he had lost his powers.

At his question, Castiel lowered his head and chuckled at himself.  A wave of affection radiated out, as if he was proud of Jack for seeing through him. 

For some reason, it made tears well up in Jack’s eyes.

Jack wanted to confess.  He wanted Cas to know that his pride and affection were misplaced.

“I was ready to die, and I wanted to. For Sam, for Dean, for the world. I wanted to make things right. And now... I don't know why I'm even here.”

Jack’s words hit Castiel like a tsunami of pain.  

Castiel knew this feeling all too well.   He knew what it was like to feel worthless and hopeless.  He had made peace with it.  He thought he deserved it.

With an agonizing horror that pierced his very core, he recognized that Jack had been in the same hell.  It broke Castiel’s heart.  He could never make peace with that. He never will.

He steeled himself to conceal his sorrow.  He turned to Jack, reaching out with his grace, his mind, his voice.  He spoke urgently and forcefully.

“Jack, you never needed absolution from Sam or Dean, or from me.  We don’t care about you because you are useful or because you fit into some grand design.  We care about you because you are you.”

Jack felt Castiel’s wings wrapped around him in the etheric plane, the way Cas embraced him so many times before. He heard Castiel’s heartbeat, sure and strong.  He saw Castiel’s wavelengths, gently illuminating the world for him. 

With his father next to him, he realized, he didn’t want to die.

Jack let his tears fall.  “God, the Empty, Billie…everyone is so mad at us.  There is nothing I can do to protect us.  I am scared.”

Cas put a consoling hand on Jack’s shoulder, not knowing what more to say.  Jack shouldn’t be trying to protect them.  He was supposed to protect Jack. 

How could he do that?  How could he stop the most powerful forces in this universe?  How could they protect Jack from God when they were all part of God’s creation?

Suddenly Castiel’s eyes lit up. Not everything was God’s creation.

He remembered Amara’s message.  “Take me to eternal darkness, and there will be peace for all of us.”  He understood it.

It didn’t matter that he was an insignificant cog of his father’s machinations. It didn’t matter that his power had been failing him.  It didn’t matter that he no longer had any celestial allies left.  There was still something he could do.  And he had to do something, to keep Jack from every kind of harm.  It was his promise.  It would be his happiness.

----------------

3. Cas

The sigil glowed on the door of room 7B.  Death was pounding on the other side of the door.

“She’s gonna get through that door, she’s gonna kill you, then she’s gonna kill me.”  Dean despaired in utter defeat, seeing no way out.

“No.” Castiel said calmly.  “That is not going to happen.  I will not let that happen.”

“Com’on, Cas.”  Dean groaned.  “You need to accept reality.”

Castiel smiled.  “Billie is exactly where I want her.  She is weakened, dying, and you have drawn her away from the library which is a source of her power.”

“I drew her away?  What the hell are you talking about?”

“I knew you’d want to kill Billie.  I knew you didn’t stand a chance, and would have to retreat. And Billie would follow you to the bunker.”

Dean’s face turned stony.  Cas made screwed-up plans behind his back, yet again.  

“You planned this? You are using me as bait?  What’s wrong with you?”

“Dean, I didn’t tell you because I couldn’t risk Billie sensing your thoughts.  I would never endanger you.  Billie can’t kill you.  Chuck-my father- wouldn’t allow it.   I know him, Dean.  You and Sam were always the only ones he was obsessed with.  He still wants you to be his story.  He will always want that.  Billie plotted to kill him.  And now she is trying to kill you.  Chuck wouldn’t let it stand.”

The building shook violently.  The banging on the door stopped.  It sounded like a storm was raging outside the dungeon. 

Castiel heard Billie grunting.  He saw the sigil on the door flickering.  He could feel two cosmic entities clashing.  Their blows sent shock waves pounding on his true form.  He didn’t waver.

“Chuck is here.  He and Death are engaged in battle.”

“And that’s your plan?”  Dean’s shock turned into incredulity, then anger.  “It’s not enough we got one cosmic big bad gunning after us, you want two?”

“I want them to fight each other.”

“That’s a stupid plan!  Whoever wins, they are coming for us next!”

“They will.  And whoever that is, I will destroy them.”

Dean sighed.  “Cas.  You are really losing it.  Even back when you had the power of the purgatory souls inside you, you could never have taken on Death or God.  Now…”

Cas smiled again.  “Now I am just a broken angel with barely any power left.  I know, Dean.”

Cas casted his eyes down, as if preparing a confession.  To accomplish what he has set out to do, he needed to set himself free.

 He returned his gaze to Dean, light of the truth shining in his blue eyes. 

“Dean, I know how you see me. You think I am impulsive, misguided, the reason why things go wrong.  You think I try to be the good guy, but I failed more often than I succeeded.  You think I am only strong when I fight by your side, as your blunt weapon.  I am not. Everything I have ever done, the good and the bad, I did for love.  I raised you and Sam from perdition for love.  I led my angel armies for love. And I made a deal with the Empty for love.”

Dean stared at him, dumbfounded.  “What are you talking about?”.

“When Jack was dying, I made the deal to save him.  The price was my life.  When I experience a moment of true happiness, the Empty would be summoned, and it would take me forever.  The Empty that is eternal darkness.  The Empty that was not created by God, and could be used against him.”  

Outside, Cas could hear Billie gasping and wheezing.   Despite the claim of the original Death that in the end he would reap God, this Death had been weakened.  God was about to destroy Billie.  He didn’t have much time left.

He no longer paid attention to Dean.  His eyes glowed softly as he prayed to Jack.  He could feel Jack’s grace responding to him across the etheric plane. 

“Jack, remember what I said to you earlier.  You don’t need anybody’s absolution, you don’t need anybody’s approval.  With or without a soul, with or without power, you always just wanted to do good. Jack, you ARE good, and you are important. Don't let anybody tell you otherwise.”

There.  He felt it.  Jack believed him.  Although still faint, a wave of hope reverberated in Jack’s soul. That hope amplified in Castiel’s grace, endlessly, triumphantly.

Death has been destroyed.  God will be next.  Evil will rot in the Empty.  A new day is coming for heaven and earth. It will be Jack’s world, finally and truly.

Jack will be free. The whole world will be free.

The door exploded.  Chuck walked in, smiling smugly. But it was too late for him.

Happiness flooded Castiel's grace. His wings rose with joy and reverence, saluting the new world to come.

Pools of amorphous black goo seeped in through the ceiling and formed a swirling portal.

The black tendrils hissed and spread, enveloping Castiel and Chuck.

Inside Chuck, Amara sighed with relief. Darkness. Eternal darkness. Its incomparable power was coursing through her now.   She took control. "Let's go home, brother."

Cas smiled, head held high. He prayed one last time.

"I love you, Jack."

[eilinelsghost]

Fic writer bingo!

Tagged by @thelordofgifs!

Yep! AO3 account is the same as on here: EilinelsGhost

Lmao ok so when I was a middle-schooler in like 2000 or 2001 or something there was a Realm of Nargothrond thing where you typed commands to move around from room to room and write out paragraphs as characters? It would output logs and you could read them like little collaborative stories. I think that counts? I'm not really familiar with what online roleplaying is, so I'm not sure. But you were writing and interacting as the characters, so that sounds right anyway.

I beta read this Edrahil piece by @solmarillion 😊

Rather convicting, but I've never had anyone beta read anything I've posted. Well that's not strictly true - @actual-bill-potts and @sallysavestheday saved my bacon on A Shifting Mirage by reading a couple segments for me. But I've never handed anyone a full draft to beta.

By Any Other Name is my favorite indulgence one I've written. In Sickness and Health also counts, but that was specifically to indulge @actual-bill-potts so maybe that counts double?

I have only this year acquired the wonderful tool of the keysmash and I am a big fan

Well, I'm a sucker for very specific fluff fics. Like pretty much any of the lovely lil Finrod/Balan numbers that @actual-bill-potts cranks out.

lmao since Atandil is almost the entirety of what I've written...yeah checked that m/m box.

Look, the obsessive need to research everything is one of the main reasons I'm an annoyingly slow writer. My deep apologies.

An outline, a whole folder of notes, a yarn wall of a planning web...

I sit and refresh my computer or phone for the hours after posting. I can't help it. I try not to, but the panic sets in as soon as I hit the publish button. EVERY TIME.

Yes! @ilaneya made this beautiful piece of Finrod from Here in Our Frailty 😍

"at least one unpublished story" lmao at last count, the running total for Atandil was 38 installments so uhhh yeah I have some unpublished stories in the hopper

Editing doesn't bother me too much (I love going through with a fine tooth comb) but AO3 always fucks up my formatting and I have to redo the whole thing every time and try not to miss all the italics. Hate it.

I keep the notes app open on my phone when I go to bed so all I have to do is unlock and type 😂

Yup. I drunk wrote once and somehow made Haleth and Bëor have a conversation because I guess how timelines work is the first thing that goes out the door

Actually I'm not sure if this means a published fic that you think people are sitting on or an unpublished. I marked it thinking unpublished and currently it's my TRSB fic 😬 I got stuck on the current chapter and so am trying to knock out the next Atandil to see if that helps get me out of block

No pressure tags for @actual-bill-potts, @sallysavestheday, and @cuarthol - and anyone else who wants to play!

Clean bingo card:

[the-starry-seas]

I was talking about Oxygen yesterday and came up with some lore things

He's always been a dual wielder, both with blasters and knives. He finds melee weapons very interesting and is annoyed by the fact that they're antiquated and irrevelant on GAR battlefields. Obi-Wan teaches him some lightsaber forms and he's not Force sensitive but he's very into it. He finds a pair of lightsabers on the black market and just steals them, what are they going to do about it? He redoes the hilts to match and thinks they're very fun.

He's obviously always been different from the other clones, so he's chill with leaving his squad behind to hang out with Obi-Wan. He wants them to end up happy but he's not going super out of his way to achieve it. They go their separate ways after the GAR gets broken up and he's not feeling abandoned about it. They're grown men, they're fine doing their own thing. Obi-Wan asks a lot of questions about "are you sure you don't want them to come with you" and "do you feel lonely" and "we can have them visit all the time" and Oxygen is lowkey like "would you cut it out you're weird". He doesn't say it but Obi-Wan picks up on it and doesn't bother him too much once he puts things together.

Him and Cody are very much neutral about each other. Like two cats being introduced for the first time. They warm up to each other eventually but Oxygen is not at all the sort to be like "oh you're hooking up with my genetic donor so we should be nice to each other". Him and Obi-Wan are also on neutral terms (on Oxygen's side). They're strangers and he has no connection to them! He just wants to be a soldier! Let him be! The only reason he actually has anything to do with Obi-Wan (not that he'd admit it) is that he lowkey always wanted his own clone and technically now he has one. Nobody can be more like him than Obi-Wan, y'know? And then Obi-Wan is charming and kind and Oxygen is all "oh no I'm getting attached".

He feels weird about it because he spent months doing the whole "we are NOT friends do NOT perceive me" but now "what if they perceived me and were nice to me". Cody saw this coming from a mile away because he assumes that everyone likes Obi-Wan a lot. He started a betting pool with the rest of the 212th about how long it would take and he was right on the money and is very smug about raking in all those favours (clones bet in favours instead of money).

He develops a taste for dark chocolate, the stuff that's like 90% cacao and therefore rather bitter. People flirt with him a lot and he's always 'I think the fuck not' because why are you paying attention to him you simply must quit that shit immediately. He hates being alone so he tags along to all Obi-Wan's meetings and learns a lot along the way. Otherwise he sits in some of the busy areas of the cities and gets into the habit of carving the pigeons and squirrels he sees around the fountains. He leaves them on the rim of the fountain so whoever wants one can take one.

Oxygen assumed he wouldn't find the face-sharing thing weird because he grew up in a cloning facility and is used to the idea of clones. But then he actually met Obi-Wan and was like hmmm no I don't like that. But they get used to it eventually, cause it's not like they can't LOL

Oxygen doesn't have the beard so people can tell them apart easily. Anakin is deeply weirded out at the beginning, he doesn't care for any of this shit. Plus he's got issues about Obi-Wan paying so much attention to someone else instead of him but he doesn't ilke, mention them. Mr Never Says Shit. He never gets used to Obi Jr walking around but he eventually gets slightly less weird about it.

Sometimes he pretends to be Obi-Wan (his accent is intentionally horrible). Most people let him get away with it because it amuses them and they're glad he's joking around with them. Cody never likes it and acts like a cat with all its fur fluffed out, they're identical in so many ways and he approves of their similarities.

He has a habit of sharing his lunch with stray dogs but he never brings them home because like. What is he gonna do with so many dogs. He helps get a lot of them adopted though! He also teaches a family friend's parrot to yell peoples' names in Obi-Wan's accent (perfect this time) and Cody never truly forgives him for how much it startles him every time.

Also he doesn't want to have a pet because he doesn't want to be responsible for keeping them alive. But that concern does not extend to plants and he has a pachyphytum type succulent in his bedroom because Obi-Wan said it would be good for him. He doubts that it's actually like, beneficial, but it's not awful? So he keeps it.

Obi-Wan would offer Oxygen the plants that he inherited from Qui-Gon but would turn him down. The plants seem to have Emotional Significance and he doesn't wanna see what happens if he accidentally kills one. Also he's not sure he wants more than one plant because he doesn't think two are more useful than one? Do they do things? I think he'd accept it if Obi-Wan got him a flytrap plant though, he thinks it's cool when plants actually do things.

He'd like having a small-ish droid around the house. Put a solar panel on top so it's self-charging and he doesn't have to worry about it 🤔 One of these little dudes, a rolo droid! He's painted 212th gold instead of green.

[andraxicated]

what do we have in common? we're reliable with the ladies!

Pairings: childe, itto, kaeya, ayato x f! reader (it's them four who else would it be?)

Synopsis: rich playboy genshin men hcs!

Tags: fluff | rich douchebags | degradation | suggestive | profane language |

a/n: this prompt ( A WINTER'S BALL—HAMILTON) sounded so wonderful in my head but I can't seem to write shit for it. had to redo the whole idea...

milestone event masterlist!

Childe

he is the king of banger parties; you attend it and you'd find yourself together with the noise and adrenaline. when you're there, be prepared for the loud splash coming from up above: it's childe diving into the pool for you to be amazed. kudos to his risky effort to win your heart but you weren't that easy to please.

well, his hair pushed back and abs glistening with water is a treat to the ladies' eyes. (yours too)

he'd have his siblings lead you to a private part of the mansion, away from the noise and drunkards. you'd both find yourself meeting in quite a romantic setting, a jacuzzi between you two and childe acting surprised like "wow, never expected to meet you here".

it ends up with you dipping in the tub with him at a safe distance in case he tries something funny. but the only thing he does funny is making you laugh as you sip on your champagne, telling stories and clearing up rumors of himself in the process.

"how many girls have you led into this backyard?" you ask with a playful smile

"one. they never went past the party area." childe says as he takes a swig of fire-water while nervously peeking for your expression.

"really?" "yeah, although that one is a little tough to break" he says as he puts down the glass on a table and inches closer to you. the hot water and the heating atmosphere sets the mood for what's about to happen that night. all planned by this clever fox who had a fair experience with these kinds of situations.

"I'm pretty sure she'd let you break her" you whisper seductively to his ear, snapping all of childe's self-control and patience. he harshly grabs you by the nape and crashes your lips together. not bothering to ask access for your tongue, he just pushes it in and ravages your mouth.

his hands fiddle with the strap of your bikini top and pushes it down past your arms. you part lips with him to catch your breath, but this man is insatiable as he attaches himself immediately to the top of your breasts.

"parading around in skimpy bikinis every time we party but dressing modestly when you're with your family..." he chuckles and looks up to you.

"stop acting like a good girl" childe provokes with a scowl on his face and bites down your skin, hand covering your lips to keep your slutty mouth shut.

Kaeya

the one which daughters of high society label as a "manwhore": kaeya alberich.

they'd talk shit about him after getting a fill of his dick, crying and dirtying his name when he kicks them out of his penthouse. at this point, his reputation was as dirty as the names he calls them in bed. kaeya thinks they should've been at least thankful after spending the night with him.

if you get entangled with him, the relationship he could give you is as far as a fuck buddy because kaeya doesn't keep girlfriends. and you're fine with that, you just needed a casual thing and test out the rumors of how good this guy can be.

he's soon got your arms together behind your back, tanned fingers inside your mouth, tears running down your cheek as you face the clouds and feel him thrusting inside. congratulations, you're now both a member of the mile high club!

"mhm? it hurts?" kaeya's feather-light touches land on the sides of your body making you squirm in his embrace. "don't even try to make a sound" he dangerously remarks as he pushes in further.

fucking 35,00 feet up in the air in first class was a cross mark on the sex bucket list you made with him. those secret rendezvous are nice and mind-blowing but kaeya finds himself craving for something more, something different, and something real.

so when he asks you to stay the night, you can't help but stop dressing and just sit down beside him on his bed.

"what is it?" you ask as you snuggle back into the comforter.

"how do you feel about going back home with me?" kaeya's voice cracked midway that you giggled at him so cutely, sad that he can't focus on that because he's too nervous about your answer.

"what do you mean back home?" "you know...our winery at the countryside. there's unlimited wine, isn't that fun?" the last of his confidence attempts to entice you while his fingers gently pulls your chin.

your mind blanks for a second until you realize he wants to take you home to see his family. 'oh'. the world spins as your heart clenches strongly; he's never done anything like this. it's just you, only you.

and he really knows how to make a woman feel special huh.

"cool" "cool?" kaeya hums, puzzled by your response. "it's cool to breathe in the fresh air of the countryside. besides, I'd like to meet your father and your brother too." your wide-eyed self replies to him with a smile, one that made kaeya stop breathing. he kisses the top of your head while jokingly saying: "I'll show you who's the better brother" and you shove him away in a fit of giggles. you certainly have your own reserves about him but it suddenly didn't matter when you let your guard down and fell asleep to his scalp massage.

if someone saw kaeya's face that night, they would immediately run to their phone and proclaim the playboy is in love.

Itto

this one is a huge blockhead and dates women just because they're fun to be with, everyone is his buddy. as soon as itto sits on a chair, girls in bodycon dresses would come flocking to him, desperately squeezing themselves in whatever space is available.

you'd be watching the spectacle from across the room, turning around when the sight gets uncomfortable to watch; only to let yourself fall prey to itto's hungry eyes.

he's feasting on your backless dress, red eyes trailing down the curves of your body; wondering how good it would look on top of him with his large hands crushing your hips.

every party, every occasion he would attend is all the same: all eyes on Itto but he's looking at you.

of course, you'd start to feel the burn of his gaze, and when you turn around to find the source, you'd see his legs spread and eyes dark with desire.

you know that look, after all you've seen it directed towards you a hundred times. and so you'd form some kind of telepathy with him. going out the door and leaning against the club building to wait for this idiotic man. if he didn't get that, well fuck him and his stupid brain.

itto would go after you like a dog, standing up and shoving whoever stands in his way, mind going delirious if he ever fucking lost you.

"stop right there" he looks down to see a ysl stiletto stopping in his tracks, he traces the feet to the legs to the body and to the face. there he finds you tilting your head playfully; his unbuttoned shirt, lipstick marks on his collar, and the strong smell of women's perfume were all on blatant display.

"you look like you'd just got out of a dangerous situation" your voice takes a playful lilt as you step forward to initiate. itto then would stare at you and realize what the hell is going on.

dude makes a complete 180-degree change while you see a flush covering his cheek, mouth stammering and eyes staring blankly into your soul. he would be so confident in front of many people but it all shrinks down when he's all alone with a woman. they make him nervous :((

"so...what did you want to do?" itto asks as he sheepishly scratches his head and chuckles as you stand there flabbergasted.

needless to say, it was the worst first meeting ever and completely destroyed on how you perceived him. prepare to suddenly get invited to a ryokan or dinner as a token of apology from this nervous mess of a man.

itto doesn't care about rules or shit, he even once had a delinquent era back at his schooldays. who takes a girl home on the first date? arataki fucking itto. (he definitely got a confidence pep talk from his gang)

and he'd have you a crying mess by the end of the night, passed out soundly at the crack of dawn and legs hurting as he greets you in the kitchen with a round two of yesterday night.

Ayato

you've probably seen him before, Kamisato Ayato who got featured in Time magazine as a 'next generation leader'. after all, he's the one who cleverly saved his family company after his father's sudden passing.

he's young and has already built a name for himself in the world. mature, rich, respectful, handsome...he's everything you're looking for in a man.

you won't see him at pool parties or nightclubs, but in luxurious restaurants and hotels where he often holds meetings with fellow business partners.

as the sole heiress of your father's company, you need a suitable husband that has some value for you to use. your secretary hands a portfolio of suitable men that may fit your standard but oh how they get filtered out so quickly. one of your father's main concern is how no man will ever meet your sky high standard. he's distressed that his lovely daughter will end up alone and get eaten by cunning businessmen while she has no one to back her when he's gone.

the heavens have answered your father's prayer as you stop take a look at ayato's profile instead of chucking it to the bin.

"have you found the candidate miss?" your secretary asks in a hopeful tone. "hmmm, he's actually okay but we don't know anything about him so we need to be careful. he might steal the company under my nose when we get married." you say as you and your secretary shiver at the thought. nonetheless, you ask her to investigate him and get an opportunity for dinner.

turns out, ayato's private affairs are mostly a secret thanks to his capable retainers. but as a young adult, he didn't escape the media as he used to party so fucking hard and kept flings left and right until it was time to grow up.

you kept that information in mind as you sit across him in a private setting of a dinner. why does this feel so awkward? you've passed by each other on numerous occasions before but neither pays any mind to the other. well, that's what you thought but ayato has had his eyes on you ever since he saw you at your social debut, precisely his father's birthday party. both of you were young back then so he didn't dare pursue this cute girl he saw. it was a nice fleeting dream to be in love with you though.

so imagine ayato's delight to converse with you years later, revel in your beauty and the elegance you hold. he was such a nice man to be around, you thought it would be a stuffy atmosphere but he actually made you feel at ease!

gone was the gentleman ayato when he manhandles you to the bed and traps you with his strong body. heat rushing down quickly to your core as his lips tickle between your breasts, slithering to your clenching tummy and down to your throbbing entrance.

"didn’t your father say that he wanted a grandchild as soon as possible?" ayato asks out of the blue as he comes back to hover above you. " wha—ahh!" you couldn't even answer when you moan automatically from his teasing fingers. tears prickle your eyes when he grips your boob harshly, along with his teeth biting the soft flesh of your ear.

"maybe we'll give him a present soon. so allow me to finish inside you." ayato whispers in a low voice as he inserts his long finger inside your entrance. your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he perfectly hits the spot that makes you squirm.

all the good things said about ayato was completely erased from your mind as he devilishly shows you his expertise when he fucks you against the window, overlooking a gorgeous view of the city lights.

men with experience are different indeed.

ugh finally done. I was so scared because I had writers block ><

[lawfuldragon]

Consider this a teaser for my Merlin fanfiction. ;D

Speaking of that, the first chapter is already up over on Ao3 if you wanna check it out!!!

[butmakeitgayblog]

I love the cruel intentions au so much and I don’t even like the movie. I absolutely reread the snippets when I have a bad day just to glean some confidence from those messy bitches. That make me feel like I’m too nice sometimes.

I like the movie but only because it really is so fucked up. Like on levels I hadn't even really considered when I was younger but now as an adult I am horrified

Anyway speaking of messy bitches let's see Clarke be really messy shall we (angsty and be prepared to possibly not like Clarke for a lil bit but meh)

//////////

Sometimes it feels crazy having this thing on your finger.

Particularly in the moments when you're going about your day and forget all about it, until a twist of your hand catches the light and sets off a riot of color.

If it were on anyone else's hand you'd probably dismiss it. Call it tacky and nouveau.

Certainly would never admit how bad you'd want it for your own.

You'd honestly never thought of yourself as a big diamond person. Size wise at least, respectively. Apart from never having really thought you'd end up married to begin with, just the idea of carrying a goddamn boulder this size around om your finger had been laughable once upon a time.

But you do have to admit.

Lexa'd truly outdone herself.

And what's worse, you find yourself showing it off fucking everywhere. You're horrified that you might actually be becoming one of those girls you absolutely cannot stand.

But you just... can't seem to stop yourself.

Secretly, you don't want to.

Not when Lexa looks so stoically pleased with herself each time you get a chance to shove it under an admirer's nose.

You figure she's earned that much.

Because the diamond is flawless, and the setting is disgustingly divine, and your heart still goes a little gay and pounds with the knowledge of just how long Lexa must've searched for it. How many stores you knew she must've shut down to search in peace until she'd found the only ring her pretentious ass would feel proud to slip on your finger.

It's not about the pomp of it or the carat count for her, that you know without doubt. And it certainly wasn't the price tag, shockingly, having figured out it'd set her back when you'd snooped. It'd barely been more than what you'd paid to redo the bathroom of your condo-- because you love that woman with your entire heart but there still wasn't a prayer's chance in hell you were about to share a sink with her. And besides, the job was basically chump change compared what she spends on clothes alone, so actually--

You're losing your focus.

The point has always been, she knows you. And you really do have to hand it to your wife.

She really doesn't half-ass one single thing.

So you don't bother yourself with breaking the habit of delicately tracing your neck in a way that draws attention to the rock.

"You really are a cunt for managing to marry someone richer than you who actually has good taste, you know that, right?"

You chuckle as you swallow a mouthful of champagne and thankfully don't choke.

"Intimately."

"Spoiled as shit and a fucking nightmare on good days, you of all people land the heir to the Woods empire, and you didn't even have to suck any old man balls."

"Not recently at least. You're eloquent tonight," you note absently with a tilt of your head and another sip.

"I'm bored of this fucking city," she sighs and gestures around the bustle of the room with her own champagne flute. "It's nothing but vapid East Coast socialites with more money than class, and I'm tired of having to pretend to be awed by them."

"Nothing shocks them anymore," you agree with a hum, and you suppose you feel a bit sorry for her. You know since you've settled down with the girl of your dreams she's kind of been flying mostly solo at these things.

Which is sad, because if there were ever actually a person you'd considered a friend, it probably would have had to been Raven.

But you shrug and sit back. Let your gaze wonder over her. Let your lips fall into a smirk when she stares back just as dangerously.

Sometimes you wonder why you never tested the boundaries of your questionable friendship during your single years, because she really is quite stunning.

You don't feel bad for appreciating her.

You're married.

Not dead.

Maybe it's time to shake off the dust on you're wingman credentials.

"You need to get laid," you decide.

"Getting laid has never been the issue."

"Oh right. Wasn't fucking vapid socialites on your Princeton application?"

"Eat me."

"Tempting," you smirk with a flit of your brow, a habit you'd picked up from the woman somewhere off schmoozing. "But alas, this mouth belongs to another. You'll have to find different hieress to make a buffet of, I'm afraid."

She rolls her eyes and lets her gaze wander the ballroom stuffed with the better part of the northern hemisphere's elite.

And just as you're toying with the notion of ordering a fresh drink, the sharpness of your friend's smile catches your attention.

"Or," she drawls in a dulcet purr, "I suppose I could just try my hand at stealing yours."

Your face screws up in confusion before you can stop yourself as you try to recall exactly how much this silly bitch has had to drink.

"Yeah, good luck with that. Have you seen this cleavage tonight?" you ask and eye her while waiting for the punchline to drop.

But she grins on with evil satisfaction, rests her chin on her knuckles and keeps her eyes locked somewhere beyond you.

"I don't know, Clarke. She certainly seems to be keeping her options open to me," Raven says with a delicate tip of her glass. "Perhaps I should throw my hat in the ring. Now wouldn't that be hilarious? If I were the one to steal her away?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" you finally snap beneath your breath to warn her she's nearing a personal line.

As though that's ever stopped either of you.

"She looks cozy."

You turn at the simple lift of Raven's chin, following her eyeline up and over your shoulder.

"Though I suppose that makes sense. As if I could get in the middle of those two. Mah! Don't know what I was thinking," you hear Raven say through an amused noise, something akin to a pop of laughter.

You remember why you've never actually considered her a friend.

Because you ignore her and watch your wife toss her head back in a song of throaty laughter. The kind that usually makes your every nerve ending feel on fire.

But you can't hear it from this distance, and it's not being directed at you.

All it does is make you feel sick.

"You know, I was shocked when they broke up," Raven continues through the fog of something dark coiling low in your belly.

Something you haven't felt in years.

You grit your teeth and force the words out as calmly as you can manage. "Is that so?"

She hums and you can practically hear the thrill in it.

"We all were," Raven breaths as though divulging a heavy confession that is undoubtedly at odds with an unseen gleam in her eyes. "Tragic, really. I mean they always seemed so in love, those two. She really couldn't get enough of lil Cos."

You tighten your fists in your lap at the familiar nickname to hopefully ebb the urge to slap her.

Because that's entirely bullshit.

But also... entirely not.

Because you remember that year and a half when they'd dated, and you remember how happy Lexa had seemed. You remember their secret smiles, and how she'd been the one Lexa had paraded back and forth to her bed. How the noises at night had sounded downright obscene. And you remember how softly she had spoken of her the few times your parentals had actually asked.

How it was like you hadn't even existed from the very second they'd kissed.

But you also remember how cold Lexa had been when Costia had ended things, when she had said they were moving in two different directions. When she'd said they just wanted fundamentally different things out of life and that she needed things Lexa couldn't give.

You also remember how Lexa had chosen to rebound by discreetly fucking everything in a skirt that lived on the upper Eastside.

You'd hated Costia from the start but you're old enough now to know that wasn't her fault.

Except sitting there watching her shuffle a step closer to your wife, lay a hand on your wife, smile and bat her lashes at your fucking wife... had you forgetting exactly why that was.

And on top of all the reasons you'd hated her to begin with, she'd broken Lexa's secretly delicate heart. And a transgression like that was simply unforgivable, so, logically, now you hate her more.

So all things considered you really can't seem to comprehend why Lexa is nodding and taking her hand to lead her out onto the edge of the dancefloor.

"You have to admit, they make a beautiful couple."

"Shut the fuck up, Raven."

"Oh c'mon," you hear her chuckle behind you through the din of clinking glasses and shoes on hardwood floors. "Don't kill the messenger. I thought you knew."

"Knew what, exactly?"

"Why everyone was so astonished when you actually managed to get her to marry you, of course."

You wheel around and stare at her with a razor-edged glare.

"I mean... besides the obvious," she shrugs at your wordless question, but her words drip with scandal. "Everyone always thought they'd find their way back to each other in the end. I mean they had talked quite a lot about getting married eventually. Everyone assumed they just needed some time to grow up. Get a few indiscretions out of their systems... Surely you knew that."

You're initially proud of yourself for tempering any sort of response, opting to remain perfectly still despite her obvious glee.

But somehow you realize too late that saying nothing is apparently worse than saying anything at all.

Christ, being in love has made you go soft.

"Oh, dear," she simpers when you don't move an inch. Gives you a pitying smile and reaches out to pat your hand as she rises from her seat. "Apparently not."

And you're glad she's out of swinging distance, because, no... no you had not.

"Well," she breathes and scoops up the shawl that'd been draped across the back of her chair. "I'm sure I'm just being silly. Anyway, it's been lovely catching up, Clarke, but you know? I think maybe you're right. I will go look for my own heiress tonight. Leave you two lovebirds to your wedded bliss. Oh, and tell Lexa she did a beautiful job for me, won't you? Whenever she, um... remembers where she left you."

Your jaw tightens as you accept the bump of her cheek against yours because what the hell else are you supposed to do.

Because anything else would only give that bitch all the more ammo for next time.

You sit there in silence and blot out the tinkling sounds of the festivities around you. And you hate that after all these years, Raven finally managed to find your weak spot. Hate it only slightly more than actually having one to begin with.

Your body feels numb and your eyes strangely burn when you turn around and look back out at the dancefloor.

You watch Lexa's smirk dissolve into another laugh when she gives her ex an elegant dip.

There are so many things you love about yourself.

Things to take pride in and feel exalted over the rest. Things some may find offputting or attributes to be fixed, you like the darker parts of yourself that you choose not to restrain.

But in the moment, watching her nod and lean closer in some hushed conversation, one hand wrapped up tight in another that is distinctly not your own, while the other sits low on Costia's back... all you can feel are the ugliest pieces of you bubbling up to the surface.

The room suddenly feels too hot and, Jesus...

No. Fuck this. You're definitely not about to cry here of all places.

Because while you might be having a lot of... blegh, feelings at the moment, Clarke Griffin-Wo--...

You don't lose your control in public.

You're up out of your seat with little in the way of a plan. Toss back the remnants of your lukewarm champagne and hand it off to a passing waiter, only to grab a fresh one from the next bowtie-clad person you fly past. It does nothing to cool you off when you down half of it in one go as you very calmly make your way up to the pair seemingly lost in their own world.

"Hello."

You paint on the best approximation of a smile you can manage and want to knock the answering one off hers when Lexa's head snaps around at the clipped sound of your greeting.

As though she's surprised to see you here.

It makes the blood in your veins boil.

"Oh, there you are, darling," she has the audacity to say as though she's positively been looking for you everywhere.

But you're not looking at her.

You're looking at the face you hadn't seen in six blissful years. And it's not hard for your mind to kick up all the loathing from your questionably shared past.

She's still unfairly beautiful, older and somehow more gorgeous for it, and in another lifetime you know damn good and well you would've asked for the skincare routine with a smile.

But in the moment, looking at her annoyingly perfect skin and cheekbones that could end your life just makes you feel...

Destructive.

There's an awkward lull as you glance between the pair with wide, burning eyes.

Lexa frowns and tilts her head toward her dance partner. "Darling, you remember Costia--"

"Oh right!" you burst out as though it's all just come together and ignore her when Lexa's eyes immediately narrow. "I thought you looked familiar. How ridiculous of me, of course. And here I was thinking Lex was dancing with some random stranger."

Lexa stiffens as Costia chuckles and godammit you hate how lyrical it sounds compared to your own. "Don't worry, it's been awhile."

"Hm. Too long," you smile with a sharp glance at your wife. "And yet somehow not long enough."

"Clarke--"

"So, how have you been, dear CC? It's been some time since you've graced us with your presence."

You relish in the pleasure that curls through you when every drop of Costia's warm welcome falls away.

You can tell she's barely containing an eyeroll which, honestly you wish she would try you with one right now. "Actually, I was just telling Lexa about how I only got back into town yesterday. I've been traveling."

"Ah, yes, I seem to recall hearing something about that."

"But of course, when I heard about Lex's little event tonight," she grins and looks at your wife, "I simply couldn't keep myself away."

Oh.

Oh this bitch is testing the very last shred of your patience.

"Yes, I know the feeling," you say through a sneering laugh, lifting the hand holding your drink in a way that shows off your ring. "Good thing I don't have to, hm?"

"Cos was just telling me--"

"That sounds so lovely for you, though," you cut in over whatever Lexa has to say because just the sound of that name rolling off your wife's tongue has you irrationally ready to fuck someone up. "The traveling, I mean, of course. Some people thrive on that kind of lifestyle, I suppose. The routeless, listless kind of running from one obscurity to next. Others of us prefer to lay down roots, though. You know, build a life. Stability. Loyalty. I'm sure you can fathom that in theory, yes?"

"Clarke."

She says it with a snap like a whip and, yeah, you've decided you've had just about enough of this too.

"Well I can see when I'm intruding, so I'll leave you both to it. But it has been a treat seeing you, CC," you say with a brilliant smile before knocking back the last half of your drink and shoving the empty glass into Lexa's hand. "Have fun, ladies."

You're gone before either of them can utter a another word.

The fact she doesn't follow only makes you feel worse.

/////////

Ten more minutes.

That's what you've been telling yourself for last forty-five.

Ten more fucking minutes then you're gone for good.

Because it's a little after midnight and you've already embarrassingly cried twice, each between bouts of treading grooves into the seven thousand dollar wood grain of your bedroom floor.

And frankly, you're over it at this point.

Over feeling like a child. Over feeling like some idiot wife waiting for their spouse to come home. Over playing through one sickening mental image of the evening after the next.

A part of you knows you potentially overreacted and you'll eventually apologize for that through a mediator you're sure, but for now, you're more than happy to stew in a pool of self-righteous rage.

It'd been hours since you'd stormed out and slammed the door of your waiting limo. Since you'd slammed the door of your condo as well and the one to your bedroom just for good measure. Been hours since you'd left her there staring stiff-jawed after you with little more than a silent dare.

And she still wasn't home.

And you're still stupidly waiting.

And pissed off and fed up and so goddamn sick to your stomach.

You hate yourself for how pathetic you were.

Are.

And you rest your head in your hands and wonder if... you wonder if this was how your mom used to feel--

You suck in a gasp tangled with a growl and shoot off the foot of your bed before you can even finish the thought.

Because you'd rather burn the world down with Lexa smack dab in the middle of it before ever letting yourself be as pathetic that bitch.

The quiet spurs on your movements as you throw your personal walk-in closet open and grab the same piece of luggage you'd initially used to move in. You toss it on your bed and snatch up a few things at random because fuck Lexa and fuck Abby and fuck Costia's entire fucking face, and--

"Jesusfuck!"

You clutch a balled up fistfuls of underwear to your chest and pant through your startle when you turn around and see green eyes staring back.

She leans silently in the doorway, arms crossed and resting her weight on her shoulder, and she looks so ethereal in the soft glow of the rooms dimmed lamplight that it makes you physically ache.

You stand frozen as her gaze pulls away from your own, drops to the clothes still clutched to your chest. Slide to the luggage laying open in disarray on your bed, then back to you again.

"Going somewhere?"

You scoff at her lazy tone and find your rage all over again as you storm back over to the bed.

"What are you doing, Clarke?"

"You're a smart girl. I think you can figure it out."

You can practically hear her jaw grind from across the room.

"I'm surprised you're even here right now," you continue to push in your anger, shooting her a snark laced smile when her eyes follow your every move.

"... We live here."

"Oh, I'm aware. But you seemed to be having such a wonderful time, darling," you sneer just to twist the knife. "I'm astounded you managed to drag yourself away."

She stays silent as you pick through your closet because you're intent on leaving with only the pieces you came with.

It's not until you've got most of your blouses collected and laid out on the bed that you hear the click of her heels step up behind you.

"You embarrassed me tonight, Clarke."

You whip around so fast you damn near loose your balance, but still manage to yank back when she almost reaches out to steady you.

"That's fucking rich coming from you right now, Lex," you laugh and shake your head. You stare at her for a quiet moment and feel sick with the weight that settles in your stomach at her silence.

You move to step around her but she doesn't let you get far. Steps in front of you to cut you off and bring herself closer.

"You embarrassed me."

"Aww. Well, I'm sure Costia was right there to lick the wounds."

Your stare unimpressed when her head rears back, when her mouth drops open in apparent shock.

"I'm not--... Tonight was important to me, and you weren't there," she seethes barely above a growl and you chose to ignore the wet sheen that suddenly coats her eyes. "I hadn't even given my speech yet when you left. Do you have any idea how it felt to stand in front three hundred people and thank my wife for always being there for me, and not have you be there?"

"You're good at riffing, I'm sure you managed."

"Why are you acting like this?" she says again it tears at you, the way she's almost pleading.

"Are you fucking joking, Lexa?" You practically shove past her on your way to your dresser. "You looked like you barely even remembered I existed when I walked up. You were all over her tonight."

"I wasn't!" she grinds back in a yelp. "I haven't seen her in years. We were catching up!"

"Oh right, my mistake. I'm constantly fawning over every ex I 'catch up' with."

She releases a strangled noise and follows hot on your trail when you double back toward the bed.

"I wasn't fawning over her, Clarke. She was just telling me what she's been doing. I haven't seen her in six years and, in case you've forgotten, she was my friend long before we started dating."

"You don't have friends, Lex. You have people you know, people you date, and people you've fucked."

"And you have any room to talk?" she snaps and there's a sick feeling of satisfaction that goes along with it because she can't even argue that fact. "God, Clarke. Have you forgotten exactly who you were before we got together? How you act now? Since the day we met it's like it's been your personal vendetta to drive me insane, and now you're going to hold it against me because I maybe flirted with someone?"

You slam down the folded shirt in your hands and send her a glare, because there's no fucking way she's that dense.

"Not someone. Your ex."

"I just wanted--"

"Then go!" you finally explode as the remaining clothes tumble from your arms and you round on her. "Jesus Christ, then just go. You have my blessing, okay? If that's what you needed, if that's what you wanted, what are you waiting for? Go, Lex! Go fuck her till sunup for all I care, but at least have the decency to not expect me to just be sitting here waiting like--"

Your chest is heaving when you cut yourself off and you feel sick at the way she blanches. But the ugliest pieces of you want her to hurt as much as you do and she's quiet so long you feel your legs shake.

"What?" she finally breathes and it sounds so small and lost. "Clarke... What are you talking about?"

You don't think you've ever heard that voice out of her.

"Apparently you actually do think I'm an idiot, but you can't possibly have thought I was that dumb when you married me," you angrily push on anyway and struggle to keep your lips from trembling. "And, ya know, it's on me. It really is, because I had forgotten--... But then seeing you two together tonight, it was like six years ago all over again. Watching you two, it was like... fuck. I have been such an idiot. Of course."

"Clarke, I don't-- Cos and I broke up--"

"You two didn't break up," you remind her and want to be sick as every insecure thought tumbles out. "She broke up with you. But what if she hadn't?... Where would we be? Where would I even fit in your life, because tonight it sure as shit didn't seem like anywhere."

You sniffle and feel horrified with yourself when she just stares at you, and all you want to do is jackknife out of the window.

If they... actually opened.

"All I've thought about is what would have happened if she hadn't broken up with you," you admit when the silence gets too heavy and wrap your arms around yourself, shielding yourself from her in a way you haven't needed to in years. "You never even noticed me until after she ended things. If she hadn't broken up with you, we never would've made that stupid bet, and you never would've wanted me. And seeing you together reminded me how happy you were with her. That I only got you because she was too stupid to see what was right in front of her, and I just- I can't be... I can't be the woman who knows she's her wife's second choice."

The quiet of your bedroom is so loud you can hear your own heartbeat and still, you can't make yourself look at her.

Because you know whatever must be waiting there, etched in that breathtaking face, holds everything it would take to kill you.

Goddamn, being in love with her really has made you soft.

She doesn't even sigh when she passes you. Either ignores or misses the way you flinch when she ghosts her fingers along your arm. You hear her sit heavily on the end of the bed and the following rustle and thunk as she unceremoniously shoves all your things off the side.

"Sit with me," she commands in words so soft they barely break the silence.

"Lex--"

"I know you're angry, but I'm still your wife... We at least owe each other this."

You toe the edge of rug beneath your feet but give in and lower yourself a few inches away from her.

Her hands sit motionless in her lap as she stares out across the bedroom, and you glance to her in time to see her bite the full swell of her lips.

"I like rules," she starts quietly. "Not other people's, but my own. I've always made rules for myself because they keep me on track. They keep me going and keep me sane... but most importantly, they keep me safe."

You let your eyes wander over her and still, after all these years together, the sight of her always takes your breath away.

"When my dad died, I made a rule for myself. Or... more of a promise, I guess... I swore that I'd never let myself love anything as much as I had loved him. Not as a memorial or anything as foolish as that," she cuts in with a tiny shake of her head when you move to speak. "But because I never wanted anything to be able to break me like that did... I never wanted anything or anyone to have that kind of power over me ever again. I swore to never need, or love anyone the way I loved him because I knew I wouldn't survive it a second time."

Her throat bobs in a thick swallow and you don't bother stopping yourself from shifting closer despite yourself. Despite your lingering anger, you ache to reach out for her because somehow you know she's giving you parts of herself she never intended to.

"I was basically a kid when Cos and I dated," Lexa exhales with a tiny shrug. "And as much as I cared for her, I always kept that promise while we were together. Easily, actually. I had no delusions of what she meant to me, and while, yes, I did want to be with her, part of it was because she only ever had half my heart. I loved being with her because I knew she could never break me... Honestly, that's why I was more pissed than heartbroken when she dumped me... But still, I survived losing her."

Your heart races when she squares her shoulders and turns to you, eyes bright and alive as they take in every inch of your face. You swallow when she tentatively reaches out and takes your hand. Move with her when she tugs you closer.

She's near trembling when she laces your fingers together and her next words hold such intensity her body seems barely able to contain it.

"Clarke, I wouldn't survive losing you."

It lands like a suckerpunch.

It always does when she says such things in that perfectly Lexa-way. In the that way that somehow settles in your chest with a warmth beyond the words themselves. And where some would need more, would need promises and slavish bumblings of devotion, she manages to fit all that and more into those simple little words.

And, yeah, you'll still be a little pissed about it later because it never fails to take every last bit of wind out of your sails, but part of why you love her is because she means exactly what she says.

Even more the things you know she doesn't feel strong enough to say.

"I'm sorry," you hush and lean into her, nuzzle her neck as she wraps an arm around your waist. "I shouldn't have acted that way, and I'm sorry, baby."

"I'm sorry for making you feel the way I did," she says into her hair where she's buried her nose to breathe you in. "I didn't realize, but I should've. If it were the other way around, I would've been angry too."

You pull back and look at her, reach out and tuck a flyaway back. "Yeah?"

She snorts and gives you a look that you can practically hear say, 'Don't play stupid'.

Fair enough.

"I'm still sorry I acted like an ass."

"Just say something to me next time," she soothes with a grin. "Or at the very least have the decency to drag me to the an empty room and fuck me before you leave."

You bark out a laugh because she really has always been a better planner of such things and you guess hindsight is twenty-twenty... or something like that.

But the point is you feel stupid, but mostly stupidly loved because even when you're awful, she's always somehow gentle with you.

"What happened after I left?" you can't help but ask because apparently you're a glutton for punishment.

"I asked her to leave."

Your brows shoot up at that. "You did?"

"Of course," she hums and brushes her nose against yours. "She kinda treated my wife like shit... She was antagonizing you. I didn't appreciate it, and so I told her I thought it'd be best if she left."

You sigh and shake your head.

"Couldn't have told me that sooner?"

"Our torrid drama aside, you're always kind of fun to fuck with."

"Fuck you," you laugh and press your smile to her cheek because for every bit as bad as you are, she's such a pain in your ass sometimes. "I love you, ya know."

"I had a feeling," she says with a haughty smirk and kisses your lips so softly you ache. It's barely a few pecks between speaking, but you feel them all over. Her kisses always make you feel alive. "Now I'm gonna go wash my face. I'll be back in a minute. And when I am, I expect you to be naked."

"Why?" you chuckle as you chase her lips when she pulls away but let her go when she stands.

"While I'm glad we've found a resolution to our problem, Mrs. Woods," she says sternly and fuck that voice is all business, all sharp edges and teeth, and you know exactly what it means, "the fact is, you were quite the little cunt this evening, weren't you."

And you know there's probably something genuinely wrong with you because her talking that way shouldn't turn you on the way it does.

Because Lexa's not much for taking charge. Prefers to be supple and dripping around your fingers at any given moment. But she knows, always knows, exactly when you need her to take control.

To remind you exactly who each of you belong to.

"I mean really, darling. Throwing a tantrum. Missing my speech. Ridiculously pretending to move out."

Your stomach flips at the darkness in her derisive laugh and you love how she makes you feel like she owns you.

"So. I'm going to go wash my face," Lexa cooes and slowly unzips her dress, letting it pool at her feet in front of you. She bends down, rests her hands on the swell of your thighs and you damn near moan at the feel of champagne sweetened breathe. "And when I get back, I expect you wet and ready for me. Because I'm going to fuck you with my mouth until you beg me to stop... And if you do well, I will consider letting you use the strap."

She traces a finger under slacked hang of your jaw and smiles wickedly when she gives your nose a solid tap.

"So I suggest you do as I say."

/////////

[hanniiesuckle17]

Chapter 60: Hot Pic Warning

A/n: semester is oveeerrrr and honestly before i start my next class i think RBTL will be over.... idk how i feel about that haha Tag List is Open <3

Tag List: @mini-meanhoe @leggomylino @hanstagrams @desertofdessert @hoes4hoseok @jeonqqin @mrsunshine999 @jisungsjheekies @hannie-squirrel00 @cotccotc @yangs-jeongin @binniebutter @orangegyu @little-precious-baby @raethethey @sofie296 @love-letters-2-jisungie

RBTL Tag List: @bluejayboys​​​​ @wonderlandless​​​​ @sunfics​​​​ @deputyjuyeon​​​​ @studioreader @yunho-1999​​​​ @niafics​​​​ @diestheticu​​​​ @winterbeartaehyungbestboy​​​​ @lumixen​​​​ @nycol-ie​​​​ @carateum1​​​​ @scoups-of-sugar​​​​ @gabxbyr​​​​ @teti-menchon0604​​​​ @tbzhub​​​​ @centheodd​​​​ @itzsimplemagic​​​​

Pairing: Ji Changmin x Reader    

Genre: Series, Fluff, Angst, Comedy

WC: 1.3k

Updates: Wednesday & Saturday 9 AM-ish CDT

Warnings: Cursing, illness of a parent

Summary: True love has never come easy; life makes sure of that. From unrequited love to missed timing, does anyone have any hope at finding success- let alone pass History at the same time? All these questions leave young people wondering….will they still love me in the morning?

❖

Third POV

The large grandfather clocked ticked in the grandiose hall. The tie around Changmin's neck felt very tight and close to suffocating. Reaching up, he tugged at the knot his sister spent twenty minutes straightening.

The boy's cheeks filled with air as he stared at the large double oak doors in front of him. A loud deep moan rang seven times from the clock, making Changmin jump. In thirty minutes his father's guest would start to arrive and he would have to plaster on a smile and stay silent for the rest of the night.

His father looked up briefly, scrutinizing his son from head to toe before turning back to the files in front of him. "Fix your tie, boy. You look ridiculous."

Changmin sighed before his long fingers began to redo his necktie. "Dad, I need to talk to you about something. " He was beginning to feel frustrated at his father's lack of attention. "It is really....really important."

Without raising an eye, the man scoffed. "Well, it is going to have to wait. Everything has to go smoothly tonight. I have board members arriving any minute now so I can't be bothered with your silly horror movies or childish video games now. "

His father wouldn't even look at him but yet he felt like a little boy desperately trying to show his dad a toy. Teeth pulling at his bottom lip, Changmin did his best to push down his bubbling aggravation. "Sir- I would like to discuss a business proposition with you."

Again the stoic man looked over the skinny boy standing in front of him. Tossing his fountain pen on the desk he leaned back in his chair. A small flip of his hand prompted his son to start speaking.

Again the stoic man looked over the skinny boy standing in front of him. Tossing his fountain pen on the desk he leaned back in his chair. A small flip of his hand prompted his son to start speaking.

Again the stoic man looked over the skinny boy standing in front of him. Tossing his fountain pen on the desk he leaned back in his chair. A small flip of his hand prompted his son to start speaking.

"You have provided each of my sisters with a loan to start their own business or practices-"

"Your sisters are successful in both law and medical fields."

"Yes sir-"

"Are you asking me to give you money to start an engineering lab? A STEM school?"

"No sir."

The older man rolled his eyes, retrieving his pen and turning back to his work. For a moment Changmin stood there, wondering if he should continue. A wave of anger started to fill him, but he continued to push it down in hopes of his words remaining calm.

Ignoring the dry feeling in his mouth Changmin took a step forward. "I would like to ask for a loan to start a business. I can show you a portfolio that would absolutely blow your mind. I truly believe that with a little start-up fund, this could be one of the best known and most profitable names in its industry."

"And what pray tell is this industry?"

Changmin swallowed the lump in his throat. "Photography."

Only now did his father look at him. It surprised the man to see the look of sincerity on his son's face. At first, he was perplexed. Then he started to laugh. "So, I'm paying for your fancy fucking mathematics degree- which I never approved of in the first place- and now you want me to fund your new photo studio? Do you even know the first thing about photography?"

The boy pulled out his phone and placed it on the desk. His long fingers swiped through beautifully taken candids, fashion shots, catalogs, and portraits. His father still seemed unimpressed.

"There is no way you took these photos. Have you been wasting your time and my money?"

"No. These were taken by someone I have a lot of faith in. They are the most talented person I know and I think they have what it takes to be successful."

"You cannot seriously expect me to fund one of the shitfaced baffoons you call 'friends'."

"My friends are not baffoons!" Mr. Ji was less than pleased at the boy's outburst. "Her name is Y/n. Y/n L/n. She's incredibly talented. She's just had a rough start and I think we could really help her succeed."

The man reached for his glasses and pressed the pads of his fingers to his temple in stress. "Changmin, I have told you before. I am not in the business of success outside of this family."

"Great. She's going to be a part of it soon anyway."

"I'm sorry?"

Changmin pushed back his shoulders, standing his ground. "I love Y/n. It may not be soon but I intend to ask her to marry me." His father stood up from his desk, clearly displeased with everything he was hearing.

"Ignoring this ignorant, uninformed, fabulously idiotic decision about this girl; how much are you expecting me to shell out?"

Changmin stared his father dead in the eye. He was in it now. There was no getting out and right now he didn't care. "$200,000 on a loan before interest."

His father was so flabbergasted all he could do was laugh.

"You want this all for some bitch who can take a kind of nice photo?"

"Hey! Don't talk about her like that. You don't know anything about her!"

"I know there is absolutely no way she is getting a single cent from me let alone approval for a wedding."

Changmin finally felt all the anger he had suppressed ready to burst. "Well, there's nothing you can fucking do to stop that! I'm going to marry her- barring your approval or not. I love her!"

"Then be prepared to never see another fucking cent from me again! You can drop this stupid, frivolous, love-induced, money pit-business venture- or I can disown your sorry ungrateful ass!"

All the boy could do was stare down his father- silently fuming. He was at a crossroads. Changmin knew which choice he wanted to make but every logical part of his mind was telling him differently.

"Now...are you going to walk out of this room, leaving that fucking attitude at the door, and help your mother and I get through this god-forsaken dinner? We can talk about what's-her-face after I get this promotion."

The boy glared at the floor. After a small moment, his long fingers shot up to his neck and tore off his tie- throwing it to the ground. "You know what? Screw you. For the first time in my life, I am actually happy when I'm with Y/n. I know that if we ever have kids I'm certainly not going to treat them like fucking dusty trophies on a shelf. Handle your fucking dinner by yourself. You've got two other perfect kids."

Without another word, Changmin stormed out of his father's office. With a force surprising himself- he slammed the door so hard that a painting hanging nearby fell off the wall. Before he could turn towards the front wall he almost ran into his mother standing in the middle of the hallway.

"Oh- Mom- I... uh...I-"

"Go. I'll talk to your father. Don't worry about him. You'll get the money- no interest! Go back to Y/n. Call me when you want to go ring shopping, my son!" She patted him on the back looking up at him with a kind smile.

Changmin was astonished. In his mother's calming embrace he forgot all about the screaming match he had just endured with his father. "Thank you, Mom. I love you." He placed a gentle kiss on her cheek before running up to his room, grabbing his things, and leaving the house he grew up in just as all of his father's important guests started to arrive.

Previous Chapter ❖  Next Chapter

RBTL M.List

Masterlist

[nicoleheichou]

"My love?" He turns to look at you from his position in the kitchen. "What's up, doll?" You can feel your heart beating in your chest thinking about the different directions this conversation could go. You can feel the anxiety bubbling inside you, threatening to spill out. It was making you question your decision to tell him. But you knew you needed to tell him exactly what you were feeling.

"We need to talk." He immediately turns the burner on low, he could already tell by the tone of your voice that it was something important and that required his full attention. Making his way over to where you were sitting on the counter, he positions himself in between your legs, arms on either side of you, looking into your eyes. "Is everything okay?" Suna knows you all too well to know that something's bothering you.

"You know how Tsum is my soulmate?" He nods his head, waiting for you to continue. "Rin, the more time I spend with him, the more I think i'm developing feelings for him. And I know it's not just one sided because he drunkenly confessed to me. My love, I'm so confused. I don't want to hurt either of you. Tsumu said he's okay with whatever I decide and that he doesn't expect me to choose him but I feel like that's such a big decision to make. I know he's just saying that for my sake so I don't feel bad, but I can't pretend that his feelings aren't valid and that I don't feel anything for him. I'm scared of hurting either of you. I don't want to choose. What do I do?"

He takes your face in both hands. "Pretty girl, I told you I'd support you in whatever decision you make because I just want to see you happy, remember? I love you and that's never going to change. You're my girl. So don't worry your pretty little mind about this, okay? Me and Atsumu will support your decision and if you're worried about if this will affect our friendship it won't. We'd be terrible friends if we didn't support each other. Let's just let things develop organically, let's not force anything, plus I'm confident you'd pick me." You can't help but feel relieved at his response,  a smile creeping on your face, before you playfully shove him, your mind finally processing the cockiness of the last part.

"I love you. You know that? So so much. You're so good to me Rin." He leans in to give you a quick kiss before pulling away with a grin. "I love you too doll." He says before turning his attention back to making dinner.

Now All I See Is Color - chapter 33: so lucky

♡ masterlist ♡ 《 previous | next 》

In a world where soulmates exist, it's uncommon for most people to find theirs. A lot of them going their whole lives never experiencing the world in color because they've never met their soulmate. But that all changes for y/n when she becomes MSBY Jackals player, Miya Atsumu's assistant. They're about to experience the world in color together. But what does that mean for y/n when both her and Atsumu are in committed relationships?

this chapter was saved in my drafts on tumblr but then it disappeared right when i was gonna upload so i had to redo it from the old draft on my notes app. 😩

i wanted to clarify something i noticed on the google form. i want y'all to know that if i make a poly route that it will be separate from atsumu and suna's. and they'll all get their own individual routes so you don't have to read all of them for it to make sense. lol. and if you haven't answered the form, click here.

i see y'all just finding this smau. i love the binging and i just want to say i hope you continue to enjoy it!

comment or message if you want to be on the taglist!

Taglist [open]: @bakugouswh0r3 @youidiot91 @koffyee @kyomihann @szeonn @chantalkate16 @onlyonew @ntimacy @underratedmage @90s-belladonna @simpletype @toshikamo @todomaniac @sumebreaks @sammistry @pansexualproblemchild @kozuelle @roselleviennesstuff @erensnubs @fantasycantasy @choozari @starsabove-me @halesandy @encrytpta @youraggedybitch @pablopascal @qualitygiantshoepsychic @iheartkuroorin @curiouslilbeast @cannibalcuriosity @fandomsgotmefucked @xhyunjinbbyx @grassbutneo @therealpussybangs @kleesboom

* if your name's in bold, i can't tag you. so please check your settings!

[dewydaichi]

♡ haikyuu boys as random shit i do that i blame on my adhd ♡

a/n: please don't take this seriously, i just thought it was a cute idea and wanted to make something wholesome. also not all of these are adhd related but i blame my adhd on everything so

inspired by this post by @doinmybesthere

tags/warnings: spoiler for the animated young justice cartoon fdnljskjcbs but other than that none really uhhh lemme know if i need to add anything

comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

❀ hinata shoyo - snapping my fingers in front of my face because i can't fucking focus just read read it it's right in front of your god damn face READ THE FUCKING ARTICLE

❀ sakusa kiyoomi - refusing to do the dishes unless there are gloves available and nothing smells too strongly who the fuck wants to touch wet food are you a monster

❀ yamaguchi tadashi - just stops talking if there's someone talking in the background what do you mean i'm not talking?? i hear a voice it's obviously mine right??

❀ kenma kozume - listening to video game music to do homework/exams because no noise is worse than white noise

❀ bokuto koutaro - rereading a text for way too long because there was one wrong letter in a word and now i have no fucking clue what you're trying to tell me

❀ tendou satori - picking up a new hobby every week and letting it take over my life for approximately 1-2 weeks before completely abandoning it

❀ terushima yuji - redoing my eyeliner four times in the morning except it gets thicker and thicker with every correction and now im ten minutes late to work

❀ kuroo tetsurou - getting so fucking excited whenever there's even the slightest mention of biology before info dumping on a bunch of people who literally could not care less

❀ ushijima wakatoshi - refusing to use anything other than spray deoderant because every other product feels like slime

❀ kageyama tobio - not being able to spell deodarant, apparently

❀ atsumu miya - flirting with everyone, no matter what, you can't stop me let me love you

❀ osamu miya - putting way too much rice in my mouth with whatevers paired with it because fuck yes sticky rice mmm

❀ lev haiba - buying every pokemon from the build-a-bear collection and then spending 60$ trying to get a knock-off psyduck at a claw machine when bab didn't have it

❀ aone takanobu - just crying whenever something is cute did you see that fat little bee? did you see his tubby little butt? oh my fucking god i can't don't look at me-

❀ sugawara koshi - buying new phone cases originally to match my nail colour but now i haven't gotten my nails done in two months and oh my god i have 27 phone cases what the fuck

❀ iwaizumi hajime - sneezing like a dad™ because my hearing was so bad as a kid i never learned how to mimic sneezes

❀ kindaichi yutaro - just rubbing my hands together like a fucking fruit fly at any possible moment because stimming™

❀ kentaro kyoutani - owning three different mascaras and using all of them because i like the brush on one, the formula for another and the third just has pretty packaging

❀ suna rinataro - putting latex under my eyes when i do sfx makeup and ruining the prosthetic with my tears because i can't be bothered to read directions (please do not put latex under your eyes)

❀ tanaka ryunosuke - buying pineapple flavoured lube for my ex who didn't like going down on me in the first place and getting a bladder infection the day after using it for the first time

❀ kita shinsuke - jokingly collecting chopsticks and woops now i have 16 pairs of them

❀ nishinoya yuu - being genuinely so distraught at the age of 16 that wally west dies in young justice that i nearly passed out from hyperventilation and had to sleep with my mum

[limitlessscion]

Rules

1 ∞ I have absolutely no tolerance for drama, I will not engage in or comment. My lack of engagement is not an indication of any opinion on the matter. Contact me privately if you need to hash out any issues.

2 ∞ I do best with ample plotting and discussion, my Discord is available to any mutuals upon request for such a purpose. Mutual daydreaming about potential scenarios and relationship details until ideas for threads and interactions click into existence is the bread and butter of writing with me, and I thrive the most when I have many unique discussion points to feed off of when writing. I am still happy to jump straight into interactions without plotting though!

3 ∞ Please do not make assumptions about my portrayal based off of fanon! There are many unique aspects about my Satoru that are very important to me and can diverge pretty heavily from popular interpretations. Please don't hesitate to ask me if you are ever unsure, I am always happy to explain, and in return I will always work with your own unique portrayal as well.

4 ∞ I think that the fact there can be so many different ways to interpret a character when everyone has the same starting material is a beautiful thing to be celebrated. I am happy to write with multiples of the same muse and each will be treated with the respect of being their own unique character.

I am also more than happy to follow other Satoru blogs if you are comfortable with it, and I do want to interact when given the chance.

5 ∞ Shipping is complicated with Satoru. Due to the nature of Satoru's orientation, all ships will be unconventional and has to be built on a very strong foundation of existing interactions ( whether through threads or extensive plotting ) and chemistry I won't be writing any smut, but there may be suggestive content

6 ∞ Many mature themes make potential and frequent appearances on this blog, due to the nature of the source material and just my preference in writing. I generally won't bother tagging the likes of violence and gore in prose, though I will tag any explicit visuals and things I have been asked to tag with "_ cw"

7 ∞ My primary goal here is to have fun, and to make sure that my writing partner is also having fun. I'm really not picky on the length, formatting, grammar or whatever from my partner as long as effort is being put in and we're having a good time. I write as much as I feel like, I reply to things I have muse for, and I won't necessarily answer prompts I can't think of a reply to. I expect my partners to have the same freedom without any pressure to inform me.

I am happy as needed to drop threads, redo concepts, write short scenarios that only lasts a round or two; anything goes in the name of enjoying ourselves shamelessly.

Art Credit: all graphics used on blog are either official content or used with explicit permission [Mobile banner] by mercuryartes