#Both are repeat subjects because I failed them the first time

[neirmetes]

Btw if I get my Medicolegal Course or Anatomy this semester I'm drawing the labia ghoul so watch yourselves friends

[lordprettyflackotara]

get him back! || sam golbach

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+ tw: revenge sex, marking, choking

You were the finest woman Sam had ever seen.

Being in the influencer space meant meeting a lot of people. Most of them forgettable. But you? Your eyes were sparkling with diamonds, full of life. Your lips were glossy and soft, always curved upwards in a big grin. Sam could remember the first time you two had met, that being a few years prior at a music festival. You both didn’t have too long to speak, both of you too busy to comprehend. You did take a picture with him though, the image sending the internet into a frenzy. Even now he’d look at it and regret not shooting his shot. You were in your own lane, your clothing line producing so much revenue that you were now starting a make up branch as well. You were everything Sam could possibly want: ambitious, enchantingly beautiful, witty, and just as goofy as he was.

Sam thought he had lost his chance. You began dating another influencer, the two of you together for years. The blonde stared over the rim of his red solo cup, admiring you from a far. But your relationship tragically crashed and burned a couple of weeks ago, igniting a spark of excitement in his chest. He watched as you danced with your friends, still maintaining your signature smile. His chance was now and he had zero intentions of fucking up this time.

Sam was thankful that Colby was off actually mingling, because Sam’s needs and wants were scrambled. Realistically he needed to be mingling with potential business partners or creators to collab with. But he convinced himself that pursuing you technically fit into that category. Even if you were just one person in a big party. He slithered through the sea of dancing bodies, tapping your shoulder to get your attention. You turned around, a red solo cup in your hand. You smiled at the sight of Sam, beginning to greet him. Just as you did so you were roughly shoved, causing you to be pushed into him. You cringed in horror at the sight of your liquor staining Sam’s white button up.

“Holy fuck i’m so sorry,” You rambled, desperately searching for a napkin. Sam chuckled as the cool liquid soaked against his chest. “It’s fine really,” He said cooly. You were failing to find any sort of napkin. “It’s going to stain if we don’t clean it, come on,” You say, grabbing his hand. Sam tried to remain as cool as a cucumber as you dragged him to the staircase. He wasn’t sure how good he was doing, pretending to be unfazed and not jittery like he was on the inside. Your heels clicked against the wooden stairs as you hauled up to the closest bathroom. Out of the corner of his eye Sam swore he thought he saw camera flashes pointing in both of your guys direction, eventually dismissing it as him being a few shots deep. You found an empty bathroom, grabbing the towel from the towel rack. It was pure white, similar to Sam’s shirt. “It’s alright you’re gonna stain the towel,” The blonde said, trying to convince you.

If he was being truthful he was so glad someone bumped into you. It gave him the perfect opportunity to be alone with you. “Fuck the towel, i’m sure it’s owner can afford many more just like it,” You grumbled. You felt guilty about tarnishing Sam’s shirt, the pigment staining the fabric. “I really am sorry,” You repeated. Sam slowly grabbed your wrist, guiding you to stop. “Seriously it’s fine. Adds character to the outfit I think,” He joked, trying to lighten the mood. Your cheeks were flushed from embarrassment and intoxication, your lips in a thin line. You were determined to fix his shirt, even if it were physically impossible. Sam propped himself up against the bathroom counter, watching you meticulously try to dab away the stain. “So, I haven’t seen you in a while. How have things been?” He asked, trying to switch the subject. Anything he could say or do to keep you around longer he would. Your eyebrows knitted as you avoided his intimidating gaze. “Oh cmon, you can ask me about it,” You say. Sam raised an eyebrow of his own, admiring your beauty.

“Ask what?”

You rolled your eyes sassily, grabbing the bathroom door and shutting it. “About my breakup? It’s all anyone can ask me about anymore. As if I didn’t exist before him,” You grumbled sourly. Sam had to make a quick decision, one that would result in you staying in that tiny bathroom with him. “I didn’t even know you were dating someone,” Sam lied. He noticed your lips curl up into a half smile. Even if it was a lie, you were happy someone wasn’t shoving you in the same box with your ex. “Believe it or not that’s the best thing i’ve heard all night. He was quite the dickhead,” You explained. You ran the washcloth under some water, before resuming your assault on the stain. Sam felt his phone buzzing in his pocket, causing him to glance at it. “Oh shit,” He mumbled. Someone had in fact taken a video of the two of you heading upstairs. Your gaze fell on his phone, the video circulating around twitter.

“It looks like we’re going to fuck,” You mumbled. You refrained from physically face palming, opting to sigh instead. “I can clear things up if you want, I don’t wanna cause trouble for you and your ex,” Sam started, beginning to craft a tweet. At the sound of his words your eyes lit up, a light bulb turning on over your head. “You’re a genius!” You gasped, causing Sam to stop typing. He raised his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side. “My ex is a literal scumbag. If it looks like i’ve already moved on it’ll be the perfect revenge,” You explained. Sam erased his tweet, shoving his phone back in his pocket. He found his heart racing as you both stood so close to one another. “You know we could make it look more real, if you wanted to,” Sam offered. The words left his lips effortlessly, the blonde trying to refrain from blushing. The room suddenly became full of nervousness, heat rising to your own cheeks.

“How do you propose we do that?”

“Hickies are kind of a statement.”

There was a pregnant pause, one that made Sam suddenly feel uneasy. “Thats if you want to of course i’d absolutely never try to pressure you or anything-” He rambled, your giggling making him pause. You playfully hit his arm, tossing the rag aside. “Yeah yeah yeah, you modest gentleman. Now turn your head,” You giggled. Sam could feel that he was visibly flustered, the blonde tilting his head to the side. He sat on the cool marble counter, man spreading to allow you access to his skin. You stood in between his legs, your heels providing you just enough height to reach his neck. Logic told you to question giving hickies to a practical stranger in a random bathroom. Yet as you hovered over his skin you could see him swallow nervously, it made you more flustered than you would’ve liked to admit. You kissed his neck softly at first, before gently beginning to suck on the skin. Sam closed his eyes, trying his hardest to control his impending boner.

He wasn’t sure how far you wanted to go with this. He bit his bottom lip, trying his hardest to not get hard as you littered his neck with blues and purples. Sam realized it was too late once you released his skin with a pop, both of your gazes falling onto his visible boner. Your curious eyes met his.

“My turn?”

“Your turn.”

Sam wanted to make you just as flustered as you made him. He jumped off of the counter, pressing your back against the bathroom door. You gasped under his warm touch, melting under him as he tilted your head to the side. He placed soft kisses up your neck, before finally finding your sweet spot. He sucked harshly at the sensitive skin, noting the way your hands grabbed at his shirt to balance yourself. Sam could feel the way you were shaking under his touch, his teeth grazing your skin. He moved onto the next section, wedging his knee in between your legs. It was then as he reattached his mouth to your skin, he heard you whimper. Sam froze, before lifting his knee higher to see what you would do. He felt sheer delight as you whimpered again, this time his name falling off of your lips. Sam grinned into your skin, noting the way you melted as his large hands grabbed your waist.

“You seem like you haven’t been pleased properly in a long time if you’re wet from this,” Sam chuckled. You couldn’t deny how flustered you felt, but refused to cave in so easily. “I’m not wet,” You denied. Sam lifted up your dress in a swift motion, cupping your cunt. You were soaked through your panties. “If this isn’t you wet i’d love to see what that actually looks like,” Sam purred. You whined as he applied pressure over your clothed clit. “If we do this I don’t want any strings attached. No emotional bullshit,” You say, feeling breathless as Sam began to rub your slit properly. Sam grinned as he leaned back, meeting your flustered gaze. “No emotional bullshit guaranteed. Just pray you don’t fall in love with me,” He gloated. You rolled your eyes as he flipped you around, positioning you to lean over the bathroom sink. “Yeah right, I don’t do love anymore,” You countered. Sam grinded against you, causing you to whine in desperation.

“You will by the time i’m done with you,” He quipped. He pulled your panties down, grinning at the sight of your soaked folds. “Jesus baby, do you even need foreplay? You’re so wet for me and i’ve barely touched you,” Sam murmured to himself. He brought one hand around to your clit, rubbing circles around the bud as he undid his pants. He wanted to savor the moment really, but he couldn’t imagine this going more perfectly than it was. “I’m not that wet,” You argued weakly. You didn’t even know what you were really arguing for, your body tattle telling on your lies. Sam brought his cock to your aching slick, rubbing it up and down your folds. “Oh really? So I won’t be able to slide right in or anything, right?” He asked sarcastically. You gripped the sides of the sink as he pushed himself inside of you, your walls eagerly accepting him. He bit his bottom lip as he glanced up at you in the mirror. Your face was flushed, your beautiful lips parted as you struggled to maintain any form of composure.

“Something tells me you haven’t had a good fuck in a long time,” Sam concluded, bottoming out. His fingers continued to work on your clit as his cock brushed against your g spot. “Perhaps you’re right,” You admitted lowly. Sam wrapped his arm around you, grabbing your throat. His slender fingers wrapped around your neck, squeezing the skin as he forced you to arch your back. “I say we change that, hmm?” He asked teasingly. It was then he began to move his hips, the sound of skin against skin and unholy moans clouding up the room. Sam watched in the mirror as your eyes glazed over with lust with each thrust. Through his fingers he was able to admire the hickies he had littered on your skin, as well as the ones on his own. His thrust were fast and deep, abusing your cunt the way he knew you needed. Strings of curses left your lips, the blonde delivering a sharp slap to your ass. You gasped at the stinging sensation, the pain colliding with pleasure. “Moan my name baby, let everyone know who’s making you feel so good,” He ordered.

Sam relished in the sound of your obedience, his name falling off of your lips like a mantra. If the video and hickies didn’t seal your revenge, your shameless moans did. Sam didn’t stop his circles around your clit or his thrust, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you both approached your highs. “So fuckin tight,” Sam grunted. He squeezed your throat, restricting your airway. You felt hopelessly light headed as he pounded into you, your knees threatening to give out. “You can take it baby, I know you can. So good for me,” Sam purred. He nibbled on your earlobe as he pinched your clit, causing your orgasm to crash down over you. His strong hands kept you upright as you touched euphoria, your senses temporarily blinded. “Where do you want me baby?” Sam asked, his voice rough as he fucked you through your orgasm. You were breathless as you tried to get your vision to settle. “My mouth, let me taste you,” You panted.

Sam was quick to force you to your knees. Your knees roughly hit the tiled floor as your tongue flattened out across your bottom lip. You stared up at Sam as he jerked his cock, your name falling off of his lips as he painted your tongue white. His salty cum was warm and tasty, Sam watching in pure awe as you swallowed it. You attached your lips to his tip, ensuring to suck him clean. “You dirty bitch,” Sam groaned, tilting his head back. He leaned against the wall for support as you overstimulated him. When you finally released him with a pop the two of you shared a loving gaze. He kneeled down to your level, tilting your head to the side. A patch of unmarked skin stuck out to him.

“Looks like I missed a spot, let me fix that for you.”

[heliads]

Hi! Hi! I have been reading your Eric Coulter fics and I don't know if you're still into Divergent but i can i request a eric coulter x fem!reader where they go from rivals to lovers and literally everyone in Dauntless has bets on them to be together?

'rumors of rivals' - eric coulter

masterlist

Four’s got another pet project, but for once, it isn’t you.

It’s a habit of his, one he’d do best to kick. Although Four may like to keep his indifferent silence and pretend as if he were a shallow-hearted Dauntless through and through, he’s got a soft spot for the people he likes. He’s got a knack for finding similar souls and winning them over, even as he acts as if he couldn’t care less about any of you. He did this while you were an initiate, and now he’s repeating the process with one of his new trainees, a girl named Tris.

Since you don’t work the initiates, you haven’t yet had the pleasure of meeting Tris Prior, although you’ve heard Four talk about her often enough that you have a good gauge of her likes, dislikes, and every single conversation she’s had with your friend. For someone who claims that he couldn’t care less about anyone but himself, Four’s awfully attentive to Tris.

It makes you laugh, both when he’s around and not. Despite Four’s claims otherwise, it seems that even the toughest of Dauntless fall victim to their hearts every now and then. Despite Four’s claims otherwise, that’s one test you won’t be failing. Four may have fallen in love, but not you. Not a chance. The only decent one around here is Four, and he’s clearly besotted with Tris. No other men even come to mind.

Four and Tris catch up to you, and he begins the introductions. “Y/N, this is Tris, the initiate I’ve been talking about. Tris, this is Y/N. She’s a good friend of mine.”

Tris smiles at you. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. Four has said a lot of good things about you.”

You laugh. “It can’t be more than what he’s said about you, trust me. I think all of our conversations are now about you.”

Tris laughs too, evidently surprised at your camaraderie. “I’m sure he’ll argue with that, but I’m glad to hear it. I have to say, I knew what to expect from a Dauntless Leader, but you’re way nicer than I expected.”

You grin. “Oh, trust Four to talk up my reputation. We’re not all totally dramatic around here.”

Four rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right. As if you’re not locked in one of the worst rivalries Dauntless has ever seen.”

Tris widens her eyes, curious. “What are you talking about?”

You fold your arms across your chest. “Four doesn’t mean anything because he doesn’t know what he’s saying. There’s nothing there.”

Four scoffs. “Of course there’s something there. Tris, Y/N’s just denying it because she’s too embarrassed to admit that she’s totally obsessed with beating Eric at everything.”

Tris claps a hand to her mouth. “Wait, I know what you’re talking about. Everyone in the faction has been gossiping about Eric and one of the other Leaders. You don’t mean that–”

“Yes,” you admit reluctantly. “The rumors are about me. They’re just jokes, though. Nothing to take seriously.”

Four arches a brow doubtfully. “Of course they’re not.”

You swat him in the shoulder. “Anything more on the subject and I’ll push you off a roof, Four. Watch your tone.”

Instead of taking your threat seriously, Four just cracks a rare grin and keeps his triumphant silence. In all honesty, he’s not wrong about the gossip, and neither is Tris. You have been rivals with a certain Eric Coulter for most of the time you’ve been at Dauntless, if not all of it, and beating Eric at anything from a fight in the ring to glowing recommendations from the other Dauntless Leaders does indeed make your day like nothing else.

At this point, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. There’s no way you could ever like Eric, he makes it impossible to so much as smile around him. He’s insufferable, that’s all, and he always has been.

You remember that from the very first day you arrived. Eric had been through initiation a year before you, so of course he swaggered about the faction like he knew everything and you knew nothing at all. It didn’t matter that you mastered every challenge that initiation set before you, it didn’t matter that, at the end of your training, you came out with the highest rank. No matter what, Eric would always boast that he’d done it better when he was an initiate. And, since the two of you weren’t in the same year, there was no way of proving him right or wrong.

Once you graduated initiation, your ill-fated relationship only took a turn for the worse. Both of you were gunning for positions as Dauntless Leaders, and did everything in your power to claw to the top. It was a common assumption that only one Leadership position would be vacated, meaning that one of you would succeed and one of you would do the worst thing possible for a Dauntless:  you would fail.

Instead, both of you were appointed as new Leaders, and now you’re forced to spend even more time with him than before. Eric is more hands on, especially with his new position as an initiation leader, whereas you’re more devoted to strategy and all the ways to keep Dauntless as a faction running as smoothly as possible. The two of you clash whenever you so much as step into a room together.

Over time, this rivalry has drawn the attention of the entire faction. There’s hardly a soul in Dauntless that hasn’t witnessed the two of you going for each other’s throats at some point. Last you heard, some faction members were even going so far as to place bets as to when the two of you would get together, but that’s absurd. You and Eric hate each other. There’s simply no way you’d actually manage to get over your mutual loathing to fall in love.

“He’s an unpredictable asshole, I don’t know what else you want me to say,” you growl to Four.

Instead of being answered by your friend, however, a new voice joins you, one that makes you want to put your fist through a wall. “Are you talking about me again, L/N? I’m touched.”

Four and Tris exchange some interesting glances, which you definitely don’t appreciate. You turn to glower at none other than Eric, who’s somehow emerged out of the throngs of Dauntless milling about to appear right by your side. It’s as if he was summoned from your mere thoughts alone.

“So you heard me talking about an unpredictable asshole and immediately assumed it was you? That’s lovely, I didn’t know you had such great self-esteem.” You hiss.

Eric just grins. “You’re always so kind to me. Truly, it makes my day.”

You glance to your opposite side, hoping to deflect onto Four, but you notice that he and Tris have somehow disappeared into the crowds again, leaving you alone with Eric. You’ll have to chide him about abandoning you later, once you manage to shake Eric again.

Eric notices the changing subject of your attention and chuckles. “They left already? Can’t say I blame them.”

“Neither can I,” you fire back. “Having to spend time with you isn’t something I’d wish on my worst enemy.”

“See, that’s the difference between the two of us,” Eric intones, holding up a finger appreciatively as he speaks, “There’s no punishment I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. It’s because I’m capable of doing anything to eliminate those who would rise against me. It’s what makes me a better Dauntless. I’m not surprised that you lack the courage.”

You groan in annoyance. “It’s a saying, Coulter. Goodness, I see why you’re not an Erudite. Critical thinking is not your strong suit.”

Unfortunately, Eric doesn’t seem particularly affected by this insult. “I’ll leave the critical thinking to you, L/N. The glory of battle is mine as always.”

You arch a brow. “Remind me who kicked your ass the last time we met in the ring? I’m sure the glory of battle was totally on your side then, too.”

Eric’s voice turns razor-sharp. “How about a rematch, then? Tonight. That is, if you can’t manage to talk yourself out of facing me again.”

You stop walking, meeting Eric’s eyes dead on. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Scared?”

“Not a chance,” he fires back. “I’ll see you then.”

With that, he stalks off, leaving you fuming yet again. You could name a hundred encounters that have taken place exactly like this one. It’s strange, you’ve always prided yourself on your control of your temper, but something about Eric Coulter just drags out every bit of irritation and passion from your heart.

Glancing around, you see that more than a few people have turned to look at you and Eric as you passed by, and are now whispering to each other. “Shut up,” you mutter at no one in particular, but it doesn’t seem to do anything to stop the flurry of gossip.

Great, now you’ll have another rumor to add to the mix. As if you needed any more. Grimacing to yourself, you set off again. You’ll be looking to tonight’s fight with Eric, if not for a release of anger than anything else. It would feel good to beat him up again, you decide, and it’s about time his ego got knocked down a peg or two.

Eric is waiting for you in the empty gym when you let yourself in later that night. The two of you arrive at the same time whenever one of you challenges the other to a fight. It’s become a sort of tradition. You know exactly when and where to find each other because you’ve done it so often. It comes to you like breathing, like living. Instinctive, intuitive. You and Eric may not see eye to eye on most subjects, but in the ring, it’s like he’s your double.

You and Eric face each other warily on the ring. There’s no one else here, not after hours, so the entire gym is empty. Even the smallest of sounds are amplified by the solitude, each shuffle of your feet from side to side sending ripples of echoes up to the high ceiling before bouncing back down again, creating ghosts of your every movement. The lights are dim. The shadows lengthen Eric’s already numerous tattoos, making him look as if the darkness could swallow him up entirely if you were to turn away for even one moment.

You lunge first, mostly as a feint to get his attention. At your level of fighting experience, both of you know better than to truly attack first. Eric aims a blow at your midsection, but you duck just in time, dropping low to kick his legs out from under him. Briefly, Eric loses his balance, but manages to regain it in time to send a returning strike your way.

On and on, the fight progresses, the tide rolling from you to him back to you again in an endless circle. Eric manages to pin you first and huffs out a triumphant breath, but you get him the next round. You’ve spent enough nights like this that every move seems familiar. Although the precise victor of the fights may switch off from night to night, the actions themselves have been done so many times that it feels like muscle memory.

You’re sure it’ll be a night just like any other, but then something strange happens when Eric wins again. Both of you have ended up on the surface of the mat, and after briefly striving for the upper hand, Eric manages to make it there first, and he swings his weight over you, pinning you to the ground. His hands lock your wrist onto the mat like cuffs. You try to throw him off again, but it doesn’t work, and the two of you rest there, panting from the exertion, but worst of all, looking at each other.

You wait for Eric to move off of you and begin the cycle again, but strangely enough, he doesn’t. Instead, Eric looks, he looks at you like he’s never seen you before in his entire life. You feel as if you couldn’t move a muscle, and lie there perfectly still. One twitch of a limb, one wrong breath, and he might react, or worst of all, leave. You don’t know why, but you know for certain that shattering this moment would destroy you both.

Slowly, carefully, Eric releases his hold on your arms, but you don’t swing at him. The erratic rise and fall of his chest has slowed as easy breath returns to him, but when he had held you down moments ago, you could still feel his pulse thundering in his veins, tumultuous and irreverent like the clash of a thunderstorm.

“Y/N,” Eric whispers, low in his throat and urgent. You don’t know what to say. You’re not sure that there is anything to say, not without giving something away, a secret so terrible and all-consuming that to utter it aloud would use up all of you, leaving nothing behind but the ghost of a person who had once been you.

He’s waiting. For what, you don’t know. Or, you don’t want to know. Both of you are on a precipice, the edge tall and mighty, but unlike the roof back at the entrance to Dauntless initiation, you do not know that the fall won’t kill you. You could survive this jump, sure. But you could also break your bones in the leaping, and come out of this a ruined version of someone who had thought they knew everything about Eric Coulter, and then learned otherwise.

The indecision is too great, and so you do something utterly befitting someone of your station, and you run. Eric doesn’t move when you suddenly slip out from under him, nor does he stop you when you leave the gym. It isn’t a Dauntless move to flee from a fight, but then again, you transferred here from your home faction in the Choosing Ceremony, so the habits of the brave haven’t been instilled in you completely. You still, it seems, have a lot to learn.

The walk back to your apartment seems treacherous. There aren’t that many people out at this time of night, but you swear that of those who remain, every eye is on you. Haven’t you heard the rumors? Isn’t it true that these people have guessed what you are when it comes to Eric Coulter? If they see you, they will know.

You crawl into your bed and hope for sleep, but nothing comes. You stare at your ceiling in the dark, wondering what you’ve done. You’ve claimed to hate Eric for a very long time, but the way you felt in that ring, with him looking down at you– None of that was hate. You haven’t felt an absence of anger like that in such a long time that you’ve almost forgotten how to name that emotion entirely.

You get up the next morning, exhausted and confused, and complete your daily duties in somewhat of a haze. Every one of your moves feels mechanical. Eric is busy with the initiates, so your paths shouldn’t cross. When he finds you later that day, then it must mean that he sought you out intentionally. You’re not sure if that’s for better or worse.

You do your best to shake him, but he tracks you down eventually, pulling you into an empty room and shutting the door behind him. “Y/N,” he says urgently. “We should talk about last night.”

You don’t want to, not when the way he says your name reminds you of the way he’d whispered it last night, soft and careful, none of the things you have ever associated with Eric. It wasn’t as torturous as you expected, being alone with him without a fight to separate you. In fact, if you weren’t on guard, you would even admit that you liked it.

When you remain silent, Eric sighs, frustration beginning to tinge back into his breath again. “I know something happened. We can’t just pretend otherwise.”

You glance back up at him. “Can’t we?” You ask. “We can go back to fighting all the time. I’m sure it would come easily to both of us.”

You’ve become an expert at provoking him over the years, but now, in the face of all your attempts, Eric’s gaze remains neutral. “Is that what you want?”

Yes, you start to say, but for some reason the words dry up in your throat and the only thing that comes out is a terrible, awful exhale, “No.”

Eric hasn’t let go of your hand since he pulled you into this room. He seems to remember it now, his thumb rubbing light circles back and forth against your wrist. “Neither do I. Turns out, the only thing I like better than fighting you is when we aren’t fighting at all.”

You’ve never understood it when people say their heart skipped a beat, but you feel it now, the stuttering of desperate hope locked between your ribs. “So– you want–”

“You, Y/N,” Eric interrupts. “I want you. I always have.”

When he kisses you, it tastes like victory. Hot, brave, triumphant. A thousand nights undefeated in the ring couldn’t light you up with a fire half this bright. Sometimes, the rumors are true, and sometimes, the very man you thought was your greatest rival was instead your best love. Eric is all of these things, but most importantly, he is yours.

requested by @simoneashwinis, i hope you enjoy!

divergent tag list: @dindjarinneedsahug, @poisonmenegan, @ozzynka, @rogueanschel, @with-inked-solace, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @manyfandomsfanvergent, @imwaysthelastchoice, @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @crazyhearttragedy, @alexs-1967s-blog, @aoi-targaryen

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[mysumeow]

──YANDERE ACE DRABBLE

ᓚᘏᗢ WARNINGS: Reader is referred to with gendered terms like girl. Yandere Ace. ᓚᘏᗢ SUMMARY: Headmage Crowley assures reader he found a way back home. Ace attempts to impede it. ᓚᘏᗢ WORD COUNT: 984 ᓚᘏᗢ A/N: Ace as a yandere is a thought that greatly amuses me. He's a silly mix between a tsun and a yandere which is kinda ironic within inself but I find the idea fun. I had this halfway written and today i decided to revisit it to finish it haha. I'm trying to finish the many drabbles I've abandoned D:

⸝⸝⸝

Ace holds on to his claim of him liking you only as a friend (... sort of) as if his life depended on it. Even if he sabotages any means of your escape from Twisted Wonderland.

First, he tries to make you doubt Crowley’s veracity.

“The headmage told you that? The headmage?” He repeated it slowly. “You’re trusting that guy after everything he has put you through?”

Headmage Crowley was, with little room for argument, not the most trustworthy person on this land. Yes, he has his instances of being helpful, but you can count the number of said instances on your fingers.

That’s why Ace’s concern didn’t seem too far-fetched to you.

“I could at least try it.” However, you were dreaming of returning home from the first time you sat foot in this place. You couldn’t just give up like that.

“What if it fails and it kills you?”

The weight with which he blurted those words took you off guard—he’d said them with absolute conviction.

“Are you... perhaps worried about me?”

“You’re a naïve, magicless girl who knows nothing of this world. I’m simply looking out for you,” he was quick to retort, as if offended by your conclusion. “Don’t read too much into it.”

“Aw, you’re worried about me,” you teased him. “You’re such a good friend, Ace.” you reached out to pinch his cheek.

“I’m not,” he swatted your hand away, both tips of his ears and cheeks growing red. “Geez, you can be annoying sometimes.”

Used to his attitude, you just chuckled at his response. You couldn’t help but wonder why everyone in this stupid college was at this level of emotional constipation. And if not everyone, a good portion of the student body wasn’t an exception.

Ace racked his brain trying to convince you to stay. He couldn’t waltz into the Magic Mirror’s chambers like he owned the place and destroy it, nor could he threaten the headmage. All he had left was to convince you not to go back to your world. Or implant fear into the fatal what-ifs of the mirror malfunctioning. Deceive you.

His words were half truths. Yes, there were a couple of cases of the mirror sending living beings into another dimension, but they were presumably dead since the subjects never reported back, nor did they send any signal of making it out alive.

But it was a long, long time ago. Maybe millennia. Since then, the arts of magic have strengthened and perfected, minimizing the margin of error. It was plausible for the headmage to have found an irrefutable way back to your universe.

A fact Ace didn’t like one bit. To the point he sneaked into Professor Trein’s office and seized one of those old dust-covered books that archived many accidents that happened because of the mirror.

Sleepovers at Ramshackle happen often enough for Riddle to not even bat an eye when Ace must report to him that he’s going to spend the night over there.

“Oh, do come back with this homework done, Trappola,” Riddle dropped the pile of textbooks on Ace’s awaiting palms. Of course, much to Ace’s dismay. “I’ll personally revise it and do corrections if needed. Am I not such a great housewarden?”

Ace had a couple of thoughts that would differ from that claim, but he nodded along, not fond of the idea of getting collared.

The next step of his plan consisted of roping Deuce into lying to you as well. It wouldn’t be easy, given that he tended to be more sincere (in comparison to himself)... However, no matter how much Deuce attempted to be a goody two shoes, the fact that the news of you going back home would devastate him increased the chances of it being easier to convince him.

Ace surmised such, at least.

“Leaving? The headmage actually found a way to…?” Deuce trailed off, an evident ache within his chest. After some contemplation, Deuce accepted the inevitable. Deep down, he knew the day would arrive. Eventually. Although he’d hoped for it to be later. “I-I’m glad about it! I really am. You know how important of a deal that is.” To go back to where you belong and see your loved ones…

“That’s not the point, Deuce.”

“Then which is it?”

“The problem is that you both are blindly trusting that headmage’s word. Everybody knows how unreliable he can be. Don’t you think so?”

Deuce opened his mouth to refute; yet the longer he thought about it, he couldn’t come up with any good argument.

“Well, Crowley can be reliable. Sometimes.”

Ace’s lack of conviction was evident in his deadpan expression.

“Are we talking about the same guy? The one who abandons us to our own devices during hardships? The one who made the prefect deal with these past overblots? A magicless student, at that.”

“Okay, fine. I get it. You’ve got a good point there. What should we do, then?”

“We’ve got to convince the prefect to not head into the mirror. I borrowed a book. It contains logs of past attempts to send people back through it. None of them successful.”

Deuce eyed the book. “Those happened a long time ago.”

“Yeah, but the prefect doesn’t need to know that detail, duh!” Ace rolled his eyes.

“Ace—” Deuce caught the meaning behind Ace’s words, and, as much as he wished for your friendship to not come to an end, there was a voice nagging him at the back of his mind. “We can’t do that.”

“Don’t be a wimp about it.”

Deuce clenched his fist. “Hey!”

“And we’re not doing this for ourselves—we’re doing this for the safety of our prefect.”

Despite a certain sense of doubt pestering him, that was enough convincing for Deuce. This wasn’t for himself or for Ace. It was for you.

Yes, that’s the sole reason. He assured himself.

[acerathia]

how art is made (out of your desire) || Qi Yu | Rafayel

Summary:

Art is something subjective. It's supposed to be. Yet, it seems that everyone agrees what art is. You don't. To you Art is something special, something only you understand. Until you met him.

Wordcount: 4.9k (lol?)

Read on AO3

Pairing:

Professor!Qí Yù | Rafayel / f!non-MC!Art Student!Reader

Tags/CW:

Minors and Ageless Blogs DNI!! porn with some plot, art is subjective, and extremly horny here, semi-public masturbation (in a bathroom), orgasm denial, private masturbation (help lol), both vaginal fingering, edging, bodily fluids used in art, squirting, lowkey strip tease?, cucking as in, he's watching her masturbate idk if that's right lol, cunnilingus, pussy job, piv, some kind of exhibitionism, u will get it LMAO, this is without feelings, what if i kms, this is weird and lowkey gross and for meee

Note:

professor rafayel is lowkey insane and i need him in my guts thanks

Nobody truly knows what Art is for them. Many simply tell the normal and usual response.

“Art is an expression, some sort of communication.” “It’s entirely subjective.” “Everyone has their own interpretation of its meaning.” “The artist had an idea, a feeling and put it onto the canvas for us to understand.” “It’s the technique that matters.”

Nothing out of the ordinary, standard words for people to repeat without putting much thought into Art itself. Not you, though. To you, Art is something out of this world, something that sends shivers down your spine, making your heart beat, your blood rush, your head spin; something that excites you to the core. It’s reverence, it’s worship, it’s lust.

Maybe because of this difference in views, you can’t help but be bored to death at every single of your lectures. The professors, failed artists in your eyes, droning on about the techniques and how to use tools to use your skills to the fullest. Nothing but empty words when the right feeling is missing, when Art is missing.

That’s why you had pretty low expectations for your newest lecture. The professor is allegedly a famous artist, teaching just for some time, exclusively. Not that you care, most artists aren’t more than people with nimble fingers and connections.

At first, you did try to get into their world, to get to know all the different artists and their styles, what made them special, what made them stand out. But every time you stood in front of a painting, you felt… nothing. None of all these pretty decorations evoked anything in you, and soon boredom turned into frustration. Your dream was to belong, to have your own work join their ranks. But after disappointment after disappointment, you could not even think about your silly dream. Was it truly worth risking your beliefs just to fit in? To strip everything that makes art Art for you just to make it pleasing for all of these people with nothing but time and money? This realization made you turn your back on the world of artists, diving into your own Art, ignoring all possible repercussions of your intentional ignorance.

So, the professor at the front of the room is a complete stranger to you, but you do notice the reach of his fame, as the whispers stack on top of each other, getting louder with each student entering. You simply ignore the fawning and take a seat in a place where you can just not pay attention. Because the only reason you’re here is for the credits. And this new professor isn’t going to change your opinion about their type of art just with his senseless blabbering, probably filled with praise towards himself.

Still, you try to at least act as if you’re interested in what he’s saying, just until he’s not paying as much attention towards his audience anymore. You set your eyes towards him, and you freeze. Purple hair, soft as clouds above the setting sun, a gentle face, smooth and akin to beautiful marble. But what really gets your insides in a turmoil are his eyes. The way they shine when the light hits them, and the coldness hiding underneath all that radiance. Eyes that belong to someone with a certain touch, something similar to you, yet entirely different.

Your heartbeat rises, your lips curling ever so slightly. Oh, how much you desire to see a single work of his, to see if it could change your world. And so, despite your initial rejection, you begin to pay attention to what he says. Careful, one might even think calculated. Every word leaving his lips is akin to a script, something Rafayel, as he introduced himself as, is simply saying to please the masses. But you know, you know the way he’s speaking is different, the way his body coordinates so flawlessly with his words, but there’s always something off, and you know. Words which seem so pliant and meaningless, sprinkled with what he truly wants to express, hidden for anyone to see. And you were hanging on his lips, piecing everything into rough patches in your mind, out of order, nonsensical, but something.

Until he finally reveals one of his paintings, as part of the impending discussion. The moment your eyes lay on the canvas, the way the colors flow into each other, you gasp silently. The emotions seeping out of every brushstroke are caressing your skin, flowing into your veins, tickling the deepest part of you. The painting is filled with desire so intricate, so deep, you grin with excitement, pure unadulterated excitement, throbbing and twitching.

With this, you knew that Professor Rafayel is just like you, that his kind of Art is filled with the same meaning as yours does. A buzz is filling your brain, one stemming from all the possibilities, all the Art you can create under his tutelage; together with him.

The bubbling under your skin does not abate even after the lecture is over, your eyes never leaving him out of your sight, drinking him in, every single motion, every single word. You take everything, and you thirst for more.

That’s why you straighten yourself out, making sure that you look the right balance between amazed, worried and meek, hiding all your hunger away, before you make your way to his desk.

“Good morning, Professor Rafayel. Uhm, I love your art, the way the colors interlink and create this atmosphere, it’s amazing! Uh, what I wanted to say is, that I’m worried– worried that I might not do good work in this class. Do– Would you mind if I showed you my progress occasionally? Maybe give me some pointers?”

His eyes briefly glance over your face, and you barely hide a shiver, feeling your heart beat loudly in your ears. It’s obvious that Rafayel is a genius, and you don’t doubt he has seen through your empty compliment, but as most people sound the same, you’re not worried that he will call you out. Rather, it will strengthen your facade, making him believe that you’re truly as clueless as you make yourself out to be. So, you nibble at your lower lip and furrow your eyebrows ever so slightly, not too much, but just enough for it to look like a subconscious action.

“Alright, you can do so during my office hours,” he finally responds, scrawling all the information you need on a piece of paper and handing it to you.

Thanking him profusely, you leave the lecture hall, and the moment you step out, a grin breaks over your face, the tip of your tongue gliding over the edges of your teeth. You have finally found something that can satiate you, another person with the same essence as you.

So, without stalling for a single second, the moment the door to his office unlocks, you’re already carrying your painting with much care into the room, and give him a smile the moment your eyes meet. With a simple flick of the wrist, he shows you where you can set the canvas for the upcoming analysis.

The painting is one of the lighter ones. The real motive hidden behind the swirling colors of the waves, entering and leaving a cave, gushing. If one knew how to look, they would uncover the yearning, or rather, the desire behind each brushstroke. This painting got created with a mix of oil and water, highlighting the insinuation for those who get it. Normal paint, not the ones you mix specifically at home. No, those mixtures are used for that kind of painting you had yet to show. You first have to make sure that your intuition has not lied to you about Rafayel.

The artist has positioned himself in front of the canvas at the perfect distance and you watch as his eyes glide over every single decision of yours. Chaotic strokes and a use of paints that could only be called unrefined in the eyes of those who seek perfection. But every single one of these was a rational decision, every single one shows the heights you’re willing to reach, ignoring all that is natural and accepted.

You don’t know how long it takes, because you’re simply staring at him, watching every single reaction, down to the tiniest twitch. And then he faces you, a small smile playing around his plush lips.

“Interesting work. The emotional resonance could be stronger, though. Do you mix your own paints?” he cocks his head, his eyes wandering over your face, almost like it’s the first time he’s truly seeing you, like you weren’t even worth noticing before.

And now you are. You nod. Not trusting yourself to speak, as the depth of his eyes is revealed before you, their intensity not only shining through, but outright swallowing everything else. All of this makes your blood hot and you bite on your lower lip to suppress an inappropriately excited grin.

“Good. Next time, bring me one of those paintings. That’s when we can truly start with Art, yeah?”

A shiver runs down to your spine and you feel your lungs collapse, breathlessness wracking your body as you feel heat throughout your body. Before your reaction becomes too obvious, you thank him, giddiness tainting your voice, before you leave with your painting.

There’s barely enough time to stumble to the next bathroom, locking yourself into the cramped space, before you begin to pant, moans stuck in your throat. Before you know it, your belongings already strewn across the ground, your hand has dipped into your pants. Quickly, your fingers touch your throbbing clit, strokes after strokes after strokes, in circles, with more and less pressure, akin to how a painting is made. Slowly, they drag towards your slit, warm and wet, a cave yet to be filled, the waves yet to crash.

But instead of using your fingers to enter, you simply let the pads tease your entrance, and you shiver and clench. The aching hole, needy, bothered, yearning to be filled, an emptiness evoking nothing but inspiration. Your very own muse. One that cannot be taken away from you, ever. Your body tenses when your fingertips return to your clit, touch too feathery for your liking, but this lack of satisfaction makes you lightheaded, and you feel yourself climbing, climbing, one step and you’re going to–

With the last shreds of self control, you jerk your fingers away from your hot bud, your insides hollow and craving. Not yet, you’re only going to give yourself the heights of pleasure once you finish a painting that will make him look at you, truly look and see you.

A shaky sigh, before you fix your rumpled appearance and collect your scattered things. With the unsatedness settling in your body, you rush back to your atelier, inspiration fueled once again.

Once there, you grab your palette, dried colors flaking off of the surface. What you want, need, to show him should not be any old art of yours, no, it should be proper Art, the exact one Professor Rafayel is seeking.

There are uncountable tubes of paint sitting each in their own corner, but for this painting, you shall not use any normal paint. A stack of cans is hidden in a cabinet, each color painstakingly collected, wrung out, until mixing each component brought you these colors. Their consistency and shimmer something one could only replicate if they shared the same sentiment as yours. And of course, a small container, barely as big as your little finger, and its content even smaller. This truly is something that only exists for you, only imitations are possible, but perfect copies never. Unless you allow them to. But it has been ages since you have been attracted to another artist.

A thought creeps up at this, and you lick your lips. Maybe, if everything works out with Professor Rafayel, he might get a bit, and you might get another component for your colors. You wonder how that one might affect your painting.

For now, you set the small container away, it’s the last step to finish the painting, and then you turn towards the open white space of the canvas, and you remember how you felt earlier, how it felt to rise, rise, rise, only to plummet into nothingness. You let these feelings flow into the paint brush and you move, guided by your reverence, by your lust, towards Art.

The colors mix and flow, gush and squirt. Pushing and pulling, hitting the right areas, over and over again, getting the perfect angle with every stroke. Letting the tip caress and touch and love. Moving in circles, in patterns, pressure against the hot spot at the right time, and it drops and drips.

Heaving, panting, hot and feeling sticky, you finally take the small container combined with the smallest brush in your arsenal. You press your tongue against your teeth as you slowly spread the fluid where you need it to be, where it would have the most effect on your painting.

Only after the finishing touches do you unravel, feeling the high of Art, of this painting, penetrating you, making your insides squirm with want and desire. You throw your head back slightly and you moan, letting this feeling overtake you. This is what true satisfaction feels like, and it would reach new heights once you show this piece to Professor Rafayel, once you experience his reaction to it.

You let your piece dry, as there’s still time until you can visit him again. So, all you do until then is attend lectures as you have been, keeping the tension in you going and going, never letting it snap or slip away. Even if you were pretty close to losing control when Professor Rafayel made intense eye contact during one of his talks about the emotions and the way they manifest in art. Something about the way he looked at you made you clench and swallow.

And when he beckons you to talk to him after class is over, you feel your blood heat up with excitement, rushing to your head.

“How can I help you, Professor?”

Without a preamble, he gives you a slightly crumpled piece of paper. “Let’s change locations for the next meeting. I think it would be more ideal to do so. Do you mind?”

You shake your hand and glance at the address written.

“Good. See you then.”

His back is already facing you before you could say goodbye, but you don’t mind, your mind is too preoccupied with the fact that he wants to avoid meeting on campus. You knew your intuition about him was right.

With a grin splitting your face, you make your way home to grab your latest painting, before you input the address into your phone.

You have no idea how long it took you to get there, but standing in front of the gate closing off the huge mansion rips you out of your excitement-induced trance. This eerily looks like a home rather than just an atelier, just some place. Your ribs tingle and you hum. This is getting better with every step. You barely remember to ring the bell, your insides twitching and nudging, and all you want to do is grab him and show him what you’re capable of.

The gate swings open and you step through, feet almost silent on the soft rock leading you to the entrance of the mansion. You take a breath before entering with a knock.

“Professor?” You look around, trying to find the atelier in this huge place.

“Drop that, we’re not in university, right now, we’re just two artists,” his voice sounds behind you and you twitch in surprise and turn around to face him.

His words, coupled with his baring shirt and flushed face, make you unable to speak, suddenly stunned. Rafayel looks like he has been painting passionately and this, coupled with the removal of the societal barrier between you, make you lightheaded, your blood rushing into your fingertips, into your core, and weirdly enough, over your nape. You can only nod, clutching the canvas desperately.

He glances at your hidden work and cocks his head to make you follow him. And he leads you into his spacious atelier, paint and brushes, marble and chisels, a controlled chaos. You can’t help but stop to stare at some of his unfinished works, bare bones, but enough to light something in you, to make you yearn for something so far away, seemingly forever out of reach. His works are simply on another different level, out of your world, you can barely imagine how he might have achieved this.

“Hey, you can put it on this one,” he calls out to you, pointing towards a free easel.

A couple quick steps and you have caught up to him, and you put your painting where he has shown you, removing the covering at the same time. You notice the cloth covering the ground, but who are you to understand the whims of a genius artist.

You put some distance so he can have proper space to see your work while you watch him. Watch him scrutinize your work, analysing every single brushstroke, every single color combination. Like a lot of your paintings, it looks like a simple one, until you dare to dive deeper. This one shows the waves crash against an impossible cliff, trying to reach the edge but failing with each wave, with each push. To you, it’s obvious what your intent is, but you hope it’s clear to another person, to him.

There’s the tiniest clench in his jaw and you keep your eyes on him, wide and expectant, you’re not even trying to put on a mask anymore, it’s too late for that anyway. Soon after that miniscule reaction, he turns his head to face you, eyebrows ever so slightly furrows.

“This is excellent work. Truly, the repression is visually and emotionally resonant, making the viewer feel stifled as they’re failing to reach the climax. But say, how did you produce this?”

With a long stride, he’s letting his fingertips swipe ever so slightly over one of the parts you have coated in your very own mixture. And you almost whimper when you see him smell and lick it off his skin. All while holding eye contact with you.

“Why don’t you show me? Hm?”

You release the air out of your lungs, a little raspy, bordering between a giggle and a moan, and roll your shoulders and neck. Then, you make eye contact with him, as you let your fingertips wander over your throat and collarbones, drawing the line of your chest, splayed across the peak, before your palm beets your tummy, closer to the waistband of your pants.

Playing with the button, you ask him with heavy eyelids: “How much do you want to see?”

While you have been putting up this act, Rafayel has made himself comfortable on the closest couch. Positioned like it was his plan all along. From his seat, he cocks his head, fingers tapping slightly tapping against his temple, his body unrestrained, smooth and laidback, draped over the armrest, legs spread apart.

“Everything. Impress me.”

At his words, you hum, a suppressed moan in disguise, as you feel your insides twist and tense, yearning. With a flick you unbutton your pants and grab the zipper, slowly dragging it down, click by clack, his eyes watching your every move.

Without hesitation, you simply let your pants drop to the floor with a little shimmy of your hips. And maybe you did draw your motions out a little bit, just to see how his eyes follow each sway. Your pants out of the way, you lower yourself to the ground, legs apart to for him to see your still covered cunt and the wet spot on your underwear.

“Usually, I have something to collect it, but I suppose that won’t be necessary today, hm? This is but a demonstration. So, maybe a little censorship would make sense, don’t you agree?”

You watch as his eyebrows furrow, realization dawning upon him, as your fingers find your clit, pressing on your throbbing bud with the cloth still inbetween. A moan slips between your lips as you stroke it, drawing patterns on it, a piece in progress, swiping and flicking, controlled in a way a painter’s brush flows over the canvas. A calculated mess. The pressure sinking and rising, the angles changing, the position gliding. You know what your body needs, but to you, it matters more to satisfy the voices demanding for more and more Art. And the Art in this current situation is simple: A Show.

So, you follow the stream of one, building the tension more and more, hitting every spot that sends electricity down your nerves, until you’re about to reach the climax, only to stop, a cliff, the depression, tension dropping. Your moans turn into whines, even if you’re the one doing this to yourself, letting yourself hang in suspension. His eyes feel hot against your skin as he takes you in, takes every motion, every twitch of your hips, every drop dripping onto the whiteness underneath you. And you grin, tongue against the edge of your teeth, when you notice the strain in his pants. The effect of your Show, of your Art on him makes you clench around nothing, feeling yourself getting worked up without even touching yourself again.

After the little pause, you resume, fingertips stroking over your hot bud towards your slit, and you tease your aching hole with slow motions. You catch his eyes for a moment and you let your eyelashes flutter as you moan, deliberately making it sound close to his name, but not quite enough. With each dip of your fingers, with each caress, you feel your insides tighten, electricity tingling between your nervendings. Until with a certain flick, a finishing brush, you unravel, twitching and moaning, a resolution fit for the finishing act.

Panting, you put your hands behind you to support you, and you cock your head at him with a grin.

“Does that answer your inquiry? I doubt you could replicate it, though, unless you have me,” you raise your hand and stretch it towards him, and from your perspective it looks like he’s sitting on your palm.

“The Art we could create together, just imagining the possibilities inspires me again.” You close your eyes as you shiver slightly.

A shuffle, steps, and then Rafayel is crouching in front of you, taking your hand to kiss the tips of your fingers, his tongue licking the wetness clinging to them. With dark eyes he looks to you and smiles. A smile filled with something calculating and sinister, and your grin broadens as you give him the same look back, eyes wide and excited at the words he speaks next.

“With pleasure.”

With these words, his knees hit the ground and he crowds your space immediately. His breath mingles with yours, but he immediately pushes your torso to the ground, before he makes himself comfortable between your thighs, his hot breath now cooling the wet cloth of your underwear.

“Let’s make Art,” he murmurs as he completely removes your panties, throwing them aside.

Not allowing you a moment to register what he’s planning, his mouth is already on you, tongue running once over your sticky folds, and his groan vibrates against you as he tastes you. Swiftly, he latches onto your clit, sucking and licking, teasing the throbbing, still sensitive bud with each move. His hands grab your thighs, holding you in place as your hips buck in reflex, yearning for the new sensation. For some time, all he does is let his tongue glide over your clit over and over again, enjoying the way your body tenses with each stroke. There’s a meticulousness to his lapping, a precision one only wields when holding a brush. And it seems that you have turned into a part of his canvas.

His control leads to your climax being delayed over and over again, every time you feel close to the edge, he pulls away, almost like he’s observing you, thinking over his next steps, how he wants to finish this piece. And you don’t know what he wishes to achieve but you’re willing to do anything for Art. So, you moan his name and tense over his tongue over and over again, feeling yourself drip and gush. Until he finally allows you to reach the edge of the canvas, one last stroke and it’s done, you unravel and out of your frays Art is made.

Your body limp on the ground and you barely look up as you hear the sound of the zippers, seeing him pull his pants just enough down to reveal his hardened length, pre dripping from the tip. His hands grab your hip, fingertips carefully digging into your flesh, as Rafayel pulls you closer to him, hip to hip, his cock pressing against your clit, and you whimper at the sensation.

“Before the real mixing starts, we gotta have all the necessary materials, don’t you think?” he murmurs before he begins to jerk his hips.

His silky tip presses against your throbbing clit, and the rest of him follows as he lets his length slide through your folds, carefully avoiding your wet slit, the one clenching with every time he moves his cock through you. His veins rub against your heat and you moan, his suppressed groans growing with each slide, twitching against you. You can’t help but grind your hips against his, trying to get more pressure, more of him. With each move, you feel your insides tense up, his length slick with your wetness, gliding and pressing against your aching bud. The way your sexes rub together, the noise, the slickness feels like that sort of Art where every viewer gets to participate, gets to feel what has been felt before. And before you knew it, you were watching him cum, splattering onto the white cloth, mixing with your earlier demonstration. Just seeing him twitch and the way his spend is pumping out, feeling its heat against your skin, makes the tension snap in you, just barely.

“Hng… perfect… now, the climax of this piece,” he rasps against your skin, eyes hovering over your face.

You barely have time to grasp his shoulders in an attempt to ground yourself some way, before you feel it. His tip slowly pushing into your entrance, spreading you apart bit by bit. Filling the aching void you have always left behind, the one always spurring your inspiration. The very one now getting replaced by another kind of pleasure, another kind of Art. You moan his name, clenching around him the moment he has filled you to the hilt, your hip against his, grinding, rubbing, slick and wet, and pure Art.

For a moment, everything stands still, the rapture of attention, the discovery of something so innate to life and what it means to create. Until his hips move, pulling out of you, slowly, drawing out like a brush following a measured line. And then he pushes into you again, angling your hips to hit that sensitive spot inside you, to get you messy and babbling underneath his touch. That’s how Art should affect people, turning their minds into a chaos, incomprehensible yet swirling you to the core.

Groans slipping from his lips mix with whimpers of your own as Rafayel finds a pace that satisfies you both, steady, careful, yet filled with conviction and decisiveness with which one would wield a pen to paper. His fingers find your clit and they add more pressure, more sensation, more texture and feelings, and you suddenly burst at the seams, sparks and colors filling your vision as you spasm and clench around him.

The way you tighten around him leads to his own climax, but he pulls out of you before he fills you with his heat, a decision you’re slowly beginning to understand.

Because as you pant and try to recover, you notice how the once white sheet has turned into different colors. With a surprised noise you support yourself on your elbows and take a closer look.

“Do you like it? The colors react to acidity and basicity making them appear. And see, desire is Art, Art is desire, and together, well, I think we can achieve the pinnacle of Art, yeah?”

You giggle, and even after he has milked you dry, you still feel a twist in your tummy, hot and delicious. “That is how Art is made after all, isn’t it?”

The same white canvas, the one colored with your pure desire, mixing and swirling, is soon exhibited amongst his paintings, your name by his side, a collaboration for all to see, with much more depth than anyone could ever comprehend (but not for you, every time you glance at this piece of Art, you see the outlines of your hips, your legs, the dents of his knees, his colors and yours, and the way they coordinate, mix). As for both of you, Art is Lust, Art is Desire. Something much more than what the common folk acknowledges, it’s something to pour your whole body into, no matter the consequences. So, you will continue to thread this path of Art, no longer alone, no longer with shut eyes, but with excitement and him by your side, discovering more and more ways to turn these feelings into expressions and colors. Showing each other how art is made out of your desire.

[sweetdispatch]

Nervous (in a good way) - A. Fantilli

Songs masterlist

song: Nervous (in a good way) - Mae Muller

pairing: Adam Fantilli x fem!reader

summary: Adam almost failed lecture but this pushed him into her and wanting to make her his

warning: none

words: 1.3k

note: two songs left👀

---

She and Adam were attempting the same classes. He was focused so much on hockey that he almost failed one subject. Their professor told him to ask her to help him with a project and studying for an exam that was coming up. When his eyes laid on her, he was happy to do it. She gladly accepted his offer to help him with this.

It started with weekly study dates. Super fast they became friends and have been hanging out almost every single day. They develop feelings for each other but she told Adam that she’s not ready to get into relationship. He was disappointed but made this his mission to prove himself to her. Their relationship can be summed up by he fell first, she fell harder. 

Adam never thought that failing classes can bring him to the love of his life but he was thankful for that. They were coming from different worlds but they shared the same feelings and could understand each other without words. That was the most important thing for both of them. 

You said your house wasn’t far, “So come over”

She and Adam were coming back from their date. However it was still an early hour so he proposed to go to his room in college. She wasn’t sure about this idea. They haven’t been dating and wanted to take it slowly and see when it leads them. That’s why she was avoiding meeting him in his dorm. 

Adam saw her reaction and quickly said that no one was there because everyone went to a party. After debating, she agreed. They went to his dorm and as a real gentleman, he opened the door for her. They didn’t do anything special. He played a movie and they spent two hours commenting on every scene. 

When the movie ended, Adam proposed to drive her home. It was almost midnight and she knew that he had training tomorrow so he had to wake up early. She said that she can get back home by herself but he wasn’t too certain about letting her go at night. That’s why he insisted on driving her back. She knew there’s no point of arguing so she just nodded and let him guide her.

And the boys before loved to play their games

She had feelings for Adam. She appreciated him and all the things he was doing for her. Although she had bad memories from a previous relationships, that’s why she was scared to trust him fully and label what’s between them. He understood that and didn’t push her. He was waiting for the moment when she’ll be ready. 

Her trust issues were coming from all the guys she was flirting with back in high school. She was opening for them but they always left her without a word. She felt like she was just a part of a game for other guys. That's why she closed her heart and didn’t want to repeat it again. With Adam, it felt different, but she needed time. 

Yeah, you make me nervous

But in a good way

She felt so natural with Adam’s company. Nothing was forced and he was easy to talk with. She loved sharing his interests with him knowing that he doesn’t have a clue about them. He always listened to her stories with passion and asked her questions. At first, she was shy when he was asking her about everything but with time, she found it cute. She felt finally appreciated.

Sometimes, it made her nervous when she was around him. Adam had a great memory and he would ask her about things she told him weeks earlier. Many times, she was taken aback because she thought that he was asking her out of politeness but he genuinely cared about her and her stories. In those moments, she knew that he’s the right guy for her. 

I put my head on your chest 

And I felt your heart racing

One night, Adam came to her after his match. She was surprised to see him in front of her door but also was delighted that he trusted her enough to show up. It was a tough loss and she was willing to help him get over it. He laid in her bed and she did the same. She played a movie but when he hadn't said a word, she knew it was bad because he was always yapping during movies.

They haven’t been touchy. Adam didn’t want to throw himself into her personal space and she didn’t want to ruin their dynamic. This time, she risked it and cuddled into him. He gladly hugged her. She put her head on his chest and focused on his breath. They just laid in her bed cuddling and watching movie. After a couple of minutes, he thanked her for this. She hadn’t said anything, only clinged into him. 

I can make you nervous 

But in a good way

Adam never was a shy guy. He was outgoing and willing to make new friends but with her it felt different. When she was giving him compliments after his games or his looks, he was timid. From other people it felt normal but the moment she said it, he got all red. She meant a world to him and it was bizarre to him to hear those things from her mouth. 

His brother saw the effect she had on Adam. He knew that he fall hard for her because he never saw him this shy and nervous. It wasn’t uncommon for him to giggle after receiving messages from her. Luca was happy that his younger brother finally found someone who made him this way and hoped for them to work out. 

My cheeks turn red, ‘cause I get shy

With time, she opened on Adam. She was grateful for having him and they’ve been spending plenty of nights talking. He always found time for her in his busy schedule. His favorite thing was giving her compliments, pep talks and gifts. He loved seeing her so shy but the most he adored the way her cheeks were turning red from his affection towards her.

First time when Adam asked her out on a date, she was all red. She didn’t expect that and she tried to cover it. He laughed at this sight, making a mental note at her reaction. This was the view he wanted to see every day. In that moment, she fell for her seeing how she reacted to him. None of the girls ever reacted this way and he knew that she’s special. 

You start to stutter, can’t find your words

After the draft, Adam knew he had to ask her to be official. He didn’t want to lose her when he moved out. That’s why he planned a date in their favorite spot. He was nervous, not really sure if she would agree. He knew the risk of a long distance relationship but he needed her by his side. This whole year proved to him that she’s made for him.

On their date, Adam was a bundle of nerves. He didn’t know what to do or say. In casual situations, it was easier for him but he knew she deserved a princess treatment. When he saw her in a dress entering the restaurant, he was at a loss for words. He swore that he never saw such a beautiful woman. 

Adam couldn’t find the proper words to compliment her and was looking on her with such love. She felt nervous when he hadn’t spoken to her, thinking that she’s looking bad but she pushed the thoughts and started asking about his draft. He felt like he was ripped out of transe. From this moment, everything went smoothly until he knew that he needed to ask the question.

Adam started talking about their friendship and how grateful he was for meeting her. She was looking at him expecting the worst, but when he asked her to be his girlfriend, she froze. After a couple of nervous seconds, she agreed. She knew that he’s the best guy for her.

[verystrxxwberry]

The mcl boys with a deaf s/o ?

MY CANDY LOVE; routes with a deaf S/O

♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: fluff, MCL routes, sfw. ↝ 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Hi! I want to apologize if I said something wrong related to this subject and if it gets to be offensive. If it offends anyone, please let me know and this post will be deleted. 

♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•.

CASTIEL

Being realistic, at first he was a bit mean because he didn’t know how to have patience.

When you both met in high school, he didn’t know you existed because you never talked to him, and there was a good reason after all. It wasn’t until you both were in a team project that he got to know of your existence and realized that you were actually deaf. He tried calling your attention a few times, even yelling at you, but there was no use. Lysander had to inform him about your condition when he saw how mad the red-haired guy was getting.

Castiel felt bad for thinking you were a clumsy shy person. He tried to be patient, but when he was in high school, his patience was notorious thanks to the lack of it. He waved at you to call for your attention and communicate with you by basic signs, like pointing at some stuff, nodding or shaking his head.

He ended up using his phone to communicate with you through messages, and there he realized that you were an interesting person after all.

He is observant so he analyzed the way people communicated with you, being aware that he had to face you directly and get your attention. 

During his free time he learns sign language to have more communication with you, but also to impress you a little. He mainly did it because he also thought that it’d be more comfortable for you if he was more communicative in person than in messages, as he used to be.

He used to beat up those who dared to make fun of you when you weren’t looking at them.

So sometimes you’d see that Castiel was missing for a week, and he’d simply say that it was because he was sick or something. He wants to protect you from the negativity and bullshit of other people.

With years the communication got more fluent and he definitely didn’t regret learning sign language for you. 

He may get confused with some signs at first, using them wrongly and accidentally saying the wrong stuff. To fail like that made him really embarrassed…

He also worked his patience thanks to your relationship and because he loves you and respects you enough to not mind repeating stuff in sign language when he accidentally tried to vocally talk to you first.

He sometimes is glad that you are deaf so he can practice some songs with his guitar late at night. He’d warn first that he would go to sleep late as he’d be practicing for future concerts.

Just so you know that he is there, he keeps a hand on your left shoulder or the small of your back. It is very characteristic of him , so you quickly realize it is him who is touching you.

Whenever you both are in public and someone tries to talk to you, without knowing about your condition, he basically translates it to you after they are done speaking.

NATHANIEL

When you first came to high school, he was well informed about your condition and he had no problem adapting to it. When he got the knowledge about it, he practiced sign language for the day you came to school. He is surprisingly good at it and you were relieved that there was someone in there who knew how to communicate with you.

He made you feel welcomed there, and that was his main goal. He knew that his sister would probably make fun of you and he made sure to stop her before she did anything. If anyone dared to make fun of you, he’d gladly send them to receive a scolding from the director.

Nathaniel has a natural charm which made you feel safe as the first person that helped you to know the school better, so you relied on his company.

He has trained his patience thanks to his sister, and not only that but he can be patient when he likes what he is doing. When he acknowledges that his company is positively received by you, he’d be even more glad to help you with anything you may need. 

Whenever there is a third participant in the conversation, he has gotten used to talking and using sign language at the same time so both of you and the other person can get the information at the instant.

Even years later, the condition of you being deaf has not been any problem for any of you. Sometimes he likes to be in a quiet environment, and knowing he is beside someone who brings him peace and is not yelling just as the household he used to stand it’s simply perfect.

He wouldn’t even allow you to think less of yourself for being deaf, even if it has its difficulties. You are still a lovely person and that is the only thing that matters to him.

There is a subtle smile on his face every time he is focusing his attention on you. He gets lost mid-sentence when he is signing to you, simply because he got distracted by your beauty. It is amusing to see how he gets confused with the signs and then excuses himself by saying that you are too beautiful for his attention.

He is very attentive, so it is easy to get his attention whenever you need something.

LYSANDER

He knew there was a new student who was deaf, but he had no interest in getting to know you at first. He is quite the introvert and prefers to be on his own, as he also finds it difficult to take the initiative.

Still, he was aware that maybe you were lost during the first weeks, and more in a place where people weren’t used to communicating through sign language. He himself didn’t know really well how to communicate like that, but he used his famous notebook to talk with you, even if he lost it lots of times.

You will, once again, be a victim of his notebook research. There is no escape.

He is extremely patient and attentive when it comes to communication. He would like to learn sign language directly from you, but he would also end up learning it on his own so he doesn’t bother you that much during your free time.

At first he might seem really confused when not being able to identify too good your signs, so you’d have to be slow and patient as well.

He always carries a notebook around in case his knowledge fails to let him communicate with you. It is quite cute how he gets frustrated when he doesn’t remember a sign correctly.

Hey but it is a truly nice detail of him to dedicate a big part of his notebook to you, as he will leave some white sheets to write things to you. During class you two would communicate like that and fortunately teachers wouldn’t mind as they know what his intentions are after all.

With years, he will make sure to make his knowledge of sign language more fluent, and you might find him some days learning on his own.

He admires your strength in a world where not many people will be able to communicate with you due to the lack of knowledge of sign language.

Whenever he realizes someone is judging you, he’ll wrap an arm around your waist and make sure that you keep his attention on him so you ignore them.

In the future, after high school, he will check his notebook to see the first times he communicated with you before he learnt sign language, smiling at the little conversations you had through a simple pen and a paper.

KENTIN

He is your childhood best friend and has grown up learning how to communicate as you also learnt sign language, so you both basically learnt at the same time. He has always been patient and good to you.

Communication has been no problem since the beginning with him!

Maybe when you both were little kids there were a lot of misunderstandings because… well, you both were kids.

His eyes were always on you, making sure you didn’t feel left out at any moment and that you could understand everything others’ said. 

Even after the military school he kept being the same loving guy as always (I love him). But now he had more confidence that if anyone dared to laugh at you, they’d pay it hard later.

Kentin wants to make sure you are comfortable and happy no matter your condition. Because being conditioned to hear doesn't mean that you do not deserve to be happy or not enjoy your life. He is well aware of your insecurity of not being able to hear, but you are still a human who doesn't have the fault of having been born this way. You are even more human than other humans. Kentin will be there whenever you overthink about your condition making you less. He believes you are a loving person and will definitely prove that you can enjoy the experiences that life offers!

He knows how to call your attention and when you want his, and whenever you ask for his, he drops everything he is doing to check on you.

He might not have patience with everyone, but his patience never ends when it comes to you. 

He is kind of scared of something happening to you when you go outside on your own since you can’t hear anything. That's why whenever you are going out he begs you to please look around calmly and be truly careful with the people and cars around you. He doesn't want to overwhelm you by always being beside you, but if he can accompany you wherever you want, he'd be more relaxed.

ARMIN

The first time he tried to talk to you in class, and he literally was even yelling to the point everyone turned around to see him like ???

You realized something was happening when everyone turned around in a certain direction. When you turned around to check what was happening, you saw Armin frowning and looking at you as he moved his lips but without making any sound. You found yourself in the same situation as other times in which a person talked to you without knowing you’re deaf. You signed him and at first, he didn’t even realize you meant that you are deaf, until other classmates told him.

He felt truly sorry when he realized he was angrily calling for your attention when you didn’t hear a single thing from him. 

He knows nothing about sign language and at first the communication would be through reading his lips or messages through the phone. Sometimes he forgot that you were deaf, making it difficult to communicate, and more when he spoke so fast that you found it harder to read his lips.

Still, he found comfort and liking in your company.

He likes it when you are the one teaching him sign language, even if he is lazy. Still, he wants to communicate comfortably with you and feels like he owes you all the comfort he can give you.

He is bad with it… even years later. There is basic communication, and he makes his deepest effort on learning it correctly because he loves you and wants you to be good in your relationship. 

The communication will mainly be through writing messages and his clumsy sign language. He understands you better than signing himself. He probably signs in the wrong order most of the time, but you get to understand him most of the time.

The first things he learnt to say were mainly stuff related to videogames…

One of the good things is that when you are sleeping and he is playing games late at night, he gets to yell at people and curse them with all his rage. He used to get scolded by his parents or Alexy, and now he can be free to scream with no fear. Even though if you hear just a little, he will be respectful and not yell because he definitely doesn’t want to disturb your sleep.

RAYAN

The moment he knew there was a student in his class who was deaf, he had no problem with it and found it exciting that he was finally able to put in practice his knowledge of sign language. I believe that he is the kind of person to join random classes such as cooking, learning languages, learning how to do some creative stuff… simply to spend his time and improve his skills. 

One of the very first classes he joined randomly was sign language and he found interest in it. When he got you as his student, he had no problem. There was barely a barrier with communication.

As he did the class he was also signing so you understood from him. Sometimes he got quiet to sign, forgetting about speaking because he was focused on communicating with you and keeping your attention.

During your relationship, things go slow as a regular one. He considers that your condition doesn’t stop him from anything in particular. He can still have reading dates with you, go to the museum with you, go have a coffee with you… And mainly, he can have a good laugh with you too.

Just as Nathaniel, whenever he communicates with a third person and you are there, he naturally translates his words into sign language. Even if he isn't a part of a conversation and you look at him with an expression of “help me” since the other person doesn’t know that you are deaf, he will help you to understand.

He will never interpret any bad thing that has been said about you. He simply makes the conversation end and then you two go to somewhere else that’s nicer.

If you like reading, he shares his books with you. You will find small notes in the sides of the text, indirectly commenting some stuff to you.

If you don’t have hearing aids yet, he will get them for you. He wants your deepest wishes to become true no matter what. Yet whenever you wear them he’ll forget that you wear them and will keep signing to you.

HYUN

When he met you in the Cozy Bear Café, he thought that you hated him since you ‘ignored’ him. He became quite sad and confused at first, trying to call your attention but seeing that you were looking at the other side. It wasn’t until he dared to approach more and you signed to him that you couldn’t hear that he realized what happened.

It was a big relief for him to know that you didn’t hate him, he simply wasn’t able to get your attention as good as he’d like.

Unfortunately he found himself not knowing truly well how to communicate with you, and his main option would be through the notepad of the café, where he’d talk to you.

Hyun hated to be very nervous around you because he didn’t want to make you feel ignored or bad because he didn’t communicate with you. He wanted to be around you more. He wanted to be someone you could rely on no matter what.

He admires your effort when you work in the Café and your patience with everyone. He gives you small notes of compliments to cheer you up as you work as he finds endearing your presence.

He felt weird at the beginning with the awkward silence there was in the environment, but he got used to it and definitely enjoyed sitting beside you with no fear of being in silence. He finds your breathing comforting.

He joined signing language classes even if he mainly communicates through notes and physical contact. 

Hyun has no fear in scolding your boss if she ever dares to make any comment or consider you less just because you are deaf. You are one more in the work, your dignity deserves to be respected.

He confessed to you with a bucket of flowers and a small note that said “I like you a lot” with some hearts drawn around. It was pretty cheesy of him but it was cute to see him blush as never before during that moment.

Whenever he goes to work he leaves a note in your nightstand like ‘have a nice day!’, ‘make sure to eat and drink properly’...

Whenever you aren’t wearing your hearing aids, he’d simply take advantage to mutter how beautiful you were as you were giving him your back. He admires you like a fool in love. 

Wearing hearing aids would be an easier way to communicate between you and Hyun, as he’d be able to talk and also to understand your signs clumsily. He’ll always repeat what you signed in a confused tone to check if he got it right.

PRIYA 

She is very observant, so when she sees you from afar that you sign to another classmate that you are deaf, she simply keeps it in mind for the moment she needs to communicate something to you.

When she first communicates with you, she goes directly in front of you to get your attention and with that kind and sweet smile of hers she starts signing at you.

Just like Rayan, Priya decided to learn sign language simply because she was interested in learning it, and also because she thought that knowing it would open opportunities for her to get to know more people and make deaf people feel included when she was around.

Oh and thanks to this knowledge she got to meet you and she will always be satisfied with learning sign language.

Things do not really change in your relationship due to your condition. She keeps communicating with you naturally and believes that you being deaf isn’t a limit in your relationship.

She will save with you, giving you a part of his money if you do not have hearing aids because she would like you to hear about the good things life has, just as the sounds of nature or some good music. She is aware that it is overwhelming to wear hearing aids when you aren’t used and then you suddenly hear everything. 

Priya is always attentive to your reactions and your feelings, so the moment she sees you being anxious or something about your state, she’s gonna bring you to somewhere more calm so you can relax and rest your ears. 

She has a lot of words to say when someone disrespects you. She will argue for as long as needed until that person apologizes to you and she signs you to not forgive them because they do not deserve it.

With Priya your dignity and self-being will always be protected because she will make sure you are alright and not affected by any of this.

✰; remember to reblog and like to support my content, I hope you enjoyed it!

[fruitgumy]

Do you have any head canons for the shigaraki twins???

the ones i have are mostly silly and unserious fhsjskak but yes!!

1. i like to pretend that the captain hero comics are actually captain america, and the "demon king" is red skull. that's just cause i personally love captain america lol but considering all might is a mix of superman and captain america it is kind of thematically relevant. i like to imagine afo was a little bit thrilled at the idea of having the chance to defeat a hero like him.

2. a little while after afo killed the luminescent baby, yoichi was briefly successful in attempting to get afo to live a semi normal life. afo tried to stop committing crimes for yoichi's sake, but ended up just doing it behind his back instead because he didn't think it was that big of a deal. yoichi finds out and the betrayal is one of the major turning points in their relationship

3. yoichi likes kpop. like, he's a full on kpop stan. but he also likes music in general, and loved to go to shows. afo hated it, and stood on the sidelines looking awkward and terrifying and generally killing the vibe.

4. in another world where quirks don't exist, they both are just really into larping and roleplaying games. yoichi always plays a physically imposing fighter/brawler, and afo plays a wizard or warlock. they are both very chaotic in their roles.

5. yoichi is an artist, and he's really good at it too. his favorite subjects are the abandoned buildings he grew up in. he likes how nature is reclaiming the dilapidated structures. it reminds him that there's still hope even in their bleak little world.

6. afo robs people for presents to bring back to yoichi. at first, he says that he found them, but as they get older yoichi stops buying this excuse and starts refusing the gifts.

7. they both like sanrio even though they'd never admit it to anyone, or even each other.

8. the first time they get their own place to stay, they still sleep on the floor right next to each other because it's all they know. they don't start sleeping in beds until much later, and separate rooms come well even after that. when one of them is having a bad night, they will still go to the other's room and climb in bed together, although yoichi's visits to afo's room gradually decrease. eventually yoichi can't stand the idea of it, but afo keeps coming and yoichi feels too guilty to turn him away.

9. on the topic of unhealthy codependence, afo talks to yoichi's hand as if yoichi can hear him. he will even sleep with it, trying to recreate the many years they slept hand in hand as children.

10. if afo had been successful in stealing ofa, kudo would've beamed images of him and yoichi making out into afo's head to deal psychic damage to him. that or the brother eughh meme on repeat

11. yoichi made friends easily, and afo was always jealous of it. people were always drawn to yoichi, but afo felt that the only way for people to like him was through displays of power.

12. they both have older sibling syndrome. yoichi feels responsible for leading afo down the right path despite his quirk, and he feels that he failed miserably. afo felt responsible for keeping yoichi safe, and he failed as well.

the brothers of all time 🥳

[pevensiegiigi]

My problem with the Prince Caspian movie

The reason i love CN:Prince Caspian is because of how Andrew Adamson squeezed the emotions out of Peter. From the frustration of being an adult locked in the life of a child who wants to return to his land/country, the happiness of returning to that place he loves so much, the sadness of knowing that it was destroyed, the anger of knowing that a descendant of his destroyers would be the one who would ascend to king of his country and the guilt for being forced to leave Narnia again with no possibility of return.

My post is not to talk about those emotions, but i wanted to mention them anyway.

My post is to talk about my dissatisfaction with how everyone in the movie mocks Peter's words and orders, ignoring the title of high king. Except Edmund and Reepicheep; the rest, from Lucy and Susan, who are his royal sisters, to Trumpkin, Caspian, and Glenstorm, who are his subjects, disrespect his title of high king.

First Trumpkin by not addressing him with respect throughout the film, mocking his nickname, berating him for "leaving Narnia" and then making a fool of himself in the Stone Mountains when they searched for Caspian.

He is followed by Caspian, who equally disrespects Peter's position. Caspian is a prince from distant lands who intends to rule lands that he does not know, wanting to review the words dictated by the great king.

There's that scene where Peter suggests infiltrating the Telmarines' castle and Reepicheep asks, "What do you suggest, Your Majesty of him?" and both Peter and Caspian respond at the same time, a staring match ensues between the two which Peter obviously wins. The thing is, Caspian shouldn't have answered Reepicheep's question in the first place because the rightful King of Narnia was present let alone challenge him with his eyes because, I repeat, HE IS THE GREAT KING OF NARNIA and, not least, peter is Older than him. . . Maybe he didn't know it or maybe he did, but humanly Peter at that time was 31/32 years old although he would look like a child and as if that were not enough in the years of Narnia, Peter is 1300 years older than him, while Caspian was around 17 Just years, so...

Peter's plan to infiltrate the castle would have worked if Caspian had followed Peter's orders and we all know that, but no. He completely ignored Peter's order to go to the door and Susan supported that disobedience, don't get me wrong, but i'll tell you how it is. It's not just Caspian's fault that the infiltration failed, if Susan had supported Peter instead of Caspian, everything would have worked out and Cornelius would have been released at the end of the infiltration.

Caspian's most obvious disrespect towards Peter was challenging him to a duel in front of his people when Peter called him a usurper and it's not entirely a lie, he really was a usurper. From the moment he thought he was the leader of the Narnian rebellion, even knowing that he had called the old monarchs, he became a usurper, or at least it was for me. I understand Caspian will get mad at being called a usurper, but he called Peter irresponsible as if Peter wanted to leave Narnia when he didn't and then dared to duel him on HIS EARTH!?!?!?! The least he deserved was execution.

Third, Glenstorm. The mere fact that he was looking at Caspian as if he was waiting for his orders to follow the ones he received from Peter is disrespectful.

Lucy when she pretended to embarrass him by reminding him that it was Aslan who defeated the white witch, not him. I UNDERSTAND that being her sister he has every right to reproach her if she disagrees with something because he is also Monarch of Narnia, but why didn't she do it in private? At that moment, she took away from Peter part of the authority over the others.

I'm a little glad that at the end of the film in a scene they let us see how Peter showed that his title of Great King and his nickname of magnificent, he didn't have them just for decoration. However, it bothers me that throughout the movie they tried to make him look stubborn when he was just angry and outraged.

Peter is the character in the entire saga that carried the most weight and yet he did not complain about what Aslan gave him, his greatest wish was to return to Narnia and stay there for the rest of eternity, which he achieved.

That's why i love the movie 50% and hate it 50%.

[all-my-ocs-are-evil]

more Grojband au drawings and headcanons bc apparently I only like making fanart for fandoms that are non-existent or on the brink of extinction.

(au ramblings after the keep reading)

Relationships

Platonic/Familial:

Lanes and Larry (nickname Lars or Lars Bar) got really close during middle school. They found comfort with each other bc they were in similar situations regarding their crushes. They'd sneak off after band practice to rant to each other about their band leaders and just wallow in self-pity. And that didn't really change as they got older. If anything, they got even closer, acting more like siblings than friends—they even got similar/mirroring piercings to match and wear coordinated outfits—, constantly ranting to or annoying each other at any opportunity. However, their audience doesn't really believe that it's just that (having given both of them the titles of casanovas for dating each other and their band leaders). And neither does Corey. Which, as you can probably guess, often leads being a point of contention between them.

Kim and Konnie: I've made them really close cousins. Why?. Because I can! jk jk but tbch I just wanted to add some variety in the lineup's dynamics. I'm also playing with the idea of one of them being half-white and the other being half-Filipino and having them be raised in different households to see how that would affect the different ways in which they'd interact. They are still close like sisters and each other's best friends, they were born on the same day and wear matching hair ties like friendship bracelets, but I want them to have things about them that make them different from being exact copies of their counterparts. However, this is definitely subject to change as I explore the concept more.

Corey and Carrie: acquaintances. Over the years their rivalry has seriously mellowed out and are more or less pleasant with each other. They will tease each other from time to time but that's kind of just what you do when you've known someone as long as they have.

Mina and Trina: Not quite sure where to put this one lol. Their relationship imploded senior year when Mina confessed to her and Trina responded in the worst way possible. Now Mina is doing school abroad and Trina had to repeat her last year. No one really knows what happened but rumor has it that Mina had said something so bad to Trina that it made her completely break. She doesn't hang out with anyone and she rarely, if ever, talks. She spends all her time alone in her room or at her job that nobody is even really sure she has.

Romantic:

Kon and Konnie: they are just happy and cute together. They started hanging out together more during sophomore year when Konnie's gym closed down and she had to go to a new one. They were definitely more awkward at first, they didn't really dislike each other but their friends did so they kind of just...didn't interact, but once they actually started talking they found they got along really well! They would often spot for the other and offer encouragement when working out. Inevitably they caught feelings and tried dating in secret. But that didn't last long (bc ofc it didn't lol) and they got caught. Both bands were more irritated than mad but eventually got over it.

Kin and Kim: a bickering old married couple. they are constantly 'breaking up' and then getting back together the next day. They are snarky and live for drama and gossip. They both think that the other is more in love with them and can control them bc of it. In reality, they are both equally whipped for each other but refuse to admit it. They constantly 'fight' to show that they aren't in love then somehow always fail miserably every time. They haven't made their relationship public and hopefully never will. They like having their fans think they're single and that if they found out it would ruin their images as the mysterious prince and princess of their respective groups. The bands' reactions to them range from exasperated eye rolls to mocking laughter.

Larry (yes, I'm sticking to calling him Larry) and Carrie: ??? Larry adores Carrie and she knows this. He makes it very clear and is willing to do almost anything for her. But how Carrie feels for Larry is unclear, at least that's what he says to Laney. She will treat him like a best friend and they'll hang out alone without problem, but she will have this weird distance about her that she doesn't close. That is until the cameras come on. During interviews and shoots, she will pull him close to her and say things that can be easily interpreted and romantic, but when asked to specify she will laugh and deflect the question. Then, once the cameras are off, she goes right back to being distant. He is unsure whether or not she actually likes him romantically or is just refusing to clarify for the sake of the band, but he'll lean into her touch whenever or wherever it's given. He seems to have come to terms with this being their dynamic and just...goes with it. There is one thing he knows for certain, he loves her and regardless of whether or not she cares for him romantically, he will stay by her side no matter what. Oddly enough, whenever the topic of Larry and Laney's relationship is brought up, Carrie refuses to talk about it. To be honest, she'll act like she has no idea what they're talking about and bluntly steer the conversation towards literally anything else.

Laney and Corey: Contradictory. Laney has essentially given up on forming a romantic bond with Corey. However, her actual feelings don't seem to have gotten the memo. She still cares for him so much it hurts. So much so that she's come to terms with the fact that she will never be able to be with anyone romantically because of it. Laney used to love the high of being in love, floaty and light, and now she feels more like a suffering addict, lost and panicked. She drowns in every touch and caress given to her but at the same time feels burned and scorned every time she realizes how simple and platonic they are. She can't blame him for not liking her back, but she's come to resent him for it. Just a little bit. She sometimes even wishes she had never met Corey. Constantly thinking about the life she could have had had she not been pulled into the living whirlpool that was Corey. She loves him, and he doesn't know it. But he holds her closer than anyone else. He is possessive of her and her attention. Whenever it's directed towards someone else, Larry especially, he pulls her back into him and refuses to let her go. This makes it even more unlikely for her to move on, in fact, it makes her angry. They argue about it often.

I have the beginnings of several scenes that explore these relationships and stuff but I'm not too sure I wanna share them just yet ^^; (my creative writing skill is a bit more than a little lacking lol)

[houndbitexx]

beach life-in-death - car seat headrest is SO DERAPCHU CODED like if i had infinite time id make an animatic to it, in this essay i will....

(ramblings under cut)

the fact that the songs repeating themes are loneliness, waiting, depression, and boykissing. youll never guess what ls!derapchus repeating themes are.... youll never guess what he spends most of his time doing...

just after the songs beginning with all of the 'what should i do? eat breakfast, what should i do? go to the store, what should i do? apply for jobs' with him just waiting for wemmbu to get back for so long. with him just doing what he has to fill time while he waits indefinitely

'i wrote beach death when i thought you were taken, i wrote beach funeral when i knew you were taken, i wrote beach f*gs well it wasnt about us... but it couldve been, well no it couldnt have' with all of his failed teaming attempts (sticklers, pangi, ect) most of which he could of joined if things had just gone a little differently

'I spent a week in ocean city, i came back to find you were gone, i spent a week in illinois, i came back to find you were still gone' the constant waiting, anything else just being a sidequest to the constant of waiting. for wemmbu, for zam, for the server

'i pretended i was drunk when i came out to my friends, i never came out to my friends, we were all on skype. and i just laughed and i changed the subject. she said whats with this dog motif, i said do you have something against dogsssss' the pangi videos, and his screentime/overall presence just being bits about being freaky. he pretended he was drunk when he came out to his friends. augh

'i am almost completely soulless, i am incapable of being human, i am incapable of being inhuman, i am living uncontrollably' him being isolated for so long, him not being grouped in with anymajor group, an outlier prior to zaun

'it should be called anti depression, as a friend of mine suggested because its not the sadness that hurts you, its the brains reaction against it' the defence/ repiration of spawn, zam (and by association zaun). while all are constantly griefed. its not the loss that hurts him its his own reaction against it

'its not enough to love the unreal, i am inseperable from the inpossable, i want gravity to stop for me. my soul yearns, for a fugitive from the laws of nature' the prot 4 exploits, and the possible upper hand that comes with them, aswell as the stigma and moral statement of exploiting

'i want a cut scene, i want a cut from your face to my face, i want a cut i want the next related video' his alliance with 4cvit, forged over this exploit, as well as being some of the only lore going on while so many people take breaks

'last night i dreamed he was trying to kill you, i woke up and i was trying to kill you' sunkissed and deraps manipulative tendancies, hes so scared of mapic hurting zam that he is hurting him himself unintentionally

'its been a year since we first met, i dont know if were boyfriends yet' sunkissed, and the return of the theme of isolation that runs through both his whole character and this hole song

theres so much more but this post is getting so long already augh!! love this song though go listen to it

[mediocreanomaly]

Baby Fever with Trigun Boys!

Authors Note: I’ve been so obsessed with the Trigun baby post recently it’s been filling my head with thoughts, so here’s all the Trigun boys with if they would want kids + how many kids I think they’d have! (w Livio, Razlo, and Legato because they never get enough love 💔)  

Trigger warning: hints of pocd in Legatos (his is at the very end so you can stop reading before his if it’s a sensitive subject) 

Vash:

Would Vash want kids? Yes...eventually 

•When he first thinks about having kids with you he’s over the moon excited but then the longer he thinks about it the more nervous he gets. He does want a baby but he already feels bad for dragging you along and putting you in danger, and he’s got a bit of a self loathing streak (he makes me so sad) so he’ll probably slow down and try to convince you to wait until he stops his brother to have a family

•The other thing is he’s also not even sure if it’s possible, plant and human hybrid??? it’s never been done, not that he’s not eventually down for trying

•Although once he gets it in his head that you want a baby with him he discovers a side of himself that he didn’t know existed until now, rest assured you won’t be leaving the bed anytime soon.

•If you get pregnant before Vash can stop his brother he might mope just a bit apologizing despite you not really being mad, but it doesn’t last long. Then he’s both super excited and super stressed! What do babies need? are you hot? cold? do you need him to carry you? need help reaching something? he’s there fussing over you like a mother hen

•If you get pregnant after he deals with Knives, then he’s a lot more eager right off the bat, excited to start a family after everything he’s been through (still a mother hen though)

•Vash 👏 has 👏twins 👏

•Two little girls to be exact! one for each arm, one for each parent! Double the cuteness!

• Vash is a very good dad, eager to raise his children the way he thinks Rem would want him to, plus he has you! They grow a bit faster than human children thanks to the plant genes but not nearly as fast as Vash and Nai grew up so luckily you guys get to still enjoy them being small

• As the twins grow up they are eerily similar to how Vash and Nai were as children. In fact Vash gets a bit nervous when his other little girl takes on so many personality traits of his older brother, he stresses about it a bit, not that he didn’t love Nai but he doesn’t want history to repeat itself. Luckily he has you by his side, every time he lets his thoughts run wild, he watches the way you so gently parent the twins...he takes a small breath of relief. He feels in a way...he failed his brother but this is different, this time it’ll be okay

Wolfwood:

Does he want kids? Yes  👍

•Wolfwood loves kids so it’s natural he’d want some of his own and especially if it’s with you

•Thing is slightly similar to Vash he’d be a bit reluctant to have kids right now. He’s got a lot on his plate and he also has a bit of a self loathing streak (Trigun boys x therapy) he isn’t sure he deserves to start a family with someone as good as you

•When you do start a family Nick goes from 0-100 real fast, and by that I mean he goes from being protective to guard dog mode 24/7 but can you blame him? He’s seen how dangerous the world is he’ll die before he let’s anything happen to you or his unborn child

•Your first kid is a little girl, one that grows up to be...a little too much like her father. Sarcasm is her default speech and she’s a little head strong, but very protective of her family

•Now I don’t see enough people talking about this but??? Wolfwood??? would for sure want to adopt a kid??? He grew up in an orphanage, so of course your second kid was adopted. As much as he loves your daughter he knows how much the kids at the orphanage need a good home, so you welcome in a little boy. One that's a bit timid and shy and reminds Wolfwood all too much of little Livio when he was young, safe to say it pulls on his heart strings

•The last kid is the baby! Your daughter and son are a bit older and the third was admittedly a bit of an accident, not an unwelcomed one, but not planned. Either way Nick is happy about it (plus he’s really good at taking care of babies) In all you tie off your happy little family with three kids (four if you count nick lol)

•Wolfwood is a good dad though. Also he’s the kids favorite, so expect to get jealous when after school all the kids run into his arms. Don’t expect condolences either, this man will look up at you, all the kids in his arms and give you the biggest shit eating grin too...the bastard.

Knives

Would he want kids? Yes if you take care of them lmao

•Okay so unlike Vash and Wolfwood, Knives sees himself as an apex, so he can protect you and his kids from anything, if he decides he wants kids he doesn’t feel the need to wait

•The only thing is...it’s cannon he’s got a thing for impregnation right? but you have to realize this is for Plants, plant children aren’t like human children (or in this case plant/human children?) they grown alot faster, understand alot quicker, and he’s not the most...nurturing guy in the world. 

 •So buckle up because you’ll be in charge of most the children's care! don’t worry too much though, if you ask for something he’ll provide it so you won’t ever need to stress about not having anything. 

•During the pregnancy he’s fiercely protective over you, keeping you in his private wing in a plush bed. Only letting Legato help take care of you and Conrad whos in charge of your check ups

•Now honestly I’m not sure how many kids he’d have, so I see one of two options

•option one, an only child. One that he has you raise then begins to take more under his wing as he or she grows up. A child that's, in a way, the heir of everything Nai has built, one that will grow to be as strong as their father (with hopefully a bit more care thanks to you)

•option two, lots of children. Once he sees your pregnant the first time...well he likes you like that, might as well keep you like that all the time right? Besides don’t you want to continue his legacy?

•Either way he does like love  his children, he just has a hard time showing it. He tries to show he cares though i mean you’ve seen how he is with Vash. Honestly I think it’s easier for your kids to understand their fathers affections since their half plant, gives them a better insight you know? (if you mess with them it’s literally the quickest way to die though so it’s not like that aren’t under his care still) 

Livio

Does he want children? 100% Yes!

•This man...ugh this man

•Livio 100% wants kids with you, he’s a gentle giant and a soft soul at heart. He wants nothing more than to settle down with you and have a couple little feet running around.

•This man is so patient so caring with you. He’s also a little scared he’ll hurt you once you’re pregnant I mean look at you!!! you’re so cute! waddling around all that baby weight, what if he crushes you? or bumps into you and hurts the baby? what do you mean that's not how that works?

•Despite his worries you welcome a happy healthy baby girl, who he’s still a little apprehensive about hurting at first but once you guide him through holding the little bundle of joy he’ll settle a bit

•So you have your first little girl, and after about a year you decide to try for another. You and livio decide you want to try to have one boy one girl, only thing is...you have another little girl! but that's okay! because a year after that you try again...and have another little girl. Livio accepts his fate after that.

•all jokes! Livio really does love his little girls to death, he doesn’t really care if he has a little boy or not, besides it’s endlessly hilarious to come home and see this hulk of a man surrounded by three little girls, one of which has dressed him up in a pink tutu so he can attend her royal tea party, another using her cheap kid make up to make him “the prettiest girl at the ball” while she smears eyeshadow on his face and another one yet pulling what hair he has into multiple little pig tails. 

•Now I do have one small headcannon that only applies if you are in a relationship with both Livio and Razlo. If you are in a relationship with both the boys then Razlo sees the girls as his kids but not his kids if that makes sense...as in he helps raise them as his own but he doesn’t feel like he in particular made them you know?

•Razlo will probably ask if he can try for one kid with you (if you know what I mean) and you'll end up with one more kid, your youngest and ofcourse...it’s a boy! Razlo will never let Livio live this down, he will tease Livio about this fact forever. “What like it was hard?” “Shut up Razlo” 

Razlo

Does he want kids? Maybe?

•Razlos a little on the fence about kids at first. He’s spent his life training, protecting, killing. As cocky as he acts he isn’t sure he’d be a good dad.

•Once he get’s more settled into his life not constantly fighting he’ll start to consider it though, because Razlo does like kids it’s just...he spent his whole life protecting Livio he had just never really considered the fact he might one day have a family of his own

•When you’re pregnant he follows you around like a puppy, his broad form is like a large shadow keeping a watchful eye over your smaller form. Unlike Livio though he’s a little less scared of his strength, in fact he likes to use it to his advantage, why waste his gift right? so expect him to try to carry you around everywhere. Also don’t even think about lifting anything, that’s what he’s for!

•As mentioned in Livios if you are in a relationship with both Razlo and Livio then Razlo will only really try to get you pregnant once after all Livios kids born. He’s content with raising all the girls and one little boy. (Razlo also gets swept up into the parties. He puts up a bit more of a fight and complains and bit more then Livio does but he loves them so he deals with it.) 

•As for his little boy he tries to get him into more traditionally masculine things so he can have a break from playing princess but he’s actually very accepting of whatever his kids want to do. If his little boy end up liking the stuff he does? great! If he doesn’t and just wants to join his sisters? also great! I mean, he’s a little less thrilled there's now four sets of hands hastily applying lipstick to his face, but that’s life. (Jokes on him, it ends up being one of the little girls who’s a little tomboy. “papa Razlo? can we go catch bugs?” “Oh thank god yes let’s go”) 

•But!!! If you are in a relationship with just Razlo then it’s a bit different. He’ll probably end up with two kids, both boys. The first boy is alot like him, very loud, blunt, and protective. He’s also a bit of a trouble maker and it doesn’t help Razlo is a bit of a yes man which ends in both of them with their heads bowed while you scold them

•Your younger one is a bit more of a gentle soul. A lot more shy, more of an introvert and defiantly glued to you in his younger years. Razlo doesn’t 100% understand his interest as he gets older but he does try, in fact his shy nature reminds him a lot of Livio which makes him a bit protective of your youngest. in all he ends up being a great dad

Legato

Does he want kids? No.

•Now listen, you need to understand, this man did not have a good childhood, in fact he didn’t have a childhood.

•He doesn’t have any experience with kids and the way he was treated as a child...yeah he’s got a lot of trauma around the whole concept of children as a whole, and honestly it’d have to be pretty far in your relationship for him to even be willing to be physical enough with you to even have the chance to conceive a kid.    

•so no he doesn’t want kids. 

•but lets say accidents happen and somehow the two of you are a bit careless and you end up pregnant 

•oh boy are you ready? Because Legato makes me really sad. He’d be a bit distant during your pregnancy, he doesn’t really know how to feel about all this, he never imagined himself as a father and now...

•When your baby is first born (a little boy) you’re going to have to do all the care. It’s rough but honestly with his trauma? he’d be scared to death to touch his kid. He’s paranoid. He knows what he went through and he’s scared. What if he hurts his kid? What if the same thing happens to him? In reality he’d never and I mean never hurt his kid but it’s a common for this kind of paranoia in victims of the type of abuse Legato suffered.

•It’s a rough couple of first years but after some reassurance (and therapy! please get this man therapy!) He slowly comes around. No matter what though he’s protective. Like I said he knows how cruel humanity can be, and even in the first years with his paranoia he’ll be damned if anyone hurts his little boy. In fact he might go a bit over board and refuse to let anyone even touch him or pick him up besides you

•Once he settles in though...it’s not so bad. He slowly warms up to him, admittedly it’s a bit rocky at first. To your little boy Legato is a bit of a stranger living in the same house of him since Legato refuses to let himself get too close, but give it time and they’ll slowly bond.

“I’m told you like to read?” “...yeah” “maybe...I could give you some of my favorite books? would you like that?” “...okay.”

•Don’t worry!!! the two end up okay. Despite the less than ideal start, Legato gains more confidence the more he interacts with his son. Especially since they have a lot of the same interest. At the end of the day Legato realizes something, he want’s to give his kid the childhood he never got to have.

[pebblysand]

Hello hello! So i finished reading ch 22, and i have a lot of thoughts, but one that I kept thinking about, and i don´t know if this was intentional or not, is Robard's character, and how it reminded me of jkr, and her public opinions and persona these last years. How she gradually (and not so gradually, lately) became a transphobic bigot, basically. And i always thought "how did you get there, jk? where you always like this? or you became like this because of the way people harrased you over some tweets?" (i actually don't know, i hadn't read her twitter for years up until today out of curiosity, and... 😬) I kind of felt that with robard's character, i loved that, really. Felt, like most of your story, very realistic. Anyway, i wish you a great weekend full of delicious food, drinks, and whetever you consider fun 🤠

hello! thank you, i'm glad you enjoyed!

this is such an interesting question and one that i've meaning to post about for a long time but have been - i must admit - a bit of a coward about, lately. addressing JKR on tumblr one way or another is always a sure way to get anon death threats in your inbox, an experience that i've had in the past and wasn't keen on repeating. but i think this needs to be said, and it needs to be said publicly.

so, to answer your question, no, this wasn't per se intentional. i didn't set out to have a parallel between robards and JKR, although now that you mention it, i think my thoughts about JKR may have permeated his storyline subconsciously because yes, you're totally correct, there is definitely a parallel there. and, i think your question of: "jo, how did you get there?" is probably one of the most important unaddressed questions of our time.

i've been reading a lot of takes on tumblr lately. metas and purported text analyses that say stuff like: "umbridge is represented as being feminine and having a high-pitched voice, therefore JKR hates women because she thinks femininity is evil" or, "hermione is ugly and therefore JKR hates women because she thinks women have to be ugly to be clever/successful," or "JKR didn't say dumbledore was gay until after the books came out, therefore she is homophobic," etc. and, while i think people are free to disagree with me and i don't want to single anyone out, i think these takes are at best misguided. at worst, a bit dangerous.

misguided because frankly, reading the text and JKR's actions in that way is, imo, demonstrating a complete lack of understanding of history, the publishing industry, artistic creation and symbolism, and overarching themes of the work. it's taking elements of a narrative completely out of context and making them fit into a specific agenda. this idea that: HP is a terrible story, the author is evil, has always been evil, and anyone who still enjoys this work is a bigot. it's an insane take to have when talking about one of the most popular and critically acclaimed coming-of-age saga of the twenty-first century. hermione is a very feminist character. umbridge is also a very feminist character. they are both, of course, subject to the implicit biases of their times and have to be read and studied critically within that framework, but failing to understand the intentions behind their creation shows - again, in my opinion - a very dire lack of media literacy.

having said that, if those takes were just plain wrong, i wouldn't mind them as much - after all, i'm a massive believer in people's right to be wrong. but where i think these takes really pause a problem is that as i've said before, the underlying goal is to prove, by taking things completely out of context, that JKR was "always like this." i personally think that's a terribly dangerous argument to make.

because, the truth is: she wasn't always like this. JKR was a feminist. she was a leftist, a militant. someone who wrote one of the largest odes to love and tolerance and respect that our generation has known. she called to vote labour, advocated for social policies, gave huge amounts of money to incredibly good causes, and was an inspiration and model for thousands of young girls and women worldwide (myself included), both through her own success, and through the strength of the female characters she created. she had her flaws, of course. her belief that motherhood is the ultimate goal is problematic. her urge to take down pornographic fanfiction that involved her works in the early 2000s was unfortunate. but generally speaking, she was not always a bigot. she became one. and that is essential.

i think we too often see JKR as the cause of the problem. and, these days, it's true, to some extent, she is the cause of the problem. she funds abhorrent organisations which tragically seek to undermine trans rights, she uses her twitter platform to spread awfully bigoted ideas and is now slowly falling into antisemitism. but i think what we miss with the above is that she isn't just the cause of the problem, she is also a symptom. just like women who fall into MLMs are both perpetrators of financial abuse to the women in their downline, but also being abused by the system themselves.

JKR is the most famous and tragic example of a trend i've personally seen happen around me time and time again, of formerly left-wing people in her generation and older, slowly falling into conspiracy theories, bigotry and racism. of people who used to be sane moderates (either on the right or the left) now sliding further and further to the right.

i think it is very easy to dismiss these people by saying "they were always racists" or "they were always homophobic/hateful of women" when, in fact, that is not true. were they flawed and were some of their opinions imperfect? sure. but at the core, these people were progressives in their time. but they totally missed the train of modern progressivism. worse, they’re now actively going against it. and by saying they were always like this, we are steering away from studying the real cause of the problem, asking why these people became like this (as you put it: "how did you get there?") and looking for a solution, instead of writing them off as crazies.

i think regarding JKR, we can have conversations about how/why she became like this, although i think a lot of people online are not yet ready to have this conversation. i personally doubt there is a single cause. having read the ink black heart recently, i think two things appear clear to me. 1) she is chronically online to a truly terrifying degree, and this is coming from me, another truly chronically online person. 2) she has reached a level of fame and fortune and isolation that means she is now surrounded by yes-sayers, and is not exposed to much contradiction. i also think it is undeniable that there is a world of difference between the beliefs she expressed in the 2020 essay, which were misguided and potentially harmful, but not hateful, and the current state of her twitter account. as someone who has experienced death threats from trans activists before, i do sympathise with the fact that it’s hard to build empathy with people who yell in your mentions that you should die (in my case, simply for writing HP fanfic). whilst i obviously have managed to maintain empathy and understand that in some ways, this extreme reaction is the unfortunate pendent of the hate trans people and activists themselves receive and the work of a very loud minority, my experience is nothing like the scale of what she experienced. whilst i still think she was slipping into transphobia way before the onslaught of hate she received, i can’t imagine this helped.

but again, i think what is important to understand and realise is that this phenomenon goes beyond internet hate, and goes beyond JKR herself. i always think of my mum's best friend when i think of this. she's eighty-three now but in her day, was a hardcore, bra-burning feminist. she was childfree by choice in a time where that was not an accepted choice, and is one of the strongest, most open-minded people i used to know. yet, a couple years ago, i went to her house on holiday and she explained to me straight up that she'd fired her cleaner for wearing the hijab, saying "i don't want people like that in my house." and, of course, this is abhorrent (and also illegal) but like JKR, like millions of people, she didn't use to be like that. she became like that. and it is fucking dangerous, in my opinion, to pretend like these périple were always these worthless bigots, instead of asking the right questions. "why?" and, also "how can we get them back?"

and, you're right: robards's trajectory in castles is a bit like that. because i think i’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, and again, because i’ve not expressed these thoughts out loud, they might have influenced my writing. and whilst robards in castles was always a bit more on the conservative side, he was someone who fought in the war. he was someone who fought with harry to open the muggle unit, etc. but somewhere along the way, he took a right turn that, again, millions of people in the real world have taken. and there is such a strong drive, right now, to write these people off. to think they are not worth the light of day, and are completely unsalvageable. and, there is such a strong pressure from a very vocal minority of millennial and gen z liberals to just cut ties with everyone and everything problematic. these injunctions to hate JKR and everything she's ever produced, to get rid of your HP tattoos, to stop writing fanfic, is the same as the injunction people make to stop talking to and cut off your racist relatives. and, if you don't do these things, you're a Bad Person™, a Bad Liberal.

first of all, this is frustrating because this sounds a lot to me like a "holier than thou" mentality that has plagued my catholic upbringing. this air of superiority about who is or isn't more of a sinner drives me nuts, and frankly, i've no interest in living in a "perfect" world of only interacting with the most "pure" individuals and materials amongst us. i find that these people are transposing values of fundamentalist religion into the left-leaning sphere in a way that is deeply grossing me out. i do not need a morality lesson, i certainly do not need to be told how to be a Good Liberal or a Good Feminist.

but i also think that this idea of just dismissing the way older generations are slowly falling into the traps of the far right and of bigotry as "they're just old" and "they should just die out" is also deeply misguided. because, again, this is preventing us from looking at the root cause of the problem. and, who's to guarantee that the disease won't spread further? i find it deeply optimistic and borderline deluded to think that we can just let boomers die out and that Everything Will Be Fine. bigotry and racism are a gangrene that spreads and slowly permeates every layer of society. i would know - i grew up in a region of france that was always far-right leaning, and i've watched that disease spread and spread to other regions, other branches of society, in the past twenty years. and believing that this won't touch younger generations, or permanently change the way we think, is a fallacy. we're seeing it happen in france right now. bardella, the new far right leader, is 28 and is now reaching french gen z on tiktok, and it's fucking working! more and more young people are voting for these candidates. and what's the plan here? are we just going to let them die out or further ostracise them too? write them off as permanently morally corrupt? send them death threats to change their mind like so many people did for JKR and her people?

it would be awfully presumptuous of me to pretend like i have the solution here. i don't. and whilst robards isn’t a character that is important enough for me to give him a redemption storyline, it doesn’t mean we should stop trying in the real world. and, trust me, i know it's hard to continue interacting with these people. as i said, i grew up around them and have struggled with holding back screams all my life. when my mum's best friend said what she said, it took everything i had in me not to just walk out. but we've got to keep trying. we've got to keep loving. i still love her. she's still one of the most important, foundational people in my life. and i still love JKR, in a way. i hate what she's saying, but i still believe a change is possible. or else, we're just giving up on humanity.

[moonstone-reading-nook]

The Stormlight Archives: The Way of Kings

While I commonly engage in literature of all genres, there are few who hold as special a place in my heart as fantasy. There is something about a fictional world of great scope and scale, built meticulously to feel both lived in and varied as our own, that deeply intrigues me. Several months ago, I completed my read through of the highly regarded Wheel of Time series by beloved fantasy author Robert Jordan. That is what introduced me to Brandon Sanderson, who completed the final three novels in the series following Jordan's passing. While not able to entirely recapture the Jordan's uniquely thorough writing style, I believe Sanderson to have done an outstanding job in wrapping of the story based off of Jordan's extensive notes, putting the pieces together in a final novel that exceeded my expectations in every regard.

I have read several books in the time since; several non-fiction psychology books, as I've been struggling with my mental health, as well as addressing some classics I have yet to read: most notably The Catcher in the Rye. However, my mind was continuously drawn back to Sanderson. After the year it took to read through all 14 novels and the prequel of Wheel of Time, I had made myself hunger for another meaty fantasy series I could bite into. So I decided to read Sanderson's largest series, The Stormlight Archive, a series planned to be 10 novels with the 5th to be published in December. My plan going forward would be to read one novel of the Stormlight Archive, then read a classic or two before I returned to the series, which I'd repeat until I caught up. And so, having completed the first entry, I wish to put my thoughts to (digital) paper. These are my thoughts, opinions, and analysis of The Way of Kings.

The story of The Way of Kings is divided into three major plotlines, jumping between them while sprinkling in occasional smaller POVs across the world. One plotline follows Kaladin, former soldier turned slave, desperate to save the slaves he as been placed with to serve as manual labor and distractions against enemy forces. Closely tied is Dallinar's story, following the brother of a murdered king whose death started the war Kaladin is now trapped in. He struggles with a commitment to follow the Words of book named blasphemous that his late brother told him to him to read in his final words. Teachings that draw him much ire from the competing lords as he finds himself more and more determined to end the war quickly. The final one follows Shallan. More disconnected from the other two, Shallan serves as a ward under Dallinar's niece Jasnah, planning to steal her magic catalyst, a fabrial, for her own gain, but finds herself conflicted, as she realizes she truly wants to be a scholar alongside Jasnah.

All three plotlines have unique themes, as well as overlapping ones. A major overarching theme is commitment and doubt. All three characters struggle to fullfil to promises they made to themselves due to increased doubt surrounding viability, morality, and hope. Kaladin begins to doubt his own philosophy, that those who take lives to protect lives are different from those who simply take, and his ability to save his fellow slaves as he subjects himself and his men to harsher conditions as he tries to build hope. Dallinar doubts his own sanity as visions of the past appear before him, urging him to follow the Words that even his son begins to believe are acts of mental instability, and Shallan waffles from her goal as she grows attached to her Master, though begins to doubt her morality. All eventually choose to commit with varying results. I believe this goes beyond typical character conflict that all great characters must face, or overcoming the lie they believe, because they all revolve around their commitment. Kaladin has sworn to protect time and time again, but has consistently failed to do so. Dallinar has committed to doing as his visions have told him: uniting the Alethi, a goal that seems increasingly impossible. Shallan has committed herself to her family, to steal Jasnah's fabrial to save them from financial ruin. It is these promises they have made that drive their turmoil, but they do not serve as mere falsehoods. They serve as tests of conviction, and demonstrate how difficult even goals believed to be noble can be to uphold.

Other themes I found were the co-existing value and naïvety of trust and honor, as well as how the world has been twisted by a lack thereof, by an egotistical philosophy. Dallinar upholds himself as a man and his men as people of honor, as compared to the effective yet cruel rival Brightlord Sadeas. While doubtful, Dallinar chooses to trust those around him as much as he believes is safe, despite this leading him into incredibly dangerous positions. Additionally, Kaladin's honor is initially mocked by his fellow bridgemen, but it slowly turns into a beacon of hope to follow, even as their accomplishments only gain them severe punishments. The bridgemen are treated as subhuman, property able to be bought and sold for a set price, and easily thrown away, though fighting against this all seems futile, as this is simply how the world is, and those in power see no reason to change it.

Additionally, mental health seems to be central to the series as a whole. Kaladin evidently suffers from intense PTSD and depression, with Dallinar likely harboring that same depression. While only hinted at in this novel, I have been told that Shallan also has DID, which is, unlike usual, presented very well. The disorder are all treated accurately and with respect, and show those weighed down by them still managing to push on and build something for themselves.

Most central though seems to be the idea that a single human life has infinite value, humans have also made the world a cruel and terrible place by prioritizing themselves over others at all costs. The only way forward is to take the first the first step with morality and honor, even with it's terrible consequences in the world we have created, because if no one starts, there can be no one to follow.

My thoughts on the novel are overall very positive. I found myself very emotionally attached to the characters, particularly Kaladin, and several moments hit me like an emotional freight train. The world and magic system are both astonishingly unique and endlessly interesting. I find the world holding to be some of the best I've seen in fantasy novels. That being said, I'm not particularly fond of Sanderson's writing style. I find it at times to be overly simplistic, simply stating what is happening without any notable flourishes in style. I found some of that to be the same in his first Wheel of Time novel, but by the time I reached the final installment, he had found a wonderful balance of his own while recapturing some of Jordan's. I should not have expected that style here, especially as this novel was written 4 years before A Memory of Light, and yet I still found myself a small bit disappointed. That being said, I don't find the style egregious, just mediocre. The world, characters, themes and conveyance of emotion more than make up for it, and I look forward to the next novel with great anticipation.

Next, I plan to read 1984, a novel I am shocked I have yet to read, as it aligns well with my interests and I previously greatly enjoyed Orwell's Animal Farm. It's far shorter than Stormlight Archive novels, so it should not take me nearly as long. I am busy enough to not have too much time for reading anymore, but I am making an effort to carve out time. I hope to be posting again soon.

[desultory-novice]

hi dess, I was thinking about drawcia and her siaters last night and was curious if you ever thought about a connection between her and adeleine and noir. because of the... art theme, and because her sorceress form has some glaring similarities to dark matter blade. and/or perhaps some relation to the painter and mysterious brush mentioned in paintra/DX's boss descriptions? the subject of 2 siblings being separated is something adeleine/noir and paintra/drawcia seem to have in common

Oooh, D00p... >w< 

I hate to say that while I've been passively aware of some of the visual similarities/glaring connections between Drawcia and Dark Matter Blade, I have never really thought hard of doing anything with it/come up with anything particularly HC-y for them. Kinda goes for Drawcia and Nightmare too, who also share some concepts.

(There's just too much Dark Matter in Kirby! Keeping them all straight yet connected in a way that makes sense is difficult, darn it! No wonder Shimazaki left! "Figure the rest out for yourselves!" XD) (1)

I do know that, for Apologies, it's canon that Noir and Adeleine's family are 'people upon whom the rest of the planet does not look too fondly on.' That is why, while it would already be hard for two kids to survive there, it has been especially hard in their case...

:Dess still in deep consideration whether she wants to finish drawing the content warning-required Noir backstory chapter or not, even though it keeps poking its head into other stories:

Ahem! But I do remember thinking that if the Dark Matter Blade is Lab Discovera's first cursed af attempt at trying to make or recreate, I dunno, Galaxia maybe(?) That Ado's Paintbrush is probably the same for the Magic Paintbrush in Canvas Curse.

So, they are tied into the lore of this somehow... And you're right that their story echos the separated siblings. In fact, I was talking with thecrashman a little about some Apologies spoilers related to the above mentioned sidestory and witches made of paint did dance through my head for a second... but I still don't have anything concrete as to how the four (five, counting Vividria) are related.

-

(1)

Speaking of, I saw someone post that another Japanese guidebook supposedly made it "clear" that the Dark Matter you fight in DL 3 is the same as Blade which made me gulp because in Apologies, I wasn't necessarily going to make the Dark Matter in 3 the same as Noir and I was pre~tty sure the Japanese wiki backed me up on the possibility that they were, or at least, could be different!

...God, making Blade be the same Dark Matter that's in both 2 and 3 in Apologies-verse would have even ME crying and screaming?!?

It was bad enough that he's just a shadow of himself in 2. Flickering whispers of fading memories fighting a losing battle against the all encroaching darkness, but now, in Dream Land 3, he's LITERALLY a thrice-dead soulless husk?! Made to repeat the same task he failed at before by a heartless tyrant who only demands of the boy:

"Again." How...many...more...times...? "Again until you succeed."

Noir was gentle enough to keep Dedede asleep the whole time he was possessing him. Noir only captured Kirby's friends, not hurt them, mildly inconveniencing Kirby. But Zero? Zero resurrects his dead pawn, rips open Dedede's stomach and shoves Blade inside the king like he was a prison made of flesh within which Blade can only gnash his "teeth" (...rattle the bars...) and shed tears of darkness...

Zero then parades him out before Blade's own BABY BROTHER as a meat shield and an "example" - to fill both Gooey and Kirby with despair and hopelessness at the inevitability of that which they face.

"...You thought you had ended this one's suffering?" "This is the fate of all who defy EYE."

What is this True Arena Noir Soul I have accidentally invented?

[mindful-of-ideas]

TW: Pregnancy, body image, mention of school shootings (you’ll see), obviously this is Dark!James so toxic relationship.

A/N: Requested by the lovely @flowercrowns-goodvibes right here. This was kinda fun to write tbh, I’m not used to portraying James like that. Thanks again for your request!

Maybe you should’ve listened to your mom. But who wouldn’t fall for Dr James Wilson? Certainly not her, the woman who married a neurosurgeon who pushed you to become a nurse. So maybe it was only natural that you fell for Dr Wilson.

“Y/N? You’re okay,” asked James, rolling over in the bed and wrapping an arm around you, “You’re awfully quiet.”

“I’m fine,” you said kissing the back of his hand, “Just thinking…”

“About what we talked about last night?” he asked, hope in his voice.

You squinted, trying to see the time on the clock next to the bed. 6 o’clock. Too early to use work as an excuse to get out of this conversation.

“No, about something else,” you finally said. “Do you remember the first time we met?” you added trying to change the subject.

“At the seminar in Washington? Of course, I remember, it was only 4 years ago… and, I mean, how could I forget.”

“What did you think of me back then?” you asked trying to roll over to face him.

He pressed his chest ever so slightly closer to your back, forcing you to stay where you were.

You asked even if you knew what he was going to say. ‘I thought you were a dashing young woman’.

“What did I first think of you… I thought you were a dashing young woman,” he said.

There you go, you thought.

“And I still think you are,” he added.

That was new.

He trailed kisses down your back before resting his hands on your hips. You bit your lower lip.

“But did you think about what we talked about last night?” James asked.

Last night, just a repeat of four years ago.

Back then, you were young, too young, and naive. Maybe that was why you fell head over heels for the charismatic oncologist from New Jersey. As soon as your eyes landed on him, you knew your heart would ache until you could be with him. But it wasn’t just his charisma that drew you in, you were young but not stupid, no, it was so much more. It was his smile, his laugh, the way he seemed to deeply care about the people he was with. And you wanted that. You wanted someone who cared. You tried your best not to melt when you got introduced to him but failed miserably. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything, not then at least. Later that day, you got a note asking to join him for dinner. Just like that, what could’ve been a very boring week turned into a dream.

But every good dream has its end, and yours turned into a nightmare. You kept in touch with James, even after the end of the seminar. You would go see him a New Jersey whenever you could, but money was tight and you couldn’t afford to go there too often. That’s when he offered you to move in with him. Scratch that, that’s when he offered that you both look for a house and move in together. A house! You were still living with roommates and he was asking you to buy a house with him? And settling down? Just as you were finally free from school and ready to explore the world?

That’s exactly what you told him, and he didn’t like your answer. He told you he understood, yet his messages got colder. Your visits were shorter and shorter up until one day, you simply stopped coming. Just like that, in a matter of weeks, it was over.

It took three years for you two to meet again. It took only a few days to fall in love again. This time was different. Maybe it was because you were older, or because you now worked at the same hospital, in the same city, but everything felt easier. Now, after almost a year, together, the dream once again felt like it was ending. For the last weeks, James had been asking, begging, pressuring you to consider having children… and to try to have them soon… now. Last night, in particular, almost turned into an argument, as he once again presented the question to you.

“Because I had a few ideas on… you know… how we could… do this…” he said, punctuating his sentence with kisses on your neck.

“I’ll think about what you said, I promised,” you finally said.

You felt small in his arms, yet you didn’t want him to leave you. Despite all your disagreements, you needed him. You needed him to love you.

“I’ll get going,” he said coldly, “there are some things I need to grab at my place before going to work.”

He got up, leaving you freezing in your bed.

“I’ll see you there,” he added, kissing your hair gently.

Once you heard the door close, you rolled out of bed and made your way to the shower. You made yourself a quick breakfast before going back to your room to grab your birth control. Weirdly, it wasn’t in the usual drawer. In a panic, you quickly looked all over your room, making a mess of everything. You couldn’t have lost your pills, not now that James was talking about having a child. You sat down on your bed, trying to calm yourself down.

“Fuck…” you said out loud, wiping a tear from your cheek, “Where could they be? Could… could he…”

But that would be insane. James wouldn’t go as far as take your birth control pills from you. There was only one way to find out.

You barged into his office, not even bothering to knock before opening the door.

“House, out!” you barked at the doctor who was sitting in front of James.

“Do I need to go get my ear plugs,” he said getting up, “Are you guys about to have rough sex?”

“Out!” you screamed, pointing at the door.

“Alright, alright…” he said, closing the door behind him.

“Y/N?” James asked getting up, “What’s going on with you?”

“Oh nothing, or maybe the fact that you took my birth control pills!”

“How could you even…”

“Know it was you? I had them yesterday, you’re the only one who came over to my place… one plus one is two James, come on!”

“What does it matter anyway, you said you wanted to have a baby with me!”

“I said I’d love to have kids at some point. Not necessarily right now! I told you I was going to think about it. You couldn’t even wait one day!”

“You want kids, so what’s the problem if it’s now or later?”

Somehow, through all this, all your screaming, he had managed to remain calm.

“Because! Because having kids is a big decision! You’re out there talking birth control and cycles and I don’t know what else, are you seeing the world we live in? It’s a fucked up one! Climate change, overpopulation, school shooting! How am I supposed to raise a child knowing their life will be even more difficult than mine! How will I be a good mother if I can’t assure them that they will have a better life than I did?”

“Y/N, sit down. You need to calm down.”

“Calm down?”

“Sit. Down.”

Reluctantly, you did. Doing so, you noticed how fast your heart was beating. Not that it mattered much to you, James needed to understand that you weren’t sure that you wanted a baby right now.

“And what about me? Did you think of that? I’m the one that will carry a baby for nine months. Nine fucking months, James! That’s a long time! And how about all the ways my body will change? We’re not just talking about my belly and putting on weight. It’s aches and pains in my joints, back pains, leg cramps, skin changes, morning sickness, mood swings and I could go on! I…”

You had tears rolling down your cheeks now, though you were sure when you had actually started crying. You had trouble controlling your breathing.

“I… it took so long to accept my body as it is… how will I survive pregnancy… what if…”

“What if I don’t care,” he said cutting you off, “What if I still think you’re beautiful, despite everything you mention. What if I told you that having a child requires two people… two people that will take care of and love them.”

“But…”

“No ‘but’, we’re doing this and we’re doing it together. Now, I need you to calm down. Can you breathe for me Y/N?”

As he said that, he made his way around his desk, reaching for something that was resting on it. You couldn’t quite see what it was and recoiled as he stopped in front of you. It felt like he was towering over you. Even if you had plenty of space to get up and leave, you felt unable to move.

“That’s it Y/N, keep breathing. That’s good.”

“James…”

“We are going to have this baby, together. Now take this,” he said handing you a small plastic cup with one single pill in it.

“Is that… is that my birth control?” you asked.

He made the pill roll down in his hand. He reached to grab your face with his other hand, gently parting your lips with his thumb and forcing the pill into your mouth.

You swallowed before questioning him again.

“How do I know you didn’t just give me the sugar pill?”

“You don’t. You have to trust me,” he said before kissing you, “I know you’ll be a great mother, even if I have to wait a little bit to see it.”