#--but the one they trust the most is the guy on the left !
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vaquerolvr · 1 day ago
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Road trip! Reader is Passenger Princess (due to them giving their man a heart attack everytime they drive 😊)
i am Still Suffering on my road trip. god save me. i wrote this in my notes app while stuck in traffic for three hours. the formatting and spelling are in the hands of Our Merciful Lord (tumblr)
price
refuses to let anyone else drive unless he’s on the verge of passing out
(probably the only one you can trust to drive tbh)
does the dad thing where he’ll stick out his hand to get some of your snacks
hates stopping for any reason, wants to get to the destination as quickly as possible
when he does get forced to take a break, he’s very upset about it
backseat driver, stresses everyone out
(gaz is tempted to tape his mouth shut)
claims he “isn’t tired” and “can keep going” but is the first one to pass out when you stop at a hotel
gaz
passenger princess
if you try to get him to drive he’ll pretend to be sleepy
in charge of the music
(not because everyone likes his music but because he fought soap for the right)
hogs the phone charger
calls shotgun and will fistfight anyone he tries to take it from him
(he’ll let you have it if you want but he’ll be pouty about it)
ghost
another passenger princess (because no one trusts his driving)
the single time he’s allowed to drive, he nearly causes an accident ten minutes in
weakest bladder known to man
forces you to stop every hour
passes out after the first hour of driving
soap wakes him up when his snoring gets too loud and it causes another bout of smacking each other
takes photos of anything cool he spots on the road
(they all come out blurry but it’s the thought that counts)
soap
the only other one that price trusts to drive
decent driver, just has road rage at times
begs gaz to let him change the music (gaz always says no)
points out the scenery constantly
“look, there’s cows!”
collects souvenirs from every gas station you stop at
plays road trip games (i spy, slug bug/punch buggy/whatever you call it)
he and ghost get in trouble when it devolves into them just hitting each other
has a stash of snacks and drinks that he’ll share if you ask nicely
is awake and yapping the entire drive
(gaz actually does tape his mouth shut)
alejandro
the exact opposite of price
likes to take his time and relax
will somehow turn a 10 hour drive into 15 hours
wants to stop at every roadside attraction he sees
you have to keep reminding him that you have somewhere to be or he’ll get lost on a side quest
souvenir guy, buys magnets and keychains
has cds that he likes to listen to
very chill but you might get stressed if you’re on a deadline
is insistent on being the driver but gets traumatized when he runs over a squirrel
“ale, it wasn’t your fault. it was dark, you couldn’t see-“
“I’M A MURDERER”
rudy
probably the best person to plan a road trip with
isn’t a maniac like price but isn’t as laidback as alejandro
likes to listen to random radio stations as he drives
is really bad about speeding
regularly goes at least 15-20 over the speed limit but is lucky enough to never get pulled over
uses road trips as an excuse to only eat junk food then regrets it when his stomach starts hurting
needs a day or two to recover afterwards because his back hurts from sitting for so long
graves
scarily organized
has an itinerary and follows it to the letter
wouldn’t let you drive even if you begged
if he gets tired he’ll just get one of the shadows to take over
honestly, most of the trip consists of the shadows entertaining you with their antics while graves drives
one of them gets left behind at a gas station and you have to drive back half an hour to pick him up. graves is pissed
makarov
do NOT try to take this man on a road trip
if you mention it, he’ll have plane tickets booked before you can even blink
cannot handle long drives, the most he can manage is an hour before he starts getting annoyed
keegan
the most stressful but also the most entertaining
demands control of the music but plays the weirdest shit
not the best driver but not the worst
he won’t crash at least and he’ll only get pulled over a few times
says the most out of pocket shit to get a reaction from you
“how long do you think i can drive with my eyes closed?”
“KEEGAN NO-“
keegan has been banished to the passenger’s seat.
nikolai
another guy who is good at road trips
great driver, you can sleep the whole ride and he won’t gaf
it’s kind of terrifying. you’ll wake up from another nap to find him staring dead-eyed at the road as he drives
secretly shoplifts something from every place you stop at
doesn’t admit it until you accidentally find his stash hidden in one of the bags
“solnishko, you must understand. i need it.”
“you do not need a keychain of a frog with a cowboy hat, nik!”
nikolai is now wanted for theft in every US state (and several countries)
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bunni-v1 · 3 days ago
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Thoughts on a threesome with Lighter and Harumasa
MDNI!!
Tw: NSFW; VERYYYY OOC lol; double penetration in one hole (only mentioned at the end lol); Rough sex; Fem! Reader; unedited and written with a serious fucking migraine like my god
I’m so fucking sick today but I had an idea so… imagineeeeee with me if you will…
You and Lighter are walking around New Eirdu, picking things up for the girls, running errands, usual shit. It’s a nice little routine thing the two of you have. He gets his job done and gets to spend time with you, win win!
He turns around for one second — literally one second just looking at some flowers (for you, btw) — and when he turns back around your attention is occupied. Not only is it occupied, but it’s taken by Asaba Harumasa. Sweet talking, ever flirty Asaba Harumasa.
He’s not a bad guy, honestly, Lighter doesn’t dislike him. You’d mentioned once or twice how you knew the guy. Some kinda old fuck buddy, it wasn’t anything Lighter cared about too much. You were his partner after all, it would be stupid not to trust you.
Him, though, Lighter didn’t trust him one bit. Not with the subtle touches and the unnecessary flirty comments. He watches you two veryyyy carefully, taking it all in until he can’t take it anymore and he has to pull you into his side.
“Oh! Lighter, fancy seeing you here~” Harumasa purrs in such a sickeningly sweet tone.
He makes it very clear that you and he are and item, but that only seems to egg Haru on further… His little comments getting more and more bold, pointed and intentional in riling him up. You’re stuck in the middle of an ego war that you can’t break up (and have no idea why it’s happening).
Then, somehow, the conversation is steered toward your sex life. No one is really sure how or why, but Harumasa and Lighter are having a literal dick measuring contest in front of you when Harumasa suggests that they should “Find out who you like better.”
Anddd that’s how you ended up with Lighter pounding into your sopping cunt from behind and Harumasa fucking your throat like it was the end of the world. Their little competition forgotten in favor of making you squirm beneath them <3
You’d cum at least four times now and they seemed determined to make a fifth. They alternate what their hands are doing occasionally. Sometimes Harumasa is pulling at your hair, other times Lighter’s squeezing your tits in his hands. Regardless, not an inch of you is left untouched by either of them.
Harumasa pulls out from your throat, and in your fucked out state you try follow him only for Lighter to tug you back by your hair. You don’t even try to fight it when he manhandles you into a sitting position on his lap.
Your pussy is literally drooling down both of your thighs, and Lighter scoops some of it up and tastes it. Harumasa smiles at the sight, seemingly quite satisfied with himself, “Can I have a taste?”
You expect Lighter to maybe let him eat you out, or even just pick up some with his own fingers. Instead he pulls Harumasa forward and kisses him. You can only watch with big empty dazed eyes as they do so. You swear you hear Harumasa moan, but just as you’re getting to enjoy it, they seem to remember you’re there again.
“Feeling left out, baby?” Lighter hums as his fingers find your clit, rubbing fast circles.
Harumasa pushes your legs open, the two of them working to readjust you so your legs are thrown atop Lighters, Haru sliding himself between them. “I think she is, poor thing…”
You most certainly were not, but you weren’t going to say that. Lighter slides out of you, and you literally cry out at the loss of him. “Aww, I told ya she likes it. Look at her cryin’.”
Harumasa laughs dryly, tapping his member against Lighter still moving fingers, “Yeah, yeah, whatever makes you feel more secure.”
You whine at their arguing and they both coo back at you like you’re some kind of pet. They were plotting something sinister, you could feel it in the way Lighter kept pressing the tip of his dick against your ass. Certainly they didn’t expect you to take them both at the same time.
“There’s only one good way to determine who’s the best, right?” Harumasa purrs, nudging Lighter out of the way so he could properly tease your cunt.
“Mhm…” Lighter hums, “You can take both of us at once, right?”
Fuck.
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eepwtf · 3 days ago
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UNPUNISHABLE—soldier boy boarding school au! x catholic boy
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“i’m sorry,” you whispered hoarsely, your voice breaking. “God, ‘m sorry, i’m sorry.” but the words were hollow, meaningless, drowned out by the frantic beating of your heart and the unbearable ache in your body.
he cut you off with a hand on your wrist, his grip firm but not unkind. “feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours. the heat in his gaze made your stomach twist, your cock twitch in your hand. “bet you’ve been pent up for weeks, huh? poor fuckin’ thing...”
warnings; religious guilt and themes , power dynamics , getting off to underwear , degradation and humiliation kink , voyeuristic elements (mirror use) , handjobs , use of the words “filthy” , and “pervert”. wc: 5.4k
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benjamin had been at this boarding school long enough to know exactly how it worked. the social hierarchy, the petty squabbles, the hazing rituals—they were as predictable as the smell of old books and stale coffee in the library. he didn’t care about most of it. he played his part: good grades, a cocky smile, and enough charm to skate by without making any real enemies. but the start of a new term always brought fresh blood, and benjamin had a sixth sense for spotting the ones who wouldn’t last.
and then, there was you.
you arrived late to the term, which was already a death sentence. the first few weeks were critical—the time when the hierarchy solidified, alliances were formed, and survival strategies were locked in. worse, you might as well have walked in with a neon sign flashing fresh meat. everything about you screamed out-of-place: the polished shoes that gleamed a little too much, the perfectly ironed shirt tucked with military precision, the rigid way you carried yourself, like you were bracing for a slap. you walked into the dining hall that first evening with your tray balanced so carefully it might as well have been a Eucharist offering, eyes darting around the room like you were waiting for someone to shove you back out the door. you didn’t even have to open your mouth for everyone to know: Catholic boarding school.
it didn’t take long for the other boys to catch on. they had a nose for blood, and you reeked of it. whispers followed you during study hall; cruel nicknames were hurled across the lacrosse field. someone replaced the water in your sports bottle with holy water one afternoon, which left you blinking back tears while everyone howled with laughter.
benjamin wasn’t sure why he noticed you, exactly. maybe it was the way you always seemed to be clutching a rosary in your pocket, running the beads through your fingers like a lifeline. maybe it was the way your cheeks flushed red every time someone snickered “Father” as you walked past. or maybe it was just boredom.
whatever it was, he found himself jogging after you one afternoon, his golden hair catching the sunlight like a halo as he called out, “hey!”
you stopped abruptly, startled, and clutched your books like they might shield you from whatever this was. “uh, hi?”
“you’re the new guy, right?” he asked, all casual confidence as he fell into step beside you.
“i’m not—”
“you are,” he cut you off smoothly, flashing an easy smile. “trust me, i’ve been here long enough to know. you’ve got that ‘lost lamb’ look.”
for a moment, you just blinked at him. his smile didn’t falter, though. Instead, he slung an arm around your shoulders like you were already old friends. “look, this place is a jungle,” he said, steering you toward the courtyard. “and you’re walking around with a target painted on your back. but lucky for you, i’m feeling charitable today.”
you hesitated, your whole body stiffening under his touch. “thanks, but i’m fine.”
“no, you’re not,” he said bluntly, his grin widening. “you’re fresh out of Catholic school, right? i can tell. you’ve got that whole... thing about you. like you’re waiting for a nun to materialize and slap you for breathing too loud.”
that earned him a faint flush of red creeping up your neck. you straightened your shoulders, clearly bristling, but instead of shoving him off, you sighed and let some of the tension drain from your frame. “yeah, well, i’m used to it.”
“doesn’t mean you have to suffer through it alone.”
from that moment on, things changed. benjamin took you under his wing—not that he’d ever admit to something so noble-sounding. it started small: little tips like which table to avoid during meals (definitely not the one near the windows, unless you wanted to end up as the debate team’s entertainment) or how to cut through the north courtyard to bypass the rugby team’s hazing gauntlet. when he noticed you sitting alone in the dining hall, bent over your tray like you were saying grace, he’d saunter over and drop into the seat across from you, grinning like you were his favorite person in the world.
“you’re not gonna survive this place with just prayer, you know,” he teased one evening, stealing a fry off your plate before you could stop him.
your ears burned, but you still muttered, “i don’t need your help.”
“sure you don’t,” he replied easily, resting his chin in his hand as he watched you squirm. “but humor me.”
you weren’t blind to the whispers that followed after that.
“never seen ben hang out with someone like him before.”
“you think they’re...?”
“no way. ben’s just bored. or maybe it’s, like, charity work.”
their words stung, but less than you’d expected. maybe it was because benjamin never seemed to notice—or care—what anyone else thought. he had a way of brushing off insults with that cocky grin of his, and slowly, you found yourself learning to do the same.
but for all his charm, benjamin was infuriating. he’d swipe your homework to “check something” and then return it with a smirk. he’d drag you into conversations you didn’t want to have, poking fun at your strict upbringing and coaxing stories out of you about priests, penance, and purgatory. he was relentless, and you hated that it made you feel a little less like the walls were closing in.
benjamin was everywhere. his laughter echoed in the halls, his golden hair glinting like sunlight, his voice as smooth and warm as honey. it didn’t matter where you were or what you were doing; he was inescapable. and at first, you didn’t mind. at first, you liked the way he looked at you, like you weren’t invisible. the way his arm slung so easily around your shoulders, the way he’d steal your fries or lean in too close just to watch you squirm. he made it look so easy, weaving you into his world with a smirk and a casual confidence you could never hope to emulate. he defended you from the worst of the hazing, diffused the cruel jokes with a well-timed barb or a cutting smile, and made sure you were never left sitting alone in the dining hall.
but then it started to change.
you started to change.
at first, it was subtle: a quickening in your chest when he leaned over your desk, close enough for his cologne to fog your senses. a tightness in your throat when his hand lingered on your shoulder, his thumb brushing the edge of your collar. he didn’t notice the way you froze when he stood behind you, leaning in to murmur some joke meant just for you. it was in the way he sat beside you during study hall, his long legs stretched out like he owned the space, his golden hair catching the light in a way that made your chest ache. it was in the way he teased you, his voice low and warm, always managing to say just enough to make you blush but never enough to cross a line. it was in the way he looked at you sometimes, his emerald eyes lingering just a moment too long, like he was searching for something in you that you didn’t even understand yourself. but you noticed.
you noticed everything.
the curve of his jaw. the warmth of his touch. the way his lips parted when he laughed, his head tilting back, throat exposed like an offering. it felt like blasphemy to see him this way, to want what you shouldn’t want. It felt like the serpent in the garden, whispering in your ear, coaxing you to look a little too long, to want what was forbidden.
and that’s when the shame began to take root.
it crept into your thoughts like a sickness, coiling around your heart. you began to see sin in every glance, every touch, every laugh that left you breathless. you couldn’t stop yourself from imagining things—things you couldn’t say, couldn’t even think without bile rising in your throat.
you prayed. oh, God, how you prayed. every night, you knelt beside your bed, fingers clutching the rosary so tightly they left indentations on your palms. you begged for forgiveness, begged God to deliver you from this sickness of the soul. you whispered Hail Marys into the dark, choking on the words as you begged the Blessed Virgin to intercede for you, to make you pure again. but your prayers felt hollow, empty. each whispered plea was drowned out by the memory of benjamin’s voice, the sound of his laughter, the way he had looked at you that day in the courtyard, sunlight haloing his head like a saint in a fresco.
you told yourself it wasn’t his fault. how could it be? he was just being benjamin, just being kind. he didn’t know what it did to you when he leaned in close, breath warm against your ear. he didn’t know about the nights you lay awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling, the air between your beds a chasm you longed to cross but never would.
the fault was yours alone. your weakness. your sin.
and yet, no matter how many times you dragged the blade of guilt across your soul, the feelings wouldn’t go away. they festered, spreading like rot, turning your prayers into cries of anguish. you thought of the words of Matthew: “if your right eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away. for it is better that you lose one of your members than that your whole body be thrown into hell.” and yet your eyes lingered on him still.
you began to pull back. at first, it was subtle: excuses to leave study sessions early, mumbling about assignments or the need to pray. you avoided his gaze, kept your hands clasped tightly in your lap when he reached out to touch your shoulder. you stopped laughing at his jokes, stopped letting him get too close, stopped letting him into the cracks of your armor.
but it was impossible to escape him. he was always there—leaning against your desk, lounging on his bed, sprawled out in the dining hall, his smile a temptation you couldn’t resist. you tried to flee from him, but he followed you everywhere, even in your thoughts. his voice was there when you knelt before the crucifix, his laughter echoing in the back of your mind as you begged God to cleanse you.
and the worst part was that he noticed. of course he noticed. the worst part was that you wanted him to. some small, desperate part of you wanted him to press, to dig, to uncover the thing rotting in your soul and absolve you of it.
“hey, what’s going on with you?” he asked one evening, lounging on his bed with one arm tucked behind his head. his shirt was rumpled, the top few buttons undone, and you hated the way your eyes were drawn to the hollow of his throat.
you couldn’t look at him. couldn’t bear to see the hurt in his green eyes, the confusion on his face, you couldn’t tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that it was your own weakness, your own sin. you couldn’t tell him that his mere existence was unraveling you, that every time he touched you, it felt like temptation made flesh. “nothing,” you said quickly, focusing on the textbook in your lap as if the words on the page could save you.
“bullshit,” he said, sitting up, his sharp green eyes piercing through your feeble lies. “you’ve been acting weird all week. did i do something?”
you flinched, the weight of his concern pressing down on you. you could feel the truth clawing at the back of your throat, desperate to be let out, but you couldn’t speak it. to confess was to condemn yourself. “no,” you said quickly, too quickly.
“then what is it?” his voice softened, but the hurt had already started to seep into it. you wanted to shove him away, to tell him to stop caring, to stop looking at you like that. stop making me feel this way. “you’re not... you’re not letting those assholes get to you, are you? ‘cause if someone’s giving you shit, i’ll—”
“it’s not that,” you snapped, harsher than you intended, your shame turning sharp as a blade. his expression faltered, and guilt twisted in your chest like a thorn. you dropped your gaze, your hands trembling as they gripped the edge of your book. “i just... i need space, okay?”
“space,” he repeated, the word flat and unfamiliar in his mouth. “from me?” he didn’t understand. how could he? to him, you were just the awkward Catholic boy he’d taken under his wing. he didn’t know about the fire consuming you from the inside out, the way his very presence felt like a test of faith you were doomed to fail.
the silence stretched out, suffocating. you could feel him staring at you, searching for something—an answer, a crack in your armor, anything that would make sense of this. finally, he exhaled sharply, the sound like a wound opening. “fine,” he said, standing abruptly. the bed creaked under his movement, the sound echoing in the quiet room. his voice was colder than you had ever heard it, laced with a bitterness that made your chest ache. “whatever you want, Father.”
the door clicked shut behind him, and you were alone. alone with the shame, the guilt, the terrible longing that refused to let you go. you pressed your hands together, the rosary dangling between your fingers like a lifeline, but even as you tried to pray, all you could think of was him.
but the distance didn’t help. if anything, it made things worse.
benjamin was always there, in your mind, no matter how hard you tried to shut him out. the memory of his smile haunted you during morning prayers. the sound of his voice echoed in your ears as you tried to focus on your studies. at night, in the dim light of your dorm room, you could hear him breathing in the bed across from yours, and it felt like a cruel reminder of everything you couldn’t have.
you hated him for it. you hated yourself more.
you had always been devout, a faithful son of the church. your rosary was your shield, your Bible your sword, your faith the fortress that had kept you safe from the temptations of the world. you clung to the Word of God like a drowning man clings to driftwood, trusting it to keep you pure, to keep you upright. but benjamin made you falter. benjamin made you doubt.
and worst of all, benjamin made you want.
the dreams had come slowly at first, creeping into your mind like thieves in the night. they were innocuous, almost innocent: his laugh ringing out like church bells, his hand brushing yours by accident. but they grew darker, heavier, like a storm gathering on the horizon. you began to dream of his hand lingering too long on your shoulder, sliding down your arm, his fingers warm, deliberate. you dreamed of his lips—pink, soft, sinful—hovering too close to yours, his breath ghosting against your skin. you dreamed of his hand, sure and unrelenting, sliding down your stomach, your cock throbbing under his touch as his name fell from your lips like a prayer you’d never dare to speak aloud.
you always woke from those dreams shaking, drenched in sweat and shame. your body betrayed you, your cock hard, insistent, as if it hadn’t just condemned you. the guilt came in waves, crashing over you, dragging you under. you’d fumble for your rosary in the dark, clutching it tightly, the beads biting into your palms like thorns. you’d sink to your knees on the cold, unyielding floor, whispering, “forgive me, Father, for i have sinned.”
your voice trembled, cracked, as you poured yourself out to a God who surely couldn’t love you anymore. you recited the Psalms until your throat was raw, until the words blurred into each other and the ache in your chest grew unbearable. you told yourself you were strong enough to resist, that the dreams meant nothing, that they were merely a test of your faith.
but the dreams kept coming.
and worse, some dark, treacherous part of you didn’t want them to stop.
one night, long after benjamin had left for the evening, you found yourself restless, the shame coiled tightly in your chest, suffocating. you paced the small dorm room, your rosary clutched in one hand, muttering prayers under your breath like a desperate incantation. but they didn’t help. they couldn’t stop the image of him from searing itself into your mind: benjamin sprawled out on his bed, his shirt half undone, his laugh warm and unguarded, his scent—clean, sharp, him—lingering in the air like incense.
you told yourself to stop, to look away, to think of anything else, but the pull was too strong. you walked into the bathroom, hoping the cold tile and harsh light would cleanse you, give you some clarity. but then you saw them.
benjamin’s boxers were draped carelessly over the counter, a remnant of his presence that felt like a physical blow. your heart lurched, your breath catching in your throat. you froze, your breath catching in your throat, shame flooding you before you’d even moved. you shouldn’t touch them. you knew you shouldn’t. this was wrong, disgusting, unforgivable. but before you could stop yourself, your hand was reaching out, trembling as it closed around the fabric.
they were still warm.
you brought them to your face, your chest heaving as his scent hit you like a blow. it was intoxicating, maddening, him. you inhaled deeply, the cotton brushing against your lips, and you could feel your body reacting, your cock straining against the confines of your jeans.
a strangled sound escaped your throat, half-sob, half-moan. you were shaking, trembling under the weight of your sin, but you couldn’t stop. the shame rose in you, thick and choking, but it only seemed to fuel the fire burning inside you.
your free hand slid down to the bulge in your jeans, your fingers fumbling with the zipper as you gasped for breath. “i’m sorry,” you whispered hoarsely, your voice breaking. “God, ‘m sorry, i’m sorry.” but the words were hollow, meaningless, drowned out by the frantic beating of your heart and the unbearable ache in your body.
your hand slipped into your boxers, your cock hot and throbbing in your palm. the fabric of benjamin’s boxers pressed against your face as you stroked yourself, the sensation overwhelming, sickeningly good. you bit down on your lip to stifle a moan, tears streaming down your face as the guilt clawed at you, sharp and unrelenting.
you hated yourself for this.
you hated how much you needed it.
each stroke felt like a lash against your soul, each gasp a plea for forgiveness you didn’t deserve. you thought of the saints, their eyes turned heavenward, their bodies pierced and broken for their faith, and you wondered if they would weep for you or turn away in disgust. you thought of the thorns pressed into Christ’s brow, of the spear that pierced His side, and you felt like you were driving it in deeper with every desperate, shameful motion.
you were drowning in sin.
the rosary clutched in your hand felt heavier than ever, its beads digging into your skin like penance, a crown of thorns wrapped around your fist. each bead you touched felt like a tally mark against your soul, a reminder of the countless sins you’d committed in thought, in word, and now—oh, God forgive me—in deed.
benjamin’s scent clung to the fabric pressed to your face, clean and sharp, with that faint musk of sweat and skin that was undeniably him. you could taste it on your tongue, could feel it seeping into your lungs like incense burned in offering. it filled you, overwhelmed you, until you couldn’t think of anything else.
your body betrayed you.
your cock throbbed in your hand, slick with the evidence of your shame. the other gripped the rosary so tightly that the crucifix bit into your palm, the tiny Christ pressed there like a mute witness to your depravity. tears streaked down your face, hot and bitter, dripping from your chin onto your bare chest. you felt split open, like the veil of the temple torn in two, laid bare before God and man.
“i’m sorry,” you gasped, the words breaking on your lips, no more than a breathless whisper. “fuck, ‘m so sorry.”
but even as you prayed, even as you begged for forgiveness, your hips jerked forward, thrusting into your fist. the friction was maddening, too much and not enough all at once. you couldn’t stop. you didn’t want to stop.
the shame was suffocating, thick as smoke, but it only seemed to fuel the fire raging in you. the boxers in your hand felt like a relic, a profane artifact that held power over you. you buried your face in them, inhaling deeply, and a strangled moan escaped your lips.
your fingers tightened around your cock, stroking faster, harder, desperate to chase the release you knew would damn you. you bit your lip, hard enough to draw blood, trying to stifle the sounds rising in your throat. they escaped anyway, broken gasps and half-sobs that echoed off the tile walls like confessions shouted in a cathedral.
the bathroom door creaked open.
you froze.
your heart stopped, then slammed back to life, pounding so loudly you thought it might burst. slowly, your eyes flicked toward the doorway, and there he was.
ben.
his green eyes were wide, his brows drawn together in confusion and concern as he stepped inside. “hey, are you—” he stopped mid-sentence, his gaze dropping to the scene before him.
your cock in your hand, hard and aching. his boxers clutched in the other, pressed to your face. the rosary tangled in your fingers, beads slipping between them like the blood of your guilt.
“fuck,” he breathed, his voice low and rough. his eyes darted back up to your face, and you could see the realization dawn in them. the pieces clicking into place.
the shame was instant, white-hot, burning through you like fire and brimstone. you dropped the boxers as if they’d scorched you, scrambling to cover yourself. words tumbled from your lips, incoherent and panicked. “i—i’m sorry, i didn’t—”
benjamin stepped closer, his movements deliberate, measured. his expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—curiosity? amusement? want?
your breath hitched as he crouched in front of you, his hand reaching out. you flinched, expecting anger, rejection, disgust. but instead, his fingers brushed against yours, prying the rosary from your trembling grip.
“hey,” he said softly, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “relax.”
you shook your head, tears spilling over again. “i can’t—i’m so sorry. i shouldn’t—”
he cut you off with a hand on your wrist, his grip firm but not unkind. “feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours. the heat in his gaze made your stomach twist, your cock twitch in your hand. “bet you’ve been pent up for weeks, huh? poor fuckin’ thing...”
you wanted to protest, to tell him to stop, to push him away. but your body betrayed you again, leaning into his touch, your breath hitching as his fingers wrapped around your own.
“let me help,” he said, his voice low and rough, almost horse. you didn’t respond. you couldn’t.
he guided your hand, his grip firm and sure, stroking you in a rhythm that made your head spin. his other hand picked up the boxers from the floor, holding them to your face once more. “go on,” he murmured. “you want it, don’t you?”
a sob tore from your throat as you inhaled deeply, the scent of him filling your lungs. it felt wrong, filthy, perfect.
benjamin’s hand gripped your cock with a firm, unrelenting pressure, his fingers curling around your length as though he’d done this a thousand times before. the confidence in his touch was maddening, a sharp contrast to your trembling body and fractured thoughts. his palm was warm and sure, his movements measured, deliberate—stroking you with a pace that was just slow enough to make you ache, to keep you teetering on the edge of sanity.
“shhh,” benjamin murmured, his voice low, soothing, a sharp contrast to the roughness of his hand. his lips brushed the shell of your ear as he spoke, his breath warm and unbearably intimate. “you don’t want anyone else to hear, do you? just me. just us.”
you whimpered, a helpless sound that only made his smirk widen. the way his fingers curled around your cock, stroking upward with just enough pressure to make your thighs tense, sent bolts of heat racing through you. his thumb grazed the sensitive tip, spreading the slick pre-cum there with an unhurried, almost lazy motion that had your hips bucking forward without your permission.
“desperate already?” he asked, his tone mocking but soft, as if he was speaking to something fragile. he pressed the heel of his palm against the base of your cock, applying just enough pressure to make you ache, to keep you right on the precipice of pleasure without tumbling over. “you’re gonna have to work for it, sweetheart.”
the bathroom was suffocating, steam and guilt mingling in the stagnant air. ben’s grip on your wrist tightened, steadying your trembling body as he tugged you upward, his strength unyielding. you stumbled to your feet, barely able to think, barely able to breathe as he guided you toward the sink.
"look at yourself," he murmured, his voice a low growl that reverberated through the tiles. his hand cupped your chin, forcing your head up, making you confront the reflection in the mirror.
your face was a mess: tear-streaked, flushed, mouth parted in desperate gasps. your chest heaved, sweat glistening on your skin. and below, the evidence of your shame—your cock, swollen and slick, gripped tight in ben’s firm, unforgiving hand.
"god, look at you," he rasped, the words rough and dripping with derision, yet tinged with something darker, something hotter. his green eyes burned as they flicked between your reflection and the reality of you standing before him, shaking, broken. "so filthy."
you whimpered, your knees threatening to buckle under the weight of his gaze, of his words. "how do you think God would feel, huh?" he asked, his tone mocking, cruel in its softness. his lips brushed against your ear as he spoke, the contact sending shivers down your spine. "seeing you like this? crying and moaning like a fuckin’ sinner. bet the saints are turning away right now."
“stop,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, hoarse from the tears and the shame that choked you. but you didn’t pull away. you couldn’t.
benjamin’s hand tightened around your cock, stroking it with slow, deliberate precision. he watched your reflection, studying every flinch, every gasp, every broken sound that escaped your lips. "stop?" he echoed, his smirk deepening. "you don’t want me to stop." he tilted his head, his eyes locking onto yours in the mirror. "look at yourself. you’re loving this. bet you’ve been dreaming about me, haven’t you? thinking about my hands on you, my mouth on you..."
your knees buckled at the insinuation, and his arm shot out, catching you around the waist, holding you upright. you tried to shake your head, to deny it, but your body betrayed you. your hips jerked forward again, seeking the friction his hand so cruelly denied you. “please,” you gasped, though you didn’t know what you were begging for—for him to stop, for him to continue, for absolution, for release.
he chuckled, low and throaty, the sound rumbling through your chest. "poor thing," he murmured, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. "all those prayers, and this is where they got you. on your knees, jerking off with my fuckin’ boxers like a desperate little pervert."
your stomach twisted, shame coiling tighter, but the heat in his voice, the weight of his words—it ignited something inside you, something primal and unbearable.
benjamin leaned closer, his breath warm against your neck. his lips brushed your shoulder, soft at first, then firmer as his teeth grazed your skin. he nipped at you, not enough to break the skin but enough to make you gasp, your cock twitching helplessly in his hand. "fuck, you’re so easy," he hissed, his tone laced with contempt and fascination. his free hand slid up your chest, his fingers ghosting over the line of your throat before gripping your jaw. he forced your gaze to stay fixed on the mirror, his green eyes burning into yours through the glass. "look at yourself," he demanded, his grip tightening on your chin just enough to keep you compliant. "take a good, long look."
your eyes flicked to the mirror, and the sight made your stomach churn. your face was flushed, your eyes glassy and wet from unshed tears. sweat clung to your skin, your hair disheveled, and your lips swollen from where you'd bitten them raw. your cock was still hard, leaking against your stomach, throbbing with need as benjamin stood behind you, as he pumped you in slow, devastating strokes “does this feel good?” he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. his voice dripped with mockery, sending a jolt of humiliation through you. "getting all hard for me, like some filthy little pervert? huh?"
your hips jerked forward involuntarily, chasing the friction of his touch, and a broken moan tore from your throat. the sound echoed in the small bathroom, a damning confession of your weakness. benjamin smirked, his grip on your jaw tightening just enough to keep you in place. "that’s what i thought."
your knuckles turned white as you gripped the edge of the sink, the cold porcelain biting into your palms. you tried to look away, shame prickling your every nerve, but benjamin’s grip was unrelenting. he tilted your chin higher, forcing your gaze to stay fixed on the mirror. “don’t you fucking look away,” it was a command, sure, but also quiet request, one you couldn’t bring yourself to refuse. “i want you to see exactly what you are. a filthy, desperate pervert, getting off to the thought of me. say it.”
your breath hitched, a broken moan tearing from your lips as your hips jerked forward, chasing the friction of his touch. the sound seemed to please him, his smirk widening as his other hand moved to your waist, holding you steady against the sink. “say it,” benjamin murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. his hand on your cock moved faster now, his strokes rough and unrelenting, dragging you closer to the edge. “say what you are.”
“i—i can’t,” you gasped, your voice cracking under the weight of your shame.
“yes, you can.” his tone softened just enough to make your chest tighten, to make you hate how much you wanted to give in. “say it, or i’ll stop.”
your head snapped up, panic flaring in your chest as you met his eyes in the mirror. he smirked at your reaction, his grip on you tightening just enough to remind you who was in control. “you don’t want me to stop, do you?” he teased, his voice a low purr as his fingers wrapped around your cock, squeezing just enough to make your vision blur. “you like this too much.”
“i’m a filthy pervert,” you finally choked out, the words burning like acid on your tongue.
“good boy.” benjamin’s smirk deepened, his hand moving faster now, dragging you toward the precipice. “now tell me what you want.”
“i—” your chest heaved, your hands gripping the edge of the sink so tightly your knuckles turned white. “i want you.” the confession tore free like a prayer, desperate and raw. “I want you to touch me, to—to make me cum—”
benjamin chuckled, the sound low and satisfied as he pressed his lips to your neck. “that’s more like it,” he murmured, his voice dripping with approval. “go on. let go for me. i want to feel you come apart in my hand.”
his words were your undoing. your body arched against him, trembling as the pleasure surged through you like a wave crashing against the shore. benjamin’s grip was firm, steady, grounding you as you came with a shuddering cry, your release splattering against the mirror in thick, messy streaks.
“fuck,” ben breathed out, his tone heavy with awe as he watched your reflection. his hand didn’t stop, coaxing every last drop from you, his strokes slow and deliberate now, like he was savoring the way you unraveled beneath his touch.
when it was over, you sagged against the sink, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. ben’s hand lingered on your cock, his fingers slick with your release as he pulled away, his smirk softening into something almost tender. “look at that,” he murmured, his hand sliding up to grip your chin, tilting your head back so your eyes met his in the mirror. “such a pretty mess.”
you swallowed hard, the shame creeping back in like a tide, but ben’s thumb brushed against your jaw, grounding you. “you okay?” he asked softly, his voice lacking the teasing edge it had carried before. you nodded weakly, your throat too tight to speak.
“good.” his smirk returned, softer now, but no less infuriating. he leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “because you owe me a clean mirror.”
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sun-kissy · 2 days ago
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🧣 james potter, or poly!marauders, whatever you prefer really + “can’t believe it took a near-death experience for you to let me hug you" with reader who doesn't really enjoy physical touch... and maybe they aren't really lovers YET. btw, i love your account! 💞
thank you for the request, and the love! 🥰🫶 here’s your scarf lovely🧣
hailstorm | j.p.
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— “Can’t believe it took a near-death experience for you to let me hug you.
james potter x reader
summary: you’re on a roadtrip with your friends when a hailstorm strikes, and james protects you
tw: fluff, reader who doesn’t really like physical touch at first, there’s a lot of a grumpy x sunshine trope going on here, since you said james or poly!marauders i decided to include the marauders + lily (platonic) for fun haha
“Potter! Get your filthy hands off me.”
“Okay, jeez,” James chuckles, sliding his arm off your shoulder. You shoot him with a glare you hoped conveyed every bit of your distaste.
“Yeah, Potter, get your hands off — ow!” Sirius snickers and flinches away when you reach forward to smack him. Remus sighs exasperatedly from across the console, fingers idly drumming on the steering wheel.
Lily gives James a look from beside you. “Leave her be, James. And you —“ she turns towards Sirius in the front seat, “shut up and let your boyfriend drive.”
You shrink into yourself, wondering which part of you was sane when you made the decision to go on a road trip with these maniacs. That too, in the middle of winter.
The snowy mountaintops did make for a pretty view, though. The white flakes continued to fall around you, and you were sure you could catch them in the palm of your hand if you were to slide the windows down. The only problem was that you were seated in between James and Lily — no windows in reach.
“ — but the map is telling us to go left!”
“You’re looking at it upside down.”
“Am not!”
“Just —“ Remus exhales, rubbing his forehead. “There’s a reason why I’m driving, James. Just trust me.”
James opens his mouth to argue but decides against it. He crosses his arms and sits back like a pouty baby, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like there’s also a reason why you’ve been driving for hours under his breath.
Sirius giggles at the comment, but no one else does. Most of you are in a sour mood considering how right James actually was — you’d been stuck in traffic and heavy snow for almost the entire day. On another note, you were just always in a sour mood.
There’s a terse silence that falls over the car. It’s broken by the sound of radio static, Sirius fiddling with some console buttons up front. A few shrill sounds pass before music starts to play.
There’s a starman waiting in the sky…
At first, the only voice that could be heard was that of the long-haired dramatic. But you could see him lean over to press a kiss to Remus’ cheek, who immediately softened. His gentle humming slowly grew louder.
Soon enough, you were the only one not singing along. James was boisterously loud from beside you, almost annoyingly so. His arm brushed against yours way too many times as he grooved.
You open your mouth to say something rude but he beats you to it.
“Come on, Y/n,” James almost shouts to be heard over the din. He’s grinning like a fool as he bumps your hip obnoxiously. “You’re not gonna sing?”
“No.”
“But —“
“No.”
He sighs, shaking his head. “What a wet blanket. You know, if you were just a little less grumpy —“
“Guys.” Remus’ soft humming is replaced by a panicked voice, breathless.
James ignores him. “— and smiled a bit more, you’d look a lot lovelier —“
“Guys!” Remus raises his voice, and the finality in his tone shuts everyone up. “There’s a hailstorm coming our way.”
You divert your attention to the windshield, eyes widening at the sight. There’s hailstones hurling downwards, closer and closer to the car. You feel anxiety start to thrum in your veins.
No one objects as Remus takes the reins. “Here’s what we’re gonna do,” he says calmly, cutting across lanes. The traffic gets crazier by the second, everyone scrambling to get to safety. “This is a highway; there’s nowhere to hide. But I’m gonna stop near that creek over there, so hopefully, it shields us from the worst of it.”
You all nod along helplessly. Lily’s biting down on her fingernails, knee jerking up and down. Sirius looks close to tears. James is frowning, staring straight ahead like he’s lost in thought.
“We may still get hit as the storm passes over us, though,” Remus emphasies as he pulls the car to a stop. “Brace yourselv —“
He’s cut short by said hailstorm. There’s collective sounds of panic as a loud thud sounds, the ceiling of the car bending downwards in a pathetic dent. You think maybe your heart stopped beating, and your limbs are paralysed in place.
You feel strong arms pulling you close as another stone hits the place where your head had been seconds ago. James. There’s nothing you can do but to scramble closer, letting him protect you with his arms around you and head on top of yours.
You stay there for what feels like forever. His breath tickles the top of your head, his musky scent all too enveloping. It’s hard to make out over the loud, crashing noises. But you think maybe he murmurs it’s okay more than a few times.
The storm passes over the car as quickly as it came. Remus peers out the window multiple times before telling everyone that it’s over, before he lets go of Sirius to press a kiss to his lips. Not you, though.
Relief seeps through you. But you hold on to James, face still buried in his chest as you cling impossibly tighter. You don’t know why; maybe it’s the lingering fear, or maybe it’s to show him how thankful you are.
He seems to realise your need for comfort, rubbing his hand up and down your spine. “You good?”
You make a noise of assent.
“Okay, good. I can’t believe it took a near-death experience for you to let me hug you,” he huffs out quietly. Your heart does a flip, and you’re glad he can’t see the smile on your face.
A little while later, the lot of you continue on your journey. This time, you let James loop his arm round your shoulder.
san’s christmas sleepover
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sugarushwriting · 3 days ago
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cherry popper x felix
from this request inspired by this drabble
adult content featured [not proof read]
this is an extended drabble not a full fic
your twin brother’s friends were all hot. but there was one blonde who stood out the most. the one with the freckles, pretty smile, deep voice, and who they nicknamed sunshine.
yongbok, or felix as they all call him.
it wasn’t until a pool day at your house, seeing all the men (minus your brother, of course), shirtless, wet, and smiling that something ignited in you.
you knew felix was fit, but fuck, he looked extra good that day. his freckles were full force and the sun just did something.
you were a virgin and honestly sick of it. you just wanted it over with. but at the same time, you didn’t want just anyone. you had no idea who you would approach, until it hit you that day. the perfect guy to ask.
“you want me to what?” his thick accent came through, voice went up a notch as he was so shocked.
you. his best friend’s twin sister was asking him to take your virginity. and you didn’t even ease into it.
you shrugged. “i’m sick of not knowing what’s it like to have sex, and right now i trust you. i want you.”
that’s how you ended up on felix’s bed at his house. no way could you risk getting caught with felix buried deep in you by your twin. nope.
what you didn’t expect was felix to bring out whip cream, strawberries, and a blind fold.
you knew he’d be sweet and kind to you for your first time, but this?
“sensory deprivation. it’ll have you more aware of your body and what it’s feeling.” felix’s deep voice husked, and your body shivered.
his voice would be great for storytelling, animation, whatever. it was just so—ugh!
you laid on his bed naked, blindfolded. felix started with him biting the strawberry then giving you a sweet kiss. he dipped it in whip cream, having you take a bite. when the cream was left on your lip, he leaned in for a longer, deeper kiss.
whip cream suddenly was on your stomach, nipples, hips, and neck. he started with the neck, kssing and licking. then felix kept going down, spending extra time for your sensitive nipples, and tickling your sides.
“open your mouth.” he deeply asked, and you obeyed. he sprayed whip cream in your mouth. his tongue met yours as you shared a kiss and the whip cream.
who knew this would be so hot. sexy.
“usually i add in toys and cuffs, but we’ll save that for another round.”
another round? ROUND! fuck you forgot how high felix’s stamina was. he would probably go three to four rounds with you.
soon forgotten, when felix’s tongue met your folds between your legs. he forcefully held your legs open wide so you wouldn’t even think about closing them around his head.
your hands gripped his hair.
“has anyone ate you out?”
“no-no.” you moaned out, back arching, you squealing loudly.
felix loved to hear you. he always imagined it. he kept his growling and moans low. it turned you on even more. it was almost animalistic. protective.
when you were close, he removed his lips, causing a whine from you. “don’t worry, not done with you. you’ll come on my cock.”
oh never have you imagined dirty words coming from felix.
with your lack of sight, you were hyper aware of his every movement, noting him putting on a condom. the way his hands and fingers caressed your skin. his lips leave gentle kisses all over your body. his lips kissing you once more as he slowly pushed his tip in, growling into your mouth.
“been thinking about this so much lately.” he breathed against your lips. you smiled into the kiss.
then, he began thrusting. very slow and softly at first, but when your moans becoming louder, the sounds from your mouth becoming needier, he picked up the pace.
since you couldn’t see, you wanted to touch. you reached to grab his biceps, your hands going down to around his wrists.
felix grabbed your hands in his as he threaded his fingers through yours.
loving. tender. sensual. all of it.
soon you came (loudly) followed by felix letting out a low grunt, stilling inside of you.
“fuck i’m so glad we did this at my place.” felix chuckled from how loud you were.
he could only imagine how his best friend would react to see him buried deep in you. his best friend’s twin sister.
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dog-bimbo · 1 day ago
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minors and ageless blogs do not interact ! fem!reader ☆ shiu is an absolute prick in this one just the way i like it :')
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sugar daddy!shiu kong makes it clear on the get go that the relationship is purely transactional. he covers your tuition and whatever expenses that you need. in return, you gotta sit still and look pretty during his client meetings. and there were a lot of those meetings going on in his life... he doesn't want a companion to share his woes with, he needs a sweet little thing who'd make him look better in front of the clients. having a doll like you just makes it so much easier to deal with those guys. he really isn't like your traditional daddy that you see in movies. he doesn't mindlessly shower you with gifts and money and take you out on dates just to see you smile, he makes you earn each and every bit of the financial support he's been providing you with. it might seem a bit crude, but again, it's a transactional relationship after all.
you're his arm candy, all young and pretty in the outfits he chooses for you—none of them reach the knees. he likes it casual during the daytime—he doesn't care much for the tops low cut, turtle neck, buttoned collars, whatevers fines as long as it's paired with the tiniest of skirts. he likes ass and tits but most importantly, he likes thighs. sunny afternoons at lavish private properties or client offices don't go by easily by just discussing brokering services and pretending to care about the client's problems. you're either by his side or on his lap and he cannot go on without kneading the soft flesh of your thighs. one thing about him is that he makes the most out of the space he sits in. he's charming, even with that shit eating grin or a muted smirk that he flashes at you whenever you pluck the cigarette from his lips for him to exhale the smoke or ash it for him since he's too comfortable leaned back.
during the night however, the tiny little dresses he makes you wear seem like they're barely there. dainty jewellery, freshly manicured nails, his favourite shades of lipstick on your extremely kissable lips... he rubs his thumb on your bottom lip, tilting your chin up and looking down at you with his piercing gaze like he's evaluating you—"you've gotten the hang of it by now, i don't expect anything less from you. you'll be good for the clients n' extra good f'me, hm?" he lets go of your chin after you answer and gets out of the car, circling around it to open the passengers door for you.
it's like he's making you put on a show for the clients by the way he instructs you to charm them with your demeanour. his clients are total pervs too since he's not letting you leave much for imagination with your clothes. this is a business and sex sells—everyone knows it. "it's a big bad world honey, i don't have to tell y'bout how it works, yeah?" he murmurs if the clients are just oogling at you. but if it gets to you a bit too much, and trust me, he catches onto things faster than most people, he has his ways of dealing with it.
after the meetings is when you truly get to the good bit. he covers your semester fees on time even without you having to remind him along with the additional college charges. he's cunning but he's trustworthy and diligent. but for that extra cash to splurge, you gotta let him blow his steam off. he latches his lips onto your neck and gradually your tits after freeing them like he's starved, like he's been waiting for it. "the bastard chewed my damn ears off, can't stand 'em..." he grunts as he sucks on your nipples, his other hand groping your tits with a grip borderlining on a harsh one. "but you..." he bites on one with his teeth and tugs on the other with his index and thumb, "you're a fucking doll, so good f'me..." and by the time you're done with fogging up the tinted windows of his car, your poor cunt is left oozing out a bit of his cum as it trickles down your inner thighs.
he pulls out a thick wad of cash, fanning through it. "open up, sweetheart," he murmurs, thumbing through a few crisp bills. you bite down, the stack hard against your teeth. it's humiliating to the core but business is business, and you’ve got to earn your keep.
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200markies · 8 hours ago
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Heyyy!! I love your work <3 Can you write a 'Mark is the type of boyfriend to...' and/or something about: idol!mark and reader as a regular person (full time job+college student) maybe with a little bit o angst since they are so different from each other etc?
    mark ♡ is the type of boyfriend to ... ⁺
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mark soft hours & headcanons. all are fictional.
pairing: mark lee x fem!reader
genre: romance, fluff
requested by anon !
author's notes: i did NOT expect all of you guys to like the jeno headcanons so much to the point that an anon requested a mark ver which convinced me enough to make another one for the week 😭 y'all do indeed enjoy the headcanon series. anyway, to the anon who is reading this, i have to be honest with you but i genuinely enjoyed writing this and i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this. PLEASE. this took me hours to write and i don't expect JUST the anon to like this but all of you too! i can't even say "i hope you enjoy" in the author's notes now that i'm expecting a thousand notifications on my activity tab in this platform.... 🤓
p.s. let us all thank mark lee for making the most boyfriend material instagram that could ever exist.... without r_e__m___ this headcanon wouldn't be BORN!
reminding all of u guys that my ask inbox is open so don't hesitate to drop a request or an ask !!!
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mark is the type of boyfriend to write you poems whenever feels like it, or whenever it's a special occasion that's all about you. whether it be your birthday or your anniversary together, mark tries his absolute best to find all the words and combine it to make a poem that will surely make you happy. he wants to make you feel loved and safe with him, especially since he's your boyfriend.
"hey, beautiful, i left something on your desk," mark walks to you in the living room, sitting beside you while you work a deadline. you turn to him and chuckled, looking at your room which had a yellow folded note. you knew immediately that mark wrote a poem, and you can't wait to read it. you stand up to get the note on your desk, unfolding it to see an entire script of a poem which was all about how sweet your personality is. you walk back to mark, reading it while he lies his head on your shoulder to read a bit of what he wrote. "'you're so sweet that i can't stop coming back to you as if you're like candy, i take it, i'm the luckiest man in the world because of you, my fancy.'" you read the 3rd line in the 4th stanza, giving mark a little peck after you read it.
mark is the type of boyfriend to definitely rehearse being a husband to you. even though you two may not be ready yet or you can't bring yourselves to commit, he loves to do things a loyal husband would do. would you complain? no, because you loved it when mark would act that way. it's quite silly of him to do that, but trust me, you will need it when the both of you are married.
"good evening, future wifey," mark leans on your doorway while you're putting accessories to your outfit, looking at him once you heard his voice. tonight, mark is taking you out on a date, as part of his "husband rehearsals". he notices you're wearing the yves saint laurent dress mark gave you on your first anniversary, which made him smile and giggle. "looks like you're wearing your favorite dress on our date today, hm?" you nodded, giggling softly. "you truly love rehearsing your husband duties, it's silly." you say, walking to him as you put on your fur coat and kissed him on the lips. "it's not silly when you're gonna need more of me acting like this when we get married."
mark is the type of person who tends to stay with you almost every hour of the day. even when you don't need him, he's gonna be beside you until sunset, he can work with you, or he can cuddle, or he can comfort you while you work. (that's for later) he wants to keep you close to him no matter what, so that he could take care or help you whenever something happens. it's his obligation, and he's happy to take it.
"what... are you doing?" you look up at mark who's massaging your legs, confused and a little startled at the sensations he's giving you. he's right in front of you, trying his best to probably keep you soothed and comfortable while he has nothing to do for the day. you couldn't even make him leave because, you can admit, you loved this. "i know how tired you are after the gala you had with your friends, and i'm trying to soothe you so that you won't feel any more pain walking later. i know you love it, baby." he continues massaging you while you're working, making you giggle as you stared at him. "well, matter of fact... your massages are doing great work."
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©️ 200markies / jyanihaes, 2024
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hrizantemy · 1 day ago
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me when i hear people defend feyre attacking the lady of autumn by saying she didn’t mean to/beron was her intended target: … how … how is that better?
like okay we all hate beron but he’s still a high lord, still someone you invited to form an alliance/negotiate with diplomatically. in a court where you are a guest might i add. you are a child they all saw practically naked two days ago, now playing house with a man (sorry, male) who willingly or otherwise tormented them for the better part of half a century .. because he gave you a pretty crown? how does one expect these old ass fae to not be condescending or reluctant? i’d have asked her to let the adults do the talking if she was piping in every two seconds telling me what to think and how to act.
the high lords’ meeting is my roman empire because it’s one of those instances where you have to let your jaw hit the floor because in what world - except one where sjm expects everyone to love her blorbo’s for all their correct opinions and positions - did any of that work?? with no consequences?? in fact they’re rewarded for their behaviour: tarquin rescinds the blood rubies, everyone’s chiming in about how they knew rhysand was the good guy all along, no one cares about the high lord who is why they’re all free rn (okay feyre broke the curse — tamlin’s curse. tamlin killed amarantha. he is why rhysand is free to rewrite history and the others have a future) i’m surprised there wasn’t a scene where the lady of autumn apologises to feyre for being in the way of her attack smh
This is one of the reasons I cannot like Feyre. The justification that she “didn’t mean to” attack the Lady of Autumn or that “Beron was her intended target” makes absolutely no sense and, frankly, makes the situation worse. How is it any better that her recklessness and inability to control her powers led to an innocent woman nearly being killed? The Lady of Autumn was already a victim of Beron’s abuse and violence, and Feyre—who should, of all people, understand the trauma of being hurt or manipulated by powerful individuals—just becomes another threat to her. How is that defensible in any way?
Even if Beron was her intended target, that doesn’t excuse the collateral damage of almost killing someone who was completely uninvolved in the fight. Feyre’s powers are vast, yes, but she constantly wields them with this mix of entitlement and carelessness that makes her more of a liability than a hero. It’s one thing to make mistakes; it’s another to make catastrophic ones and have people excuse them as if the consequences don’t matter.
And let’s be real—Feyre is never held accountable for these actions. The narrative either brushes it off or turns it into another moment for someone to coddle her and tell her how amazing she is. Meanwhile, the Lady of Autumn is left to fend for herself, as usual, trapped in her abusive marriage, and probably now terrified of Feyre as well. The complete lack of responsibility Feyre takes—or is made to take—for her actions is one of the biggest reasons I can’t root for her. She’s not a savior; she’s a wrecking ball with a savior complex.
The entire High Lords meeting was, without question, a complete disaster. It was supposed to be this grand gathering where the courts would come together to ally against Hybern, but instead, it devolved into petty squabbles, veiled insults, and outright hostility. Rhysand, for all his posturing as the most “progressive” High Lord, walked into the meeting with an attitude so smug it practically dared the others to disagree with him. Tamlin, true to form, took the bait and immediately turned the whole thing into a personal grievance fest. Beron was his usual insufferable self, Helion was flirting, and everyone else seemed more interested in holding grudges than actually saving the world.
Nobody trusted anyone, and honestly, who could blame them? These are the same people who’ve been at each other’s throats for centuries, and now they’re supposed to just shake hands and work together? Rhysand’s attempts at diplomacy mostly amounted to thinly veiled threats, Feyre’s speeches did little to inspire confidence, and Amren just sat there looking like she wanted to kill someone. It was all spiraling into chaos.
And then came Nesta.
Nesta, who was barely even acknowledged as part of the delegation. Nesta, who didn’t care about politics, alliances, or playing nice. Nesta, who was so angry, so filled with righteous fury, that her words cut through the nonsense like a blade. When she stood up and spoke about what Hybern had done, about what they would do if the High Lords didn’t put aside their differences and act, she commanded the room. She didn’t appeal to their egos or try to manipulate them; she just told the truth in the most raw, unflinching way possible.
Her speech wasn’t about Rhysand’s court, or Tamlin’s grudges, or Beron’s smug indifference. It was about the people who would suffer and die if they didn’t unite. It was about the horrors she had witnessed and endured. It was about the cost of their pride and their inaction. And for the first time in the entire meeting, there was silence.
That speech was the turning point. It was the reason the High Lords agreed to set aside their centuries of animosity and work together. Not because of Feyre’s attempts to “inspire” them, not because of Rhysand’s threats, but because Nesta Archeron reminded them of what was at stake.
And here’s the kicker: even after she was the one who secured the alliances they needed, the credit still went elsewhere. Feyre, Rhysand, and their crew walked away looking like the saviors, while Nesta was left on the sidelines again. The meeting may have been a mess, but Nesta was the only reason it wasn’t an outright failure.
Bonus mention: My man Thesan was the only unproblematic one at that entire meeting. He showed up, minding his own business, probably thinking, “I am a healer, not a referee for this soap opera.” While everyone else was busy airing centuries of dirty laundry, Thesan was out here like, “So… about that war threatening all our lives?”
He didn’t come for the drama, didn’t throw unnecessary shade, and managed to keep his court from looking like an absolute circus. Honestly, if I were him, I would’ve been this close to kicking the entire Night Court delegation out.
If anyone deserved to walk out of that meeting with dignity, it was Thesan. The man probably, sat down with a glass of wine after, and said, “Never again.”
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radioisntdead · 2 days ago
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Boyfriend
Velvette x reader
Song used
Warnings: very very mild suggestive touching
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You were a trusted friend of Velvette, although the friend label was one she'd like to change as soon as she could.
The two of you were at the pride rings most prestigious club, the music was blaring, people were dancing, bodies close to each other, some so close you couldn't tell where one person started and the other ended.
Velvette had been watching with a drink her hand as you danced with some guy you had been talking to, his arms were wrapped around your waist, whispering something she couldn't hear into your ear.
I can't believe we're finally alone
Eventually to her amazement and luck, the dumbass had the gull to leave you alone.
She didn't know where he went and frankly she couldn't be bothered to give a shit, all that mattered to her was you.
I can't believe I almost went home
What are the chances? Everyone's dancing
What else was she supposed to do? Not take her chance? Velvette was never one to be patient especially with things she wanted.
And he's not with you Hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm
And she wanted you, quite badly.
The universe must have divined this
What am I gonna do? Not grab your wrist?
You jumped, startled when you felt her hands grab yours, pulling you close to her, so close you could feel her breath.
Good thing she ate five mints before coming over here.
I could be a better boyfriend than him
I could do the shit that he never did
As the music blared around you Velvette's hands trailed around you, holding you, swaying with you.
Up all night, I won't quit
Thinking I'm gonna steal you from him
You wrapped your own hands around her, your nails gently scratching the back of her neck, your eyes half lidded as you stared into hers.
I could be such a gentleman
Plus all my clothes would fit
You didn't think your friend would dance like this with you, whispering things into your ear, swaying with you to the music, her hands wrapped around your waist, but you certainly weren't complaining.
I could be a better boyfriend
You soon felt her lips touch yours.
I don't need to tell you twice
All the ways he can't suffice
As the night grew darker you felt her eventually pull out that phone of hers, you lazily looked over only to see a glimpse of a text message and a half-assed response.
If I could give you some advice
I would leave with me tonight
Before you knew it her body was no longer smushed against yours, instead her hand was holding yours as she dragged you out of the club.
The universe must have divined this Mmm, mmm
Ladies first, baby, I insist
She was mumbling about some business related thing, something about a model trying to quit, she was still holding your hand as she waited for the Vee's car to get there to pick the two of you up.
I could be a better boyfriend than him
I could do the shit that he never did
She glanced at you, smirking as she said you had something on your face, she pulled out a makeup wipe from her bag, gently wiping it around your lips where her lipstick smudged with yours.
Up all night, I won't quit
Thinking I'm gonna steal you from him
She would've given you another kiss but alas the car finally arrived to pick the two of you up.
I could be such a gentleman
Plus all my clothes would fit
Velvette snapped her fingers for the chauffeur to open the car for the two of you to get in.
I could be a better boyfriend than him
I could be a better boyfriend
She motioned for you to get in first before going in after you, the chauffeur closing the door after the two of you.
I never would have left you alone
Here on your own, glued to your phone
Never would have left you alone
You felt her hand rest on your thigh, her nails gently tracing it, she scrolled through her phone with her free hand.
For someone else to take you home
I could be a better boyfriend than him
I could do the shit that he never did
Up all night, I won't quit
You gently leaned into her side, cuddling up to her, you could see just a trace of a smile forming on her face.
I'm gonna steal you from him
I could be such a gentleman
Plus you know my clothes would fit
You watched as she moved closer to you, moving her phone to be in view of both of you as you watched sinstagram reels on her phone.
I could be a better boyfriend than him
I could do the shit that he never did
It was nice, who knew having your date ditch you would end up like this?
Up all night, I won't quit
Thinking I'm gonna steal you from him
You wondered how this would end, with you waking up alone in her bed in the morning or moments like this becoming a regular occurrence.
I could be such a gentleman
Plus all my clothes would fit
As you would find out the next morning, when you woke up in her bed, it was both
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Good evenin' folks! I do hope you liked this little drabble of mine! Christmas is coming up quickly! I'm finishing up Christmas Eve + Christmas day's fics and also the Christmas gifts for my friends and family, as always thank you for tunin' on in and I hope you have a wonderful rest of your night!
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calissarowan · 2 days ago
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how do you think the wizards would interact with the other villains? I esp need to know how they would get along (or not) with selina
Alrighty! Let’s do this!
Icy: The Trix come as individuals. It bugs me when they get judged as a group. She and Ogron would butt heads right away. They both want to destroy the Winx, or whatever it is they’re doing, but they don’t want to do it together. If either one tries to start saying something to do with a plan, the other will cut them off. In the end, it devolves into insults and name calling. Anagan just has to calm Ogron down and mediate. He’s probably unsuccessful. She and Gantlos get along fine; if they’re teaming up, then they find that their powers work well together. Icy creates ice walls, and Gantlos shatters them to fire the shards at their enemies. Duman’s just helping Ogron argue. And following Icy around with a hairdryer until he winds up as a popsicle for an hour.
Darcy: Gantlos doesn’t trust this woman as far as he can throw a planet. He’s strong, he can throw most things a long way, had to go for a planet to make the saying work. She’s far too manipulative, and he doesn’t want her near him and his friends. She finds him frustrating because he just sees through all her manipulations. She and Anagan are both kinda flirty, so I think they’d get along okay, and probably banter back and forth quite a bit. She’s trying to manipulate him, he’s just having fun. She and Ogron are both trying to play the other, but actually get along pretty well when they have to take someone else down. Duman thinks it’ll be funny to screw with the queen of illusions, so he shifts into Icy for a day to find out all of Darcy’s secrets, and she’s ready to kill him when she finds out, but then realises these powers are actually pretty useful, and she won’t kill him if he’ll use them to help her screw with people.
Stormy: Thinks all of the wizards are kinda pathetic, frankly. The fact that they ran from so many of their fights…ugh, it makes her sick. They weren’t overpowered, they just left when they could have destroyed the Winx. It’s disappointing. Though she gives them props for the plan where they set the building on fire, that was badass. She’s only gonna listen to Icy, Ogron doesn’t get to try and boss her around, so if he tries, she will zap him. Eventually it just turns into her electrifying everything he touches and giving him static shocks, mostly because it’s funny. Duman knows, but doesn’t say anything because he also thinks it’s funny. He and Stormy get along pretty well, they like messing with the Winx, and she and Gantlos just break everything together. She thinks Anagan is boring, because he’s quite calm and doesn’t really do much, or lose it that easily, and she thinks a bad guy should have a much hotter temper and if your job on the team is to keep everyone calm, do you really need to be on it? So she ignores him, or tries to provoke him into snapping, because she wants to see that.
Darkar: He thinks the wizards are…fine. Not the greatest evil to come from his darkness, but has to give them credit for making Earth so miserable. He’d likely command them all immediately, which would tick Ogron off, because he’s the leader, not a bird insect bird man, but Darkar would have him aware of the power dynamic very quickly, and the wizards would serve him. Gantlos would be annoyed about being ordered around, probably start a fight, and Anagan is just trying not to rock the boat. Duman’s impressed with this guy’s power and his aesthetics, and wondering what he could do with them, while Ogron’s trying to take cues from the source of all evil so he can finally end his enemies. Maybe Darkar shows them how to be better villains, and helps them to overcome their remaining humanity, the compassion or care that keeps them from achieving their goals. They’d all be conflicted about that, because they’re evil, but they’re shades of grey rather than black and white, and so maybe in the end they forgo his teachings and have to give up evil in order to escape him.
Valtor: @devilheartsblog has a really cool au where the wizards wind up working for Valtor which I totally love, actually! I just thought I’d bring that up. Now…he and Ogron would definitely be competitive with each other, since they both sorta see themselves as the best (and the most dramatic). Valtor repeatedly hits Ogron with the argument that he almost took over the universe, while Ogron couldn’t take the wings from an untrained teenager. Valtor would also very much like to be in charge, and Ogron would very much like it if he was not, so there’s plenty of arguing over leadership. Anagan and him get along fine, but Anagan isn’t letting him try to edge out Ogron. Gantlos…kinda secretly thinks maybe Valtor might be good at leading? Just that their last plans have crashed and burned so much. Though they’d clash in a fight because Valtor wants to do this with finesse and thinking it through and Gantlos wants to punch everyone until the problem is solved. And Valtor just can’t with Duman, this man is too much for him, just leave him alone. In response Duman messes with him as much as humanly possible. He’s not his friend, he owes him no maturity.
Tritannus: I am not great with Tritannus, but I know someone who is, so I hope it’s okay, but I put this question to @tritannus, and here is his take: He would probably be closed off towards the wizards, refusing to even give them any glance mainly due to his experience with older male figures, mainly his father. He slowly warms up to Anagan first, being the most approachable. Duman might be next, but Tritannus would hate him sometimes whenever Duman taunts him with his mutant form. Gantlos is probably the third. It was clear Gantlos is kind of a protector for his friends in a sort of way. If they ever met, Tritannus would not want to even look at him, believing he would be the exactly the same as Neptune. To his surprise, anytime the wizard talked, he would open up without doubting. He probably would hate Ogron the most. Ogron has a plan for the Earth fairies, he somewhat refuses to listen to the other wizards, especially Gantlos (taken from canon episode ideas). He might just take up Duman’s offer in pranking the redhead.
Selina: Ogron likes this one. She’s smart, she’s got strong magic, and she’s pretty ruthless. Immediate student and mentor energy. He wants to know everything about her book, and she wants to know every dark spell he’s got. She’s heard all about them from Eldora, so she already thinks they’re cool, but she finds out that the stories of them being heartless and pure evil are kinda bull***t, and they do care about each other, and about her. She and Gantlos have some issues when he tries to teach her how to use her powers for brute force, since she prefers manipulating and tricking and sending her creatures to fight, and Gantlos dislikes the idea of hiding behind monsters, and thinks she has to be able to hold her own in a real fight. She and Duman screw with the Winx together, and she shows him new creatures he can shift into, and Anagan listens to her about all the problems that brought her to evil, like Bloom, and being pressured to be a fairy when she’s always been a witch.
Kalshara: All the wizards: “Who the hell is this sad Duman ripoff?” They have to admit she has a few decent moments, but they can all agree, she’s a disappointment. She can only turn into a few things, can’t even mask that it’s her, and Gantlos thinks she’s a coward for repeatedly hiding behind her brother and his magic rather than just time travelling for herself. Duman challenges her to a shapeshifting competition and wings two minutes in, Ogron tries to fix her Allan but gives up and Anagan is the only one actually being cordial. He still kinda thinks she sucks, though. And Kalshara actually also thinks they suck, because they couldn’t steal the wings from a kid, and they got frozen in Omega.
Brafillius: The sentiment from everyone is just…how has this guy stayed alive this long? He’s just something of an idiot, but his magic is surprisingly powerful. Ogron just ignores him because he can’t listen to him blather, and Gantlos and Anagan actually feel kinda bad for the guy, he just gets ignored and degraded repeatedly, despite having come through with actual results a few times. Gantlos tells him to just ditch Kalshara and do his own thing, trap the Winx in that hat of his, and Anagan gets the feeling he’s mostly just being evil for his sister, so tells him he doesn’t have to do this. Brafillius likes Gantlos and Duman the best, because they just kinda just…do whatever they want, and they get results and he wants to do that. He wants Ogron’s approval, since he blatantly dislikes him so much, but Ogron still thinks this is an idiot with a dumb hat, he’s avoiding that at all costs.
Obscurum: …I don’t have much for him, honestly, but here we go. He likes to act like he’s above them, and the wizards all just think this is a tiny weirdo with stupidly-named creatures. Duman takes hordes of Star Yummies to mess around with, then realises Obscurum, despite being tiny and kinda bad at naming stuff, is actually quite dangerous. Ogron is jealous this guy also has dark vortexes and teleportation, and Obscurum is a lot less meek with them than they’d expected. He’s like that with Valtor; to anyone else, he’s the servant of freakin’ Valtor! He’s the best! These guys should be bowing down and hoping his master doesn’t obliterate them!
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mblue-art · 2 months ago
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out w these tall clowns 🌲🌸
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oklotea · 1 year ago
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Sooooo I haven't moved on from the trolls world tour bounty hunters.
The reggaeton trolls and their really cool designs and music....
Hickory and Dickory's entire thing with playing the long haul in trying to get close to poppy to steal her string.......
THE KPOP TROLLS AND THEIR MISSED POTENTIAL AND AND THEIR DESIGNS AND THEY'RE REALLY CUTE AND LOVELY
And CHAZ THE FUCKING SMOOTH JAZZ TROLL!??!??!??!?! need I say more. I mean just look at him.
I am going to start. A fandom. Surrounding these guys. Just watch me.
They are so silly and I love them
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dbphantom · 6 months ago
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Hate having adhd went to go work on my fallout modpack, got distracted while going to disable the steam overlay, ended up in the points shop, went to go edit my profile, decided to change my pfp, found a buried folder I forgot existed, found some old Veneer art I forgot existed, spent 45 minutes looking at all the old photos, STILL HAVE NOT TOGGLED ONE SIMPLE OPTION THAT SHOULD'VE TAKEN 30 SECONDS AT MOST
#I'm shocked I have these drawings scanned on my pc I don't remember doing that I must've done it before I left in case my mom threw all my#Art out again#Anyway at age 12 I was writing a better '3 merpeople go on land to find a 4th one that has been disguised as a human all his life' story#Than Ma/ko Merm/aids EVER did so uh. Take that Jonathan#God it sucks so bad that kid me would've LOVED MM if it just DIDN'T HAVE THE STUPID GENDER WAR BULLSHIT#Literally the entire first and second season is just. So fucking stupid. I wrote a God damn essay about how they fumbled Erik's story SO BAD#I don't even LIKE Erik BUT THEY DID HIM SO DIRTY#THE CHARACTER POTENTIAL AND WRITING COULD'VE BEEN BETTER THAN ZANE B. S1 OF H2O BUT THEY THREW IT AWAY AND FOR WHAT!!!!!!!#Seriously you're telling me a kid who was abandoned his entire life for being male didn't have a bigger impact on the pod than FUCKING ZAK?#That plot twist of 'oh actually Zak was a merman all along' was 100% so they could guilt free write Erik out#Instead of like. Having him face his actions or redeem himself in like. Any way. He just fucks off. THEN the pod is like lol Zac were sorry#We're sorry for literally not doing anything to you because you were privledged enough to have a mother who was super ultra powerful#So you were never really affected by our actions until JUST now. Unlike that other fuckface Erik who suffered his whole life alone#Also then in s3 there are STILL no mermen in the pod. Not even little mermen babies. No kids and teens they've welcomed back n apologized to#NOTHING#God. Mm pisses me off dude#AND I STILL HAVENT TOGGLED THAT FUCKING OPTIONS AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH#Cruddy rambles#God I'm not done I'm sorry fallout can wait YOU ARE TELLING ME THE GUY WHO TELLS US HOW SHITTY MERMAN BABIES R TREATED BY THE POD. IS NOT#THE SAME ONE THE POD APOLOGIZES TO IN THE SEASON FINALE BECAUSE THEY WROTE IN A SHITTY PLOT TWIST?#AUUUUUUUHHHHGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG#It's so bad. It's so fucking bad. It's so needlessly gendered and for what. They could've just had 2 rival warring pods#What pisses me off the most is that s3 (4) completely pivots and never really follows thru with the s1 and 2 story arcs#The writers just kinda wash thsir hands of that because 'hey the pod said sorry to zac' BUT THEN NOTHING ACTUALLY CHANGES!!!!#Maybe instead of having a constantly rotating cast of characters s3 (4) could've instead focused on Ondina and Erik's relationship a bit#Maybe have Ondina tell him she wants to just stay friends because she can't trust him. Have him IDK grow and change as a character?#Maybe so you can show kids nobody is born evil and we all need support systems and healthy relationships to grow and become better people??#THAT would've been a GOOD FOLLOW THROUGH#But no instead u just write him out of the show and never show any OTHER mermen who were exiled being welcomed back#Like u had Ondina becoming a teacher... Why not have Zac become a teacher for all the new mermen who were just recently welcomed back??
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tacticalthaumaturge · 6 months ago
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I'm starting to see seemingly unironic posts to the tune of "Biden's useless because he's not taking advantage of the 7/1/24 presidential immunity decision to persecute his political enemies" and
Is that *really* the hill the tumblr left wants to die on? Is it really? That authoritarianism is good, actually, as long as its one of "our guys" doing it?
All I'm saying is that if we're gonna clown (because we gotta process somehow), just be mindful of Poe's Law. And if you're being serious here... the idea that unchecked power is a good thing, actually, is one I don't see compatible with a pluralistic society, and I'm curious why you think it is.
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longagoitwastuesday · 3 months ago
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I actually like the last chapter. I think the ideas are very good. I have my qualms on how some things were managed, as I always do, but I think shonen authors get tangled in the expectations of a shonen to the point it jeopardises their writing, often even when they're not lacking in skills
#I think the nothingness‚ the absence‚ the moving on despite everything‚... is a good if heartbreaking idea#and we do see snippets of it throughout the entire manga‚ yet I think it is mostly lacking in execution#I like the quiet ways in which we see the characters mourn. How Megumi laughs at the letter‚#how Shoko muses about how Satoru should have let her take care of Geto's body‚ the faint smile when Megumi agrees‚#how Shoko quits smoking again‚ Yuuji giving this person hope and a second chance‚ making a reference to him not being executed‚#and giving Sukuna too a chance for him to take one day a different path#All those are very good ideas and all those are very moving quiet ways of grieving. But. It feels in general so lacking#There's so much of everything else in contrast‚ even things that have way less importance narratively than this most of the time‚#that it feels lacking. Especially with how one has to dig to find these things. There's so much that could have been done with the same idea#And done so much better. But the idea is good. The absences are good. The quiet presences are good.The nothingness is good if bitter and sad#But it could have been written better#I also think this ending with Yuuji apparently knowing about Sukuna‚ his lies‚ his little hint of softness‚ the potential second path‚...#makes even more believable why he'd try at all to offer him a second chance. And I love that Yuuji knows him and I love that he still...#leaves the door open for that second chance to occur at some point. Trusting that Sukuna would walk that other path next time#And I love that without openly acknowledging Gojo he demonstrates that he hasn't forgotten him in his acting#How he gives that guy a second chance‚ how he jokes about him not getting executed‚ how he wants to make sure people‚ 'problem children'‚#don't get left behind. He doesn't mimick Gojo in his power but in this flippant but caring aspect and thus he's not forgotten#I do like this. It's heartbreaking. Gojo's desire to be forgotten is bittersweet as it's in a way a desire for... normalcy and humanity#To be surpassed. It goes well with how Gege says Gojo can do anything and thus why he does nothing‚ not even hobbies‚#to leave something for the future generations and not being another wall in their achievements#Gojo's desire to be forgotten is in line with the constancy of his writing when it comes to being drunk on his status#and yet resentful of his loneliness. It's a mix of being left behind and not being left behind#For being left behind and forgotten would mean he is more like the rest. Just another step forwards#And he'd have done what he wanted to achieve. Sorcerers can't stop a long while to grieve but Yuuji takes his words and actions#into consideration and steps forwards. Does the same. Fulfills Gojo's expectations. Walks towards the future. And that's the legacy Gojo#wanted and not going down in history as a legend or the strongest. He was just a teacher. Like Yaga was. He was not even the principal#Just a teacher. His role‚ the role he chose for himself‚ has been fulfilled. Now all this could have done way better#Something of Yuta and Megumi given their dynamics with Gojo would have been good. But I guess Gojo's 'at least one' works well#with Yuuji being the one doing the work. Yuuji was also ontologically alienated since birth and still he too remained cheerful and flippant#despite being so lonely so I guess the final parallel is intentional. But it could have been managed better still. The idea is good though
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carcarrot · 1 year ago
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i did tell you people i met a they might be giant right.
#I DONT THINK I DIDDDDDD like an insane person i left out one of the most bonkers moments of my california vacation#saying it now makes it seem like im making this up and the following story will seem made up but dude just trust me.#im fucking. ok sunday morning the morning of Thee Concert and i (used to waking up at 4-5 am) have been awake on and off since like 6 am#my friend? asleep.#now i enjoy waking up and falling back asleep for a couple of hours however by like 9:30 im starving i need BREAKFAST#like the very nice friend that i am i dont wake my friend up i let him sleep and leave him a message on my open laptop screen#because the fucking hotel room doesnt have a pad of paper?? so i leave my modern post it note of a message#saying that im going out for croissants and coffee#because im an idiot i severely misjudge how hot it's already gotten in los angeles in july#ive chosen to wear jeans (bad idea) and a long sleeve flowy black shirt (worse idea)#i also dont look my Greatest because my friend had been telling me dont wash ur hair before we curl it for the concert!!!#so this is my hair after flying in and everything the day before (It Needs To Be Washed)#im following google maps to the coffee place as i brave the streets of los angeles on a sunday morning#hollywood boulevard around the chinese theatre is insane btw. insane. but being from new york i am unfazed (well. a little fazed)#i am Sweating. its already gotta be 80 degrees. im also reaching critical hunger levels. but i continue on my journey#google maps leads me down a sidestreet and tells me to turn down some alley and im like well thats not right.#so i turn to go back the way i was headed and find another way to get to the coffee place#as i turn and head back up theres a guy going down this same block heading in my direction#i look at him and im like hey that guy kinda looks like oh my god it actually is him. mr john l of tmbg fame#and so i have a split second decision of like do i sayyyyyy something do i just ignore him while geeking out#somehow i decide to be bold and im just like gdjgmm hi excuse me i recognize you uh do you mind if i could get a photo#he was very nice and suggested we move into the shade and i took the photo trying to turn off google maps before i did#and i was like aa im seeing you in concert 2nite love your music thank u! and we went on our way.#i think i kinda like. stopped for a moment before i went on to the cafe and was like. that just happened??????? insane. but it gets better#i do finally get the coffees n croissants btw and get back to the hotel after melting in the heat#and my friend who likes tmbg better was losing his mind once i finally told him#so the following morning after our spars concert insanity we have breakfast at a diner and then head back to our hotel#and he's wearing a tmbg shirt he got and im in a spars shirt and as we're walking back a car horn honks near us#AND ITS BOTH THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS IN A CAR and they say hi and are like we like your shirts!#and my friend and i are like losing it but trying to be cool and like oh thabk you we loved your show hi! so theres my insane story
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