#And hate is definitely one of those things

[calla-lily-flower]

I'm not usually one to make a callout blog, but I don't think it's right to be silent any longer. I'd also like to say that I have no problem with tracing so long as it's transformative enough that no one can tell it's traced.

However, this artist is steadily gaining popularity in the Bloodweave fandom and the more I think about it, the more uncomfortable I get with the fact that this artist is popular. Why? Because they're tracing stock images and still frames from films, and instead of acknowledging this, they're passing off this work as their own original ideas. I know the correct thing to do would be to notify this artist before I go public with this information, but based on my interactions with this artist, along seeing other people's interactions with this artist, I do not think this is appropriate. This artist has a lot of friends who are also quite popular in the Bloodweave community, which is why I'm doing this on a burner account and not my actual account.

A few words of advice: to the artist's friends, if you dismiss this as drama, I will assume that you have not read this piece in full. I would like to restate I do not take this post lightly. If this was a one time thing, I would ignore it. However, this is not a one time thing, and you are tarnishing your own work by hanging around this artist. To the artist: you cannot delete your work to hide, as I have already saved the pieces to the Internet Archive. The internet is forever, my love. To both the artist and their friends: my understanding is that there are tensions between you and some other members of the Bloodweave community. I am not associated or affiliated with those members. I am a third party who became concerned once I saw this first picture, and things escalated from there. Similar to the drama comment above, if you associate this with the people you have friction with, I'll assume you haven't read the post.

Without further ado, here we go.

The artist I'm referring to is calolily. I hate that I have to make this post, because I was a fan of their work for a long time. However, in March, calolily posted this image:

As a certified horse girl, this image threw me off. For those of you who don't get what I'm saying, the issue is with the bit: the metal thing that goes in a horse's mouth. On a horse, it goes in towards the middle of their mouth, behind their incisors (which are the teeth you can see when a horse opens their mouth) into their interdental space, which is basically a long stretch of gum that's in front of the horse's molars. A good fitting bit should not be uncomfortable for a horse. However, this is where calolily has it positioned:

Right in front of the horse's incisors. Ignoring that there's no way the bit would stay in the horse's mouth at that point, if the bit was there, that would be a very unhappy horse. That bottom part is where some (not all, as most reins should sit at the bit) reins would sit.

Despite that, I didn't think the image was traced at first. I know bridles can be hard to draw, so I ignored it. That is, until I was looking for references images for my own piece of cowboy artwork, and found this:

You don't see the similarities? That's all right, I'll help you:

Now I'll admit, at first I didn't get too freaked out by this. Horses are a bitch to draw, so I'm not going to blame someone if they need help getting them done. Was I a little annoyed that calolily didn't say that they traced? Sure, but I thought it was a one-off.

That is, until I saw this:

The left image is calolily's drawing of Gale from their professor AU. The right image is a still from the movie "We Don't Live Here Anymore." Once again, I'm providing a side by side alongside an overlay.

(I am so bad at overlays, but I hope you see the point I'm trying to make.)

It's one thing to copy a picture from a stock artist. It's a little scummy, yes. It's definitely copyright infringement, but people turn a blind eye to it if you're a hobbyist. Copying a still from a movie without crediting it? Only making light changes, like swapping out the watch for a wedding ring and adding a periodic table to the background? Not okay. That's someone else's art you're taking away from them.

But it's whatever, right? It's not like calolily's making money off this, right?

Right???

The left image is a print from calolily's Inprnt page. There's a sale on right now, so you can purchase prints range from $6 (regular $8) to $78.75 (regular $105). The right image is a bondage ad.

I'm not going to point out the similarities on this one. I'm sure you can see how the arms and hands are positioned in the same way, how the only change is making the picture more "Gale" like. I've never purchased calolily's work, but if I was interested in purchasing a commission from them, I'd be worried. Would I get an original piece or would I get a traced bondage ad? Who knows.

Maybe this is a recent development though. Maybe calolily got inundated with requests and, not wanting to let their fans down, decided to take some shortcuts to keep their fans happy.

Ha.

On April 19th, calolily posted an "art improvement" post. Perhaps the improved post was traced, but surely the before was--oh, it was traced too? Alright then. The worst part is that this tracing was not from a movie or one of those giant stock image sites or even an ad. This one was from an independent stock photographer named Rob Lang, and as far as I can tell, he hasn't been licensed out to another stock site. He's freelance.

Unless this drawing was made in the past week, I'm going to assume that tracing has been a long time thing with calolily.

I don't get it. If they'd hidden some of the minor details like the shirt folds and the finger positions, I don't think anyone would've noticed. Hell, I didn't notice until I realized there was something wrong with that horse drawing. And I have zero doubt there's more. What's the old saying? Once is a mistake, twice is a habit? Seems like calolily's been on this habit for a while then.

I know some of you are going to brush this off as this not mattering because it's just stock images or that everyone traces, but the thing is, do you trace as noticeably as this? I don't think you do. And these are all someone's hard work they're passing off as their own, even the bondage ad, even the stock images, and I don't think that's right.

Where do we go from here? I have answers for two different groups of people.

For calolily's friends: Don't defend them. All of you are artists yourselves and surely none of you would do anything this blatant. If you still want to associate with calolily, then hold them accountable. Make sure they don't do this again. If you want to stop associating with them, then explain why. Don't be unnecessarily cruel, but be honest. If you were duped alongside the rest of us, post screenshots and get captures of any images you suspect are traced (because I know there are more) before calolily deletes them.

For calolily: Don't delete. Like I said, the internet is forever. Don't lie either. I know your favorite excuse is that you were an animator so you can draw from reference really fast, but does that explain the same shirt folds? The same finger positions? It doesn't. Instead, I recommend you come clean about all the pictures you traced and provide either links or pictures of them. Apologize to your fans. Apologize to the people you've hurt, because you've hurt a lot of them. Strive to do better.

Don't be a James Somerton.

And know this: if you try and hide this, know that it'll keep coming back. I think it'd be better to come clean now, don't you?

[harpsicalbiobug]

Click on the thing up top that says "comment" - yeah I had trouble finding it too. Crtl F comment if that helps.

I wrote some embarrassing horseshit

"Imagine, if you would, saying that a person pausing to take a deep breath, and hold it, is in fact dead. They are lacking a “continuous surface connection” and are therefore unprotected, and outside of any protection of being alive, because their lungs are not moving air for a single second. Maybe it's just sitting there, doing completely known processes like "air exchange" that seems kinda lazy if you don't understand anything. Imagine that you could ignore this person's breath moving through the day, the year of work they give, the family they support, the land the manage. I hope that you, reader, pause, and take that deep breath. Hold it for one second. As you exhaled, I would reckon you alive and well. This change would reckon you dead.

Fresh water is rare. Fresh water is valuable. Fresh water deserves our actual attention. If you want to know what flow regime, duration, and seasonality should inform a definition of “relatively permanent” - speak to people who work in those watersheds. Understand big water landscapes and little water landscapes.

I am a stakeholder in this regulatory change. I object to the proposed change. I don't hate children, so I hope they have a whole, robust, strong, water network. I oppose this change."

They're wanting to change the definition of water to see which water would qualify under the Clean Water Act...I wish I was making this up.

What this means, in layman's terms, is that not all water or wetlands would be under environmental protections, so some could legally be dumped in, scraped out of, or otherwise harmed.

The comment period for this is pretty short (just a few days left!) so please submit comments asking for ALL water to be protected.

[mannequinswithkillappeal]

some more scraps

[really-fanny-longbottom]

i hate that i love you

reader x azriel | they were once best friends and almost something more, but now they are enemies with a burning, unresolved desire—they promised to never cross the line that they drew, but one night it’s all it takes to forget that promise.

warnings: suggestive language, smut & curse words.

words: 5.7k

a/n: i decided to try something different, it was my first time writing something like this, so, i hope i did well.

masterlist

hate—a feeling of intense animosity, aversion, or disgust toward something or someone.

the perfect definition to describe the relationship with the person you hate most in this world.

the male known throughout the entire territorial expanse of prythian.

the male known by many names and titles.

the male that many fear but that you have to restrain yourself from punching every time you see him.

the male that irritates you as easily as he snaps his fingers and that makes your blood boil like water in a kettle.

azriel.

the infamous shadowsinger.

the relentless spymaster of the night court.

one of the most famous illyria's bastards.

who else could it be? 

everyone who knew you, or had heard whispers of your name, knew that you and azriel were opposites of each other.

where one was, the other could not be.

and if you both happened to be together in the same space, screams, insults, and fists were to be expected. 

it was rare the moments when you two went from verbal to physical but never impossible.

the members of the inner circle—rhysand, cassian, morrigan and amren—were witnesses to such a fact.

in fact, the first three had been the witnesses to the downfall of your relationship with azriel, because yes, you weren't always enemies.

no, you had been friends—best friends—in times that were now unknown, that were now covered by a fog between reality and imagination. 

you and azriel had hated each other for so long now, that your family wasn’t really sure if there was ever a time where you two had actually got along. 

four hundred years had passed.

four hundred years of pure hatred, resentment, anger and brutal animosity.

and to this day, none of them had any idea of what had happened between you—not even a clue of what might have happened, much less a theory of what really happened.

you had been inseparable. your relationship had been the envy of many who wished the same—a loyalty, trust, respect and affection like no other.

cassian and rhysand went as far as to make bets on when the two of you would finally give in, put your stubbornness aside and assume your feelings for each other.

the three friends were absolutely certain that you were destined for each other and that there was no way you would not end up together. 

but it seems that fate had other plans.

from one day to the next, just a few hours apart, in a matter of a second, everything changed. 

the sparkle in your eyes that was reserved only for azriel faded, and the smile that azriel had unlocked from his coldness and indifference meant only for you, disappeared.

over the years, the inner circle tried to reconcile you, hoping that you could put the past where it belonged and start over.

several plans were put into action, one attempt after another, but always without success.

it came very close to the desired result on many occasions, but it simply never happened.

despite everything, all the conversations, all the attempts, the two of you were never able to forget whatever had happened.

you and him would never be the same again.

and so, the inner circle stopped trying. 

but things were different now. 

everything had changed after the fall of amarantha and the liberation of prythian from her clutches.

new people had entered your lives, new alliances had been formed, and a rebuilding of a new world had begun.

but those weren’t the only changes that had occurred.

your relationship with azriel had also changed—much to your displeasure and surprise.

after all, you were no longer just enemies bound by a past.

you were now bound for the rest of your lives by a golden thread around your hearts that extended to the heart of the other.

mates. 

funny how fate works, huh?

••• 

the living room was quiet, except for the sound of the cups of tea. 

and of course, the screams coming from upstairs—your screams and azriel’s.

rhysand sipped from his teacup, sitting next to feyre who was swirling the spoon to mix honey into her tea with cassian in front of him eating a cookie while nesta tried to read a book.

rhysand sighed and ran a hand over his face, “it’s going to be a long night.”

feyre looked between cassian and rhysand, placing her teacup on the small coffee table to take a freshly baked cookie from the platter, “what exactly happened?” 

cassian answered her, his beard slightly stained with cookie crumbs. “they’re arguing about the mission. they both had different ideas about how to act and the mission ended up failing, now they blame each other.”

“you shouldn’t have sent them together,” nesta said, closing her book and holding it in her lap. 

“i know, but i had no choice, they were the only ones qualified for this mission.” rhysand defended himself, taking another sip of his tea.

before any of them could speak again, the sound of a door closing and locking echoed throughout the house, making the contents of the cups rattle. 

a minute of silence followed, all eyes fixed on the ceiling of the living room as if waiting for something.

“it seems like it’s over,” feyre whispered, as if afraid of breaking the peace that had been offered to them.

a peace that didn’t last long, because soon after they heard loud knocks on the door, followed by the calling of your name. 

“here we go again,” cassian said, biting his cookie.

••• 

firm, loud knocks sounded on your bedroom door, followed by a voice full of frustration and anger “let me in.” 

it was an order, you could tell by his tone, which only made you even more irritated.

“fuck you,” you replied back, as you finished unpacking your backpack and putting your clothes in their proper drawers.

the mission had been a fiasco and the last thing you wanted now was to continue this argument that seemed to have no end.

your blood was already boiling hot, a little push and things would be taking a very different direction. 

he knocked harder on the door, the wood creaking with the action. if that wasn’t proof of how angry he was too, his next response was.

“open the fucking door.”

“no.”

a firm and low whisper of your name escaped between his lips as a form of warning “i will barge through this door if you don’t open it right now.” 

you scoffed at his words, rolling your eyes at him even though he couldn't see you, “i'm sorry, i don't remember asking you anything.”

you didn't need your fae hearing to hear the growl he gave, you could feel his temper rising right through the door. 

he stopped knocking and you heard him turn the doorknob in hopes of opening the door, which brought a smirk to your face.

“idiot,” you whispered, your eyes on the t-shirt you were folding.

“i heard that,” a particularly loud knock landed on the door, which only caused your smirk to widen even more.

“good, that’s a sign that your old age isn’t catching up with you.”

a second whisper of your name reached your ears and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes a second time. 

“go bother someone else,” you said, your voice a little louder than usual, a sign that your patience was starting to wear thin.

“you're my mate. you're enough for now.” 

you stopped your movements and closed your eyes.

mate.

that word.

that damned, damned, damned word. 

such a small word but that it was enough to awaken the bond.

and just like that, all of your walls were down and you and azriel were one.

there was no line where you began and he ended.

the bond was strong enough to make you feel things that took all your willpower to keep from happening. 

but there were times you just couldn't resist to act on it, and this moment, was one of those times.

you left the rest of your clothes unfolded and headed towards the door before turning the key and unlocking it.

you could only hope that you were only opening the door to your bedroom for the male and not the doors to your heart. 

as you returned to your previous position, grabbing all the unfolded clothes and discarding it on the desk chair, the door to your bedroom opened.

azriel swung the door open, stepping inside the bedroom before shutting it behind him.

he leaned against it, bringing his arms to cross over his chest. his eyes darkened at the sight of you.

you were, now, standing at the foot of your bed, in just a pair of black lacy panties and a t-shirt that was about two inches down your belly button.

his expression softened slightly, making his anger falter for a second before, “when i tell you to do something, you do it. it's not a request.”

you had to bite your tongue to keep you from snapping at him. 

you knew he was talking about the mission—again—and you, at this point, were more than fed up with that talk, so, you weren't going to continue to fuel that discussion. 

you turned to him, your eyes meeting his, “excuse me? say that again and my hand will be on your face faster than you can pronounce the word ‘mommy’.” 

azriel pushed himself off the door and walked towards you, he now wore a smirk on his face caused by your words. 

“go ahead, love. i won’t stop you,” he said, his tone dripping with that arrogant confidence of his, “even though you’re just all talk, you and i both know you don’t have the guts to lay a finger on me.”

the corners of your lips rose, and you studied him as he got closer and closer to you, his eyes sliding over your figure.

you took advantage of his brief moment of distraction to stretch your arm behind you towards the bag before grabbing your favorite object, the one that could describe you in the best way—brilliant and lethal.

one moment the male's eyes were on your legs, and then they were on the blade of the dagger that was now pressed against the skin of his neck, the cold material contrasting with his warm skin.

"are you sure about that, shadowsinger?" your smirk remained intact as you studied his reaction.

your smirk turned into a full grin, a hint of amusement in your eyes, “what’s wrong, baby? cat got your tongue?”

just like your smirk, azriel's also changed, his eyes taking on the same amusement as yours and when he took a step back, you took a step forward.

“you don’t look very threatening right now, love.” his hand found your hip, but somehow, to his surprise, you didn't push it away.

he took the chance to slide his hand under your small shirt to rest in the same place as before, but with his scarred hand now touching your soft skin.

“i’m not your ‘love’.” you said, the tip of your dagger pressing a little harder against his skin.

as a reflex, azriel lifted his chin to give you better access, his smile still in place, “you almost had me, love. but you are definitely giving me ‘bad girl on the outside but sweet girl on the inside’ sort of vibes.” 

you couldn't help but laugh, your eyes now shining with amusement at your banter “do you want to know what kind of vibes you give me?”

you continued to walk in sync, one step back and another forward until the male's back hit the wall, him resting his back against the surface at the same time his hand gave your hip a light squeeze.

“hm, do tell me, love.”

you leaned forward, just enough so that your chests were a few inches from touching and your voice lowered two tenths, your tone now low and sensual “small dick vibes.”

his smirk fell from his face, he clenched his jaw and his hand on your hip pulled you to stand closer to him while his free hand reached up slowly to wrap around your hand that was still holding the dagger against his skin “care to repeat that, love?”

you took another step towards him, your smirk never faltering for a second, “small dick vibes.”

he looked at you with a sharp gaze before his face turned into a smug expression, a grin forming on his lips as he tugged you closer to him and his voice dropping to almost a whisper, “hm, you want to find out just how big it is?”

his smile grew when this time, it was your smile that disappeared and something unknown shone in your eyes.

suddenly, your breathing become heavier and your heartbeat faster.

the mating bond playing its role in perfection at the worst of times.

“no. . . ” you managed to say after a long moment of silence in which you just stared into his hazel eyes.

azriel’s hand let go of your hand that was holding the sparkling object and reached out to touch you, pushing your hair behind your shoulder and then fitting it on your neck.

“your lips say no, but your body says a different answer.”

you snapped out of the trance you were in, all reactions due to his proximity, before pushing him against the wall and shaking his hands off you, “get off me.” 

he let you push him against the wall, placing his hands at his sides for support. a hint of irritation invaded his eyes while maintaining eye contact with you the entire time.

“are you going to use that dagger then, love? or are you just going to use your pretty little hands instead?”

when you didn’t respond back, his grin grew and he tilted his head down so his eyes were level with yours, and he spoke softly, in a tone of arrogance and sensuality, “or maybe you just want to use your pretty little mouth.”

the room was invaded by a loud noise as the palm of your hand made contact with his skin, causing his head to spin completely to the side with the impact.

“asshole,” you said, your voice almost a shout, as you watched his cheek turn red from your hard slap. 

he kept his head turned to the side for a moment as the room fell silent before slowly turning it back to you. 

his gaze was hard and his voice sharp when he spoke next, “gods, i fucking hate you,” he said before crashing his lips in yours.

•••

once again, all eyes were on the living room ceiling.

the family members were trying to detect any sounding—a scream, a slap, furniture breaking, anything.

but they found nothing.

complete silence.

slowly they lowered their hands to look at each others. 

“it's. . .quiet,” feyre said.

“that's. . .unusual, and concerning.” rhysand added, looking at cassian. 

“what do you think they're doing upstairs?” cassian asked, looking between the three of them.

“honestly,” nesta said, opening her book again and starting to read “probably killing each other.” 

•••

azriel’s hand slide to the back of your neck before gripping it firmly and pulling you against him, capturing your lips in a hard, demanding kiss, desperate to shut you up.

you didn’t waste a second in kissing him back, your hand dropping the dagger at your feet to find his face. 

his hand on your neck joined his free hand and both slid down to your ass, squeezing it for a moment, before sliding to the back of your thighs and lifting you off the ground.

your legs encircled his waist, a gesture that felt so natural, as if they had always belonged there.

azriel reversed your positions, now pressing you against the wall. he deepened the kiss, his hands returning to your ass holding you in place and drawing a gasp from you.

in turn, your hands left his face and traveled to his shoulders, your fists closing around the fabric of his shirt and pulling it up.

the male grinned at your action and broke the kiss, his lips an inch apart as he spoke with his breath against your face “do you want me that bad, love?”

“shut the fuck up,” you demanded, not wasting time in crashing your lips against his once more.

but soon enough, azriel was pulling back again, “just admit it. admit it, you’re that desperate for me.”

he seriously needed to start reading the room better because this was definitely not the time to be with this lameness.

you grabbed his jaw, your hand pulling him closer to you, “azriel,” your tone was almost lethal, leaving no room for argument, “you either shut up and fuck me or you leave.”

 he went still for a moment, his breathing heavy with his eyes roaming your eyes and lips. 

“you’re so irritating,” he pulled off the wall and soon, your back hit the mattress, and azriel moved to hover over you, his hands on either side of your head.

“good choice,” you said, grabbing his neck and kissing him hungrily.

he bent his legs and spread them so that your legs would also spread apart with the movement, the back of your thighs resting against his and his knees on each side of your hips.

he rose up on his knees, breaking the kiss and bringing his hands to the hem of your t-shirt, tugging it impatiently, “this needs to come off.”

“then what the hell are you waiting for?” you asked, looking up at him, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

his eyes darkened and without any warning, he grabbed in the middle of your shirt and ripped it off of you in a swift and precise move. he threw what was left of it to the floor before he looked down at you, his gaze drinking you in.

“gods, you’re beautiful.”

“i know.”

he chuckled at your words, and removed his t-shirt as well. he leaned down again, and pressed his lips against your neck, finding your pulse point, leaving wet kisses as he traced a path to your collarbone. 

his lips continued its path, reaching your bare chest. he buried his head between your breasts before moving to one of your breasts and closing his mouth around your nipple. 

you closed your eyes in response, a soft moan escaping your lips as you arched your back off the mattress.

he turned his attention to your other breast, aiming to elicit the same response from you again, and when you did and he was satisfied, he lifted his head to look at you.

he kept his eyes on yours as he lowered his lips against your skin to place one last kiss, sending a shiver down your spine.

azriel rose up on his knees again and once again, studied you for a long moment, “you’re a sight to behold,” he murmured, his scarred hands caressing the bare skin of your thighs.

“i know,” you repeated, breathlessly.

he laughed, and lowered himself against you, kissing your neck, and leaning to whisper in your ear “you’re so cocky, love.” 

he nuzzled his nose against your neck, just below your ear, biting that sensitive part gently and eliciting another moan from you.

your hand traveled to the back of his head and when you found his hair, you tugged on it, “honest,” you corrected him.

he let out a moan of pleasure, and he turned to look at you, “honest,” he said, and his lips began to place kisses again towards your chest, but this time going lower and lower.

you let go of his hair and brought your hand to the top of his head to pat it softly, “good boy.”

he growled at your words, his eyes finding yours again and his hand gripping your thigh in annoyance, “don’t call me that.”

your smirk returned, and when azriel saw the mischief in your eyes, he knew you weren’t going to let go of that, and how right he was. you lifted your torso on your forearms, and repeated “good boy.”

he turned his head to bite the inside of your thigh before letting out a low growl again, “say that again and i’ll turn you into a goddamn mess.”

your hand returned to the top of his head and your fingers slid through his silky hair before gripping his strands in a clenched fist, “good. . .boy.”

he growled again, and lowered his head to place one last kiss on your stomach, before grabbing your legs, lifting them from his thighs and spinning you around on the bed.

with you now lying on your stomach, the male’s hand landed on your ass with a firm smack before gripping your hips and pulling you against him, placing you on your hands and knees.

“hold on tight, love. you’re in for it now.” he warned, before starting to undo the ties of his pants. you hid your smile in your arm, and waited for him to get rid of his clothes, missing his skin when he got up from the bed to do so before returning.

an unexpected moan escaped you when you felt his bare skin on yours.

azriel's hands found the fabric of your lacy panties and just like your t-shirt, in a matter of seconds, they were ripped on the floor.

“those were my favorite pair, you idiot.”

azriel smirked and placed a kiss on your lower back, before gently smacking your ass again.

“i’ll buy you new ones, love, don’t worry.”

“you better. fucking asshole.” you muttered but not low enough to stop him from hearing, your face turned behind to look at him over your shoulder. 

azriel placed his hands on your hips again and pulled you against him once more.

one hand now rested on your lower back, while the other grabbed his member and brought it to your entrance. 

he brushed against your folds, causing your toes to curl, “look at you, all ready for me.” 

you rolled your eyes at him, causing him to chuckle and giving your ass another smack “watch the attitude, love. you’re not in a position to sass me.”

“or what?”

azriel grinned before pushing forward and entering you in one long and deep thrust and the room was filled with your moans mixing.

azriel closed his eyes and let his head fall back, a string of curses escaping from his lips. 

your hands gripped the sheet, and you bit your lower lip to stop yourself from following the same path as azriel and letting out a bunch of profanities.

giving you a moment to adjust, azriel’s hands caressed the skin of your lower back and ass, running them up and down in soft circles.

“you're okay?” azriel surprised himself with the question but didn't take it back. his eyes were focused on the back of your head. 

“going soft on me, shadowsinger?” you asked, your eyes open and a cocky smirk on your face.

“never,” he said, his hand landing on your ass a third time before he started moving his hips gently and slowly at first.

your moans began to mix with azriel's as he increased his pace. 

was all he could hear, your moans and how fast and heavy your breathing was.

he didn't need to hear your heartbeat to know that it was beating just as wildly as his, just like he didn’t need you to tell him that this didn’t feel like a regular sexual encounter. 

he knew perfectly well that you were feeling much more than just that, and so was he.

it was as if your senses were even more heightened during this moment, everything was more intense, deep and alive—the mating bond doing its part. 

azriel couldn't help but think about the words his brothers had said earlier and how right they were—nothing could compare to being with your mate, there was no comparison that could be made. 

“this doesn’t change anything,” you said, your voice breaking him from his thoughts.

azriel groaned, both in pleasure and irritation. he couldn't agree with your statement, because he didn't know if he could continue to remain indifferent to you, and to be honest, he didn't know if he wanted to continue that way. 

his brain screamed one thing while his heart screamed another. 

“we’ll see about that,” he said simply, increasing the pace of his thrusts, letting the little irritation he felt guided him. 

the change in pace caused your moans to increase in pitch, your body going forward with each thrust. 

“you’re such an asshole,” you said with a heavy breathing, one that matched with azriel’s.

“and you’re infuriating.” he shot back.

“jerk,”

“brat,”

“bitch,”

at your name call, azriel had to blink his eyes several times to make sure he hadn't just imagined that, that those words had actually come out of your mouth and been directed at him. 

“excuse me?” he asked, his hip movements never giving in. 

“i said. . .bitch,” you repeated, clearly you had no problem repeating your insults directed at him but on the other hand, why would you? 

azriel didn't scare you and you were definitely not afraid of him, in fact you didn't even have any reason to be.

despite your many arguments, exchanged insults and sometimes slaps, punches and knees, you would never be able to seriously hurt each other. 

and not just because the bond didn't allow it but because you were physically incapable of such a thing—and you both knew it, even if you'd never admit it.

azriel couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face, you calling him 'bitch' was just too funny. 

one hand remained on your hip while the other slid up your bare back, reaching the length of your hair and wrapping it around his hand before pulling, making you arch your back and lift your head. 

the moan you let out sent a shiver down azriel's spine, causing the hairs on his arms to stand up, “is that so?”

the pace of his movements accelerated, his thrusts now stronger but still deep, making you feel every inch that came out and went back in. 

“who’s the bitch now?” he asked as he continued his brutal—but very welcoming by you—pace.

“you, you’re my bitch, shadowsinger,” you managed, your moans being temporarily replaced by a big, heartily laugh.

azriel was glad you found that funny because he didn’t. 

his hand left your hip and went to the middle of your back. azriel pushed you down, your chest now against the mattress, changing the angle of your hips. 

the change of angle allowed azriel to go deeper, making you feel every inch of his length and thickness. 

your mouth fell into the shape of an 'o', and you lowered your head between your arms. for a few minutes all that could be heard were your moans, your inability to form words causing amusement in the male behind you. 

“what’s wrong, love? cat got your tongue?” he said, using the same words you used against him moments before.

“fuck you,”

“i already am, love.” he said, bringing his hand to the curve of your ass.

“fucking asshole,” you murmured. 

“language,” azriel’s grin widened, his expression becoming more cocky.

the sound of skin against skin, along with the muffled sounds of moans and heavy breathing filled the room, blurring the windows and the mirror above the dresser.

“i hate you,” you replied, stretching your arms out in front of you on the mattress and tilting your head back a little when you felt azriel tugging lightly on your hair. 

“the feeling is mutual, love,” the male replied with his smile still intact, his hand releasing your hair and coming to rest on your lower back. 

shortly after, your breathing became heavier and heavier as that sweet sensation grew in your cores. 

you raised yourself up on your arms, starting to move your hips in sync with azriel's, the movements meeting in the middle. 

“don’t stop,” you said softly, but your tone carried an order.

both of your moans grew louder, your release getting closer. 

azriel used his hands to squeeze your ass, a gesture that caused you to clench around him and which provoked azriel to deliver a particularly strong and deep thrust.

together, with a loud moan and a deep growl, you and azriel achieved your release. 

the male continued his movements, getting you both through it until there was nothing left. 

you collapsed on top of the bed with the male following right after you, your entire body now against the mattress and his body on top of yours.

azriel’s chest was against your back, his arms came to wrap around your neck and shoulders keeping you encaged between him and the mattress.

his forehead rested your shoulder blades while yours rested on his muscular arms.

you were both silent for a long moment, as you worked on catching your breaths and calming your hearts that were still beating like crazy. 

after a few minutes, you raised your head and placed wet kisses on his biceps. 

as you traced a path on his arms, azriel spoke, his voice quiet and slightly still out of breath, “i missed this.”

your movements faltered, and you looked into the empty for a few seconds before allowing yourself to say, “yes, i missed this too,” a beat of silence and then, “but you’re still an asshole,” you said, your breathing almost back to normal.

“hm, have you noticed that you insult me a lot? is it because i’m illyirian?” azriel asked, half serious, half joking. 

“what?” you asked in surprise, turning your head to the side to meet his face, “no, of course not. i insult you because you irritate me and because rhysand said that insulting is much healthier than hitting you.” 

azriel laughed, a genuine smile replacing his smirk of before.

“but i’m serious, azriel,” you kept your eyes on his, “i don’t care if you're illyrian. i never saw you as anything other than the male you are, not even as a bastard. you never were one, at least not in my eyes.” 

azriel remained quiet, his smile slowly disappearing from his face in contemplation of your words. he couldn't hide his surprise, after your disagreement, this was the nicest thing you had said to him in all those centuries.

his heart tightened in his chest, and he sighed, lowering his head towards your shoulder and placing a kiss before looking you in the eyes again and whispering a small 'thank you'. 

you nodded and turned your head forward, running your hands through your hair as the male watched you for a moment before lifting himself off of you, taking all of his weight off. 

carefully, he pulled out and with a hand on your hip, he turned you to lie down on the bed, your back against the mattress with the softness of the sheets caressing your skin.

azriel parted your legs and kept his eyes on you for a second longer than necessary before lowering himself. 

he settled between your thighs, pushing in again until he was completely buried inside of you before bringing his forearms to rest on each side of your head.

as he looked at you, his gaze now holded something different, something unknown to not only him but to you too.

his hands found your hair, meddling with it, until his thumb found the skin of your forehead and softly caressed it.

you looked up at him, studying him with the same intensity he was, wrapping your legs around his waist, with one ankle over the other—as if to make sure he couldn't escape. 

azriel lowered his head, his nose brushing against yours, one, two, three times before he whispered very lowly, “i hate you.” 

in turn, your hands found the skin of his back, until they went down and found the beginning of his wings, caressing them tenderly.

you watched azriel's eyes being invaded by pleasure and felt his skin heating up.

“i hate you,” you said back, in a soft whisper that could only be meant for his ears and not the world.

your tones of voice were now loaded with different feelings and with different meanings.

it was now your tones that made clear what your words did not. 

all the words that were not spoken, all the thoughts that were not revealed and all the feelings that remained hidden, were sealed by a kiss.

a kiss that old books and stories could only describe as a kiss of true love.

•••

the sun was already peeking through the curtains, the light of a new morning warming the room and hitting the male who was still sleeping peacefully next to you.

with your head resting on his bicep, you looked at his sleeping face while your hand slid through his black curls, gently pulling them back.

you sighed. four hundred years had to pass before you could be back in his arms but still, after last night, you couldn't forget the past.

no matter how hard you tried, those events would always be in the back of your mind.

your hand fell to his face, tracing the line of his jaw before settling on his cheek, your thumb caressing his skin.

you could feel the bond swimming through your veins, telling you that this was where you belonged, that this was where you always belonged.

but your brain screamed at you to run away.

you took a deep breath, and your hand slid to his lips, caressing his lower lip, ignoring the burning you felt in your eyes. 

unable to hold it in any longer, you closed your eyes and gently brushed your nose against his chin, feeling your heart tighten more and more—with longing and pain. 

“i hate that i love you,” you whispered. 

you let yourself stay in his arms, savoring his touch and his smell for a few more seconds before lifting his arm from your waist and getting out of bed. 

grabbing your clothes, you tiptoed to the door before quietly opening it and entering the hallway, but not without looking back at the male sleeping in your bed one last time. 

with a heavy chest, you left the room and closed the door. 

and you didn’t allow yourself to look back.

a/n: thank you for reading!

general taglist: @emryb @fantasyandshit @azrielover @shadowsingercassia @littlelou22 @brieflyclassymortal @lilah-asteria @meul-a @lure-of-writing @pruvii @olive-main @mybestfriendmademe @anuttellaa @mrsjnalvarez @lively-potter @avajustreads @talesofadragon @circe143 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @dark-chaos-314 @tequilya @scoliobean @saltedcoffeescotch @charlotteintumbleland @agirlwithwifiandalaptop @987coley @mahiiis-world

*if you asked to be tagged and you weren't, it's because i couldn't find your blog.

dividers by @cafekitsune

[mostlymarvelgirl]

Dean Winchester's Type

Let's talk about it. Cause why not?

Dean Dean Dean. He's probably that one guy in every group who's always the funniest, and probably the most chill. Well, atleast on the outside.

He has always been the same. Personality wise. But yeah, he's more of someone whose personality has hardened over the years. Hell, for all he knows, he knows deep down inside he's still figuring who he truly is.

(And NO, I'm not referring to him being in the closet)

So when you meet him for the first time, he's probably gonna lie about who he is. (Cause he's a hunter and probably investigating a case duh) Definitely is type of guy who notices a lot shit but you won't be able to tell at all considering his way of talking. He talks very casual. Makes you feel free. Makes you feel like it's just a simple conversation. But he's just determining whether you're a threat or not.

He's good at what he does. Because he was taught that way? Yeah, let's bring in that.

He spent most his childhood being an adult who's responsible for keeping his brother safe while irresponsible father (trash) was busy hunting the thing that killed their mom. He spent most his time taking care and spending time watching his dad. Which would explain his taste in music, sport, interests and hobbies. He didn't get time or make friends of his own age. It makes sense as he didn't get any time for himself to let his own thoughts decide his opinions on his likes and dislikes. Narcissistic parent effect? Yeah, definitely.

Don't be fooled by his casual demeanor and openness.

He's openly affectionate because he never got it. But you decide to hurt it, yeah... you're dead. So strap in and get ready to feel all those feelings you've never felt because he loves and falls too fast, he knows it's his weakness. But he can't help it, so he may not express it vocally, but you can see it visibly though his actions. He forgives, but doesn't forget. He's very willing to bring his trust back in you if you betray him unknowingly or accidentally or by some mistake. But just because he does it multiple times as you betray him (yes I'm talking about Cas and his dumbass) doesn't mean he'll be fine. He's gonna be okay. But if you cross a particular line, yeah... you're truly fucked. Pack your bags and leave the multiverse.

Now, let's get all juicy into the details and bring in his horoscope.

His sun is an aquarius. Obviously you can tell he truly deep down loves a rebellion. Not out of being defiant. But for the right principles. His own principles. (Like how many time has this man sold his soul) As you see later in the seasons, when he explores his own interests, you'll see that deep down, he hates control. He wants to be free. He hates rules. And, he's always ahead. Even when you don't see it. He's well prepared. Always five steps ahead.

Now coming to his Leo Moon. This man loves and absolutely craves for recognition and praise. Growing up, no one ever appreciated this sweetheart. Deep down, all he wanted was someone to see him. To be appreciated. And if he does, he glows. Like you can see that smile and a cute silly acts randomly. That sweet outburst which make no sense. (To you, not him) His inner child feels satisfied. It shines and glows. He'll never admit he wants this. But trust me, he does. He's a total sucker. And if he's not appreciated? Uff, let's not go to a depressed Dean. He's gets all broody and starts drinking dumps his feelings down. Probably even punch a wall or look at baby Sammy pictures or pictures of his mom.

His Ascendant? Saggitarius. That Dean Swagger. Blue Steel (Dean's Version)? Yep, this is it. The reason he likes the road no matter how cramped it is, it makes him feel free. Unchained. Not tied to a place. If you'd seen his life with Lisa, deep down, Dean wishes to travel. Explore. Sure, he wants family and stuff, but he's more of an adventurer and prefers someone who doesn't take that away from him. Now, his carefree and sarcasm layer... yeah you might get distracted by that and miss out how much emotional depth he's got deep down. He loves honesty. He forgives easy. He's blunt. He doesn't how much it hurts. He wants the real picture. He will understand you and he forgives. He's deep down a total softie. Don't lie to him. Please, he's very considerate. He loves. Hard and fast. So be nice. And honest.

Overall, he's very free spirited guy. He prefers someone who lets him explore the world. He doesn't like being tied down. As much as he craves affection, don't be overly clingy. He would absolutely will get annoyed. The last thing you wanna do is push him away. Sorry, but that's just the truth. So if you're someone who sees past his walls, someone who doesn't prefer overly clingy connection, honest, prefers deep connection (there's a difference between deep and clingy) and prefers free spiritedness... you're it. Go grab your Dean.

Now that we're done this... let's get to the spicy shit all you horny shits have been waiting for. Sex. How does he like it? When would it happen? Who would initiate it first? Who's freakier? At what stage of the relationship would it happen?

Now see, here's a difference. If it's a one night stand to blow off steam, he's gonna be freaky as fuck and be rough. Maybe soft. He'll be in full control. You can't do shit. He'll be respectful and hear you out obviously. But remember, he'll be incharge. This is the closest to what he gets a form if affectionate touch. He thinks this is only thing he doesn't mess up and is good at. Yes, he's insecure and seeks attention.

But when he gets into a serious relationship, it will be a few months or maybe days. Depends. Based on your preference, he'll ask you how or when you want it. Since, he's a good at reassuring, you might fold easy. He's good with comfort words. He knows and notices what you are insecure about. He will make sure one hundred percent that you fully open up to him before he makes love to you.

Now as for freakiness, he's a guy who's willing to try and give it a shot. He's open to suggestions. He's very open about what he likes and what he doesn't. He asks you. Keeps a note. He'd probably initiate the conversation after the first time you both do it. He loves to talk after sex. Makes him feel reassured. He wants feel that you both are at the same level of pace in thinking. And understanding. He would never do anything at all. To make you uncomfortable. Never. If it's a common kink and you don't want it, he just won't push it at all.

Sex for him is way to connect. It's for his reassurance. He will put your needs first. He will comfort you and give assurance. You will always feel like a queen and fulfilled.

So, in the end, he's a guy who wants love, freedom and explore. He gives and gives love and wants just appreciation and someone to understand him. Just the inner child wanting his freedom. Be a sweetheart and be kind and honest. And that'll be the best decision you'll make. So go grab your Dean today.

And that, is Dean Winchester's type.

Requested by the most wonderful Desi mutual @mahi-wayy

[bloggerspam]

Gonna change it up a little and reblog from my sideblog bc ill be doing some little omake scenes (extras, and in this case not-quite canon but might as well be) over there (if i think of any/can manage to be funny enough)

If you saw me reblog the new update no you didnt it was a last minute decision. >.>

===

So.

The unnamed Cousin who caught him in his lies was not in fact, a bigot who was appalled about Jon's powers, but rather a concerned meta-human himself.

Good to know.

Kon uses his hearing to try and get a bead on the suddenly missing Cousin's whereabouts, his irregular heartbeat standing out amongst the crowd.

He grabs the red-headed cousin who made Jon on his meta-human status and tugs her along to where his little brother might be. He can already hear the un-named cousin scolding the younger kids for their recklessness, which makes him smile in relief. He's always been bad at that kind of thing, even though it's his job to do so as the older one.

Even if Jon has technically existed for longer than he has, Kon has way more information downloaded into him. The fact that they didn't download him with the intricacies of being an older sibling should honestly be a crime.

At any rate, Kon and Jon definitely owe these cousins for discretion. Even though Ma said the Walkers wouldn't have had an issue with them having powers, it was still dangerous to even give the possibility of a connection to the Supers.

Especially since Clark was already Smallville's biggest and worse kept secret.

Honestly, he shouldn't have trusted Clark in the first place, even if Pa backed him up on it.

Kon hates to say it, but this is exactly why Tim is so adamant on those stupid plans and practicing them.

It started out so well too—none of the Aunts or Uncles or older cousins suspected a thing! Kon introduced himself, gave his branch family name, and most of them just, moved on!

When Pa and Clark said it wasn't unusual in a big family like theirs, Kon almost didn't believe them. It was only through the virtue of Jon's previous memories of not remembering a single cousin despite going to three of these reunions already that Kon even agreed to the foolhardy plan!

Kon had even asked for Mom and Ma's help just in case, but then Auntie Agatha had her emergency and Kon had to drop them both off and Pa needed help carrying Ma's pies—

All this to say, he shouldn't have let his guard down just because a couple of relatives let it pass. There was bound to be at least one relative who would notice, and Kon knows more than anyone that twisting yourself up in lies can get you caught real quick—you don't stay on a team with Red Robin and not learn that lesson the hard way.

Have fun, Pa said. It'll be fine, nobody'll notice, Clark said. Seriously, you're starting to sound like Tim, Jon said!

And look how that turned out, Kon thinks viciously. Both Jon and Kon have been made by not just one but three Walker cousins, and Kon has to deal with it as the older one.

The absolute worst.

From a mission objective point of view, Kon has utterly and terribly failed. He was thrown into the deep with no basic research under his belt, no rudimentary plan, and worst of all, no back up plans or back up plans for the back up plan.

Kon should have insisted they waited for Mom, damn it. Tim would have done that. Cassie would have probably lied better than him, and Bart would have just coasted on his cute little baby face.

Kon hates to say this even more, but his brashness of just jumping right in with the confidence of success no matter what is probably something he inherited from Clark.

But Batman isn't here to clean up his mess, and his team is scattered doing their own secret identity obligations.

He really should have waited for Mom to come back.

Kon rounds the bend of one of the Uncle's houses, the Reunion being held in the neighborhood the local family members have low-key taken over. With a total of four ranch-sized houses owned, next to each other, it makes for a big enough space to host (or so he's been told).

"Ellie, you know you were supposed to stay out of the bounce house." A stern voice is staying. He and the red-headed cousin find their prize just behind the edge house, somehow empty and devoid of the reunion shenanigans.

Jon and (presumably) Ellie are sitting on the grass looking caught out but otherwise happy with themselves. They keep nudging each other as the meta-cousin stands before them, arms crossed and shaking his head in defeat. He's even pinching the bridge of his nose, reminding Kon of Tim when the team does something they're not supposed to be doing.

"Baby Jon, didn't Uncle Clark teach you how to control your powers?" The unnamed meta-cousin asks his brother, exasperated. "What am I saying, he doesn't have a subtle bone in his body when it comes to the family.."

Kon snorts, unable to help himself, drawing the trio's attention.

"Jazz!" Ellie beams, waving excitedly before spotting Kon. Her wide-eyes freeze him in place. "Who's that?"

"That's what I'd like to know." The meta-cousin grumbles, hands going to his hips and Jazz stumbles over to check over Ellie and Jon.

"I told you," Kon adjusts his sunglasses to dart a look at the meta-cousin, before smiling down at Ellie. "I'm Jon's older brother, Conner."

"Baby Jon doesn't have a brother." Jazz and Ellie say in unison.

The meta-cousin throws his hands up in defeat. "And Baby Jon didn't have powers either, clearly we're missing something!"

"It's a new development." Jon grumbles. "You didn't have powers last time either, Cousin Danny."

"It's a new development." The finally named meta-cousin mocks back. "And clearly, I have a better handle on it than you do, Baby Jon."

"This is so unfair." Jon huffs, flopping back into the grass. "And I hate it when you guys call me Baby Jon."

Danny points at Jon whilst Jazz rolls her eyes as they both say in unison, "You're not a Cousin until you bring your first dessert."

"But Ma never lets me near the oven!" Jon whines as Ellie giggles, tumbling back into his brother and making him laugh with her.

"I think that's kind of the point, kiddo." Kon ventures, unsure feeling less and less confident in Clark's plan.

"Don't think I forgot about you," Danny points at Kon, who puts his hands up in surrender. "Far as we're concerned you're still a Baby too. You did not exist before this, and therefore have not brought a dessert."

"You don't know that." Kon challenges, trying to at least get one lie through. "I don't come to these things often, sure, but it's not like you know every cousin in this gods damned family."

"That's the thing." Danny squints his eyes in suspicion, "You'd be correct if you weren't in my age range. My generation came out the smallest—there's only three of us cousins in this age bracket, and you sure as hell ain't tall and blonde like Cousin Mark is, and you're damned well not a girl like Cousin Jenny."

"Plus," Jazz interjects, scrolling through her phone. "I don't have your baby pictures."

"What?" Kon and Jon say in unison, the younger sitting up in confusion. Kon clears his throat, trying to sound authoritative. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Jazz has everyone's baby pictures." Ellie says as she also sits up. "Plus, she and Dad know every family member."

"See?" Jazz turns her phone around, showing a family picture of Ma and Pa and Clark and Mom when she was heavily pregnant with Jon. "I have every Kent's photo except for you."

Scrolling through, she starts showing them pictures of a toddler Jon on Clark's shoulders, Ma and Pa chatting at Mom's wedding, even a picture of Clark doing some kind of bull wrangling when he was Kon's age.

"And you just…have that." Kon stares disbelievingly at Jazz, "On your phone."

"Well, yes." Jazz looks at him confusedly. "I have most of the family's baby pictures."

"She even has some pictures of Great Aunt Martha's first date with Great Uncle Jon." Danny shrugs, as if this is normal.

As if this is sane behavior when you have 100+ family members.

"…How?" Kon asks, scrolling through her phone and jolting. "Is this Mom in high school?? Where did you get these??"

"They showed me once, so I took a picture of it." Jazz shrugs. "Sometimes the Aunts blast them out in group chats, or on InstaFace."

"Nobody even uses InstaFace anymore!" Kon feels like he might be crazy, this is insane right? None of his downloaded information is helpful, and Tim didn't include this in his powerpoint about social media.

"Jazz got one specifically to keep up with the family!" Ellie smirks, which makes Kon realize she thinks his reaction is funny. "She doesn't use any other social media."

"Aren't there like, a bajillion family members?" Jon chimes in from where he's hopping up behind Kon, trying to see. Kon bends over a little bit before he does something drastic, like fly. "Why do you have like, everyone's baby pictures?"

"I don't have everyone," Jazz argues, "Great Grandpa Arty and Great Grandma Bella didn't have pictures."

"Because that's what we're focusing on here." Kon snarks, looking to Danny and Ellie for help and getting exactly zero.

"It is not that strange!" Jazz huffs, snatching her phone back and scrolling through to a particular one. "It's nice to have memories and I like keeping track of everyone!"

She seems to find the picture she's looking for, shoving it in his face. It's a picture of an album.

There's a picture of Ma and Pa's wedding, a little sepia toned from sun or time damage where it shines a little unevenly in the album it's in. There are two hands in the photo holding open the album, a small pale hand with teal nail polish on it, and a slender woman's hand, wrinkles barely visible, with Ma's wedding ring on it.

Admittedly, Kon can understand wanting to save these kind of memories. Knowing Ma, she would have told Jazz the entire story too.

It makes a pang pulse through Kon, something close to jealousy and envy, but just a little to the left of it.

Something like loneliness.

"Is this Great Aunt Martha?" A tuft of black hair gets in his face, causing him to jerk back a little. Ellie has inserted herself between Kon and the phone, hanging off his arm and tiptoe-ing to see.

The point of contact soothes him a little, moreso when Jon nudges in from his other side, the two almost bumping heads and bickering over the photo.

Kon lets them have it, and the two sort of wrestle their way to the grass to peruse the rest of the album to try and find more of the Kents and Fentons like some kind of Where's Waldo game.

A hand clasps down on his shoulder, and when Kon turns his gaze away from the preteens he meets Danny's almost sad gaze.

"Listen. Clearly we need to do a sort of…" Danny steers Kon over to where Jazz has sat down neatly next to the kids on the grass, "debrief, I guess."

"Did Uncle Clark have you with a one night stand?" Ellie asks, which has both him and his brother choking on their spit. "Mom said he was hopeless with the ladies, but maybe he was good enough to have a rendezvous or two?"

The look on Jazz and Danny's faces suggest that they clearly don't think Clark is cool enough for that, and it warms the cockles of Kon's little heart.

"I don't think Uncle Clark is the...one night stand type." Jazz says, reasonably. "He doesn't really do anything casual by the mile."

"Conner's a Junior like me, so Uncle Clark would have been…" Danny does the math, "at least dating Aunt Lois, so if he did it'd be an affair."

"I am not an affair baby." Kon interjects exasperatedly, throwing one last Hail Mary out. "I was just really shy as a kid, and since Lois had me out of wedlock I felt real weird about it, okay!"

"Aunt Lois wouldn't have been ashamed." Jazz's voice is stern, which makes his spine tingle the same way it does when Tim or Ma or Mom scold him—like he's done something really wrong and should cop up to it. "Great Aunt Martha wouldn't have let her, I wouldn't have let her, and you've got another thing comin' if you think I'm gonna let you keep talkin' 'bout yourself like that young man."

"Shit," Danny cusses, rubbing the back of his head and pressing Kon down into the grass between the kids. "You might as well get talkin'. When Jazz's accent gets all funky it means she's real mad."

Kon looks at Jon, at a loss.

They don't know each other well enough to have built up some kind of sibling communication, and most of all Kon's still new to this whole, human/family/community thing even if YJ has done its damnedest.

But somehow, both of them know they've got to give up the ghost.

This is definitely all Clark's fault.

"…We tell you ours," Kon offers as Jon employs his deadliest puppy dog eyes, "and you tell us yours?"

Before Danny or Jazz can even think to interject, Ellie sticks out her hand towards his little brother to shake. "Deal!"

Cousins, Clones and Conning the Family

Family Reunion AU, where cousins Maddie and Clark try to smuggle their clone children into the family reunion that happens every 5 years and pretend they've been there the whole time.

Spoiler alert, one of them does significantly better than the other. Mainly Kid POV, and also on AO3! Multichapter. ===

The problem with big family reunions, Danny thinks, is how utterly fucking lost Danny is all the gosh dang time.

"Well now, you're Maddie's son now ain'tcha? How old is you now?" The woman standing before him guffaws, ruffling his hair. He lets it, trying desperately to remember the speadsheet Jazz created for the family and (obviously) failing to recall this woman's name.

Agatha? Selene? Riri? No, Aunt Riri is over there—

"Yes ma'am," Danny smiles up at the unnamed aunt, accent going a little twangy like it always does at these functions, "I'll be hittin' 17 in a coupl'a months or so."

"My, my, you youngin's sure grow like weeds!" The aunt coos, gesturing to a height by her hip, "You used to be this tall last time I saw ya, betcha don't r'member me now do ya?"

It's a trap. If he says he doesn't remember, which is expected at reunions such as these that happen every 5 years or longer, she'll start going on and on about the stories she has of the family. Danny would have to stand here and demure and laugh at these cousins he doesn't really remember too well, but know enough to know that she's gotten them all mixed up.

"Pshaw," Danny doesn't react when a whisper breathes the answer into his ear, "I'd never forget a pretty lady like you, Aunt Helena!"

It works like a charm.

The second he's out of her clutches, he feels around for a cold spot. There, trailing just behind him, is Ellie. She's not invisible anymore, so he tucks her under his arm and bee-lines it towards the metaphorical kid's table.

"Thanks, Ellie. Weren't you supposed to stay with Dad?" Danny leads them around, trying to avoid any other mishaps. "Did Jazz send you?"

"She made me flashcards!" Ellie smirks up at him, ignoring his other question and pulling a corner of an index card out from the palm of her hand. She's always been better than him at manipulating the ecto in her body, for obvious reasons. Danny's not bitter about it at all.

"Damn, all I got was a presentation." Danny grumbles. Jazz and Dad somehow know every single one of their family members, which is ludicrous when even Mom doesn't know despite it being her side of the family.

He still can't really believe how big his family actually is, but he supposes that's natural. He only sees them once every couple of years, the only relative they see even on a remotely regular basis is Aunt Alicia, who has no kids and refuses (rightfully so) to remarry.

Danny's fine with that, he gets the best of both worlds after all. Cozy holiday stays with Aunt Alicia and he has places to stay all over the country if he really needs it, no questions asked.

Plus, crazy as they can be, these reunions have always felt like a big country festival for Danny.

"She likes me better." Ellie snickers, tugging him back to avoid Uncle Charlie's drunken stumbling.

"Everyone likes you better," Danny rolls his eyes, pushing Ellie's head down and ducking to avoid a stray kid's toy flying overhead, "I like you better."

As if somehow knowing Danny's being self deprecating again, Jazz shows up to smack him on the head. "I like both of you equally in special ways."

Danny makes a disgruntled noise, grumbling as he rubs his head, "Mooooom, Jazz is therapizing me again!"

Even though he was only half joking, Mom does show up specifically to laugh at him. "Honey, your father and I love all our children equally!"

"It's a secret," Dad says from behind Jazz, kids climbing all over him, "But Ellie's the favorite!"

"Jack!" Mom yells at the same time Jazz screams, "Dad!"

Ellie dissolves into giggles, making everyone but Dad helplessly laugh. It's good to see Ellie laugh, she does it a lot but it still doesn't feel like it's enough. Danny picks her up, giggling mess and all, and tosses her at Dad.

She lands, as expected, straight into the pile of children who scream and accept her easily.

"Nice." Jazz chuckles, this time patting him gently on his head in approval. Danny shrugs, dusting his hands off and heading back towards salvation: the food.

He and Jazz mingle a bit, exchanging greetings and school updates with the Aunts and Uncles they occasionally bump into, making their way slowly through and keeping an eye out for the other cousins.

Eventually, Jazz gets nabbed by Cousin Dermot just as Danny reaches the table, tossing a pig-in-a-blanket into his mouth and chewing with glee. The locals of the family usually something potluck style—and though Dad's genes are strong and the Fentons can't cook, the bulk of the Walker family definitely can.

In fact—Great Aunt Martha said she was going to bring some mini pies right?

Danny spies a pile of them in the middle of the large table and reaches for one, only to bump into the spikes of black fingerless gloves.

The gloves are, of course, attached to someone else.

It's a boy, around Danny's age, in a spiked leather jacket (matching the gloves) and white tee shirt with ripped jeans. He's got the tiniest John Lennon sunglasses and piercings everywhere—it makes Danny squint at him, with how much the sun keeps catching on everything—the spikes, the piercings, the metal arms of the sunglasses, is this dude also wearing lipgloss?

Danny's not judging, a guy can appreciate proper hydration to avoid chapped lips or even just for the aesthetic, but it doesn't help with the glare.

"Sorry, my bad." Right, okay, city slicker then. Not that Danny's much of a country boy or anything. "Did my spikes get you?"

Maybe Cousin Jenny brought a plus one? Danny eyes the guys jeans—they look tight. Was Cousin Mark into guys? Is this dude a guy or possibly a masculine girl? Ack. Stupid sun frying his brain.

"It's okay," Danny says, blinking away and tossing mini pie to the other person. "Aunt Martha's pies are worth the minor injury. You comin' in with one of the cousins?"

"Uh, yeah." Citypunk looks at Danny nervously, "I mean, I am one of the cousins." The guy bites his lips, shrugging, "Uh, one of the Kents, actually. Ma's real proud of the pies."

Danny blinks.

"…You're not Jon." Danny says, very carefully and slowly.

"…No…" Stranger Danger draws his vowels out, "I'm Conner. His, uh, older brother? Can't blame ya for being confused though!"

"…You can't." Danny agrees, because out of the two them, Danny definitely isn't to blame for the confusion.

"Yeah, lots of cousins, and all," Curiouser and Curiouser beams at Danny, shrugging and rubbing the back of his neck, "Plus, I know Jon's more sociable at these things."

"Right, he really is rambunctious, that guy." Danny nods, as if that's the problem, and not the fact that Danny knows every single cousin his age. Big as his family might be, Danny's generation came out the smallest. Cousin Jenny and Cousin Mark are the only two his age.

With Ellie and Jazz each being four years younger and older than Danny, and the other cousins being well beyond those ages in gaps, there is no way this guy is a cousin.

"Don't worry," Punk'd laughs self deprecatingly, "I know he's the favorite. even if Mom won't admit it."

Danny feels a vein throb in his right temple.

He's unsure if he should slowly back away or get up in the guy's face. It's just—now that Danny thinks about it, if wedding crashing is a thing, does that mean family reunion crashing is a thing too?

What's the protocol here? Should he fight this guy for having the audacity to use Great Aunt Martha's name in vein?

Wait, no, that's Jesus.

Is Great Aunt Martha Catholic? ...Is that the one with Jesus, or was that Christianity?

Wait, Danny, you knuckle head, Uncle Clark was adopted. Conner could be adopted too! Even though he looks exactly like that Uncle Clark when he was younger…

"Is this your first time at a reunion?" Danny ventures, "We only have 'em—"

"Every 5 years, yeah." Conner huffs, "Nah, I just used to hide with Ma in the kitchens."

Okay, clearly Great Aunt Martha isn't in on this, because Danny used to hide with Great Aunt Martha in the kitchens. Danny's about to lose his shit on this guy—or maybe sic Ellie on him. Whichever is worse.

"Oh yeah? That's must have been cozy." Danny grits out, taking a deep breath so his eyes don't flash.

"Yeah, it was!" Conner beams shyly. though all Danny sees is a smug smirk. "She's real nice-like, I'm sure you know. Real lucky to have her for a Grandma."

"Real lucky." Danny agrees, because Great Aunt Martha really was one of the better Great Aunts. Though most of the Walker Kin were hardy and tough, in that badass kind of way. Mom really liked Great Aunt Martha's lessons on bull wranglin' back when they were younger. "Speakin' of, she ain't here?"

"Nah," Conner makes a sad little pout. "She hadta stop by Auntie Agatha's for an emergency. She left two days ago, so she's runnin' a little behind. Cl—Dad went to go pick her up."

Danny squints at the possible imposter. That sounded like he was going to call Uncle Clark by his name, which makes things confusing for Danny. Guy will call Aunt Lois Mom but he won't call Uncle Clark Dad easily?  Maybe he's a kid Aunt Lois had before marrying Uncle Clark? But Aunt Lois would never hide a kid, and Great Aunt Martha would never let her treat a kid like that. That's not even taking into account that this kid looks way too much like Uncle Clark for it to be a fucking coincidence. Plus, Danny knew about Aunt Aggie's emergency and how she might not be making it to this year's reunion—this gives Conner's story credibility.

But Danny knows that the best way to lie is with truths, even if the truths are confusing.

So what the hell is going on? Is Clockwork fucking with him? Did an alternate timeline get switched with his?

It wouldn't be the first time, but Clockwork at least had the decency to let him know at least.

"What the—" Danny blinks, as Conner picks up a very familiar, eye-searingly green colored post it note that was stuck to the plate under a mini pie. "Is this yours?"

"Yeah," Danny huffs. taking the note and rolling his eyes as lies roll off his tongue, "Sorry, y'know how it goes with Jazz."

"Oh, yeah." And Danny has to give it Conner, he at least rolls with the punches real quick, "I heard about it but didn't ever uh, see it in action."

"Really?" Danny feigns surprise, head pulsing in irritation at the words all is as it should be written in purple pen. There's no mocking smiley face, but Danny feels it in the ink anyway. "Thought she got all the cousins at the last reunion."

Conner chuckles nervously, "Oh, yeah—Guess I'm just, easy to miss you know?"

"Uh huh…" Danny eyes the guy and his piercings and very distinct style, from the tip of his clearly styled hair and needlessly ostentatious big black studded boots. "…Right."

Conner laughs, wincing. "These're new. High school debut."

"…You're a freshman?" Danny tilts his head, squinting.

"Junior." Conner automatically corrects, before stiffening. "…I just wanted to reinvent myself for Junior Prom."

"Right." Danny repeats, drawing out the vowels and finally giving up. He can tell Conner already knows what Danny is going to ask, and is trying to exit this conversation post-haste.

Fortunately for Conner and unfortunately for Danny, Jazz comes barreling in, almost knocking the former out in the process as she grips the latter's biceps tightly with her eyes wide and nervous.

Unfortunately for Conner and fortunately for Danny, though the look in Jazz's eyes thoroughly distracts the latter and gives the former a window to escape, Jazz's hissed out words end up keeping Conner rooted to the floor.

"Baby Jon has powers!" Jazz hisses as she moves Danny away from the possible imposter a couple feet. Even though she says it low enough for only Danny to hear, Conner's wide eyes as he whips his gaze towards them suggests that Jon's not the only one with powers.

And then words actually register along with that thought.

Danny hisses out the first thing he thinks of. "Since when?? I thought he took after Aunt Lois!"

"Since now," Jazz gruffs, switching her grip to drag Danny away, "and I need you to do something about it!"

"What?" Danny doesn't struggle, going along even as he eyes Conner who seems to be following them at a distance. "Why?"

Jazz pushes him towards the kid's area, rushing out a frantic "He's in the bounce house with Ellie!"

Danny freezes, or tries to even as Jazz keeps tugging him along, before shaking off her hand and booking it towards the bounce house.

Once the bounce house (a castle) comes into view, Danny clocks several things in succession:

One: Ellie and Jon are thankfully the only ones in the bounce house right now.

Two: Ellie and Jon are laughing, and through the mesh Danny can see Ellie watching Jon jump way too high to be considered normal.

And three: The bounce house is about to fucking tip over.

There's a gaggle of Aunts herding the younger cousins towards the food that's dense enough for cover, but sparse enough for Danny to dash through.

Between one blink and the next, he disappears.

[my-castles-crumbling]

What muggle jobs do you think the marauders would have? I think about it a lot and I think I've landed on some but I'd love your opinion

James - primary teacher/works in one of those dog daycare things (he would love that)

Sirius - tattoo artist/general artist (definitely creative)

Peter - like working with plants or like on a farm

Remus - library/author/editor

Lily - something with power for sure like in politics or at least a manager somewhere

Marlene - tattoo place with Sirius/ hair stylist

Mary - something active like a dancer or swimmer maybe

I have no idea for some others like the slytherins and stuff but I need them for the secret gardens in my mind (people need a key to get to the only one is mine)

Okay this was SO creepy bc as I was reading this, I was listening to I Hate It Here...

Anyway...

James - Something with kids. Like a mentorship program, PE teacher, coach, etc

Sirius - tattoo artist 100%

Peter - something quiet. I could see the farming thing, or maybe an animal breeder

Remus - teacher. That was one of the few things JKR got right.

Lily - research professor

Marlene - music producer, graphic designer

Mary - yeah I could see a dancer

Regulus - editor/writer

Barty - tattoo artist with Sirius

Evan - mortician/embalmer/creamator

Dorcas - Either like an athlete or a fashion magazine editor

Pandora - owns a store of all witchy things

My opinions change daily though...

[redrose10]

Another one I’ve had half written for a very long time. I’ve been really motivated today. Can you tell?

Idol/Fuck Boy Yoongi x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst, Yoongi’s kind of a jerk at first and sleeps around a lot, hints of smut, swearing, hints of a fight if you really look

Word Count: 4,205

☕️🎵☕️🎵☕️🎵☕️🎵☕️🎵☕️🎵☕️🎵☕️🎵☕️🎵

There were three things that Yoongi was certain about in this life. Firstly, he was a musical genius. Whether it was lyrics, beats, rapping, singing, performing…he could do it all and was good at it. Secondly, he didn’t believe in love. He wasn’t capable of loving and he didn’t deserve to be loved. He’d had flings and one night stands all around the world, but he mostly saw those as just biological needs. There was no emotional connection. No feelings. He hated stuff like that.

He’d had a few relationships when he was younger because he thought that was what he was supposed to do, but they never lasted more than six or seven months at most and he definitely never came close to loving them.

As he got older he stopped trying to force it and therefore hadn’t had a relationship for several years. Was this belief in love or lack there of because of his upbringing? Maybe. Did his struggles with his own mental health cause this? Yeah probably a little at least. No matter the reason, he was certain that love was not real.

The third thing that was a guaranteed constant was you. You were one of the few people that he could tolerate on a regular basis. It was nearly eight years ago that he met you. He had been eyeing you since he walked through the door of the little cafe you worked at. You were beautiful. You had a smile that made his heart skip a beat, eyes that filled his stomach with butterflies, a kindness to your voice that made him smile like a goofy idiot, and a body that made him think all kinds of unholy things.

You were also the waitress who accidentally spilled a coffee (thankfully iced) all over him as he sat and conversed with his friends. He jumped back and spat out a few curse words, not at you or because of what you had done, but because of the cold ice hitting his crotch giving him quite a shock. Immediately you burst into tears profusely apologizing and offering to replace the clothing even though you knew his shirt alone probably cost more than your rent, but you couldn’t loose your job.

Of course he would never do something so drastic over a spilled cup of coffee. He reassured you that it was okay and you didn’t owe him anything, but he could still tell you were quite shaken up.

Over the next few days he couldn’t stop thinking about you so one evening after a long day of practices and studio time he decided to stop in for a coffee. He chuckled at the look of fear on your face when you saw him, but after some explaining and a few pleasant words exchanged he asked for your number.

Deep down he felt something was off with the whole situation. He knew his ultimate goal was just to bed you once or twice maybe even three times if you were good and then leave you to move on to the next one.

It only took a few weeks for him to be sitting across from you at one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city. He wined and dined you. Put out all of his usual moves. You were different than most of the women he usually surrounded himself with in these types of situations though. Most of the women he was with figured it out pretty quickly what his end game was and were fast themselves to get to the point. You were different. You enjoyed his company, asked him questions no one else ever had. You smiled and intently listened to the stories he told. You never brought up money or fame. You didn’t ask him to introduce you to Taehyung or Hoseok. You were simply interested in getting to know Min Yoongi.

But even after all of that that he continued on with his usual plan. After dinner he took you back to his private studio to “show you around” which was code for having you ride him on his leather couch until you were both too spent to think.

He lit a couple candles (mood lighting)

Asked if you wanted to change into one of his tshirts to get comfy (easier access to what he wanted)

Offered to get you a drink or show you to the bathroom (once he got started he didn’t want any interruptions)

He pulled you onto his lap and offered to play you a secret song, one noone had heard before. He knew that was a lie. He said it every time. It was the same song he played for all of the women he brought there. He would claim they were the first to hear it so that they would feel special.

Usually they would fall head over heels and coo and gush and their cheeks would blush and they would get all giggly and shy. Then he would slowly kiss their neck and wait to see if they stopped him. Nine times out of ten they wouldn’t and he’d take that as the chance to keep going and move the evening further along.

But you…you were different. He gave you the same story about a song no one else had heard before. You laughed and rolled your eyes, “I bet you say that to all your girls.”

Yoongi faltered. It was a rarity, but he was human. Were you just joking? Or could you see right through him and we’re calling him out? It intrigued him more than it should have.

He played you the song. A cheesy love song he wrote one night many years ago before love seemed so foreign to him. He waited for you to eat it up. Then fall for it. Then you would help him release the built up tension he had been feeling since he first saw you in your short little sundress you were wearing.

But you didn’t do any of that. You picked apart the song. You provided a lot of constructive criticism much of which Yoongi actually agreed with. He soon forgot about the whole reason he even brought you there to begin with and instead the two of you spent hours listening to and talking about music. He played you an actual unreleased song to pick your brain, something he had never done before. Yoongi abandoned his plan to end the night with sex and instead asked you to come back next weekend if you wanted to so you guys could work on some music together. Genuinely he enjoyed your company. He wanted to spend more time with you and get to know you better. And that is how your friendship formed.

Over the years the two of you became nearly inseparable. As long as he wasn’t on tour or “with” someone else the two of you were side by side.

You hated to admit that those nights that Yoongi was with others it killed you. A long time ago you had developed a crush on your friend, but there was no way you were going to let him know that. So you bit your tongue and did your best not to show it effected you when he would show up with purple marks on his skin and smelling of a feminine perfume that was not yours.

Until one night you’d had enough. The two of you were locked up in his studio. Yoongi was looking extra good today. He had let his hair grow out and had put on a little bit of weight in the right places making his white tshirt just a touch tight.

Angry with the way the song was coming together he flopped back down onto the leather couch with a loud sigh. His legs spread and his hands tugging at his hair in frustration. He was practically begging you to take a seat on his lap.

So you did…

He jumped a little not expecting you to make that move.

You placed kisses along his jaw and neck, pulling down the collar of his tshirt so you could move lower to his chest.

“Y/N…wh-what are you doing?”, he questioned.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”, you chuckled.

Yoongi’s brain and body were fighting each other for control of how to handle the situation.

“Y/N, you gotta ahh you gotta stop. We shouldn’t do this.”, he somehow managed to choke out trying to pull you away from him.

“Really?”, you asked with a raise of your eye brow before grinding down on his lap feeling him fully hard beneath you, “Because it seems like you do want this just as much as I do.”

You divided your attention between kissing his neck and grinding on his bulge for several minutes rendering him unable to speak. As you were unzipping his pants he was finally able to come to his senses enough to stop you. His hand grabbed yours, “Y/N…I…I don’t want this to ruin anything between us. Before we go further I need you to know that we’ll never be more than friends with benefits.”

It felt like a dagger to the chest. Deep down you knew that was the case, but of course there was that small part of you that hoped for more. You nodded and turned your attention back to his pants allowing him to finally spring free.

Somehow he managed to stop you again, “Y/N, I need to hear you say it. I need to know that you’re okay with this.”

You thought for second before nodding, “Yeah I’m okay with it Yoongi. I want this.” With that he allowed you to continue your earlier actions.

Yoongi had great control of his orgasms. He never came unless he was ready and wanted to. It was another thing about himself that he was quite proud of.

But tonight. The tonight that he had wanted so many years ago that he was now experiencing was bringing him to edge fast. Feeling you bouncing up and down on top of him. Seeing your body naked and spread out for him. Your cries of his name as you came was too much for him to ward off his orgasm any longer. He gripped your hips for dear life as he lost control coming undone inside of you. He bit his tongue until he tasted blood to stop himself from saying those three words he didn’t believe in.

As he helped you clean yourself up his chest started to ache. He was so worried about you being the one to get the situation misconstrued, but here he was realizing that he might have been the one that fucked up.

This friends with benefits relationship went on for over a year. You remained exclusive to Yoongi. You didn’t have to and you knew it was dumb. Especially because you knew he hadn’t been exclusive to you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to see anyone else.

Yoongi on the other hand was always wondering if you were sleeping with other guys. He would always chase those thoughts away because he hated the jealous feeling that bubbled up inside him every time he thought about it. He had made it clear to you that this was strictly sex between friends so it was your prerogative to sleep with whoever you wanted. At the start of your arrangement he had continued to sleep around with other people while also sleeping with you. He wasn’t the most proud of it, but it kept things feeling more normal for him. He didn’t want things to feel domesticated with you. But as the months went on he reached out to others less and less until you were the only one he called. You were all he needed maybe even all he wanted. He hadn’t figured it out that far yet. He knew things were getting messy though. Not only was he staying monogamous to you he was doing things that he never would have done for others before.

In the past he would have bought you dinner no problem. You were his friend, but you would have had to eat whatever he got and that was it. He wouldn’t be driving to the other side of the city to get noodles at your favorite restaurant even though there was a place right next door that served the same exact thing, but according to you the other place tasted better. So he drove twenty minutes out of the way every single time.

Then he cuddled you after sex. He never did that to anyone else. That was a different kind of intimacy he didn’t want…usually. He was normally more of a do the deed and then he’s already calling a cab for the woman before her clothes are even all the way back on. But with you he looked forward to the time spent afterwards resting while running his fingers through your hair as you told him about your day.

He started working out too. He was always comfortable in his body for the most part. He knew he wasn’t super tall or muscular and he was okay with that. He had plenty of people around the world making sure he knew he was attractive the way that he was. But then you made him doubt himself one day. No one else saw it. But he did. He saw the way your eyes scanned Jungkook’s body. The way you slightly licked your lips watching as Jungkook was flexing his abs and biceps in front of the mirror. Yoongi hated the thought of you finding someone else attractive. So there he was every morning at 6am cursing the world, but still hitting the gym with nothing but you on his mind.

He knew he was falling. He knew it would end badly. He just didn’t know how to stop it.

It was a Thursday, very late in the night when it all blew up. Yoongi had been on tour for three months, the longest he had gone without seeing you in quite some time. He missed you. He missed your voice, your scent, your touch. He was needy and desperate and wasn’t embarrassed to admit it. He had plenty of opportunities while on tour with fans and even some of the staff members willing to do as he pleased, but he couldn’t bring himself to indulge in them. His hand got the job done when he really needed it, but there was nothing like the feeling of you.

And now as he watch you riding him, his favorite position, he was doing his best to not finish too soon. An effect that you had on him which he both loved and hated.

“F-fuck I missed you.”, he said leaving kisses against your cleavage.

His hands grabbed onto your hips holding you in place giving him the leverage to roughly buck up into you a few times before letting you continue back on with your own pace.

“I’m sure you were pretty occupied while on tour. It must’ve been like a paradise to you.”, you quipped back hoping to come off as joking while trying to hide the hurt in your voice.

“Not even close. You’re all I think about all the time….alll….all I want….all I need.” he said with a long drawn out moan.

“I bet you say that to all your girls”, you smirked. Truth was you didn’t even really want to know the answer to that.

“I would never say that to anyone else. I love you too much Y/N.”, he said as he spilled deep inside of you. Yoongi didn’t know why he said it. Maybe it was because his dick had control of most of the blood in his body leaving his brain pretty much useless. Maybe he thought it was romantic like those dumb movies you always made him watch. Maybe subconsciously he hoped you were to out of it and wouldn’t hear his slip up so he could finally get it off his chest. He wasn’t sure, but he felt relief once it was said either way.

You knew he didn’t mean it. As much as you wanted to believe him you knew you couldn’t. He had made his stance on love very clear. Though a tiny part of you did wonder if he was serious.

You didn’t falter. You didn’t say it back as he sat there looking up at you. Awkwardly he got up and headed to the shower to get cleaned up.

As you laid there thinking through your options of how to handle it a text came through on his phone that was resting on the bedside table next to you.

Aera: We still on for tomorrow 😘

That sealed it for you. If he really did love you then why would he have another hookup already lined up for tomorrow? Quickly you gathered up your things and left his home before he got out of the shower. You couldn’t face him without crying tears of sadness, hurt, and anger all mixed into one. You knew that your relationship with him had to change moving forward because you couldn’t keep going on pretending that everything was okay the way that it was.

When Yoongi exited the shower he was fully prepared to firstly apologize for taking so long in there. He had gone over hundreds of different scenarios in his head for how to move forward and finally settled on the best option. He was going to confess and tell you the truth, he loved you. He really did. He doesn’t know how it happened or why it happened, but it did and he loves you and wants to make things official. No more lies. No more pretending. But when he walked into the bedroom you were already gone. You weren’t in the kitchen or the living room. You had left. Yoongi flopped back onto his bed with a loud groan and ran his hands over his face. He needed a way to fix this and fix it fast.

You needed space from Yoongi and thankfully he was giving it to you. Of course as far as you knew he was occupied with someone else and wasn’t even thinking about you anyways so you still wanted to cry every time you thought about it. You decided to distract yourself and maybe you also wanted to be a just a little tiny bit petty. A part of you hoped Yoongi would find out and he might just be a little bit upset. Upset at the fact that you were going on a date with his enemy, Chul. He was a producer at BigHit. Yoongi was a professional so he kept things as such, but you knew better than anyone that he and Chul did not like each other in the slightest. They had a rivalry that caused many hurtful nasty words to be exchanged over the years. You felt bad in a way for doing this because Yoongi did say you two would never be anything more so you couldn’t expect him to love you, but it was extremely unfair for him to say he loved you when he really didn’t mean it.

You knew it wouldn’t take long for word about your date to get back to Yoongi. Chul would surely want to rub it in his face and you were right.

At 3am someone was angrily pounding on your front door. When you opened it Yoongi was standing there red faced and out of breath. You immediately noticed his swollen bruised knuckles and a small cut above his eyebrow. Before you could ask what happened he started. His finger pointed in your direction as he shouted, “Seriously Y/N?! You don’t love me back that’s fine, but your response is to immediately go on a date with the one person I hate? The one person that you knew would hurt me the most?”

“Yoongi quit it with the loving you bullshit. You don’t love me. You’re just mad that you can’t have me all to yourself any more while you’re off fucking god knows who like some sick game.”

He pushed himself into your apartment slamming the door behind him. “Who else am I fucking Y/N?”, he yelled louder, “It’s only been you for the last year. I haven’t wanted anyone else.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, “Oh please Yoongi. You had the nerve to tell me you loved me with your dick still inside me and then ten minutes later you’re getting a text from some woman named Aera asking if the two of you are still meeting up.”

He took a step back looking at you confused, “Me and Aera are not hooking up. We never were.”

Save it Yoongi.”, you put your hand up, “I’m not falling for your games any more.”

“I swear on everything Y/N. I’m not sleeping with her. Aera and Jimin have a thing with each other. She bought him a custom jacket and she wanted me to help her distract him for a little so she could sneak it in his house. That’s all. I never had any intention of sleeping with her.”

You shook your head unsure if you should believe him or not, “I’m not stupid Yoongi. Why would she include an emoji like that if it didn’t mean something else?”

He threw his head back in frustration, “I don’t know Y/N. That’s just how they are. If her and Jimin could communicate in only emojis they would. It meant nothing like that. There has been no one else for a long long time.”

Taking a step back you put your hands up to stop him from following you, “I need….I need time Yoongi. I can’t do this any more.”

You ran back to your room locking the door behind you. There were too many different emotions filling you that you needed to process. You knew Yoongi would leave and give you space and he did just that.

It took several weeks, but eventually you agreed to meet him in his studio to talk things over again now that things had time to cool down and you had time to think.

He answered the door with a smile inviting you in. He pulled a chair up next to him at his computer so you could sit down.

“H-how have you been?”, he nervously asked.

“Good…good. And you?”

He gave you a tight lipped smile. “How’s Chul?”, he asked.

“I don’t know.”, you shrugged, “We haven’t spoken since that date.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but smirk a little at the news.

After that the room filled with an awkwardness that you hated.

“So uh I’ve been working on this new song. Want to hear it?”

With a smile you eagerly nodded, “Yeah but don’t expect this to end with us having sex again.”

“Fair enough. I guess I need a new pickup line anyways.”, he laughed helping to ease the tension between you both.

The song was a beautiful ballad about being so afraid of getting your heart broken that you convince yourself love isn’t real only to allow your fear to cause you to loose the only person you’d ever loved anyways. In the end the person faces their fear and gets their lover back. When the song came to an end the last thing you expected was for Yoongi to come on the speaker, but he spoke with a soft voice,

“Hi Y/N.”, he chuckled, “This is a little more awkward than I thought it would be. I don’t know if you’ll ever give me the chance to tell you this to your face so I just wanted to tell you that I am sorry. I am sorry that I was coward. I am sorry for making you think that you weren’t the only one. It’s been you since that day you spilled ice coffee all over me in the cafe, ruining my Valentino jacket by the way. I’ve been in love with you this whole time. I’m just an idiot who’s been in denial because I was afraid to loose you if things got bad, but I ended up loosing you anyways which is worse than if I had tried to begin with. It has always been you Y/N. I hope that one day you can give me another chance to prove that to you.”

Yoongi felt like his heart was going to explode out of his chest as he watched you for a reaction. He could feel how red his cheeks were without even touching them.

There were three things that Yoongi was certain of in his life. Firstly, love was a confusing concept. He still had his doubts about it, but opening up to you showed him that it was okay to feel. Emotions were a normal part of life. Secondly, you were the most breathtakingly beautiful woman he had ever seen. No one could or would ever come close to being able to compare to you. Thirdly, hearing you say you loved him too sounded better than any musical composition he had ever heard or could ever create.

“Say it again. Please Y/N. Say it again.”, he begged against your lips as he kissed you.

I love you Yoongi.”, you mumbled into his lips.

He pulled you onto his lap hugging you close like he was trying to make sure this was all really happening.

“I love you. I love you so much.”, he whispered over and over.

“I bet you’ve never said that to any of your girls.”

He smirked, “No baby. Only you, forever and always.”

[the-stellaron-hunters]

things you said prompt list

Aventurine

things you said over the phone

Aventurine figured you would call.

It’s definitely because of the gift that he sent your way. He is fully expecting you to ask him what’s with the sudden goodwill coming from him, and he has a response prepared in case that happens — something casual enough that you might believe that everything is still alright between the both of you, convenient enough that you may not ask him any other questions. But that doesn’t mean he has full control of how he truly feels, and that certainly doesn’t mean he has a handle of how the rest of the conversation goes, at least not when the both of you haven’t talked properly in months.

This would be far easier to deal with if you were both at fault. The problem with Aventurine is that he gets attached to someone, and he has a habit of showering them with all the attention he could give, and suddenly he feels too vulnerable and he needs to put his guard up and he’s gone and it’s as if he is out of their life, and just when there’s this reasonable assumption that he has completely cut ties, he is back again like nothing happened, and he does it again and again and again.

And this is not the first time he’s done this to you. It’s probably not the last time, either. Meanwhile you update him every now and then about what’s going on in your life, mostly in the form of texts, sometimes in handwritten letters when you feel like it. And there are a lot of times when he would just never answer, and you never seem to point it out even when your message logs become one-sided.

Aventurine answers your call and you both exchange pleasantries. He talks about anything and you talk about everything — how are you doing, I’ve missed you, I hope you are well. And for a while it feels like all is right in the world and everything is back to what you both used to be. But it doesn’t last long because after a while you fall quiet, and then he inevitably goes silent, and then he is dreading what comes next because he has an inkling of what you’re about to bring up, and for all the time he has contemplated what he did, he’s still not sure how to handle it.

You break the silence.

“…So.”

“So.”

“We haven’t talked in a while.”

Regret stabs in his chest and his breath splits into two. He feels his mouth twist as he tries to come up with something to say, but you don’t even give him enough time to think of a response.

“Hey, I’m not angry. You do know that I never hold it against you, right? I mean, you always do this with everyone. Not just me. I’m used to it.”

And you say that like you’re worried that he is going to hate you if you accidentally push one of his buttons, too cautious of what lines to cross even though you’ve both never really talked about boundaries. You say he does this to everyone and you’re not wrong. Everyone has grown used to it so he thought the more he did the same thing to you, the easier it would get.

The problem is you’re not everyone else. 

That’s the worst part. He knows you meant every word you just said. The bigger, more realistic part of him thinks that he should be grateful you’ve grown used to his habits, but the small, battered, vulnerable part of him thinks that you deserve better than this. He thinks you should be angrier, that you should hold it against him. Maybe he might keep doing the same thing to other people because he needs to protect himself, but that shouldn’t apply to you.

He is not about to tell you all that, though. Not when he’s not completely certain of how you feel about him anymore, and especially not when he has never given you a good reason to expect more than what he has shown you. So he gathers all those thoughts together and he ties them into a neat bow, hoping he doesn’t have to unpack it anytime soon. “Of course I know that. I appreciate it as always.”

“And I haven’t opened your gift yet,” you say. He couldn’t tell if you’re changing the topic on purpose, but the excited lilt in your voice says otherwise. “Not that I’m ungrateful, but it’s not my birthday. What’s the occasion? What made you want to give this to me?”

I just didn’t know how to approach you again after ignoring you for so long, Aventurine thinks to himself. He expected you to ask that, but it doesn’t make the conversation any easier. He hasn’t forgotten all the excuses he has come up with, but they no longer feel right. Because I wasn’t sure how I’d handle it if I tried to call you and you never picked up. It’s far easier to give you things that you might like than to start a conversation just to see how you’re doing. “I saw it and I thought you would like it,” he settles on saying instead, “so I thought to myself, why not send you a gift? I’ve been busy, after all. It’s the least I could do.”

You hum. “Huh. I thought this was a peace offering after ignoring me all this time. You know. Like usual.”

Your tone is light and your words are teasing. You want him to not take your words seriously, but the truth in your words is too heavy to ignore. “It could be,” he tries to say it like he’s fooling around as much as you are, ignoring the way the words burn in his throat. “Why, did you want it to be one?”

You fall very, very, quiet. There’s something contemplative, something pained in your silence that he can’t quite pin down.

“Maybe I do.”

Your voice is tinged with an emotion that’s difficult to judge. And he would’ve dwelled on that if he could, but maybe you didn’t want him to have the upper hand in the conversation because you immediately change topics; you open the gift and you tell him you like it, he says he’s glad, and you both continue talking like nothing happened.

As soon as the phone call ends, Aventurine receives a text from you, a simple thank you with an image of the scenery in your place attached to the message. As he snaps a picture of the sundusk through his window, he thinks about the hope and uncertainty and the faintest spark of expectation in your voice. He doesn’t know how he is going to do it — he is going to worry about the consequences later — but he needs to find a way to free up his schedule in a short notice.

[dammit-tazmuir]

Oh VERY MUCH. All the Lyctors are so fascinating ofc but I feel like Augustine in particular often gets ignored, just lumped into the polycule / hateship with Mercy (without particularly exploring his role in all of it), and/or just kind of seen as an unlikable asshole with little beyond that. And like yes he is very much an asshole, but there's definitely more too.

To start, I think it's especially interesting to contrast him and Mercy.

On the surface, Mercymorn is a high-strung bitch who wears a lot of emotions on her sleeve and has basically been losing her mind for 10,000 years yet somehow still never run out. Augustine, on the other hand, "was the closest thing you had ever experienced to human plex", devoid of substance, wearing a friendly mask to hide that he's been more or less dead inside and too exhausted to give a fuck in millennia.

When we see them under stress or clashing, Mercy is more openly vulnerable, even if she might try not to be, and can get frazzled and scattered. Augustine tends to be more laser-focused and can be venomously aggressive. (Of course, when it's not each other that has them upset, they do also sometimes "take turns" with who's having a breakdown and have since pre-Resurrection, which is just fascinating in and of itself, but I digress.) ((Also ofc, in retrospect, knowing the main thing he was pissed at her about in that "you've made yourself unlovable" conversation was continuing Blood of Eden involvement, his knock it off before you get us both caught and killed attitude wasn't entirely unreasonable but ya know.))

But we have to look too at what's not said.

Mercymorn is constantly mean and critical, but rather than looking at what she's saying, looking at the subject matter reveals a very different pattern. The opposite of love isn't hate, it's apathy, and a massive portion of everything we ever hear her say is screaming how deeply she cares about people; she just chooses the worst ways to say it. She doesn't say "I miss my dead friends and I'm upset by the idea of you basically coming in to replace them," she says "You're not as pretty as [Cyrus/Anastasia]." She doesn't say "After all this time I'm still a medical professional and I'm appalled to see a patient in such abysmal condition," she says "Why are you people always such a curious mix of the competent and the completely deranged?! [...] Out of my way, you wretched, cack-handed children, and let me fix it." She does say "I watched Cassiopeia die" but also "I remember thinking, Lord, what will we do with your ceramics collection, there's so much of it..."

M—'s dying words in her first life weren't for herself, but begging them to please just take John alive. And of course, she says, "I wanted it to be me. I didn’t want it to be you. I didn’t want it to be you, Augustine, after all … the sin needed to be mine. [...] Millions of people … all those millions of our people … No, I had to do it. I am not very nice, Augustine, and I was never very good."

Augustine is constantly somewhere between flippant and cruel, but it's a similar deal. He brings Alfred up unprompted when Harrow asks him about himself, even going into detail. He's so tired and worn down by the monotony, but he clings to the past rather than look to anything truly new. He wants to give Harrow his favorite old recipes so she can get them interestingly wrong, but not to seek out new ones. His bedroom is warm, comforting, friendly, filled with books and tasteful paintings (how long do you think he's had the same ones?), with polished wood in a universe where wood has become a rarity. He goes for a tuxedo for the dinner party and Harrow notes that it's ancient, a historical artefact, and he waxes about the shindigs they used to throw, oh you should have seen them. Where Mercy's grief manifests as anger, Augustine's manifests as nostalgia.

And he's so genuinely profoundly tired of Mercy, but he knows her like he knows his own soul and the trust that comes with that in spite of everything cannot be replicated. Alfred's sword is sacred to him, and when he swears on it to keep Mercy's secret, she believes him.

In some ways, she's the more dedicated of the two. She was the one willing to take the plunge and kill the man they loved when she thought she had a chance, a plan that you have to remember began no less than 500 years ago. Their conclusion that John lied to them about lyctorhood wasn't why they turned on him, it just exacerbated everything. It wasn't about personal revenge. It was about ending the empire. She was the face and spokesperson with BoE. They always wanted to evacuate the (relatively) innocent citizens, but weighing probably less than 20 million people total against all shepherd planets, planets they killed, and all other people they would have gone on to conquer and colonize and destroy the livelihoods if not the lives of... It's hard to fault her for seeing that trolley and pulling the lever. She was the one willing to get blood on her hands to do it.

But then, as you say, Augustine is the one willing to say, no, we're not done. Even if it is too late to evacuate, we have to save who we can. Any survivors, anyone who was off-world, anyone left, because there will be people left and we have a duty to them. "Somewhere out there exists a home not paid for with blood; it won’t be for us, but it will be for those who have been spared. Babies always get born. Houses get built. And flowers will die on necromancy's grave." The unmarked grave line is one of my favorites in the series, but this one right before is also so good and deserves just as much recognition imo...

And then just in the interest of character analysis and because it is so very good...

Her throat was working. “Augustine—” The Lyctor took her silently in his arms: they held each other like children who’d had a nightmare and had woken in a fright. Just as silently, they detached. She said in a low voice, “He was right. There can be no forgiveness.” “Then let us not seek out forgiveness, but forgetfulness,” he said. “Bury me next to you in that unmarked grave, Joy. We knew that was the only hope we ever had—that we would live to see it through … and pray for our own cessation. Oh, we’ll still hate each other, my dear, we have hated each other too long and too passionately to stop … but my bones will rest easy next to your bones.” Augustine raised his head, for the first time, to look out at his frozen audience, of which probably the most animated member was Cytherea’s body, which my mum had completely abandoned.

The silent, mutually desperate and comforting hug. The way he was thinking about the people, the future, the next generations, yet for a few minutes within this room no one existed but Mercy. And the...

I hate you. I so deeply and genuinely hate you. The only person who ever might have irritated me than you was your Cavalier and you're a little bit her now too, just like I'm a little bit the person I loved most, thanks to her and to you. I will never stop resenting you, but there's a deeply familiar comfort in that resentment. You had the ability to piss me off on sight 10,000 years ago and you damn sure still have it now, and that's amazing. Almost nothing makes me feel much of anything anymore, but you do, and intensely, even after all this time. We've always hated each other and always worked well together despite it. There's a unique trust built by hating each other. I never have to worry about you lying to me. If you have a problem with me, you won't hesitate to say it. If you want to hurt me, you will, but you haven't killed me yet. You just proved you could turn me into mist with a touch but I'm holding you tight anyway because you won't. I know you too well. I look down on how easily you break under pressure, but when I need to, neither of us has to say a word. To swap places and back is reflex, second nature. I will gladly go decades avoiding you but I cannot imagine my life or death without you. I want to keep hating you for the rest of our lives, and I can think of no greater comfort in death than to lie forever next to you.

Sorry this is so long but aoiwjeoiagjaweg I LOVE AUGUSTINE. Just. God... Tamsyn Muir understands kismesitude better than anyone ever and that alone is enough to make me feral, but even beyond that. Even before the final chapters.

It's also worth mentioning his dynamic with Ianthe. Like yeah he got really impatient with her training after a while (and, you know, similar to Mercy's BoE stuff, that was a matter of "if you can't do this it might literally be the death of us" so there's that), and yeah in the end she saved John at the cost of betraying him (possibly for a lot of reasons but likely first on the list being she wasn't willing to risk John's death meaning Corona's death). But as much as she talks about how fawning is part of her plan, she also praises him to Harrow in private. As much as he's grateful for excuses to tell his nostalgic old man stories to anyone, Ianthe consistently eats them up and that's extra nice. As critical as he can be he also offers a lot of praise, and even if it's flippant it's still nice to hear, and frankly more recognition than most people give her. Mercy accuses him of coddling Ianthe with the concern he shows for her. Even after at best "letting" him get sucked into hell, Ianthe quotes him unprompted in NtN and speaks of him with reverence in The Unwanted Guest.

Lastly it's very worth looking at the House he founded. The Fifth's entire vibe. At Magnus and Abigail. At where that culture came from.

He's such a good and interesting character. ;w; And I really do hope so badly that it turns out people (or at least lyctors) can survive getting cronched on and dragged to hell, because G1deon and Pyrrha are the dual embodiment of discipline, heedless of trial. Mercymorn the founder of the Forgiving House, the House for salvation, no matter the cost, paid the ultimate cost for her attempt with "I forgive you everything, Lord..." And it really would be so nice to see the ultimate pinnacle of Five for tradition, and debts to the dead.

There's really something in how despite his hollow flippancy, Augustine was the only one of his generation who hadn't given up.

Cytherea would have personally killed everyone in the solar system and then God, trying to die. Mercymorn tried to do it the other way around, but she had the same end in mind. Augustine is the one who said no. No, there are people out there. Real people, to whom we have a responsibility, and to whom we owe a future. Until. You know.

[visenyaism]

Hey, I don't know if you ever read American girl doll books, but wanted to see if you were aware that Florida has also banned some of those books.

Like everyone talks about the road to censorship but I think we are already getting to that point. Like they banned some books that just talk about how kids deserve school and shouldn't be forced to work in factories.

I am unable to find any non-tiktok hearsay source definitively saying this has happened in any specific divisions but I believe it could’ve.

I would like to talk about the book bans though. It can be easy to feel powerless right now or like all of this is a force of nature, but resisting these is decently actionable. Curriculum in America is almost entirely controlled by the states, but state policy is interpreted at the division-level (counties, cities, districts, etc.) What specific books get banned is decided locally. That means is that the threshold needed to create change is a lot lower.

Deciding to regularly show up to school board meetings and speak in defense of banned books and inclusive curriculum is one of the most impactful things you can do to fight them. Showing up in numbers and willing to be the loudest people in the room is how hate groups moms for liberty got these books banned in the first place. We can do that too.

[eddiewasinthearmy]

the thing about "you're exhausting" is that eddie isnt ever upset when buck is talking about his problems or making it eddie's/other people's issue. in fact he usually offering the exact type of support buck needs in those situations, and often actively starts the conversations about buck's issues. in 3x16 eddie is the one (from the 118) who is the most reassuring that they wont end up like the 134/red. in the buck begins arc eddie is there telling him he doesnt have anything to apologize for, that hes a show off but he know he had to do that rescue. in 4x14 eddie is literally the one that got shot but he is there saying buck sit down I need you tell you your life isnt expendable to me. in 5x18 buck is avoiding taylor by helping fix eddie's wall and eddie is the one that prompts them to talk about bucks issues. in 6x12 eddie gives buck the space he needs and then opens up to him about the shooting because buck asked. in 7x05 he listens to what buck has to say about tommy and then prompts him to figure out what he wants from tommy. during the saving gerrard thing buck is freaking out and eddie the whole time is saying you didnt hurt him, you saved him. Im sure there are many more examples Im forgetting

and when he lashes out or seems upset about buck's emotional state, it is entirely about eddie's emotional state and really has nothing to do with buck. its when he is on edge and buck's actions are actively impacting his needs. like in 3x05 eddie says you're exhausting because he needed buck to bail him out of jail and he is on edge because of his dead wife and he is placing his exhaustion on buck's lawsuit instead of his own mental health (eddie is guy who was taught to be man of the house read: not emotionally self-reflective. which is why he doesn't always place his feelings correctly when things are falling apart). in 3x18 they need to figure out which life to save before they lose both of them and hes on edge because its a high stakes rescue and buck is impeding it by being reckless with a sprinkle of he just met buck's invisible ex who he definitely hates. in 8x09 he needs to find a subletter and hes on edge because buck is sabotaging his efforts and being a jerk to eddie.

and well at a certain point actions should speak louder than (two) words right? eddie loveeeees to hear about buck's problems. he wants to know everything going on with him, even if its just that he's adopting a dog. he wants to verbally reassure him all the time (I do not know what imma do without you. I dont like this any more than you do). he literally does not want buck to "suck it up like the rest of [them]". in 8x09 he tells buck to get angry with him if thats what he needs. surely a person who finds another person's emotions exhausting wouldn't ask them to get more upset. sigh

[irritatingsquawkingnoises]

#idk if this is about palestine at all #but i really hate that there are two extremes on that topic #one side saying that being suspicious of the donation accts (who look and act exactly like the scam bots we've had on this site for years) #is equivalent to supporting genocide #and the other side treating ppl who donate/share posts like they're complete idiots for wanting to help people in need #like. there's a fucking middle ground here guys! #majority of the userbase probably IS in that middleground #it just sucks having to see lengthy rants from one side or the other making rounds on this site every couple weeks

[OP's sideblog here] hope you don't mind me responding to your tags @flaming-flesh-and-flowers but just wanted to say yeah. Although this post was inspired by lots of things and isn't exclusively about Palestine asks, I have definitely noticed the same lengthy rants you mentioned and they irritate me to no end.

It's extremely normal to be suspicious of strangers asking for things from you, and it's also extremely normal to want to help when someone reaches out in a vulnerable way. Most people experience both, so I wrote this to help navigate those feelings! But some posters on this website looooove to act like one of the two is completely unacceptable and needs to be ridiculed... especially, let's be honest, if doing so lets them deal with their own guilt or anger caused by countless other strangers doing the exact same thing to them.

I've realized that a lot of people (not just on tumblr, but irl as well) don't really know how to respond, emotionally, to strangers asking for money. This is not anyone's fault, of course! I grew up in a densely populated city where I would encounter beggars every time I went out of the house, so it doesn't stress me out at all. A lot of people aren't as used to it though, so here are some tips to keep in mind:

Not donating to someone in need does not make you a bad person. Even if you can afford it, money/time/mood-wise.

Accidentally donating to a scammer also does not make you a bad person.

When it comes to giving individual strangers a few bucks, it's basically pointless to try to deduce their authenticity. If you try, you are probably either a) relying on "vibes"/"common sense" which is extremely prone to emotional whims, demographic-based bias, etc. or b) spending WAY too much time on research.

Many beggars will make you uncomfortable. They will be mentally ill, or bigoted, or they'll say "God bless you" to people who don't believe in God, or they'll lie/exaggerate to garner more sympathy. This doesn't mean they aren't deserving of help, but it may mean that you can't/don't personally help them. Both things are true.

Related to the above: scroll past, block those accounts, filter those tags, avoid those streets, kindly interrupt that person and walk off.

If dealing with individuals is too stressful, you can always donate to trusted organizations instead! These are easier to research and may be more efficient. You can also volunteer for these!

Others aren't necessarily gullible because they choose to donate. Others aren't necessarily uncaring because they choose not to donate. Don't judge, especially if it's not someone you know.

Please don't spread unproven "facts" about individuals just to make others agree with your choice. Again, see the first three bullet points.

In short, your approach to donation should be based off YOU, your values and lifestyle, not the person you're donating to... because you know a lot more about yourself than them! If something makes you feel good or gives you energy/incentive to create positive change, then do it! If it makes you anxious, ashamed, or burnt out, then don't do it!

It may seem like a big deal when people ask for money because it probably is a big deal to them, and they will act accordingly! But the reality is, you and I can't afford that much emotional investment to every stranger on the planet. Individual donations are one of many, many different needs in our society, and having a massive moral dilemma over them every time is not healthy✌️

[revelboo]

Possible spoilers for earthspark season 3

Ok ok hear me out- yk the episode with the hate virus right after prowl was introduced I think, and how before they all turn into zombies it’s just Bumblebee who’s like really angry for literally no reason? Can I request something spicy with him using reader to try and calm himself down and it doesn’t work? I had an idea idk if it’s a good one tho lmao

Sure! It’s a good one 🤣

🔞 Mass displaced mech 🌶️

Aggression

ES Bumblebee x Reader

• What’s wrong with him, everything hazed and tinged with an impatient sort of anger. Every little thing putting him on edge until he’s snapping at everyone, servos trembling. Wanting to hurt someone, anyone. And you’re laying a soft hand on his leg, distracting him from snarling at the Terrans. “Come on,” you say, chin tipped up and you’re the only thing that isn’t setting him off. Familiar and grounding amid the fury roiling through him, heat and need twisting through him as he focuses on you. “Let’s get some air and talk.”

• Have no idea what’s wrong with him, but he looked like he was about to shove Jawbreaker’s head through a wall and you’re not having it. This isn’t like him and his engine is softly revving as he follows you outside into the tree line and away from the house. When you round on him to ask him what his problem is, his big palm smacks against the trunk of a tree. Making you realize he’s mass shifted and he’s caging you with his body.

• “I need,” he growls, struggling for the words as that angry haze digs in deeper. Need you to distract him so he doesn’t lose it. Hurt someone. Wants to hurt someone. Something’s wrong with him and he’s on edge. “Need,” he rasps again, leaning into your space when you back up, coming up against the tree. Those violent impulses keep him from reaching for you. Afraid of hurting you without meaning to even as his spike stirs.

• “Tell me what you need,” you whisper, and his optics flicker, bleeding red for a beat. What was that? He’s growling softly, engine revving nonstop now and the only thing you’re sure of? That he’s not going to hurt you, but he’s definitely a threat to everyone else in this state. And you can’t let him go near them. “You need me?”

• They’re back there. Enemies. Plotting to take you, hurt you. Unless he hurts them first. Turning toward the barn and house with a snarl, he hesitates when you cup his face, pulling him back to you. “Don’t worry about them. I need you.” And your mouth covers his. That chaos in his processor jangling through him. Hating them, but grounded by you.

• And he’s focused completely on you, servos a little rough as he tries to figure out your clothes and just ends up tearing them. Growling softly as his mouth finds your neck, kissing and then biting gently. Big hands gripping your waist and lifting you and his spike brushes against your inner thigh. Slides against you before he’s stretching you and you arch in his grip. Clinging to him as he moves against you and your body softens for him. Can feel the rough bark digging into you as he pins you, hips pumping urgently. Almost too rough as his servos dig in to your hips, probably leaving bruises on you.

• He’s less out of control buried deep inside you, the familiar scent and feel of you keeping him barely in check. Working out the anger with the feel of you wrapped so tight around his spike and your gasping cries. Feels your heels digging into him as he ruts against you, spike stroking deep and he claims your mouth again, muffling your cry when you fist his spike. Managing a handful of deep drives of his hips before he’s shuddering with his overload to fill you. Head brushing yours, that rage is banked for the moment, but it’s still there. And he’s still so hard and aching for you.

[4drianaaaa]

letting go :: Hamzahthefantastic

⚠: Fluff, nic addiction, and slightly suggestive. wrd count: 1k

req here!

Ever since you and Hamzah met 3 years ago you both had so much in common. Except there was something so particularly common the two of you had and that was nicotine. Before the two of you meeting each other, the two of you were always caught puffing a vape. It was something neither of you could leave the house without. Hanging out at a park, In the office, at home, even at Martin's and Mandy's. You both were always blowing clouds of smoke out of your mouths. You honestly hated it. You hated how you couldn't go not even 20 minutes without it, and obviously it was Hamzah always buying you vapes as well.

You were laying on your shared bed one night. Hamzah was at the office and you were at each other's apartment. You laid there, still. Petting the color named cat - Blue. You couldn't believe how addicted you were to a small electric cigarette. You looked over at your side of the night stand and noticed more than one of those bright, Ombre colored machines were there.

You got a notification that Hamzah was home as you had a very bright but foggy idea. You jumped out of your shared bed and made your way into the kitchen.

"Hamzah?" you questioned as he was no where in the kitchen. You looked around and once you fully turned around there he was, "RAH!" he tickled the sides of your waist as you jumped. "Jesus Christ!" You laughed as he picked you wrapping your legs around your waist. His lips met your jawline and to your lips as you giggled. "Okay enough!" you giggled as he sat down onto the couch. His kiss became rough. Needy. Your fingers swiveled through his blonde tips.

"I missed you so much baby.." he groaned in between kisses as your hands were placed around his neck, His hands at your waist as he perked his hips up wanting that friction between your legs. "Okay Hamzah, for real I need to tell you something!" you tugged him off you as he frowned, "Y/n I missed you, god forbid I start to miss my girlfriend!" He said sassily "Okay I missed you too baby but I want you to hear me out on something.." you cupped his face with one hand as his hands were glued to your waist listening to you. "I think we should both stop smoking..." you said nervously. He had no reaction at first. He would do anything for you, If It meant to stop doing something he had been addicted to for almost 4 years then he'd do it.

"Sure, Let's do it" He kissed your cheek as your face lit up, "Seriously!?" You perked up as he nodded "anything for you my love." He added, he knew it would be painful since he has tried to quit before but you being around would definitely make it easier for you two.

"How about we both go make dinner right now and take a bath together and go to bed, yeah?" you questioned twisting the strings of his hoodie around your finger. "Of course, doll."

1 month later!

You woke up to the sun peeking from the blinds if the window as you groaned. You looked over at Hamzah who was still dead asleep. It was already a month after quitting. Honestly you never felt better. You felt as if you were able to move around more and seem more clean. Even though the first two days was like hell you still managed to not touch any vapes that the two of you had. Hamzah had brought you to the office and showed you around, and going on late night walks, going out to eat. Simple things like that to distract each other.

"Morning angel" Hamzah yawned as he clanged behind you wrapping his arms around your waist sliding one hand under your shirt as his cold hand met your warmness. "Good morning, Hamzah" you looked back at him as his eyes were softly shut, he eventually fluttered his eyelashes. He kissed your forehead. He was proud of himself for sure. He had already tried quitting before while dating you but he found himself finding it difficult. He couldn't believe how far the two of you had gone.

"It's been a month by the way" you said lowly as his eyes darted open, "What!?" He exclaimed as you giggled and nodded. "Oh my god mama! I'm so proud of us!" he shot up out of bed as he threw a pillow across the room in excitement. "Jeez baby your gonna knock down the cat's tree!" You laughed as he laid next to you kissing your face and neck. His wet lips made you laugh as he pulled you closer to him. His lips crashed into yours as he couldn't contain his excitement.

"Thank you so much for this idea baby, seriously" he said kissing your forehead, "Of course, I don't know what made me think for us to stop but I definitely don't regret it." you smiled.

After eating breakfast you two made you way to the office to surprise Martin about the news.

"He's not going to believe me baby!" Hamzah said shutting the car door as you swung your bag over your shoulder. "Yes he is! I have evidence too!" you crossed your arms as he wrapped his arm around you walking up to the elevator of the parking garage.You both opened the doors of the huge office and saw Martin on the couch with Chase as they were editing a podcast episode. Hamzah began to skip towards the long couch like a child.

"You guys wont believe what today is!" Hamzah sang as he plopped next to Martin, "I dunno? What is it?" Martin questioned as he looked over at you and Hamzah again.

"I'm one month clean baby!!!!" He shot up from the chair jumping up and down as Martin threw his hand over his mouth. "Your lying..." Martin said in disbelief, "Is he lying?!" Martin looked over to you as you shook your head, "One month!" you laughed as Hamzah ran towards you and swopped you up bridal style. "Period!!!! Congratulations!" Chase yelled.

"And it was all thanks to Y/N!" he spun you around as you yelped, you clanged on to his neck trying not to fall right out of his arms. He placed you down carefully as his lips crashed into yours. You loved seeing how excited he was for the both of you.

-

don’t go grab your car keys and do the buying another vape walk of shame…been there b4 girly 😔 anyways I hope you enjoyed <3

[callsigndreadfrost]

Lmao how do I say any of this without sounding like I'm fetishizing or like a dad obsessed with his kids?

Loke's freckles. I love all those little spots! Honestly think that is such a cute feature on people. His hair color too but that's mostly because I have a bit of a thing for redheads. I'd be all over this man and his little brother if they were real people lmao.

Jelani it's definitely his eyes, that contrast between his eye color and his hair color and skin color is magnificent. Even if he does hate it when people point out his eye color lol. Also got this ice theme with him so it goes hand in hand.

Angelus it's his body shape tbfh. I'd sell my soul to look so androgynous that no one can tell if I'm a man or a woman. Also genitals. Dude, that is peak perfection in my book.

Trevor's eyes. They are a gorgeous and velvety brown that is so dark and intense that it looks like a void black.

share a physical feature of your oc's that you like a lot!