#Anyway I’m not biased (lying)

[pynkhues]

Congrats on the certified 'you piss on the poor' tumblr moment, Sophie

Hahah, look, I’ve had plenty of them, but it’s definitely my first in this fandom. Thank you though.

[the-travelling-witch]

young god! shouto, with a burning hatred for his father, lord of the underworld. laurels split in colour neatly, like the rest of him, and now that he’s learnt the truth about his mother, he finally understands why. the prince knows his father won’t just let him leave the underworld, the scar covering his face a grim reminder of when he first tried. but, really, he should have known it would only make shouto try harder to reach the surface, and thereby his mother.

leaving alternating footprints of fire and ice behind him, he climbs through tartarus, asphodel and elysium, fighting vanquished foes and slain heroes alike. but he’s no longer alone, for his quest has reached the eyes and ears of olympus.

on his journey he receives the blessings of various gods, whether it’s his father’s bright-smiling brother, excitedly talking about how his own son can’t wait to meet him, or a radiantly golden god carried by crimson wings, who barely slows down long enough to muster the prince like he’s looking through him at someone else.

shouto half expects, half dreads to find a peek of white or a flash of cerulean eyes among the shades that cross his path. even by the time he comes to face his father one last time, the young god is not sure if it’s a good thing he saw no such shade at all…

hear me out… bnha x hades

[telephoniii]

HEARTSHAPED CHOCOLATES

☆彡 in which you gift jamil a valentine and things get complicated

jamil viper x gn!reader

word counter: 3.1K

warnings: reader is prefect, possible ooc, miscommunication (kinda), descriptions of servitude

a/n: i wrote this at 2AM but i think it's really cute. i’m definitely biased because jamil is my favorite and i do NOT have any valentines this year whatsoever 😭

i hope you enjoy!! :>

Jamil wiped down the counter with a frustrated sigh. Kalim had, once again, gone behind his word and threw a last-minute party. One that Jamil had to do a majority of the work for. And now here he was, cleaning up after the incompetent boy.

Nothing he wasn't used to, but upsetting nonetheless. Though, he supposed that he’d be lying to himself if he claimed it was the only reason he felt bitter. His eyes flickered toward a calendar that hung on the kitchen wall of Scarabia.

Tomorrow, it’d officially be Valentine's Day.

Now, most NRC students were as single as could be for a variety of reasons— being a celebrity, focusing on grades, etc. Jamil fell under the category of being too busy. So many, much more important matters were always fighting for his attention. And a lot of them are related to Kalim in some way or form.

Being a destined servant to the Al Asim household wasn't an ideal situation. Plain and simple. Especially when it came to romantic relationships.

In middle school, young Jamil had a few girls he was interested in. However, all hopes of those crushes blooming into anything more died when they witnessed Jamil and his family bowing down to Kalim.

It's difficult to explain his role to his peers. Of course, the older he got the easier it became. But for most of his childhood, it was extremely embarrassing to have to say that he was to devote his life to serving the Al Asim family forever.

It was humiliating, giving leeway for others his age to look down on him. Now it wasn't just Kalim who he was lesser than. It was everyone. And it was hardly fair. Jamil was smarter than all of them combined.

He caught on to things quickly and was easily adaptable. When learning magic, his movement was calculated and precise. Yet, because of his last name, the respect he deserved was never given… Needless to say, he never pursued any more crushes.

By the time he was enrolled in NRC, romance no longer seemed plausible for his lifestyle. He wouldn't be able to devote so much time to another person other than Kalim anyway. That man-child can barely do anything on his own to save his life.

Jamil was convinced he’d spend the rest of his youth alone, only really finding a potential partner once he was free from the chains of servitude.

…And then you showed up at NRC.

You and your stupid soft eyes; that genuine empathy you carried on your sleeve. It's idiotic, really. You were bound to get taken advantage of in a school like this. Against his better judgment, Jamil felt drawn to you.

Despite being magicless and from a whole other world, you seemed to understand and empathize with his struggles better than those he had grown up with. And you weren't just all bark, no bite. You helped out a lot.

Many can just say that they feel sorry for Jamil, yet stand idly by as he served Kalim. You, however, saw him through his overblot. Instead of moving on, you forced him to communicate with Kalim about how he was feeling. It would've been so easy to fall back into the status quo, yet you stayed and improved his life for the better.

He’ll never quite get how one person could leave such a big impact.

You eased his worries about servitude. Being around you was naturally calming. It didn't feel like he had to babysit when he spent time with you. In fact, he felt as though he was learning new things— about both himself and others— every day with you.

The feeling scared him to his soul.

It was terrifying to be this addicted to another person’s presence. He wasn't used to having someone to look forward to: someone he wanted to be around all the time.

Jamil didn't know whether or not to pursue you. The last thing he wanted was to drag you into more of his messes… however, you seemed to frequently do that yourself, choosing to be involved for his sake. He was truly infatuated.

Despite it all, he refused to make a move.

You weren't from this world and all too soon he was sure you’d find a way back to where you were meant to be. It’d be selfish of him to pursue you, trapping you in a place you didn't belong. He knows the feeling of being trapped all too well after all.

There were no telltale signs you’d be interested in him back anyway. You were friendly with all and close to many. Who’s to say one of those fancy princes or endearingly dumb freshmen isn’t the one who’s captured your heart?

He purposely doesn't stand out, unlike some other students. Jamil assumed this put him at a natural disadvantage.

Assumed being the keyword.

Of course you, always breaking his expectations, had to crumble his thoughts by gifting him chocolates.

~

“Jamil?”

His eyes moved from his textbook to you in a second. He raised a brow as he watched you stare at him with an unrecognizable glint in your eyes. “Did you need help with something, Prefect?”

Those words made you perk up, grounding you back in reality. “No! No. I’m fine. Just…”

Clearing your throat, you put down your pencil. The homework in front of you was long forgotten as you focused your attention mainly on Jamil— much to his confusion.

“Do… Do you have any plans for Valentine's Day?” You cautiously asked, looking at him intently.

He furrowed his brows at the question, thinking it over. “Kalim will most definitely want to throw a party for the occasion. I'll be in charge of the decorations, cooking, and— well, everything as per usual.”

Jamil answered truthfully, not seeing much of a reason not to. Yet, he felt like he answered wrong as his eyes met your deflated gaze.

“Got it… Yeah, that makes sense…”

Before he could invite you to the party— you’re one of the only people he’d happily cook for— you messily started scouring through your bag.

He observed you curiously, mentally noting that he should help you clean out your backpack sometime. I mean, the amount of loose papers you have in there is absurd—

“Here.”

His mind goes quiet as you pull out a small, heart-shaped box and slide it toward him. Jamil looks at you like you are crazy, making you chuckle.

“I was hoping to give it to you on Valentine's Day, if you're busy then, I’d rather do it now and save you the trouble.” How thoughtful of you… His shock was transparent as he struggled to form words.

You didn't know whether or not to take that positively or negatively.

“Uhh—” It was awkward, the air was tense as you swiftly stood up. You flashed him a nervous smile. “I should go check up on Grim… Good seeing you?”

Jamil had never felt more scatterbrained. So many thoughts racing at once. Yet so little came out of his mouth.

“Good seeing you too, Prefect.”

~

He never did invite you, did he?

Jamil sighs at his ridiculousness. In the back of his mind, he tried to justify it.

The party wouldn't be ideal for you to come to anyway, he’d be working the majority of the time. He doubts you’d enjoy yourself. It might be awkward for you to even come after that exchange.

However, deep down, he knew he should've said something. Anything. Instead, he just let you leave with unsure thoughts.

Jamil didn't want to leave this be. He wanted to make it right. But with so little time, he was stuck.

~

Valentines arrived unreasonably fast, causing him to frown. The students of Scarabia could sense something was wrong, but no one had the guts. Well, no one except…

“Jamil? Are you mad?” Kalim innocently asked.

Although you made Jamil talk out a lot of his issues with Kalim, the white-haired boy’s voice still irked him to his soul.

“No. What makes you say that?” The Viper responded, keeping his tone neutral and calm.

Nonetheless, Kalim squinted at him with a pout.

“Is this about the Prefect?”

He nearly choked on his spit. “Excuse me?”

“Well, you guys like each other, right? Did you fight over something? Aww, I’m sorry if an argument broke out right before Valentine's.”

Jamil shook his head with an annoyed scoff, giving Kalim an unamused look.

“No, what—? Rewind. What makes you think we like each other?”

Kalim tilted his head like a lost puppy. It only served to frustrate Jamil further.

“Is it not obvious? You’re way happier around them than anyone else!”

Not that anyone pointed it out, but Jamil would undoubtedly deny the way his cheeks heated up at that statement.

“We’re not seeing each other romantically. Neither do we think of one another that way…”

He regretted letting his sentence trail and thinking aloud. Whenever it came to you, he was much less organized than he liked.

“…Well, sort of.” Although he merely mumbled these three words, that was all it took for Kalim to spring up ecstatically.

“Oh! So you like them but you haven't confessed? You can do it at today's party! I’ll invite them right now!” “What! No— Kalim, slow down!”

Jamil had to physically grab the other hot by his shoulders to keep him from bouncing away.

“I'm not ‘confessing’ at this party today, or any time soon.”

That lost puppy looked returned to Kalim’s face. Although he had seen it a few minutes ago, it still pissed him off all the same.

“Why not?”

Because he didn't know how to; plain and simple. Jamil for sure didn't want to have his ‘confession’ be too big. He’d hate for himself to come off as ingenuine to you.

Not to mention, Kalim and his antics have more or less ruined any big, dramatic gestures for him. Jamil can't help but find them corny and tacky now.

However, he didn't want to do something too small. A simple note won’t cut it for him. You deserve more. What exactly that entailed, he didn't know.

“Because I don’t want to.” Jamil unenthusiastically answered. He cut off Kalim before he could speak up. “No more questions.”

Not wanting to entertain this conversation any longer, Jamil walked away. Right. He had other, more pressing matters to worry about. Party preparations.

Food, decorations, music, lighting…

Damn it, why won’t you leave his mind?

~

The party, thankfully, went smoothly. Guests were enjoying themselves, there was enough food for everyone, and Kalim was too distracted by a few people to bother him. Letting out a relieved sigh, Jamil leaned against the wall behind him. His eyes wandered around as he started people-watching.

It was important to stay alert when it came to the people at these parties. He had to make sure no one had harmful intentions towards the young Al Asim. Though, as he should've expected, there were many couples here tonight.

Seems like a lot of Scarabian students brought their off-campus lovers here. Jamil can only hope Crowley doesn't chastise them too harshly for doing so.

He perks up as a slow song plays over the party. The lights are adjusted to dim and soon enough, practically everyone was on the dance floor. Couples, friends, strangers, talking stages— you name it.

It’s no surprise Jamil seemed drawn to the dance aspect of this part of the night. Even if he tried to hide it at times, his passion for the art of dancing always had its way of shining through. He glanced through the crowd to see if there was anyone without a partner.

Thankfully for him, it wasn't too hard to spot someone. These types of parties were always bound to have a few wallflowers. As he made his way through the crowd toward the one he had his eye on, he couldn't help but hear a couple of voices over the music.

“Ace, you little—!” That was all Jamil could make out before he felt a person suddenly collide with him. It didn't hurt or anything, and Jamil had enough sense to gauge it was most likely a mistake—

“Uh, hi.”

He didn't expect to turn around and be met with the sight of you. An embarrassed look sat upon your face as you fidgeted with the ends of your clothes.

“Hey.” Jamil curtly replied.

You gave him that stupid little smile of yours that made his heart race. A hopeful hum left your lips.

“Are you busy?”

He couldn't help but chuckle in response, giving his genuine answer.

“Nope.” He stuck his hand out, pretending that his mind wasn't going fuzzy from being in your presence. “May I have this dance?”

He felt you place your hand on top of his.

“Of course.”

With your permission, he let one hand fall to your waist as he gently guided you in a waltz-like manner. He was more experienced than you, precisely moving as the two of you dance.

You couldn't help but feel endeared. Jamil was pretty from close up. Unfortunately— or fortunately— he caught you staring. He gave you an amused look in response.

However, he didn't expect you to abruptly frown and glance away.

‘You couldn't get your hopes up,’ Your mind reminded you, recalling his reaction to your gift. It was for the better you don't get too attached.

Jamil seemed disheartened by the disconnect. His hand on your waist lightly tightened. Shortly after, a mischievous grin found its way on his face.

Suddenly, Jamil’s movement quickened. You gave him a confused raise of the brow.

“Jamil—?”

He doesn't give you time to finish your thought as he spins you, swiftly catching you in his arms afterward. Taken by surprise, you can’t help the laugh that escapes you.

You've never seen Jamil look more proud of himself as he gave you that smug little smile of his. He barely gave you time to react before he was moving the two of you again.

What you didn't expect was for him to dip you so, so low. Instinctively, you squealed. Your arms clung onto him for dear life.

“Jamil—!”

He let out a laugh at your reaction. “What? It's not like I’m going to drop you or anything.”

Your grip tightened after hearing those words. “Great sevens— you better not drop me!”

He playfully rolled his eyes. Jamil leaned in closer, his voice taking a lower tone as he whispered, “You trust me, Prefect, don’t you?”

You didn't respond to that, instead letting your small glance to the side paired with an embarrassed expression speak for itself.

In the next few steps, he taught you some more advanced footwork. He couldn't help but admire the way you’d smile as you caught onto it quickly. Jamil then spun you once more, this time it was less abrupt.

Prepared, you were able to smoothly go along with it. The boy let out an impressed hum, giving you a satisfied look. His eyes practically told you what he had planned next. Another dip.

The dip was more nerve-wracking than the spin. However, Jamil didn't intend to dip you as low as he did before— thankfully.

Your hold on him still tightened like it did before as he dipped you. Unlike before, Jamil let the pose and moment linger.

You’d gaze up at him, admiring the determined glint in his eyes. The way his hair naturally fell, framing his face, was just the cherry on top.

Oh, and how could you forget those breathtaking lips of his...

His thoughts were eerily similar to yours, taking in your features before letting his eyes roam over your lips. Jamil leaned closer, bringing his face mere inches from yours.

You swung your arms around his neck, making it easier for him to get closer… and closer… and…

Just as the two of you closed your eyes, about to connect, you hear the slow music turn to an upbeat, party song. Next thing you know, you felt your body swiftly being pulled up.

One moment, you and Jamil were so close, the next he was acting as though you were toxic. His hands left your hips as he cleared his throat.

It looked like he was planning on saying something before a familiar voice cut through the crowd.

“Jamil! Come dance with me!” The two of you both heard the young Al Asim shout.

You frowned. Right. He’s busy tonight with duties and whatnot. Although you felt disappointed, you gave him a tired smile and nod.

Jamil’s brows were furrowed, his eyes flickering between you and the direction Kalim’s voice came from.

Tonight seemed full of surprises as Jamil’d hand shoots out to your forearm and hurriedly guided you outside in the opposite direction of Kalim.

You were in shock as he pulled you outside, shutting the door behind him with a sigh.

“…You’re not gonna—?” “If anyone asks, you were nauseous from dancing and went outside with me for fresh air.”

Jamil was dead serious as he spoke, looking at you for confirmation. You nodded your head.

“Uh, got it.”

Silence soon filled the atmosphere between the two of you, the only sound being from the night’s wind. It was oddly tense. You were the first one to break the quiet.

“I’m sorry.” Jamil’s gaze immediately snapped up to yours, narrowing in confusion.

“Sorry?” He repeated, looking for clarification.

You fidgeted with the ends of your clothes. “Sorry for the chocolates. That was probably uncomfortable for you since that kinda gift is usually reserved for couples and all…”

Jamil’s expression softened the more you talked.

“Don’t be. It was a lovely gift.” His hands slowly make their way to yours, gently holding you.

“I reacted the way I did because…” Jamil sucked in a hesitant breath. “…Well, you’ve made me feel things. Feelings that I thought I was incapable of feeling.”

He carefully pulled you closer to him, allowing you to back away if you wanted to. You didn't. You just stared back into his gaze as he continued.

“Around you, I feel unburdened by my responsibilities. I feel… alive.” If you maneuvered your hand right, you could feel his pulse practically beating out of his body.

“I adore you like no other. When I received those chocolates, my mind melted. You… you turn me into such a mess.” He lightly scoffed with a small shake of the head. You can't help but chuckle.

“Nonetheless,” He gave your hands a gentle squeeze. You squeezed back.

“I’d never wish this feeling away. Never in a million years.”

Jamil’s hands momentarily left yours as he fiddled with his jacket. He was looking for something…?

“Although it’s long overdue,”

After a few moments, Jamil pulls out a small, red rose. You recognize it as a part of the decor from the party. He slips it into your hand effortlessly, his eyes staying on yours.

“Will you be my Valentine?”

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt behind the cut: YJ accidental baby acquisition. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Genetically, Kenley is our offspring,” Tim cuts in quickly, keeping his voice as even as possible. “The DNA test was clear. And they’re a child. They can’t just stay at the Tower or on the Watchtower.” 

“Impulse is technically seven, and Superboy is–what, five?” Barry says, looking exasperated. Kon’s still a few months away from four, actually, given the whole “was dead for a year” thing and some other weird shit that’s happened in their lives–they actually did the math pretty recently, but the fact that they had to do the math at all is very obviously a sign of weird shit happening in their lives, and either way, Tim won’t be correcting Barry’s math right now. “And you and Wonder Girl are what–seventeen?” 

Speaking of people who were dead for a while and lost track of shit . . . 

“I’m nineteen,” Cassie says, narrowing her eyes at Barry. “And Robin’s eighteen. No ‘technically’ about it.” 

“Physiologically and mentally, Impulse is seventeen and Superboy is nineteen,” Tim informs them shortly before anyone can try and make the technicalities an issue. “It’s unreasonable to treat them as capable of risking their lives as active superheroes after they’ve both already died in the line of duty but then claim they’re not capable of basic childcare when you think it’s inconvenient for them to be allowed to.” 

“Also you’re not allowing anything,” Bart says with a frown. “Kenley’s ours. Genetically and, like, ‘found and saved’-ly.” 

“Bart, you have no idea how difficult taking care of even a normal kid is. Assuming the kid’s safe, an actual foster situation is going to be necessary,” Barry says in exasperation, sounding weary, and Wally looks a little stressed too, which is not good. Wally’s the best chance they have to get the League at large not to be unreasonable about this–at least as long as Dick’s here, anyway–but he and Bart have never really seen eye to eye and he’s never really understood him or taken him seriously, so . . . 

Also, Wally’s the one who has the most experience with having superpowered kids in this conversation, and with nearly losing said kids. If anyone’s going to be the one they can get on their side, well– 

Technically, Tim is perfectly aware of Jon Kent’s existence and the fact that he has superpowers and was also temporarily “lost”. He’s equally aware of both Otho and Osul’s existences and past traumas and own powers. 

He is even more aware of the fact that Clark apparently didn’t know about Lophi and Martha and has never fucking once trusted Kon to be responsible for anything but a dog who was already invulnerable and indestructible and that he just personally happened to need a long-term petsitter for. Which might be unfair, a little, but is also objective fact. 

So yes, Wally is definitely their best shot here. Especially with Dick hopefully willing to back them up, if it comes to it. If he weighs in too quickly, Bruce will think he’s either biased or being too emotional, but if they can at least start to convince Wally and maybe Diana . . . 

“What do you expect us to do, just dump ‘em on Max Mercury or Red Tornado? Go see who’s the Spectre right now?” Cassie demands, folding her arms. “Go dig up Cadmus wherever they’re currently buried, see if they’re hiring kindergartners? Hey, I know, ship ‘em off to Hawaii with a sleazy–!” 

“Kenley doesn’t need fostered,” Tim cuts in quickly, because that line of conversation is not ending well no matter what. “We’re their biological parents, and we’re capable of taking care of them to an appropriate standard.” 

“That isn’t an acceptable decision for Young Justice to make without input,” Bruce says. 

“What is this, a superhero-CPS visit?!” Cassie snaps, clenching her fists. “Based on what, exactly? They’re ours! What’s not ‘acceptable’ is for the Justice League to decide you all get to make decisions about our fucking kid!” 

“Also, like, super hypocritical, I’m pretty sure,” Bart says. “Nobody interferes with what any of you guys do with your kids.” 

“None of us just kidnapped a kid straight out of a lab, Impulse!” Barry says in exasperation. 

“That’d be way too, like, actively proactive, yeah,” Bart agrees, and for just an instant vibrates in a very telling way. His expression doesn’t change, but he’s obviously angry. Very obviously angry. 

Maybe not obviously to Barry, though, Tim realizes almost immediately. 

“Being patient enough to show restraint isn’t a character flaw, kid,” Barry says, still clearly exasperated. 

“You’re being a sprocking nass about this,” Bart says, still staring at him with the same blank expression. “And also a fucking asshole.” 

Well, this is going well. 

“We’re just concerned about everyone’s safety, including the child’s,” Clark says, lifting a placating hand. Bart scowls, and Cassie bristles. Kon–doesn’t look away from Kenley. 

Tim just doesn’t feel particularly “placated”, put it that way.

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR EIGHTEEN

in which eddie shows you deftones, texts are missed and calls are answered, and lines are crossed once more for good measure.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, light dry humping?, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 4k+

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

18:00 ─────────────ㅇ── 24:00

Steve-O: rise and shine, campers! time to get back at it with these wellness checks. gonna need some proof you two are still alive.

HOUR EIGHTEEN - 9:00 AM 

Eddie’s eyes narrow in concentration at your phone as his thumbs fly across the screen, navigating the Spotify app with ease to find the Deftones song he specifically wants. He doesn’t do as you had and go to their artist page – he searches with purpose, in no mood to scroll through albums to find the song he’s looking for. 

“I still don’t understand how you can type so fast,” you mumble, watching with fascination that you try to tamper down with faux boredom, “Even I can’t type that fast, and I own the damn thing.” 

He doesn’t even glance up as he scrolls along the screen, finding the song and clicking on it, “I’m just good with my fingers.” 

There it goes. The air from your lungs, once again vacating the premises as he freezes beside you. 

It isn’t fair. An internal whine that nearly works itself up your throat and out your mouth, making you want to stomp your feet like a child. You hadn’t even recovered from the casual drop of baby yet. And now he’s going to just say that? 

“Oh, God, I-” he’s looking up finally, eyes wide and stuttering with embarrassment, “Fuck, I swear to God, I did not mean that as an innuendo.” 

You open your mouth. You close it. You repeat the process. You’re fucking speechless and it’s a little bit embarrassing. 

“I’m serious!” he persists when you don’t reply, and only stare at him in continued shock, “Seriously! I- Fuck, I was referring to with my job. At the autoshop. I’m- Fuck,” he cuts his explanation off, dragging a hand over his face and falling back into the couch, “Kill me. Kill me now, please – and be sure to make it quick and painless, pretty please.” 

You finally laugh. It’s a bit choked, a bit strangled, but it instantly has Eddie lowering his hand. 

“I think if we were going to kill each other, Munson, it would have happened hours ago,” you try to tease him, but something about the sentiment comes out far softer than you intended. Like it’s not a joke. Like, in your own odd way, you’re trying to whisper a truth to him – everything has changed for me now. 

“Probably,” he sighs, relaxing a bit and leaning back beside you as he looks to the phone once more and clicks on a song, “Proba-fucking-ly.” 

For the first two songs, there is a distance to be kept between the two of you. You peek at the screen and catch the titles – Cherry Waves and Sextape – and make a mental categorization of which one you enjoy more. You nearly audibly snort at Sextape, but manage to keep your immature humor to yourself. You prefer Cherry Waves, anyways. 

  The songs that follow become a bit of a blur. Because for the first two, the distance existed. You can focus on the guitar and the vocals and the bass drum and everything except the man sitting beside you. But then song three comes on. 

Fucking song three. You don’t catch the name, but it might be your favorite yet. Or you might be biased. 

Because it’s during this third song that something changes. Eddie is no longer content in just leaning back beside you, in letting you consume the new music in a sort of solitude that was impressive to achieve when not actually alone. You first notice his restlessness in the bounce of his knee, shaking beside yours as he finally puts the phone down on the coffee table rather than balanced on his thigh. You don’t comment on it, you let it slide. You faux indifference. But then, the flexing of his hand starts.

It’s odd. Sure, plenty of people mess with their hands in relation to nerves, but you’ve never seen it happen like that before. The slow stretch of him pushing his fingers to their limits before retracting them, bending his knuckles as he tucks the tips in. The veins along the top of his hand popping exceptionally. 

“I’m just good with my fingers.”

I fucking bet he is. 

You curse yourself for the warmth that burns in the pit of your stomach. Focus. You should be focusing on the music, on taking in what he’s sharing with you. 

Not on his hands. Specifically his fingers, and how good they’d feel-

Fucking stop it. Cut it out. No. 

It takes an ungodly amount of willpower for you to look away, but you manage it. Unfortunately, what you don’t manage to do is ignore the bouncing of his leg. You don’t manage to extinguish that burning that he’s begun in you — a fire started from his kindle. 

Impulsive. Impulsive, and a little stupid, and endlessly daring. That’s what it is when you finally reach out a hand to land on his knee midsong. 

The shaking immediately ceases, and you take over the soothing motions as you let your thumb initially rub in arcs against the side of his thigh. With each strum of the guitar that rings out, you let your thumb complete its semicircle motion. With each pounding of drums, you give a gentle squeeze. He doesn’t say a word about it, and neither do you. Especially when he drops his hand over yours, wiggling his fingers between yours with the failure of a casual grace. You try not to smile as you flip your hand and let him properly intertwine them.

Flexing, but this time, it’s to squeeze your palm to his. You still think about those goddamn fingers.

“So, what do you think so far?” Eddie asks after he clears his throat.

“They’re good,” you nod, finding yourself shuffling subconsciously closer to him now that he’s gripping onto your hand, “Really good.” 

“I’m just good with my fingers.”

You know that he’s more than just good. Just like Deftones, you’d dare say he’s really good. 

The song switches, and both of you have scooted close enough to one another that your thighs press together. Shoulder to shoulder, sharing enough space to feel his breath on the side of your bare neck. 

His grip on your hand tightens.

You want the opposite. You suddenly want his hand to detach from yours and to find home on your cheeks, hands on either side of your face before he’s pulling you into him, throwing caution and formality to the wind. You two have already crossed that line; why was it so hard to take that leap once more? 

The song is still playing. You don’t recognize the tinny guitars that are on the loop of repeating the same notes, an echo effect of sorts layered over them. 

It’s just the guitar. And suddenly, the rasps of Eddie’s breaths are something your acutely aware of. Like he’s closer, like he’s letting his head tilt even closer to you. You feel that heat transferring between your biceps that are smashed together, not even thin layers of t-shirt or the sleeve of the crew neck able to stop it. 

It all happens suddenly.

The guitar pauses and Eddie’s hand loosens in yours. Your heart races, and you realize you’re preparing yourself for what he’s doing before he’s even sprung into action. 

Kiss me, the sigh you let out whispers.

It’s answered by the song, and by Eddie. A combination of the two that you can’t differentiate. 

The silence in the song is cut off by whimpers. One from the lead singer on the track, one from Eddie. Both breathy, both shakey, both whispering of the loss of control.

“Fuck it.”

Two words. He says those two words again as his warning before he lets go of your hand and is reaching up, shifting your two bodies impossibly quick as his hands do exactly as you had craved. One on each cheek, and then he does it.

He kisses you.

It is neither kind nor gentle, despite the allusion that it might have been from the way he cradles your cheeks. The callouses on his fingers scrape your cheeks, you can feel every crack in his bottom lip as it slots between your own. It’s easy and quick work, the way your mouths can mold together so effortlessly. Tongues that were once so sharp as they’d spit venomous words at once another now meet and pass over teeth, blurring the lines of where you end and he begins — of where hatred ended and this began. 

Whatever it is, whatever it will be for these last few hours, whatever it will be once the clock runs out, you’re grateful. You, your vinery, your civility — they all scream their prayers of thanks as his hands drop from your cheeks and find your hips. You don’t even process that he’s tugging you onto his lap or that you’re letting him until it’s happened. Your thighs bracket his own hips, and he gives you no time before he’s pressing your full weight into him, hands clawing at you, desperate to keep you close. 

You can’t even hear the song anymore over the roar of your own heart.

“Baby,” he murmurs against your mouth, and you realize now what the price is. 

The price is your sanity. The price is a loss of control, and letting him consume you whole. A small price in the grand scheme of it all.

“I-“ you start a sentence that you have no idea of what the ending would be, but he interrupts with his mouth. The teeth your tongue had once met bite down on your lip and you swear you taste blood, swear you see crimson as he sighs out again into your open mouth. 

His hands guide your hips against his. A steady rhythm, and with only a few passes, you can feel him harden against you. Your pace picks up of your own doing, the friction of your panties and his pajama pants nudging your clit and leaving you breathless. 

What the fuck are we doing?

You should stop it. You should mind the delicate balance you two have been trying to achieve since you first crossed this line. 

You only push down harder on him, only bite down on his lip as he had yours. This time, blood might have honestly been drawn — the hiss that escapes him says it all. 

“You’re going to be the fucking death of me,” he chastises you between kisses, “You want to know what was fucking wrong earlier? You. You are driving me insane, you are driving me straight into the fucking grave.” 

Oh.

Oh.

The way he had leapt up. His nervous energy. The way he had put as much space between the two of you as possible.

“I affect you that much?”

It is not a confident question — you completely pull away from him, leaning back as you breathe it out, hands finding home on his shoulders as you survey him.

He’s being honest. 

His pupils are wide but those brown, doe eyes have softened as they meet your gaze. His chest is heaving, his lips are already bruising pink as they fall apart so casually. 

He’s being honest. 

You affect him, you’re doing this to him — he’s caught up in flames, no sign of salt water in sight. 

“You always do,” he says, “Always have. Probably always will.” 

Your grip on his shoulders tighten. 

I could never hate you. 

How blind you had been. How absolutely, blissfully unaware you had been functioning all these months. 

A hand trails from its grip on his shoulders, fingers slipping over his bare collar bone, “What do you mea-“ 

You don’t get to finish the question or dig any deeper into the revelation. The music both of you had long since abandoned has been replaced by the ringing of your phone.

Eddie’s eyes immediately pinch shut, face twisting with irritation. You can’t tell if he’s more annoyed at the interruption due to whatever breakthrough you two were on the precipice of, or because he’s still painfully hard beneath you. But he quickly wraps one arm around your waist, tugging your torso flush to his as he leans forward quickly and reaches out to grab your phone. 

“Oh, what the fuck,” he huffs once his eyes are open again and he’s looking at your phone screen.

Your face has been pressed into the crook of his neck due to the current position and way he’s tightly holding you to him. You have no clue who it is, but you have five decent guesses to throw out. 

He answers for you. Sharply and bitterly, he snaps out a, “What do you want, Harrington?” 

Steve. One of the five guesses. Go figure.

“Yes, we’re fucking alive,” Eddie holds no patience for your friend, all the softness he’d held for you gone save for the stroke of his thumb against the bare small of your back, “We were-“ 

A pause. You wonder for a second if he is going to admit it. If right here, right now, he would confess to your friends what has happened. How he could never hate you, how you drive him insane, how by nothing changing that everything has changed.

“Sleeping.” 

An answer to your question. You hate your disappointment, and bite it down with vengeance. 

You can faintly hear Steve’s voice over the phone, not quite as trilling or pitched as Nancy’s or Robin’s. Eddie’s annoyance still rolls off of him in waves, and you imagine that you’d catch him rolling his eyes along with his little huffs of air if you were to finally lift your head from his neck. But you’re selfish, and his arm is still around you waist as it presses you tight to his chest, so you indulge yourself. You dig your nose deeper against the junction of his neck, you take in his lingering cologne and let the stray curls tickle your cheeks. 

You should have known he wouldn’t admit it.

“Okay, okay,” Eddie grumbles into the phone, barely getting out the repetitive word before his breath hitches as you pucker your lips against the skin you’ve been burrowing into. It’s only a chaste kiss, but it has its desired effect, “Okay, Harrington. We’ll send a fucking photo. You done?”

Then it hits you. A fun game, a distraction from your disappoint and a way to crawl under his skin all in one. You fight hard not to let a smile spread at the risk of him feeling it against his neck as you take a deep breath in through your nose, noticing the way his shoulder nearly reflexively lifts slightly as if it tickles, because you’re puckering your lips again.

The second chaste kiss is testing the waters. He doesn’t react. And so you go forth with your plan, mouth falling open, teeth grazing his jugular.

He reacts microscopically. His chest halts movement.

It’s not enough for you.

So you suck. Hard. Puckered lips and a vendetta to prove, you let your teeth bite at the skin that sucks into your mouth. 

That does the trick.

“O-Okay!” he yelps out in surprise, his hand bruising as he grips you harder. He tries to pull his neck back from you, but his hand only presses you down onto his lap and you feel his dick twitch beneath his thin pants, “Christ, Harrington. We fucking get it. We’ll send a photo. And we won’t sleep another wink, so bite me,“ he pants out as you move to the spot beneath his ear, finding where his jaw connects to his throat, repeating the process and doing exactly as he had told Steve. His hips buck up into you, “Okay, I’m hanging up now, Harrington. Bye.” 

You’re grinning wildly against his ear as he tosses your phone carelessly somewhere on the couch — or maybe the floor, you couldn’t tell at this point — before he’s flipping you down onto your back on the couch and hovering over you.

Your head falls back instinctually, leaving your neck open for him to begin an assault of kisses.

“Are-“ A kiss. “You-“ A bite. “Fucking-“ A soothing lathe of tongue over the bite. “Kidding-“ A harsh suck. “Me.”

You writhe beneath him, but he’s pressing his entire weight down onto you, hips slotted between yours and one hand  pinning both your wrists to the cushion above as the other stays glued to your waist. 

“Did you think that was funny?” he breathes out against you, letting the tip of his nose barely graze over the base of your throat, “Doing that shit while I was trying to talk Harrington down from that damn ledge?” 

“Why was he on the ledge to begin with?” you breathily question, trying to move your hands from his grasp, the urge to run your fingers through his curls growing. He only tightens his hold.

“Apparently,” he pauses and presses a quick kiss at the edge of the sweatshirt collar, looking up at you through his bangs and lashes, “He had texted, and we didn’t respond. Photos are back in demand.” 

“We’re quite the commodity,” you try to joke, avoiding his gaze. Trying to avoid the softness buried deep inside there, all soft and melted in shades of brown, “We should start charging them.” 

“We are charging them, technically,” he snorts, finally letting go of your wrists and leveling his face above yours.

Right. You keep forgetting the promise of a cash prize if you make it out of this alive. 

Alive, not unscathed. 

You’re already picturing that cash as blood money, some pathetic trophy that won’t even begin to cover the irreversible scars that will be left behind. All the hurt, all the fights, all the realizations — no amount of promised money can erase them.

You start to consider what could erase them, but you stop yourself when you realize that that admittance is too heavy. 

He’s here. The weight of him is pressing into you, the smell of him is encasing you, and the stare of his big brown eyes is locking you in. You have him. For a few more hours, you have him.

The wounds can wait. The time to heal and scar over will come later.

“I guess they are, huh?” you laugh when you realize you’ve gone too long without replying. 

The stare turns curious. Still melted chocolate, still deathly soft for you, but curious all the same. “Yeah. Yeah, they are.” 

You’re about to retreat into your own head and consider what he might do with his share of the cash, but that voice in your mind whispers once more.

He’s here. You have him. Just ask him.

“What are you doing with your money?” you blurt out. 

He chuckles and shakes his head, curls falling over his shoulders and creating a curtain as he continues to balance his weight on his forearms settled on each side of your head, still hovering over you.

You should probably comment on that. Make a snide remark about it. Shove him off.

You don’t.

“Is that really want you’d like to talk about right now?” 

Right, the weight of his hips as he rolls them gently into you reminds you of what the two of you had been doing before the phone call. The boundaries you’d hopped right over, all the lines you two had been in the process of crossing.

The affect you have on him.

Your stomach twists and suddenly your legs fall open wider to welcome him in, only to wrap them up around his waist. He lets you, lets you pull him right in until your chests are flush to each other. The only thing separating your skin from his is this damn sweatshirt. 

“I… Maybe,” you force out just before his lips capture yours. It’s not as urgent as when he’d pulled you in for a kiss to Deftones, but it’s still enough to shatter every bone in your body before melding them all back together into something new, something different.

Something changed. 

Eddie smiles, and it’s almost shyly. “Maybe?”

You hum, but it’s cut off, caught in your throat with another roll of Eddie’s hips. 

“Okay. Let’s talk about it then, sweetheart.” 

Another roll of his hips, and you lift your own to meet the thrust this time, trying to catch him against you in a way for reprieve. You can feel the wet patch gathering on your panties, your thighs clenching onto his hips harder. 

“What ever shall I do with my money?” he pretends to ponder, eyes shooting up to look away from you in faux contemplation. 

As he does it, one of his hands wander over your sternum, dancing above the fabric of the borrowed clothes. 

“Maybe I’ll buy a new bike,” he muses, the hand wandering lower, tracing a steady line down your abdomen, “Maybe I’ll get myself a new guitar.” 

His hand has reached the hem of the sweatshirt, slips beneath it and plays with the edge of your panties. 

Your mouth will be your damnation as you snipe back, “Or maybe you can buy yourself a whole collection of playboys, filled with plenty of models who definitely don’t look like someone you claim to hate.” 

His hand retracts immediately, and you can’t help but begin to giggle.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you start to gasp out when he lifts away from you, reaching out to grab onto him. 

He’s fast, but your hands are quicker. You wrap them around the back of his neck and tug him into you, only for him to continue to lift himself up and bring you with him as well this time. 

You resemble a koala, and can only imagine what the scene looks like to an outsider. 

“Eddie!” you practically squeal, and can feel the vibrations of his own laughter as he sits up on his knees, you still clinging to him.

His arms wrap around you and you lean back, catching that mischievous glint in his eyes. It breaks through the softness, burns brightly in your chest as your laughter fades into soft breaths that hit his freckled cheeks.

You stare at each other for a moment, a tangle of limbs and unspoken words. His earlier admission isn’t forgotten, the lines crossed all painted in red now.

He’s here. You have him, for now. 

You can only imagine the claw marks you will be leaving behind when the clock strikes twenty four hours, and you’re forced to leave him and this behind. 

“You, sweetheart,” he finally breaks the silence with gentle smirk, “are a certified boner killer.” 

You don’t miss a beat, reaching down between you two, hand cupping his still prominent erection, “You sure about that?” 

He only groans in response, and in your following cackles, your hold on him slips. 

He could have let you fall back roughly on the couch, especially given his distraction with fighting his ever growing smirk. He could have let you smack your head back on the cushion and let you deal with the dull ache that would have followed. He could have, he could have, he could have.

He doesn’t. 

He guides you back with his arms still tight around you. Makes sure that you land softly against the worn plush. Takes his time removing his grip on you before he’s standing up from the couch.

You lay back, so sincerely content as you let out a final breath of a laugh and watch him shake his head in amusement as he turns to leave. 

“Where are you going?” if it weren’t for the residual giddiness of the moment, you’d have been embarrassed by the clinginess that had threaded its way into your tone.

“The bathroom,” he answers without hesitation, back facing you as he starts down the short hall.

You call after him, “Okay. Don’t take too long this time!” 

Even as his laughter echoes faintly, you know you still have him. For now.

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[markleessodalite]

There's No Dignity in Love: z.cl

content: Chenle is in love with you, he can't deny it. And he's mortified. A little bit angsty, a teeny bit of fluff, mostly just Chenle being difficult. No warnings i can think of

a/n: i find it so much easier to write for Chenle than for Jeno or Haechan, my actual biases lol

Its not that Chenle didn’t like you. Actually, the reality is the furthest thing from. Chenle is stubborn as a mule and hates to lose, even if its to himself. And for some reason, Chenle accepting that he might, in fact, have a little crush on you, feels like losing. It feels like he might as well tell you every other embarrassing secret he has, because what’s the point in trying to maintain his dignity now? You two were friends, have been for such a long time, and you know all the right ways to pick at him, get under his skin, tease him relentlessly and encourage his other friends to join in on the fun. He has no problem teasing you right back though. Or he used to not have a problem with it, but for some reason it was getting harder and harder to come up with clever quips on the spot, and he’d spent more and more nights wondering if he went too far and if you actually were hurt by something he said. With each day Chenle was getting more shy and less cocky, and you picked up on it so easily, and teased him even more, and he hated it. So why shouldn’t he just tell you about every mistake he’s made, every time he’s embarrassed himself in front of someone important, every time he’s been confused about something everyone else in the room seems to have the upper-hand on so that you have all the ammunition you need to make him feel like a loser?

He already feels like a loser anyway, just all of a sudden having a crush on someone he’s been bickering with for years. He’s such a loser for being so obvious about it, the way that his talkative self immediately shuts up when your attention is on him. He’s such a loser for laying awake at night thinking about all this and trying to talk himself out of this rut. Maybe he’ll eventually convince himself that it’s not a crush– he is Zhong Chenle, after all. Stubborn as a mule.

At least he was gonna try to talk himself out of it until a certain someone (very likely Haechan no matter how much he denies it) got tired of a clearly lovesick Chenle and decided to take matters into his own hands. You were completely caught off guard by the sudden anonymous private message, but not too surprised at what it said. So you gave Chenle a call later that day.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

“Because its not true.” He chuckles, but you can hear the wavering in his voice.  “Do you really think that highly of yourself?”

"Chenle..."

“Y/N” he torts, mocking your tone of voice. “Seriously, I don’t know where you got this idea that-”

"I see how you've changed, Chenle."

"...what?"

“I’ve just… I’ve noticed things. You got quieter. You don’t argue with me as much. You’ve just kind of… pulled away. I was worried that I did something to offend you, I didn’t know, I just…”

There’s a silence so loud you think your eardrums are gonna blow out, until you realize you’re just hearing your own heartbeat in your head. Maybe this was all just a misunderstanding. Whoever sent you that message was probably just messing with you, but now you’ve crossed a line and made things awkward.

"I do like you."

"Really?!"

“Just shut up and let me get this out okay?" Chenle sighs, a mix of annoyance and anxiety evident in his breath. "I do like you, and I don’t really know why, because we’ve been friends for years at this point and I haven't started liking you until recently. Or maybe I just didn’t realize it until recently– whatever. And I guess that I've changed but that’s just because my thinking has changed I guess? Like sometimes I can’t sleep because i’m thinking about you and I’m flipping between convincing myself I don’t like you and wishing that you were lying awake with me, which would just frustrate me even more because you know how I am with this kind of stuff and admitting things that I don’t want to, and, just… yeah. I don’t know. I’ve got my own issues with my pride and stuff, I guess.”

You tried to think very carefully before responding, although Chenle’s shaky breath on the other end of the line was thoroughly distracting. “Sometimes a little humility can go a long way, Lele.”

"... I know."

“I wouldn’t have thought anything bad about you if you told me.”

"I know."

“What I do think is that I like you too, Chenle. Even if you’re a loser.”

Chenle doesn’t say anything, but you just know he’s rolling his eyes while biting back a smile. There’s no way you won’t tease him about this later.

[bea-ce]

asking your boyfriend to take a bath with you!

characters: alhaitham, childe, diluc, kaeya and kaveh!

genre: fluff

summary: in which you ask your boyfriend if he’d like to take a bath with you!

notes: i’m extremely biased and you might be able to tell, hehe whoops anyways i thought i might give some fluff before i drop some angst that i have in my drafts! (none of you are safe from my angst writing.)

warnings: slightly suggestive in childes and kaeyas part, but other than that it should be safe!

Al Haitham

You’d either have to drag him by his cloak into the bathroom and push him into the bathtub with force to get him to take a bath with you or be lucky enough that he deliberately wants to take a bath with you. He’ll be extremely reluctant the first times you ask to take a bath with him. Not because he’s shy, but just because he doesn’t see the point of it. Eventually he warms up to the idea and it becomes another thing the two of you do together amongst many other things.

“You’re so filthy, you should take a bath. Come now, I’ll take one with you. What? I have to make sure you get properly cleaned off.”

Childe

He’d have a smirk plastered across his face the first time you suggest taking a bath with him and he’d be damned if he didn’t take the opportunity to tease you to the point you’re left with no more retorts to throw straight back at him. He’ll make suggestive comments while you undress and get into the bathtub that’s filled with lukewarm water. You can only smack him as he settles down in front of you. Despite the impure praise he’ll bestow on you while washing your hair, you can sense how much he cares about you and loves you from his actions alone.

“Turn around so I can wash your hair for you, unless you like getting soap into your eyes. Have to make sure you’re well taken care of, right? Can’t have people think I’m not taking proper care of you.”

Diluc

Poor man, he was rendered speechless and defeated from your suggestion alone the first time you had proposed the idea of taking a bath together. The way he blankly stared at you with no response being rendered any time soon had you wave your hands reassuringly that he didn’t have to if the idea made him uncomfortable, you’d be lying though if you were to say that his reaction wasn’t a little bit disappointing for you. Diluc is quick to compose himself as you wave your hands and assures you that he’d love to.

“Is that what you really want? Alright then, sure. I can’t see why I wouldn’t take up on such offer, especially if it’s with you.”

Kaeya

He’s extremely smug about it and won’t stop teasing you by leaving lingering touches and words that only insinuates that he’s out to make you flustered and embarrassed. Despite that he’s quick to agree and get to it by being the one dragging you to the bathroom along with him instead of the other way around like you had intended to. 

“Oh my, is that really a proposition? Do you have any other plans while we are taking a bath together? Relax, I’m just kidding. Unless you really want to.”

Kaveh

Ugh, he’s all shy about it- hesitant and tripping over his words at the suggestion of taking a bath with you. He’s quick to agree once he finds himself composed again and checks in every 2 minutes to see if you’re still alright with the idea of taking a bath with him. Of course you are, and a part Kaveh knows that too. But he wants to be sure and leave no space for doubt that you might’ve regretted the proposition. Kaveh is sweet while the two of you take a bath, letting you sit in front of him with your back pressed against his chest as he washes both of your hairs together with one of his products.

“Are you sure that you’re alright with this? Okay, okay, I’m just checking. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I’d never want to do something you didn’t want to do. I love you too much to do something like that.”

[sleepybbie]

(going on anon bc im shy WHEHDHD🫡)

but how about a drabble of like, having a quickie with yingxing in his workshop or something 🤭🤭

bonus point if hes being a tease and kept edging you, forcing you to keep begging even tho he kept denying u anyways :3

𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒚 | yingxing (blade) drabble

a/n: SHSHHSJA I LOVE U SM FOR THIS ISTG (>w<) ♡ since i’m a bit biased (i am) i low-key made this drabble more longer than i originally planned to be ;w; but that shows how i love him sm

yingxing (blade) x fem!reader

warning: smutty drabble below! mentions of past!blade so there’s spoilers too ૮ • ﻌ - ა

you’d be lying to yourself if you say you didn’t enjoy watching your lover work on his weapon forges.

it wasn’t rare to anyone in the xianzhou that YINGXING was a very hard worker when it comes to crafting masterpieces of a weapon, glands of sweat rolling down his forehead to his forearm before wiping it away with ease. no wonder jingliu wanted him to be the one forging the weapons for the high cloud quintet; not only they were easy to hold and durable, but they have a strong impact of slashes that were even hard to destroy.

he gives in a lot of effort to his creations. therefore, he spends most of his time on his crafting table to make sure they were perfect. every weapon he forges, he smiles as he creates a new masterpiece and takes his time.

but how could he forget such a cute darling like you?

if there’s one thing you knew about your lover, is that he likes to tease, make you pout when he gets the chance. it wasn’t your fault you couldn’t peel your eyes away from him as he hammers down a weapon, it wasn’t your fault you find it so hot when he rolls his sleeve down his sweaty arms during the heating process, it wasn’t your fault why you visit his smithy looking so alluring and ethereal in a new short gown baiheng gifted to you in order to show it to him, and it’s absolutely not your fault why the small items from his table (including the blueprints) were scattered onto the ground while you’re being fucked in his workshop.

…this is a different kind of “risky” he’s giving you, a memory that might be in your head for a couple of weeks, or even months because of how good he was slamming his hips onto that spot of yours over and over. you have no idea whether his workshop was soundproof, you’re scared if ever dan feng were to visit him—after all, that high elder often comes in without warning. he finds it endearing, how your soft smile when you entered his forging area was now shifted into a mouth that cries his name on repeat like he just damaged your brain.

he promised to make this quick since he still has some forgery to finish. you don’t want him to be distracted when he’s already so focused, do you?

“ngh..! ha..! ah! y-yingxing…!”

your helpless and breathless mewls just seemed to turn him on more along with the way your hands clawed its way onto his damp neck, pushing your legs further up to wrap around his waist as he fucks into that spot of yours, repeating his ruthless thrusts while he pants heavily over your shoulder. it was sticky, you both were getting sticky; it’s obvious you were close, the pain your nails were digging on his attire was certainly giving a sign. who wouldn’t? his tip penetrating deep inside on your cervix was already enough to send you over the edge.

“p-please…wan…wanna cum..!”

“not until i say so, sweetheart..” he breathes into your neck, taking in that scent of yours like a pervert as he grins, “be obedient and wait for my signal..”

you hated when he does this, so teasing…you’ve been a good girl, right? so why? you teared up a little, and that just riled something inside of him more.

suddenly without warning, yingxing lifts you up off his desk, carrying your body until you back hit the wall, pushing his cock back inside of your sobbing puffy cunt like he was running out of time. he didn’t give time to rub himself in you, he just straight up pushes himself in. yingxing picks up the pace, pushing his tongue into your mouth while carrying your legs, balancing your body in order for you not to fall back from the wall. he’s strong..as expected from one of the strongest in the luofu. you’re full on crying, drooling spill past both of your lips before he pulls away with a smile. he’s close too…you can see it from the way he bites down his lip, blood drawing out, shutting his eyes when you clenched down on him.

now you both were even.

“are you keeping it in?”

“p-please, please, please…wanna…cum, yingxing…!”

“just a little more…i—

he was cut off with a grunt, pushing you back up on the wall after you almost fell down. were you so fucked out from his thrusts it made you unable to hold yourself? he chuckles.

“that was close, huh? as i was saying..just a little more, darling…and then you can cum..”

god, this was unfair. it’s so much..it’s only been a past minute when you both decided for a quick-quick, yet the smithy was a mess with the scent of sex. dan feng was definitely going to question this after..

“c’mon…almost there..” he goes even more faster, you swore your eyes were gouging at the back of your head when it hits that soft spot in your walls over and over, feeling semen spill out little by little, his thrusts sloppier..holy shit, you were seeing the aeons at this point. yingxing had a vice grip over your thighs as he holds you tight, your head bumping on the wall behind you, hard. you could hear him curse underneath his breath.

“y-yingxing, please…!”

“shit…you wanna cum? come, my darling, let’s do it together..”

and with one last thrust, his lips on yours to silence your moans, the coil in your stomach was cut along with his, cum spilling down past your legs as you whined loudly in his mouth—ribbons of his release shooting inside of you, breeding you basically. your poor cunt spills his thick seed, tickling down to his legs and onto the floor. fucking messy, and fucking filthy.

he didn’t dare to drop you while you both catch your breath, after all he didn’t want you to be hurt. yingxing holds you tight, leaving a small mark over your neck as he pulls out, watching his dick soften, along with his release spilling out of you. he thinks you’re pretty, he knows you’re pretty, including with that new fucked our expression of yours. he kisses your cheek, to your nose and on your forehead. he smiles, acting like he didn’t fucked you like a goddamn beast.

“want to buy something with me at the market? i forgot i need more materials.”

this guy…

an: hehe! i love yingxing ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[fairuzfan]

shalom sister. i love your blog and your writing. reading your posts always fills me with fire, i can tell you have a good heart. donating to your campaign makes me feel so good because i trust you and truly you are doing gds work. anyway i wanted to ask you a question!

when i hear new things from gaza, stories of hamas doing X and IOF doing Y, i ask around and i’m not sure what parts of that story is true, if any. anyway idk what to believe all i know is that israel is committing acts of genocide and while the rest of the world is allowing this greatest evil, israel pretends that to be jewish is to be a colonizer. anyway some of my family are zionists, but i cannot sway them because they only know farsi persian and hebrew, aka only trust extremely biased sources.

anyway i am fluent in english farsi and hebrew but my arabic is trash ): so i feel like i can’t get the full picture from palestinians. all i can read are bonkers iranian papers and the disgusting zionist articles, it’s horrible because i know they’re both lying, just about different things. a palestinian opinion is the only opinion i care about right now! anyway it got me thinking. i just wanted to know if you have tips for verifying online research? or go-to non arabic websites? or even a translation app haha. i just want my family to see the truth!

shalom<3

shalom! thank you so much for reaching out, i really appreciate it.

personally, i use different sources for different material. i use middle east eye (specifically maha hussaini) and also mahmoud abusalama for videos of what it's like in the north. i use the electronic intifada interview podcasts to learn about specific things happening (i just finished watching this one about the collapse of healthcare in gaza). i would check out @northgazaupdates on here too. there's euromedmonitor as well.

and really, there are a lot of diaspora palestinians who are relaying what their family tells them, and they post on twitter a lot. someone i know does this is samah fadil. there's also @el-shab-hussein who translates things from Mona. here's mohammad smiry who is in gaza and tweets primarily in english. dr. mustafa elmasri also tweets in english too.

i would use al-jazeera, i have a fact checking guide here about any news source really. i don't use it as much but there's also the palestine chronicle. sometimes i use quds news network.

i really don't know much about hebrew media so i can't really tell you about sources i recommend there. i don't know if @bringmemyrocks or @rodeodeparis can perhaps provide some input?

i will say, if you're looking for hebrew palestinian media, i dont think there's too much because there's a ridiculous amount of censorship in '48 right now (honestly it's been going on for years atp) but what a lot of palestinians are doing is relying on internal networks. if you want, there are some israeli historians like Ilan Pappe and Avi Shlaim but I'm not sure if they write in hebrew. but they for sure write in english and provide a historical perspective from within israeli society itself.

this is what comes to mind rn honestly, but i haven't even touched on instagram because i haven't been on it in a while. i might add on later if i remember any really vital ones that i recommend.

[skyeslittlecorner]

IT'S TIME TO CELEBRATE! KING OF BABYGIRLS IS CHOSEN! 

Let me contribute to this competition. As one of the people whose brain was rotten and taken over, let me be the (self-proclaimed) herald of victory.

First, a little kiss for Zagan, Sitri and Foras just because I’m biased and want to kiss my personal babygirls. Also, a huge kiss and a basket of delicacies served by the maids for Amon, and a salute to his nation. We carried out your will, my lord. 

Now it's time to recognize everyone who deserves it! After hard battles and bloody fights, let's meet our winners.

Paimon stans, it was an honor to fight with you. Therefore, despite the lack of a podium, you deserve to be honorably mentioned. 

Special mention - Paimon

"4th place? What a shaaaame." Paimon leaned in when you said you wanted to put an honorary sticker on his horn. "I'd rather keep it foreeever. Now I have to be caaareful when I wash my haaair! Maybe you can heeelp meee~"

It is true that the inhabitants of Hades are immortally loyal to their beautiful king. No wonder he is on the podium with us.

3th place - Leviathan

You give him a medal, definitely not saying he took third place, unless you want to hang from the ceiling and watch other competitors being hunted down by unspeakable horrors. “You called me what? What a ridiculous idea.” But obviously he likes it and hopes that in addition to a medal, the winner will also receive a kiss. At least. 

One of the favorites from the very beginning. Deservedly, Eligos, one of the cutest devils, takes second place.

2nd place - Eligos 

 “Ohh, only second place?” You almost can't stand his eyes of a kicked kitten, so you gently pat his head and stroke soft hairs. His mood immediately improves, and he catches your hand with a sweet, mischievous smile. "Come on, you have to reward me now." A whole day of cuddles, shopping, eating and your undivided attention awaits!

And, at last. Kneels down. Allow me to pay tribute to our lord and ruler, the one and only sitting on the throne. 

1st place - Andrealphus

You caught him off guard. He was playing with his phone, lying in bed, long hair untied and spread picturesquely on the sheets, T-shirt lifted over a chiseled stomach. You rarely saw this beautiful, lazy side of him, and almost forgot what you came for. “I have a surprise for you, my king.”  He turned to you. Not that he has to, because he couldn't see you anyway, and yet always tried to face you. “Me?” “Let me serve you, as you shall sit on your throne.” He raised an eyebrow in amusement and got up, but didn’t ask. Silky hair got tangled in the horns, so you parted it gently and placed on his back. Each time you scratched him a little harder. First between the shoulders, then you ran your fingers over the muscles that you couldn't see through the material, but felt under your palm.  "We had a little competition." You finally sat down on his lap so he could touch your face, feel your smile under his fingers. “Who among you, devil nobles and kings, is the greatest babygirl. It was a vote, several rounds, like a full-fledged cup. Hundreds of people took part!”  “Sounds like fun.” “And you won.” His facial expression didn't change for a bit.  “I what?” “You won! We voted and cheered and were with you every round. Congratulations!” You kissed him, but he needed another second to process what he heard. His eyes widened, and his fingers twitched on your face. He cupped your cheeks, stroking your lips and eyes with his thumbs, checking to see if you were joking. “How? You said it was hundreds of people. We have never met.” “But they know you in their own way. You're intelligent, kind and gentle… and you know what? Let's let all those who love you have their say. ” You started reading comments, hashtags, and all the happy nonsense you produced during this time. At first, he couldn't believe it, but you wouldn't lie to him. He hugged you tightly as you scrolled through Tumblr. You were having such a great time, and he felt the warmth spreading more and more inside him. So many people. So many kind words. He, who never had family nor friends, who was not used to closeness, always lonely, always depressed, listened to so many praises and admiration about himself.  He was grateful that you included him in the vote. Victory? He would never have thought of it. So many people were with him. So many people loved him. He never knew them, never would, but he wanted to say thanks, to touch and know their faces, to hug each and any of them. All the emotions bottled inside felt down with tears of joy.  “I would like to repay all of you somehow.” His voice became hoarse with emotions. Another kiss landed on his lips, as you brushed away long hair that had fallen onto his handsome face.  “Do not even think about it. It's our way of saying thank you for who you are. And that's all we want you to do for us. Just be, and be yourself.”

[temporarywelcome]

Formula of Love - Tate Langdon

Words: .8k (short n' sweet)

Summary: Tate can't stand reader's music taste.

A/N: trying out shorter fics to see how I like it.

“Shut the hell up Mina is so the best dancer in the group,” 

Swinging her legs while lying on her stomach in her comfy bed, Y/N had her phone pressed to her ear using her shoulder as leverage. She pouted, replying to her best friend, “Bullshit, it’s Momo. Mina is a great dancer too though, which is why they share the main dancer position,” 

“You’re just biased because you’re, like, in love with her,” her friend shot back. 

Y/N giggled, rolling her eyes, “My true love is Jihyo,” 

“She will never love you,”

“Youch,” she sat up, “Imma go now, I have some homework to do,” 

After saying their goodbyes, the two hung up, Y/N standing up and walking to her shelf. Surveying her album collection, she plucked out Formula of Love by TWICE, the group that housed Mina, Momo, and Jihyo, settling down in her bed again. Popping open the CD rom of her laptop, she inserted the disk.

Hey, if you have a million albums, you might as well use the CDs.

As SCIENTIST began to play, she hummed along to the song, occasionally eyeing the side of her laptop as if the CD rom was going to pop open on its own. 

Well, she wouldn’t be surprised if it did.

Ever since she had moved into this house with her family, every time she would play music and leave her phone or laptop for a few moments, the music would either stop or completely change. 

It was… strange, to say the least. Very strange. 

After a few minutes, her stomach rumbled, so she stood up and slipped out of her room to get to the kitchen. 

And that was when Tate Langdon took his chance. 

Tate hated Y/N’s music taste. To him, her music was meaningless and straight up ass. It didn’t help that he didn’t know what they were saying most of the time, so he really didn’t know what the meaning to any of these songs were. 

It didn’t matter anyway, none of those people would ever compare to Kurt Cobain. 

A one point, Y/N had gone hours listening to her shitty music and since she was so engrossed with whatever she was looking at on her laptop, Tate took the opportunity, grabbing a Sharpie and drawing all over one of the posters on her door. 

She was furious, blaming everyone in the house, which gave him time to replace the CD she was listening to with one of her dad’s Nirvana CDs. 

Her dad was cool. 

So as Y/N busied herself with getting a snack, Tate opened the CD rom and took out the stupid TWICE CD, replacing it with a Nirvana one he had taken from her father’s collection in the basement. 

Ah, Kurt Cobain. Real shit. 

“Who the fuck are you?!”

Tate jumped, head snapping to the direction of the sound. The doorway. Y/N, holding a bowl filled with what he could assume was her brainfood for this homework session. 

“You can see me?” he asked stupidly. 

She looked at him like he really was stupid, “Of course? Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my room!?”

“Your music taste is ass,” he ignored her question, lying on her bed.

“Excuse me?” she blinked, eyeing her room for some sort of protection in the chance he was an insane serial killer.

“It’s ass,” he repeated.

“How dare you?” Y/N was completely flabbergasted, “You came into my room just to insult my music taste? Get the hell out!” 

“I don’t want to, Kurt is speaking,” he replied, “I’m Tate, by the way,”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass, get out!” she hissed. She went to throw the first thing she saw at him, the Formula of Love album, but paused. She would not risk a perfectly good album on this asshole. She had a Jihyo poster in there. 

He huffed, offended, as if he had the right to be, “Well, now I definitely don’t want to leave,” 

“What the fuck?” she could feel her blood pressure rising more and more, “Get the fuck out of my house!”

Tate smirked, dimples on full display as he stood up and sauntered towards her. Taking the album from her hands, pissing her off further, he looked down at it, “You call this real music?” 

“You’re a real nice guy, y’know that?” she snatched the album back from him, “Are you the one who keeps fucking with my music?!” the more she processed it, the more ticked off and panicked she got, “How often are you in my house?!”

“Does it matter? I think your poor music taste is more important, a much bigger issue,” 

What the hell is wrong with this guy?

He grinned, strolling towards her album collection, “What is the appeal anyway? You don’t even know what they’re saying,” 

Y/N paused, before slowly joining him in front of the bookshelf. She pulled out a different album, Ready to Be, “I’ll advocate on TWICE’s behalf, you can speak in defense of your Nirvana. Then you can get the hell out of my house.

Tate’s eyes lit up, the idea of being able to talk to a pretty girl around his age about something he enjoyed bringing him joy, “I’m so going to win,”

She was speaking his language. He had a feeling they would be talking more often.

[welcome-back-to-hoimycraf]

happy @mcyt-summer-of-yuri, kai!! this is my treat for @fragayzeichen, I really hope you enjoy ^^

oops wait forgot credits

thank you to @anonymousacres, @thesillyloverezra, and @garlicbreadcrust for ideas and betaing services!

“You need a what now?”

“A moonstone!” Gem supplies, removing her gaze from her notes and to Pearl’s face instead. The woman’s expression was mildly confused, yet willing to help all the same. Gem had always admired that aspect of the other ruler. Despite whatever qualms she had, she was always happy to help a friend in their endeavors.

The wizard grinned apprehensively as she stashed her notebook away in her bag, still rather uneasy with her decisions- but that could be sorted at a later date. Right now, she needed to explain herself. “It’s for a potion I’m making. Moonstones only form here in Gilded Helianthia, so I was wondering if you could help me find some?”

Pearl hummed to herself for a second, tapping a finger against her crossed arms in thought. “I’m sure I could ask a jeweler for some info on them!” 

Gem nodded a bit too eagerly. “Yes, that sounds perfect! Thank you so much, Pearl.” Before she could stop herself, she’d already reached out to take her friend's hands in her own.

Luckily, she was saved from embarrassment when Pearl squeezed them gently. "'Course, mate! Anything for you."

The genuine, caring smile Pearl broke out in made Gem's stomach twist and her chest tighten. Oh, why did she have to be in love with her best friend?

At least, with Pearl's help, she'd finally be able to act on those feelings.

The notebook in her satchel, containing every detail of how to make herself absolutely perfect for Pearl, practically burned a hole through the cloth of her dress with the guilt it made her feel. She felt bad, manipulating Pearl into helping her without telling her the full truth- but Gem supposed she wasn't lying, which gave some comfort.

“Well, don’t just stand there, silly! We better get goin’ while it’s still daylight!” And with that, Gem was promptly dragged away. 

Squawks of surprise and giggles filled the manor’s rooms as they headed for the main entrance. The wizard knew her way around, as she’d been here countless times throughout her life, yet Pearl led her to the door, anyway. Their hands were still intertwined, Gem realized. She tried to hide the redness sprouting across her face that came with the knowledge. 

Pearl’s hurried pace slowed once they reached the outside, transforming into something more akin to a casual stroll. With the more relaxed stride, Gem was able to take in the scenery a bit more. 

She may be biased, but Gem thought of Gilded Helianthia as one of the most beautiful, detailed empires on the continent. Something about it was so peaceful, so cozy. It felt like home. 

Wheat fields sprawled out across the flat ground of the kingdom, hidden by the shopping street they’d moved to once away from the modest mansion. It was more of a large farmhouse, really, which struck a familiar cord in Gem’s heart. It reminded her of her own small home in the Cliffs. While other emperors prided themselves on their grand, sprawling castles, her and Pearl were of the same mind- preferring their quaint cottages.

Anyway- she was getting ahead of herself. 

The combination of their laid-back gait and the gentle swinging of their hands, clasped together between them, gave off such an air of… domesticity, it almost made Gem sick. She had to stamp these feelings down. They did her no good as she was now. But maybe, just maybe, after this, she’d finally have a chance…

She was quite lost in her own head, which led to her not noticing the rake that had fallen in their path. 

It must have fallen from where it had rested against a shopfront. That made sense- they were in the main area of town. She should have been more careful! Gem could hear Pearl’s sharp gasp as her grasp was ripped from the other woman’s. The wizard shot her hands out to try and catch herself, which she realized backfired when the searing heat and pain that comes with skinning your palms bubbled up. 

All that to say, she landed face-first on the sidewalk. 

The same sensation shot up her cheek as it collided with the rough stone. Gem coughed and spluttered, struggling to get air in through her shock. Distantly, she could hear Pearl asking something. She tried to open her mouth to respond, but all that came out was a questioning, pitiful whine. Pathetic.

“Are you ok?” Pearl’s pinched expression flooded her vision, and Gem soon realized she was crouching over her. A gentle hand, which she realized belonged to her friend, cupped her wounded cheek. Gem gasped sharply, and the hand retreated. “Sorry, sorry,” the ruler apologized, wiping some of Gem’s blood discreetly on her dress- not discreet enough, though, “didn’t realize you’d got your face, too. Need some help?”

Gem shook her head weakly, trying her best to smile through her pain- her embarrassment. “Yeah, I-I’m good! I’m fine!” She let out a strained chuckle as she picked herself up from the brick, waving off Pearl’s silent offer of help. “I’ll fix it, I’ll fix it.”

With the blink of an eye, a little magic, and a slightly heavier weight on her eyelids, Gem’s wounds were closed. Even the rip she’d felt in the leggings below her dress had been mended. She’d never been more thankful to be a wizard. “See? Fixed!”

She ignored the worried glint in Pearl’s eyes, continuing down the sidewalk before she could say whatever she’d been thinking. 

If she were perfect, she wouldn’t be so clumsy. Wouldn’t see the hurt on Pearl’s face…

The jeweler wasn’t far. It didn’t take long for them to enter the shop, greeted by the cheerful man behind the counter. The store was filled to the brim with precious stones and minerals- gold, silver, rubies, diamonds- you name it, it was here. The owner, as he introduced himself, was happy to help esteemed guests such as themselves (his words, not Gem’s). He even seemed proud of the moonstones he brought out when told what they were after, excitedly telling them when and where they were harvested. 

Thankfully, Gem only needed one for her potion. It cost a pretty penny- one Pearl insisted on paying herself, despite Gem’s protests. 

“It’s hospitality, Gem,” the lady laughed easily. Butterflies churned in the wizard’s stomach. “You’re my guest for the day, so I should pay for you, ‘kay?”

Gem could only nod and hide the growing flush she blamed on the warm, humid evening air. 

“Now that we’re out here,” Pearl interrupted the silence, glancing around at the nearly empty streets surrounding them, “may I ask what this is for?” She held up the box containing the precious ingredient, offering it to the other. 

Gem took it in her hands, fiddling with the magnetic latch. She bit her lip- a nervous habit. What does she say to that? ‘Yeah, I’m going to make a potion that’ll change me forever so you can fall in love with me!’ …That didn’t seem like the right course of action. 

“It’s to help me sleep,” the wizard blurted out before she could stop herself. “I’ve been having trouble falling asleep at night! Moonstone- moon- night- makes sense, y’know?” She giggled a bit too high, ignoring Pearl’s raised eyebrow. 

Thankfully, her awful lie seemed to convince her. “Hope you can get that worked out, mate,” she smiled, pulling her friend into a short hug. Though it was brief, the contact left Gem breathless. “You take care of yourself, alright?”

Gem pulled back slightly too fast, nodding quickly. “Mhm! Uh- got to go, bye!” 

Pearl watched her pull out her elytra and a rocket, getting a running start to soar off into the sky. She followed Gem’s path out, sighing when she left her sight. What was she up to?

—----

Gem stood above the bubbling liquid, taking a deep breath. The moonstone trembled in her hand, hovering over the open flask. The last ingredient.

A deep guilt settled in her stomach, twisting and turning what little she’d had for dinner when she’d gotten home. She felt awful about this. She felt awful about lying, about manipulating her best friend into doing something for her own gain, without her knowledge. 

No, the potion didn’t make Pearl fall in love with her, she wasn’t a creep, but it would make her the perfect person for Pearl. The person Pearl dreamed of when she lay awake at night. The person she wanted to kiss, to cherish, to marry someday. 

Gods, she hoped this worked. 

The stone clinked to the bottom, and she watched as the liquid boiled and reacted to the new addition. It fizzed up to the surface, turning the liquid a bright gold. 

The representative of Pearl. Just like the moonstone. 

Well, here goes nothing.

She barely hesitated before downing it in one fell swoop. The potion was oddly earthy, with hints of grain and yeast across her tongue. It reminded her of the woman of her dreams. 

The wizard set the glass back down onto her desk, wiping her mouth as she breathed heavily. She’d done it. She’d done it- and now all she had to do was wait for the changes.

Wait.

Wait…

Gem was... confused when she felt no immediate changes. She was still the same height, same weight, same hair color, same everything. And, when she checked the mirror, her distinct Adam's apple still bobbed when she swallowed. Even the gap between her front teeth hadn't budged. Had the potion even worked?

No, she was sure she'd done it right. She'd followed every instruction down to the tee, double and triple checking each step.

Why hadn't she changed?

As soon as she thought of the question, the answer struck her like a lightning bolt. Gem's breath hitched in her throat. No- no that couldn't be right.

...Pearl already thought of her as perfect?

[thechanglingchronicles]

Okay okay fine

We’ll talk about Scott (1/18 traffic analysis)

I’m gonna start by saying if you’re a die hard Scott fan you probably won’t like this, I’m not the biggest fan of his. Please go look at my other posts or just ignore this.

I’m starting a new thing where I just don’t want to ruin something for someone but I am a little hater.

I’m also so incredibly biased and not in his favor.

Also just about characters!!

So with that out of the way……

Scott!!

Honestly I think people mischaracterize him a lot. Which who cares do whatever you want forever but for the sake of this you’re wrong <3

Let’s start with 3rd life!

I don’t like how he treats Jimmy. I’m so sorry flower husband fans I totally get the appeal!! It’s like yeah Jimmy is a goof and he’s bad at stuff but like Scott doesn’t think Jimmy can do anything right. He berates him and makes fun of him to other people. He’s nice to him only for the benefit of himself, so he won’t drag down their team.

He expects his death.

Isn’t that tragic? He makes a widow’s alliance like he can’t wait for him to die. Like it’s expected. Jimmy’s not cursed yet. It’s not likely he’s going to win or anything but you can’t believe in him at all? You have zero faith he can live past you?

It’s so demeaning. It comes across as him thinking he’s better than Jimmy and I think he does believe that.

Of course in the end Scott seems pretty heart broken but the reason he doesn’t go through with his new alliance is because Cleo died.

Then we have the home scene at the end which is sweet but doesn’t make Scott any less annoying to me.

Scott never gets overcome with bloodlust which is interesting because of how many kills he has. That’s all him, no revenge, very little red/boogy bloodlust, he kills because he can.

What is the bloodlust just not strong enough for you? Too good for that too?

Okay he teams up with Pearl in last life because he hopes she will give him a life. Just for teaming up with him? And she does of course.

At least Ren had something to offer undying loyalty and willingness to die for Lizzie.

Like that’s a deal worth taking.

Pearl at least is like you gotta prove your worth somehow?

Then again he’s trying to team up with Cleo like real shit I guess, I would too. it just feels shity to me. If I was teamed with Scott I’d question whether or not he really cared about me at all.

He just comes off as selfish in any situation he can. I should probably give him a little credit, he is in a death game.

It’s the way people portray him as this guy who’s very morally superior and doesn’t play dirty.

But he’s ALWAYS playing dirty.

He’s constantly manipulating everyone around him.

He’s such an asshole to me idk

He’s telling Scar that they’re friends and allies but he never does anything for Scar or spend any time with him. Ditching him when Cleo tries to stay aligned with him after they get a life from him.

He very easily lies to whoever he wants to and gets away with it. His actions never catch up to him. He’s never held accountable and he’s constantly being rewarded for lying and manipulating the people around him.

Anyway the start of my hated journey is double life because he’s the worst in this.

I don’t understand why Cleo and Scott are so butt hurt about not finding their soulmates, it was funny though so I’m not upset about that.

When Pearl comes and finds him, he expects her to grovel like Martyn does. They didn’t really do anything wrong though? They were both properly geared up and it’s not like they were the only people trying to get recourses?

It’s nonsensical after listening to their explanation to still be upset, but they don’t listen or hear them out they just want to be begged for forgiveness.

Pearl of course was not going to do that and she of course is not innocent and antagonized him after that.

He’s not forgiven by me for what he did to Pearl for letting her win. She should have killed him.

That is not Scott’s only sin, what kinda douche builds a ranch specifically so you can make one better than your friends? The ranch by the way was also created to break up other peoples relationships while gaslighting them about that very fact.

Cleo and Scott spend all of double life trying to manipulate the different soul bounds because they are unhappy in their own.

Scott’s defining characteristic is being petty.

Limited life we have all the sacrifices he does, overdone at this point.

He’s so cocky. I feel like people miss that. He antagonizes and tries to get people to want to kill him. Which is how Scott has killed Joel so many times.

Scott is annoying so Joel will want to kill him but he keeps getting him.

In limited life specifically it’s so jabansksjsjsj

Because Joel is just trying to stay in the game longer he’s getting desperate and a little deranged and Scott just keeps killing him. I don’t how many kills but it was over kill.

Ugh and how he acts around Jimmy, like respect his boundaries. MAYBE theirs a good reason he doesn’t want to be around you, FREAK.

Keep the stupid pufferfish to yourself he’s over you!!

I get the ick or whatever

Ahem

Then he lets Martyn kill him for time and then the win and like where’s the drama???

Scott frfr would had another basic bitch ending like thank you Martyn for being the one interesting guy here.

Secret life

All of his actions became unforgivable when he didn’t let western duo team up, genuinely wanted to strangle him.

God again with the thinking you have some authority with what Jimmy does and thinking you know better than these grown people.

MAYBE some people are here for a good time, a loyal time, a fun time! Not a long time, but YOU wouldn’t know anything about that.

I appreciate the growth this time the final self sacrifice kill did have drama, but it was mostly Gem sounding genuinely devastated about killing him. (Idk know why that’s devastating I’m still upset about Jimmy and Scar not teaming)

I honestly don’t remember anything about real life really don’t count any of that as canon besides Cleo being a winner and Joel getting motion sickness really easy.

My hatred might actually be mostly the Jimmy and Scar thing and the fandoms interpretation.

I feel like he’s either worse than you think or just as bad but in a different way???

Kill the twink in your head.

[bestworstcase]

Your thoughts about Salem possibly intentionally ascending to be what is essentially a Grimm Faunus makes me think:

I wonder if Salem chose to ascend to become a Grimm because she believed Grimm were endless beings that could endure her current nightmare better than anything else. Instead, the end result of that ascension was finding out that the Grimm weren't just eternal manifestations of evil like she and many others were led to believe by the God of Light, but rather independent living creatures with their own unique morality system who could live and die like anything else. I'd imagine such a revelation would only further sour her on the God of Light, because she'd basically realize that the Grimm were just another victim of the God of Light's existential crisis.

oh i don’t think she On Purpose set out to turn herself into a grimm. for one thing, the lost fable is an unreliable narrative in a really specific way: jinn answer’s ruby’s question exactly, this is information ozpin knows or believes to be true and actively chose to hide from the kids. none of it is new information to oz—so how does he know what salem did during the parts when he wasn’t there?

salem told him.

thus, any factual incorrectness during these parts of the story must be the result of either:

salem outright lying to him, or

ozma misinterpreting what she said, or

ozma making baseless assumptions to fill in the gaps of what was (given how long ago it all was and how long she was alone) quite likely an incoherent story.

now generally speaking i believe that salem hesitated for some time before telling him of her involvement in the rebellion but otherwise told ozma the truth, because the text supports this (she “blamed the end of the world on the gods,” rightly), because she has no reason to lie about what the gods did, and because the thematic narrative requires that the lost fable be a biased account of real events, not a complete fabrication.

anyway, the point is:

If the fountain of life granted her immortality, then surely, the pools of Grimm will finally take it away… She was wrong. This force of pure destruction could not destroy a being of infinite life, so it created a being of infinite life with a desire for pure destruction.

jinn ascribes a specific motivation to salem’s choice to drown herself in the pool of grimm, and states that salem’s reasoning proved to be wrong. this passage, like the rest of the lost fable, articulates what ozpin believes—but i think this is his misinterpretation of something salem told him when she recounted this part of her story.

she says, “the fountain gave me infinite life. i thought the pool of grimm would take it from me.” he hears, “i was trying to kill myself.”

but what i think she meant was, “i thought the death in the pool and the life in my soul would mix together. maybe it would kill me, i didn’t know or care, but isn’t that how the brothers made us? darkness brought you back to life, and he called that creation, and i wasn’t thinking clearly because i was going insane from isolation but i thought that maybe if i sacrificed myself i could bring everyone back.”

she says, “i didn’t expect to become this, but of course one can’t destroy creation, so it changed me.” and he hears “i was mistaken, and now i’m cursed.”

because the thing is, as i’ve noted before, if you take away from an infinite quantity, an infinite quantity remains – because ‘infinite’ does not mean incomprehensibly big number, it means numberless, countless, boundless. so was salem suicidal, or was she doing math?

what happens if you take some life from infinite life? where does what is taken go?

she returned to the place where, millions of years ago, she’d seen the fearsome god of destruction claim the powers of creation as his own after bringing a dead man back to life. and then she poured INFINITE LIFE into the dark well of that god’s power which still, she’d seen, continued to birth living creatures long after the gods had gone.

what was she trying to do?

just die?

…or claim the powers of her creators in order to bring the world back to life?

the results being her own transformation plus animal people is probably not what she expected to happen, exactly, but – certainly it is an improvement over her previous circumstances and so i doubt she had any complaints, until humans proliferated and began to persecute the faunus.

the question of whether salem, in the grimm pool, did or didn’t experience ascension in the literal sense – as in, meeting the blacksmith and being given the choice to “choose for yourself one who could leave your burdens behind, or choose one who’ll be enough to bear them” – is a secondary but also interesting question.

i’m inclined to think that she did, and that’s interesting, because if true that implies salem had the chance to escape her curse – shed her old identity, leave all her memories behind, and be reborn new – and actively chose not to take it. and that’s so compelling because – why? what inspired her to refuse? to keep going? think about everything salem’s said about hope, that even the smallest spark can ignite change, breathe fire into the hearts of the weary, that hope is mankind’s greatest strength; think about how that hits if—

—these are the same picture.

and then there’s ‘the shallow sea’:

“They didn’t do anything to us,” the people on the shore called. “The water hasn’t changed us. It has washed away the lies to reveal what we’ve always been, just under the surface. Our old forms were just a shallow disguise. This is who we are.” A few dozen more people on the boat were convinced. They dropped into the ocean, and though they transformed more slowly, by the time they stepped out of the water, they, too, had become their true selves and were welcomed onto the island.

like, think about what it says about salem for this to be how she sees herself, how she conceives of her transformation – that in becoming grimm she became more herself. true, we haven’t yet gotten hard confirmation that ‘the shallow sea’ is an allegorical account of salem’s metamorphosis, but the writing is on the wall. lol.

she’s the same person as before but she isn’t human, doesn’t feel human anymore, doesn’t want to be human. certainly there is a degree of trauma and isolation and dehumanization at work here, but at the heart of it – and this is why, i think, she chose to return as herself, if she found the blacksmith in the grimm pool – is this idea that her human-self was a ‘lie.’

the brothers made humans and made certain promises to humankind – light especially presented himself as a benevolent adjudicator who invited people to come before him, pray to him, worship him. they made salem. she believed in them. trusted them.

and in the end, they destroyed the whole world to spite her. the last thing either of them said to her was to blame her for the massacre they committed (light) and mock her for “still demanding things of [her] creators” (dark) – so why would she ever consider herself human again? why would she do them the courtesy of calling herself their creation?

cause here’s the thing – notionally, they made humankind to settle their differences. to make peace with each other. humans were the symbol and seal of the brothers’ harmonious coexistence, and salem proved the lie, and then she went ‘fuck you both’ and created herself: a person, a grimm, the living breathing combination of the waters of life and death, light and darkness, that the brothers refused to intermingle. she proved them wrong.

salem is not the one who sowed division between them.

they separated creation from destruction and enforced that dividing line with horrific violence. salem is the one who, left behind in the ruin of their world, brought the sundered halves of destruction-and-creation back together to create herself, and in doing so created a new world.

she isn’t the flawed human who disrupted the delicate balance and ruined the world forever. she’s not the divider. salem is the balance. the unity of opposites. the very embodiment of what mankind was meant for!

and they hated her for it! the god of light intends to wipe out remnant from existence to punish her because she saw through his lies about how the world was meant to be and revealed the truth he’s afraid of.

and yeah grasping that the grimm are not ontologically evil is a part of that (and i have no doubt also factors in her hatred of the huntsman academies because she knows humans and grimm can coexist with each other – evernight itself is proof of that.) but i think it’s less significant than the union she achieved, exposing the lie that creation and destruction are not one and the same.

[formula-ghost]

leaving my thoughts/opinions abt wildflower in your inbox cause tumblr hasn't let me comment on anything. (i'm gonna talk as if reader is a another character lol)

ps this is no hate to your writing or anything. it's basically just me commenting on their actions as if it was a tv show or smth.

in my very personal non biased oscar opinion, the reader is exaggerating. oscar may have lied but he didn't manipulate her and it was very obvious to her that he was hurting. they slept together out of both their consent and reader is putting the entire blame on him as if she didn't play a heavy heavy part. especially considering that lily was the one who broke up w oscar, reader made it seem like it was all his fault. lily was partially controlling imo and she wouldn't openly communicate with oscar until something got a little out of hand. she literally accused him of cheating like???? "Or maybe you were so used to Oscar’s lying and manipulation that you couldn’t imagine someone talking to you just for the sake of friendship." this pissed me off sm like why is reader so annoying (don't hate me lol) and then the whole her saying she wasn't good enough for oscar like yk damn well that's not what he meant lol. personally they both were in the wrong but the reader hates personal confrontation and put the ENTIRE thing on him like girl wtf.

anyways girl you ate so hard with this fic truly idk who to suport and be like omg you're so nice like every single person is sm in the wrong like help they need to really breathe and understand eachother but yeah i love this fic and your work and i love youuu. mwuah

I am so glad you sent this because I feel like you 100% got at what I was trying to do!

My whole goal with this fic was to create a story in which each character is simultaneously innocent and guilty. So yeah Oscar is not the best boyfriend to Lily but he doesn’t cheat and yes he does sort of use reader but also reader sort of uses him back. Lily is a horrible communicator but also has been third wheeled in her relationship for so long. Reader kind of has been the backup girl but she has also allowed it to happen and used Oscar in her own way.

I wanted to make this fic as realistic as possible in that way—just showing the complicated messiness of these situations as they happen in real life, rather than just leaning into the “good guy bad guy” trope by making Oscar/Lily awful while Lando/reader are perfect. I feel like that’s the undercurrent of the song Wildflower itself, too: the speaker/Billie is crushed by the weight of what she’s done but also grappling with asking what was so wrong about it in the first place.

Also you’re 100% right about the reader being another character. I used to do x OC fics when I was younger but people don’t like those as much as x readers, but it’s nearly impossible for me to actually write a blank slate reader :/ so they’re basically OCs with no name/face

Unfortunately, if you’re annoyed with reader, it may get worse before it gets better. Not to spoil anything but Lando is being a bit sus, and who’s the real manipulator here?

I want to put it out there too that I’m not offended at all if people don’t like one of my stories or characters and I welcome constructive criticism and feedback! I’ve been a writer for nearly 10 years now (there’s so much lore) so I have thick skin. Obviously be respectful (if you just send something that says “your story sucks kys” I will just delete it) but I welcome all discussion and opinions on my work.

But anyway I am so glad that you’re liking it tho! I lowkey feel like the chapter is flopping but it’s probably because I didn’t post at peak times (at least that’s what I’m telling myself so I don’t get sad lol) or it’s just my insecurities being mean. I can’t wait to keep writing it!

[dombottom4subtop]

obsessed with the messaging of this blog, im (rationally) incredibly riteous about people understanding the difference between dom/sub and top/bottom; on tiktok everyone refers to things that are so obviously sub top as "soft dom" and it's ruining my life LMFAO, i'm glad for this refuge and to know other people care 🙏🙏

Allow me to get on my soapbox bc I’ve needed to vent about this for a while:

It’s straight up misogyny and I’m not even slightly exaggerating. The whole concept that “penetration = domination” and how that’s equated with masculinity (+ the inverse “receiving penetration = submission” and how that’s equated with femininity) was born straight from patriarchy and you cannot divorce it from that context.

Bottomphobia (which is rooted in patriarchy, misogyny, homophobia, and femphobia) runs rampant and unchecked within queer kink and BDSM spaces. I am so sick of seeing bottoms being default treated like possessions and objects because of the assumption that there is an inherent link between bottoming and being submissive, AKA “weak and womanly.” I am quite frankly disgusted by the implication that being a bottom somehow makes me inherently more submissive, and whenever I see someone conflating the two, I just block them atp.

And I especially despise the way “bottom” has entered common parlance in place of “sub,” to the point where I’ve seen cishet women describe themselves as bottoms when explaining why they enjoy being submissive… Like, no, bottoming is not just lying there like a dead fish while a dominant masculine manly man penetrates you with his manly dick so you can have your 2.5th child, Deborah, you’re just describing regular-ass boring-as-hell cishet sex between regular-ass boring-as-hell cishet people, do not ever refer to me as “the passive partner” just because I’m a femme bottom again, and quit conflating femininity with submissiveness while you’re at it.

Why did we ever let cishet people misappropriate our terms (and why do I still see some queer people defending it)?

And like, I hate sounding like I’m being judgy about the whole thing because obviously if you’re a feminine woman who finds pleasure and joy in being submissive towards your male partner, that’s totally fine, there’s nothing inherently wrong with that. But the fact that that dynamic is assumed to be the default is patriarchy, whether it works for you or not. Those are the roles patriarchy expects everyone to play and deviation from that is punished.

Patriarchy always makes people’s lives worse by making them feel like their options for what is “allowed” and “acceptable” are extremely limited, regardless of how they actually feel and what they actually want. You can really tell when you read about sex from the perspectives of people who think topping is inherently dominant/bottoming is inherently submissive that they are legitimately too uncreative and confined by their internalized biases to imagine that sex roles may not actually be prescriptive and you can enjoy sex on your own terms however you want.

Bottoming is always framed as “taking” what’s “given,” something that happens to you for someone else’s enjoyment, because, again, it’s rooted in patriarchal misogyny. I honestly think most people would enjoy sex much more than they do if they didn’t feel obligated to play a certain role literally just because they prefer to experience one form of stimulation over the other.

(Not to mention that, as a transfem, the way that pensises are seen as this ultimate tool of domination and masculinity genuinely makes me sick to think about. Like, I’m not even a top and it grosses me tf out. I can’t imagine how girls who like to top and especially girls who like to subtop must feel constantly being told they’re assuming a dominant and masculine role just because they’re *checks notes* using a part of their body in a way that feels physically pleasurable to them.)

Anyway, TL;DR: patriarchy makes everything worse, interrogate your biases and quit treating Domtop/subbottom dynamics like they’re the default