#Don't know why she thinks I care about this shit

[lvnleah]

Would love a AWFC!Teen reader fic where she's Leah's younger sister who has always had to deal with being with Leah's sister, so many expectations on her and people being her friends because of Leah (Leah is still very much an amazing sister, loves her baby sister to bits!)

So when she's around ten ish, she makes the choice to not let anyone know Leah is her sister, goes to games but doesn't sit in the family section and sits with friends who she's never told about her family, maybe even uses her mum's maiden name rather than Williamson etc.

Leah is undoubtedly a bit upset about it because she doesn't want to make her little ones passion dampen just by being her (I hc that Leah would very much see R as her baby because that's what she called her when she was born or something) but her and their family all accept it and do what R wants and needs

Cut to R being brought into the senior time, smashing it in the big leagues and getting along well with all of the senior players who are looking at her like 'she seems familiar and I don't know why...' only to find out she's Leah's little sister when she's injured on the pitch or Leah gets injured and she gets all panicked and doesn't want to leave her side

Cue Beth, Katie, Kim etc. Who have all been there for years like 'Holy shit, you've grown up!!!!' Because they probably would've known her when she was younger since they've known Leah that long

Long winded but hopefully you'll like the idea 😂😂

the other williamson | leah williamson.

thank you for this request! :)

this is one of my favourite fics I’ve written!

You had always been proud to be Leah’s sister, how could you not be? She was England’s captain after all and an Arsenal star but sometimes being nine years younger than Leah came with its struggles. 

You were only seven when Leah first broke into the senior team and you were so proud of your sisters that for a while it’s all you talked about. Everyone at school knew about your cool big sister Leah and how she was playing for Arsenal. 

At that time, women’s football wasn’t massive so of course you got a bit of stick from a few boys in your class but it wasn’t anything you could handle. 

“Arsenal women?” One of them scoffed one day in the playground, “that isn’t a proper team!”

You looked the boy straight in the eye. “They are a proper team! My sister’s going to be the best player in the world, just you watch!”

The boy had rolled his eyes and laughed, but you didn’t care. You’d march off, determined to prove him wrong. Well, Leah would prove him wrong, and you’d be there cheering her on every step of the way.

For a while, being Leah’s sister was the coolest thing in the world. You loved going to games, sitting with your family, wearing a little Arsenal jersey with Williamson on the back. 

Leah always made time for you, even when her schedule got busy. She’d let you run around on the pitch after matches, ruffle your hair, and call you “my little bubba,” no matter how much you protested.

But as you got older, things changed.

By the time you were fifteen, Leah was a household name. Women’s football had grown massively, and she was basically the face of it after winning the euros. People started treating you differently, not because of who you were, but because of who your sister was.

At school, kids who’d never spoken to you before suddenly wanted to be your friend. “Can you get me an autograph from Leah?” they’d ask, or, “Do you think she’d come to my party?” Teachers started expecting more from you, too, as if being Leah Williamson’s sister meant you had to be perfect at everything.

At the academy, it was worse. You had been lucky enough to sign for the Arsenal academy when you were twelve but after the euros things changed. Every time you stepped onto the pitch, you could feel the weight of their eyes on you.

Coaches would compare you to Leah, even though you were nothing like her as a player. You didn’t even play in the same position, you were a striker not a defender. Teammates would make comments, sometimes kind, sometimes not.

“She’s only on the team because her sister’s Leah Williamson,” someone whispered once after you scored. “She’s not even good enough for the academy.”

It stung more than you cared to admit.

That was when you made your decision. You didn’t want to be known as Leah’s sister anymore. You wanted to be you. That night after training, you came home and broke down in tears to your mum. 

“Bubba, what’s wrong?” Amanda asked you as you stormed into the house, flinging your bag down onto the ground. 

You sat down with a huff as more tears started to escape, Jacob gave Amanda a look, “Been like this since I picked her, won’t say what’s wrong though.” Your brother sighed.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, wiping at your face angrily, though the tears kept falling.

Amanda crouched down in front of you, her voice soft. “You’re clearly not fine, Bubba. Come on, tell me what’s going on.”

You glanced up at her, hesitating. Part of you didn’t want to say it. You didn’t want to sound ungrateful for the opportunities you had or for Leah being your sister but the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“I’m sick of it, Mum,” you said, your voice cracking. “Sick of being just Leah’s sister. Everyone at the academy thinks I’m only there because of Leah. They don’t even see me as my own person, just as ‘Leah’s little sister.’ I can’t do it anymore.”

Amanda’s face softened, and she sat beside you before pulling you into a hug. “Oh, Bubba. I’m so sorry you’re feeling this way.”

Jacob sat down next to you on the couch on the other side, frowning. “That’s not fair. You’re talented in your own right. Anyone who says otherwise is just jealous.”

“But I'm always being compared to Leah, J,” you said, though your voice wavered. “No one believes that I'm good enough. They just think I’m riding on Leah’s name.”

Amanda kissed your temple, “You are good enough. And I understand why this is so hard for you. But what do you want to do about it? How can we help?”

You hesitated, chewing your bottom lip. “I don’t want to be ‘Williamson’ anymore,” you finally said. “I want to use your maiden name, Mum. I want to be a Baker, not Leah’s sister.”

Amanda blinked, taken aback for a moment, but then she nodded slowly. “If that’s what you want, then we’ll support you. Right, Jacob?”

“Of course,” Jacob said, ruffling your hair. “You’re still you, no matter what name’s on the back of your shirt.”

A lump formed in your throat, but you nodded, feeling a small wave of relief.

“What about Leah?” Amanda asked gently. “Have you talked to her about this?”

You froze. You hadn’t thought about how Leah would feel. “I don’t know. I don’t want to hurt her feelings. She’s always been so proud of me, but…”

“But you need to do this for yourself,” Amanda finished for you. “You know she’ll understand.”

You nodded.

Later that evening, when Leah got home from training, you sat down and told her everything. You expected her to be upset or worse, disappointed but instead, she pulled you into a tight hug.

“Bubba,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I had no idea you were feeling like this. I’m so sorry, I’ve made things harder for you.”

“You didn’t,” you said quickly. “It’s not your fault, Le. I’m so proud of you, but I just need to figure out who I am without being ‘your sister.’”

Leah nodded, her hands on your shoulders. “I get it. And I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself. Whatever name you use, you’ll always be my little Bubba, okay?”

You laughed through your tears, hugging her tightly.

That night, you went to bed feeling lighter than you had in months. You were ready to step out of Leah’s shadow and into your own light.

Fast forward a few years, you were now eighteen and transitioning into the senior team. Leah was now twenty-seven and somehow everyone had managed to keep it a secret that you were Leah’s sister. 

Majority of the girls that you played with had either left the academy or completely stopped playing football. Your shirt name was now Baker and had been for two years now, your coaches were different too and everyone just thought that Leah was your family friend. 

“Excited for your first senior training, bubba?” Leah asked you one December morning as she drove you both to the training ground. 

You shrugged, a mixture of emotions, “Bit nervous…” you muttered, “Excited but nervous.”

Arsenal’s senior team had a new coach, Renee Slegers, and she had been to watch the u18s a few times. For some reason, she had seen something in you and wanted you to come train with the senior team and potentially play a few games. 

“You’ve got this, Bubba. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t good enough. Renee knows what she’s doing, and so do you.” Leah told you. 

You nodded, trying to let her words sink in. You knew Leah believed in you, she always had, but the pressure of stepping into the senior team felt overwhelming. It wasn’t just about proving yourself, it was about proving you belonged and you were separate from Leah.

When you arrived at the training ground, Leah walked in beside you, her confidence making her look so at ease. Meanwhile, your stomach churned as the nerves threatened to take over. You adjusted your backpack, trying to focus on your breathing.

“Relax, Bakes,” Leah said with a smirk, using the nickname some of your academy teammates had given you after you changed your last name. “They’re going to love you.”

As you entered the changing room, you were immediately greeted by familiar faces, some you hadn’t seen in years. Beth grinned as soon as she spotted you.

“No way! Little Bubba? Is that you?” Beth’s voice was teasing, her eyes wide in mock disbelief.

You groaned internally. So much for keeping the “Bubba” nickname under wraps. “It’s Baker now,” you corrected with a sheepish smile, but your voice was warm. You couldn’t help but laugh a little as Beth pulled you into a quick hug.

“Leah didn’t tell us you’d grown up so much!” Beth teased. “Last time I saw you, you were, what, fifteen?”

“Beth,” Leah interrupted, shooting her a warning look, though she was clearly trying not to laugh.

More players filtered in, all of them reacting with surprise when they realized who you were. Some of them hadn’t seen you since you were a kid, tagging along to games and family events. For others, it was the first time they’d met you. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Katie said, holding up her hands. “So you’re telling me Leah’s been hiding this one from us? You’re playing with us now?”

You felt your cheeks burn as all eyes turned to you, but Leah stepped in, her tone light and teasing. “She wanted to make it on her own. Didn’t want to ride my coattails.”

“Fair play,” Kim said with an approving nod. “Gotta respect that.”

Leah turned to you, her smile soft. “Alright, Bubba, I mean Baker, time to show them why you’re here.”

You gave her a small, grateful smile before heading out to the pitch. As you jogged onto the field with the team, the nervous energy in your chest began to settle. You reminded yourself why you were there. Not as Leah’s sister, but as you.

And as the session began, you could feel yourself falling into the rhythm of the game you loved, the sound of the ball connecting with your boot grounding you. The team was fast, skilled, and ruthless, but you held your own. A well-timed run, a sharp finish past the keeper and it wasn’t long before you felt like you belonged.

At the end of training, Renee pulled you aside, her expression calm but firm. “You did well today. Keep this up, and we’ll see about getting you some minutes in the next match.”

Your heart soared at her words, but you kept your face neutral, nodding. “Thank you, Coach.”

Leah was waiting for you by the car when you finally made it out of the locker room. She raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to gauge how you were feeling.

“Well?” she asked as you climbed in.

You smiled, the weight on your shoulders feeling just a little lighter. “I think I did okay.”

Leah grinned, her pride shining through. “I told you, Bubba. You’ve got this.”

The night of your debut arrived quicker than you expected. Arsenal was playing a league game at Meadow Park against Crystal Palace, and the squad list had you on the bench. You tried to focus during the pre-match warm-ups, but your nerves were all over the place. Leah, as always, noticed.

“Stop overthinking,” she whispered as the two of you jogged back to the dugout after the warm-up. “Just play your game. If you get on, don’t try to do too much. Be you.”

You nodded, though the butterflies in your stomach didn’t ease. The match started, and you watched intently from the bench, studying the pace of the game and trying to picture where you’d fit in.

By halftime, Arsenal was up 1–0, the goal coming from Leah. Renee made a couple of changes early in the second half, but your name wasn’t called. You were beginning to think your debut would have to wait until another day when, in the 70th minute Renee called you. 

“Baker, you’re on,” Renee said, her voice firm but encouraging. “Stay calm, yeah? Leah’s out there with you. We’re doing okay, 3-0, so just stay calm, yeah? Try your hardest.”

You nodded, barely able to believe this was actually happening. Leah was standing by the touchline, waiting for you, her hand resting casually on her hip. When you reached her, she nudged you with her elbow, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Ready for this, Bubba?”

“Don’t call me that,” you hissed, but you couldn’t help the nervous laugh that escaped.

The referee blew the whistle, and you stepped onto the pitch, replacing Beth up top. Leah gave you a quick pat on the back as you ran to your position. “You’ve got this.”

The first few minutes were a blur. The pace of the game was faster than anything you’d experienced before, but you adjusted, remembering Leah’s advice: play your game.

Then, in the 80th minute, the ball came to you. Leah had intercepted a pass in and played a perfect through ball into your path. You took a touch, your heart pounding as you found yourself one-on-one with the keeper.

You steadied yourself, then slotted the ball into the bottom corner with your left foot. For a moment, everything went silent, and then the roar of the fans hit you all at once.

You’d scored on your debut.

Leah was the first to reach you, lifting you off your feet in a tight hug. “That’s my sister!” she shouted, her voice full of pride.

The rest of the team swarmed you, congratulating you with slaps on the back and ruffling your hair. The chant of your name began to ripple through the crowd, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you belonged, not as Leah’s sister, but as you.

When the final whistle blew, Arsenal had secured a 5–0 victory. Leah pulled you into another hug as you both walked off the pitch.

“Told you you’d smash it,” she said, her grin wide.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop smiling. “Thanks, Le.”

That night, as you sat with Leah in the kitchen at home, replaying the match in your head, she looked at you and said softly, “You’re going to have a great career, Bubba. I’m proud of you, you know that?”

For the first time, you didn’t mind the nickname. “Thanks, Le. Means a lot.”

[first-edition]

Apologize

Daryl Dixon x fem!reader smut

sum- Daryl yells at you making a big deal of you going outside the walls by yourself after just getting you back after everything and insults you, but he didn’t mean it and wants to prove it to you. cw- set in early season 5 in Alexandria, SMUT 18+ THEMES AND LANGUAGE MINORS DNI, read at your own discretion, pin v, unprotected, biting, marking, confession, fluff angst, oral (f) reciving, clit play.

“Hey..” you turn around seeing Daryl leaning against the frame of your door. 

“hi..” you say. 

Earlier that day Daryl was real to you. You have gone out for a run and brought back three horses that had escaped. But that's not what bothered him, not you being cheered on, or praised…that you went alone without telling everyone and when you came back it was more than a relief for daryl. Almost losing you before then. 

“YOU DONT THINK BECUASE YOUR FUCK’N STUPID! DADDIES LITTLE GIRL GREW UP WITH EVERYTHING SHE COULD EVER WANT!” He yells at you to push him back from you he hobbles back. 

“I DID THIS! FOR YOU! FOR CAROL! EVERYONE! I CAN TAKE CARE OF MYSELF!” you yell back. He shoots an arrow at you, it zips past your head and sticks into the post of the house. You stop. Staring at him. 

“It ain't walkers i'm worried about! It's other people!” he huffs. 

“Maybe it's just you!” you spit back instead of pulling the arrow out your break it in half and throw the half to him before storming off back to your house. It's a bit awkward leaving him there in front of everyone but that's the price you pay. Later that day Carol went up to Daryl asking him why he yelled at you. 

“She's stupid.” he says to her as he throws on a new shirt

“No she's not.” Carol says sitting on the bedside. 

“She's very smart. She saved us before everything she saved you..” she trails off he sighs leaning against the dresser. 

“Yeah..” he looks down. 

“She got us those horses by herself..they are big horses. Alexandria is safe daryl..she's safe." Carol says. 

“Yeah not safe enough if I couldn't stop what happened to her..the governor, the prison..the hospital.” he says. 

“That wasn't your fault.” she says. 

Dayrl signs shaking his head no. knowing it wasn't but still blames himself. 

“I-i couldn't save beth..barley her.” he says carol stands to him walking up to him tilting her head to the side. 

“You like her..i know that you like her alot..” carol leads. 

“But you only feel like shit for something out of your control when you love them..” she ends up looking at daryl. He avoids her eye contact. 

“I didn't mean those things I said to her,” he replies. Carol nods to him. 

“I know.. But I'm not the one you should be apologizing to. You're gonna lose her if you don't.” she says. Before she can reach out and place a hand on her shoulder he rubs his bow and vest and walks out of the room then the house down the street about two houses over to you. He stops at the porch knowing he more than welcome in as carol also stays in the home with you. 

He sucks it up and walks up the porch and onto the home he walks up the stairs knowing you're most likely in your room. The door is closed but a small knock from his knuckles hitting the wood is all he needs as permission to open the door. 

“It's open.” your voice says expecting carol so your sweet demeanor sounds through. Dayrl opens the door, seeing you sitting by the window. He sighs leaning against the frame. You spot him, your demeanor changing as you look at him. He sets his cross bow down on the side. 

“Hey..” he speaks. 

“Hi..” you answer back. 

It's quiet for a few seconds before Daryl speaks.

“Sorry..for what i said to ya… callin you stupid, and all you aint stupid.” he says his eyes flicking away from you. You look away from him. He picks up his bow and walks into the room closing the door and letting the bow re-rest on the wall. 

“When i couldn't find you this morning…just..reminded me of everythin’ else you know…losing the prison, beth. And then i thought of back when the governor took you glenn and maggie, i-...” his voice breaks as he cuts himself off looking down his fingers twitching in anxiety. 

“I just..i can't do that you know..i lost merle i can't be losing you too.” he says you look up to him. 

“I named the horse after you..” you say he frowns in confusion. 

“What I used to call you, squirrel.” you say he chuckles nodding. You get up from your spot walking up to him. 

“I love you..y/n...i cant be losing something like that.” he says 

“Merle would always tell me not to get attached to things but i could never really help-” you cut him off wrapping your arms around him  pressing your lips to him. You've always known Daryl crushed on you, the way he does things for you, purposely looking for things you'd like. And you liked him too.

His arms wrap around you kissing you back deeply. You don't break it until you need to speak back to him. But you don't get to speak before his lips are firmly back on yours. You pull off his vest and his hands move under your shirt. The rough skin against your bare torso sends a shiver up your body.

He pulls you until his arms lifting you with ease. Your legs wrap around his waist holding onto him as he pulls off your shirt before laying you back onto the bed. He pulls off his shirt. You sit up connecting your lips again. Bringing him down to you. His weight against you is more arousing than anything. The way his hands feel up the sides of you wanting more contact. His kisses move down to your neck as he nips and sucks. 

Making sure to keep you marked, even going as far as pulling back to make sure there's marks. Something for people to ask about, something he can watch you blush about when carol comes home and asks. Something for people to know who you are. 

“Fuck.” he grunts out as the buldge in his pants tightens the fabric. Your hands reaches down to him palming him through his jeans. You gasp when he pulls your hand away from him pinning both above your head as he continues to devour your skin.

“D-daryl” you gasp out as he finishes the bruises on your cleavage. He looks down to you blushing, waiting, needing. He lets go of your hands and immediately your touch is back on him, the weight of any hurt falling off his shoulders as you pull him back into you. 

You peck his lips before going for his belt, undoing it. 

“Nah..nah.” he says you look up at him confused. 

“Let me take care of you huh. After everything..just..” he trails off as you look up into his eyes, your hands resting on either side of his face comforting. You look at him seeing his eyes are welling with tears. 

“Hey..” you say softley. He doesn't answer you, just presses his lips back to yours laying you back down against the plushness of the bed. He kisses down your stomach pulling your jeans from you. The pink undies you and carol found on a spare run one day cause his cock to twitch in his pants. 

He lets his hands and fingers run along your thighs and waist feeling you under him. He kisses your thighs and legs. He worships you all over before removing your panties and diving into you. More feral than a walker he holds your thighs against his head as his tongue drives into you lickign you up. Your hand finds his hair and you grip into it. A guttural moan escapes Daryl's throat sending the vibration through your core causing you to squirm from him. 

“Ah..f-fuck..dayrl!” you gasp out as your release comes closer and closer to you. His grip on your thighs doesn't let up as he pulls you closer to his face burying himself into you.

You entangle yourself into his hair as you reach your peak, lapping up what left of your shaky state daryl sits up his lips shining with your arousal. You pant as you watch him shift taking off his belt and lowering his pants his cock springs free. The gasping is cut short when he continues to kiss up your body, his touch running along your skin. 

You sign out his name wrapping your arms around him. 

“Say it again.” he mumbles. You giggle as he adjusts himself rubbing his tip up and down your slit. 

“D-daryl.” you huff out. 

“Fuck..again.” he speaks deeply as he rubs against you. 

“Dayrl.” you moan out as he begins to enter you. Your nails dig into his shoulder as he puts into you. 

He moans in your neck as your legs wrap around him. His hand presses against your thigh keeping it up around his hip. 

“Fuck..i love you…i love you so fucking much.” he huffs out. 

“Yes. ah dayrl..fuck..i love you..ah god.” you moan gripping onto him as he ruts into you. He roughly thrusts up into you making you loudly moan out and bite down against him he grunts out continuing the pace making you both louder. You just hope Carol isn't downstairs. How embarrassing. 

You grip onto him like your life depends on his as he continues for you both. You pant against him as that familiar feeling builds up. He pulls back from you staying connected, he pulls your legs up and onto his shoulders fucking you deeper. He moans and grunts and all the sound he makes causes your pussy to clench around him in your release. He brings his hand down to your core wanting more from you somehow and begins to rub your clit, easily finding it and playing you like an instrument, the music, your voice as you call out for him. Only a few more thrusts have him sending himself over the edge. He drops your legs kindly, but fast and pulls out of you he puts into his fist cumming against your tits and stomach painting you. 

He takes a moment to recover before telling you to stay. He walks to the side where a towel rests from your earlier shower and cleans you off. Not what you’d expect. He cleans you carefully and with love. Not just one swipe and done. Kissing your skin as he does. 

“Here.” He says , helping you up, you stand before him only for your knees to give you. He catches you as you go limp. You both chuckle. 

“M Sorry” he chuckles as you press your lips against his in a kiss before speaking again. 

“It's okay.” you smile brightly. He moves the covers to the side before picking you up and setting you back into the bed. He turns to put his clothes back on. 

“no..no.” you say, taking a hold of his arm. 

“Stay.. please.” you say. He nods without hesitation and gets into the bed neck to you he pulls you close to him as you rest against him his heat radiating to you the warmth spreading through your body as you snuggle into him. Almost immediately you are fast asleep out. But Daryl watches you the slow rise and fall of your chest, your sleepy face perfectly rested. Soon finding sleep himself after a few hours of watching you. 

—---

Morning comes and you wake up alone but a shirt is over your body in courtesy. You sigh and get up pushing your hair back. You look around the room remembering the chaos of last night. You pull the covers off you and get up now, able to stand however a slight shake to your legs makes you smile. You notice the towel is also gone but not his bow. It still rests on the side wall. You frown. You walk out of your room and down the hall down the stairs. 

You smell cooking as you walk into the kitchen seeing Carol setting up breakfast. 

“Morning honey.” She smiles at you. 

“Hi..” you say awkwardly as she give you ‘the smile’ 

“Dayrl come by last night?” she asks glazing at your shirt. You look down seeing Daryl's black sweater that he was wearing last night. 

“Um..y-yeah. He apologized.” you reply she nods, setting down a plate of food. 

“I know.” She smiles at you and blush creeps up against your cheeks. 

“You didn't hear, did you…” you say, pulling at the sleeve. 

“No. but I sent him over.” She says you feel a hand on your lower back and lips on your cheek. 

“Hey.” Daryl speaks as he comes into your view. He wears what he normally does and he has his bow. His hair is damp so he must have been in the shower when you woke up. 

“H-hi.” you say bashfully. 

“Stay safe, yeah?” Carol says to him knowing he's late for the morning run.

“Yeah.” he says to her before turning to you leaning into you. 

“I love you.” he says with his blue eyes looking at you. The embarrassment leaves as you smile up to him and nod. 

“I love you.” you speak back he pecks your lips before heading out the door. 

“Maybe he should move in here.” she says. You scoff, shaking your head. 

“I think Glenn and Abraham will miss him..don't you.” you say jokingly. Carol laughs and sets down her plate. 

“Come on..tell me about it.” she giggles and takes a seat you sit across from her and of course her being your best friend begins to tell her everything. 

Later that day you found out Rick and Glenn were joking about Daryl having the bite mark bruise and scratches on his back until you dropped off more weapon supplies and they saw your bruises. 

“So..” Rick asks Daryl once you leave. 

“What..” he huffs reloading a mag. 

“You two have fun?” Glenn chuckles. Dayrl shakes his head. 

“Nah man i don't kiss and tell.” he says.

“Such a gentleman.” Rick jokes 

[nopointic]

my adventures with being asexual and getting my tubes removed as a 33 year old virgin in a red state in 2025

my gynecologist is so funny and sweet because i'm asexual and he remembers that, but he always brings up birth control and safe sex by habit and i dutifully nod along. and he's like awww yeah you're ASEXUAL now but in the future???? you might wanna??? and i'm like hmmmm maybe???? but better safe than sorry!!! and we smile and laugh but there is an understanding of something bigger. we're not naive. we live in a red state. women's rights and health care are being stripped every fucking day. i am young. i am not married. i am asking for something that doctors usually just turn down immediately.

and then we go on to continue to plan for my surgery for getting my tubes removed and it's so fucking funny to me.

he's like, ok so no babies. no babies!!!!! but maybe one day you might want sex! i dunno. but no babies for sure! and i'm like yep!!!!! he gets me! this was easier coming out the closet to him than my parents. my parents still do not comprehend that i am asexual. to them it's me saying odd phrases and a just a phase. i am 33 and have never dated or even kissed someone. i openly gag dramatically when someone brings up sex on a tv show. i'm like YUCK 🤢. could NOT be me. we all laugh but they still think it's me bullshitting i guess. asexual? what does that even MEAN? they just say ok and move along.

meanwhile the nurses and medical assistants are SO confused on me not being on ANY birth control. because they always ask and i say, nah, i'm not taking any. AND THEY LOOK AT ME IN HORROR. and then i say, i'm ABSTINENT. and one lady was like?????? i said I DO NOT HAVE SEX MA'AM. and she was honest to god still confused????

but my gyno is like, yes, she is ASEXUAL duh, she doesn't have sex. and he smiles and moves along.

the funniest shit!!!!!

but i am forever grateful he's so normal about me being asexual. because even my therapist was like, um it's because of your parents bad marriage and you were abused and you don't know for sure it could be a hormonal problem blah blah blah and i told my gyno and he bless his heart went, ok. that's what YOU choose right? you're FINE with that? and i said yeah. and he said cool. that's YOUR decision and you don't have to do anything you don't want. and we then went on to discuss my medical problems. (i have a shit ton)

but yeah. some people think being asexual is something that needs to be fixed immediately and i'm glad my gyno, this one in a million white guy who reminds me of steve rogers aka captain america, just went ok, cool.

sexuality is fluid. he never says oh you'll change your mind in a condescending way. he doesn't ask me why i don't want sex. he just wants me to be ok with my choices and make sure i don't have a baby if i do not want a baby. because shit happens. sadly that is the plain truth. bad things happen like rape and he's like, you don't want kids ever? i'm gonna make sure that stays true. he is so real for that.

even though i am asexual and i don't have sex.

i lucked up in finding a gyno in a red state that cares so deeply about my body and my decisions. i wish everyone had that.

anyways shout out to my gyno going you're asexual?! and then always smiling and saying, yes, you're asexual but NO KIDS RIGHT! 😂😂😂😂😂😂 nah, no kids. team no kids for life. thank you!

oh and virginity is a social construct ya know.

not wanting sex is not the end of the world.

and i can only imagine what my fellow lesbians go through at the gyno. like. the nurse nearly had a fit when i said i don't use any contraceptives. she really hit me with the SO HOW ARE YOU NOT GETTING PREGNANT HUH?

i don't have sex babes.

oh and yes i've gotten the "but you're pretty" lines too. not sure what the fuck being pretty and rocking cute clothes got to do with me being asexual but go off!

[11queensupreme11]

okay question! will we be seeing a prego percyy? and if so who will be the most protective baby daddy? + plus her pregnancy cravings with each of them?

i initially said no to that question, but recently i've been contemplating it solely for the drama of her being pregnant while in TARTARUS.............. but idk, it doesn't fit with the rest of the stuff i have planned, so i don't think i can...?????

this is just for arsenic blues tho! i DO plan on making a separate book that's just a series of oneshots and short stories about percy's babies with the yans!!!

i didn't get whether you meant who would be the most protective of percy while she's pregnant or who would be the most protective father, so i'm just gonna do both

PROTECTIVE OVER PREGNANT PERCY:

7: hades! his solution would be to keep her locked up in the palace 24/7 until the pregnancy's over. now that she's spending all her time in the palace under his watchful eye, he won't stress so much.

6: apollo! the reason why he's so low is because he's 10000% confident that he can give percy the most comforting, stress-free pregnancy ever. all of his focus goes on making sure she's happy and okay. yes he still frets from time to time, but unlike the other yans (aside from loki) he actually knows what to do if anything goes wrong

5: cú chulainn! he's protective cuz he has no idea what he was doing so he's just hoping for the best! he's a lot more careful with percy than usual and more pushy towards keeping her home.

4: loki! he's gonna cast the most protective spells all over percy's body, the palace, the palace perimeters, etc. runes, enchantments, spellwork, he'll go above and beyond to make sure she and the baby are safe.

3: anubis! usually he's more on the hyperactive and playful, but when his mate's pregnant his protective tendencies 📈📈📈📈 he's gonna be more territorial than usual and the chances of him letting percy leave the palace is very very VERY slim. if she wants to go outside, he'll simply just expand the palace garden so she has more space!

2: poseidon!!! do you know how much danger his precious daughter-wife keeps getting into? SO FUCKING MUCH! if he were human, he'd be dead from cardiac arrest ages ago!!!

1: beelzebub. absolutely beelzebub. he is the most overprotective yan ever for obvious reasons, but also because he's terrified that his baby might hurt percy in the womb. so he's not only worried about outside threats but... well... inside threats too lmao

PROTECTIVE FATHER:

7: poseidon. he has thousands of sons. and if they're actually worthy of being his sons, then they BETTER not need his protection.

6: beelzebub. he knows very well that his children can take care of themselves. even if they were in any danger, he still wouldn't step in, but he would step in if they were actually about to die.

5: hades. he's up in number five cuz it mostly depends on the gender. this dude literally locks up his daughters in the palace and rarely lets them out. so he'll be protective mostly towards his daughters, and while he cares greatly for his sons too, he won't be as insane over protecting them lol

4: loki. loki is a great dad who loves and cares for his kids, but he also lives with the guilt of causing narfi and vali to die. so he's now extra careful, making sure any of his tricks and antics don't cause punishments towards his children.

3: anubis. this dude LIVES for his family and will go absolutely feral if anything were to happen to them. sure if they were in a fight, he'd cheer for them, but when things actually get ugly, he'll lose his shit and do whatever it takes to protect his kids.

2: apollo. this dude literally got turned into a human over his children. he loves his children very very VERY much and is intensely protective over them and would do whatever it took to keep them safe, even if it led to him getting hurt.

1: most protective daddy would be...... 🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

CÚ CHULAINN!!! i know, surprise, right??? 😂 well there's a very good explanation for this and it's that this dude has a hundred fucking daughters (and maybe more, idk i might add more lol) and only one son. a hundred daughters just as giggly and lovely and airheaded as their mother, so it's no wonder he's so protective over them 😭 he has so many enemies too, and he knows the best way to hurt him would be to hurt the most important girls in his life: his wife and daughters 😭

[starberry-cupcake]

So, I had some chapters ready to recap but I decided to wait because the last bunch didn't get around as they normally do notes-wise and I thought maybe you guys needed a breather from these, I know there's more important things to engage your time with right now, so I thought I'd stop for a bit because maybe I was just posting them too frequently, BUT if I don't keep them up, I can't keep reading, so I'm gonna move on and let it land where it lands ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ at this point, I have to go on even if I'm talking to the void. So, it is what it is.

previously, in nona del 9:

this happened

this is the general tag

CHAPTER 10 (shattered second house skull...yikes)

nona finally tells camilla about the surveillance situation at school

she wants to go back in the evening to help out sriracha girlie with it

camilla, because she's smart, cautious and all around perfect, tells her no

especially not after the whole shooting mess that happened that very afternoon

nona says she feels responsible for the kids and that perhaps the two other people she maybe is would also feel responsible for them

camilla says one definitely would, the other one maybe

I'm assuming the hard yes is gideon

last time gideon was sort of in charge of kids, things didn't go very well, though

rip the fourth

then they go eat and I don't quite get why nona is so picky with food

is it that the food is bad? or is her body rejecting it? or is she just a fussy child?

just putting this out there, if I ask things here, you don't need to tell me, I just ask to the void, it's fine

anyway, in comes pyrrha looking like crap but acting like it's all fine

she asks palmolive to help her get a permanent shave but palmolive says "I had the joy of working on a...body like yours, the once, and I don't want to repeat the process for anything smaller than a brain hemorrhage"

he was about to say 'lyctor', I imagine

not sure I know what this is referring to but please don't tell me

he asks pyrrha if it's "finally kicking off" and she says "not yet"

(wish this was just fiction and we weren't experiencing the imminent brewing of intense social and political tension every single day in so many places of the world)

nona goes to prepare a bath for her while palmolive and pyrrha fight about the people she saw being taken during the altercation she was caught in

she says she saw three adults taken in, no consensus on whether they were from the barracks or found in the wild

palmolive wants to go fuck shit up to save them but pyrrha says they (aka camilla) won't be able to fight against "two hundred motherfuckers with machine guns"

and points out that camolive aren't a lyctor

palmolive wants to upset pyrrha on account of her not wanting to do more to save people, especially since his house followed them there

and apparently camilla's older sister kiki was one of them

kiki is allegedly from the oversight body

which I have learned has nothing to do with the oversight of potentially having lost gideon's body

different oversight and different body

but pyrrha only cares about keeping all of them safe and can't be swayed into letting camolive fight

I get where pyrrha is coming from but, at the same time, I don't think it's realistic to believe she can do that

keep them safe, I mean

camolive are ready to spring into attack if someone looks at them wrong and nona is a child with a knife

but, in any case, you can't ask a lyctor for compassionate thought

not because they're lyctors but because some of them, including pyrrha, where there when this all started and were complicit in the fuckery

we'll go back to that in a bit

so, turns out nona can hear the blue light in the sky and she calls it "varun"

nona also tells camilla that she'd willingly go to the middle of the mess to help out the people they care about because she isn't afraid of dying

which smells like trouble to me, a kid with no self preservation

and camilla asks her why she isn't, to which nona responds that she likes the "letting go"

camilla responds that she doesn't let go, that is her thing

nona goes to have a bath before going to sleep and pyrrha has to remind her to stop flashing her boobs to the unsuspecting crowd

I have a parallel tally going on in my mind of who would be the most mortified about all this and harrow keeps winning every time

which would be extra funny if this is gideon's mind in harrow's body

JOHN 5:18 (ugh this guy again)

"For this reason they tried all the more to kill him; not only was he breaking the Sabbath, but he was even calling God his own Father, making himself equal with God."

when I named him doctor reverend instead of just doctor I didn't know how accurate that would be in the long run

dr reverend emperor john buttface says he doesn't like change

we kind of guessed that by the fact that he does inhumane things to extend his and other people's lives

he continues on his story of how he started necromancy by playing with two corpses he named ulysses and tatiana and how now he can make them do things with their whole bodies

none of this sounds great

gotta say, it's a good way of re-contextualizing the whole thing, though

because book 1 you are thrown right in the middle of the ninth and harrow is doing nasty stuff with bones and you have to just accept it and keep going

and then in canaan house other necros do other stuff that also seems wild but it's normalized, so you go on and you're like "ok, this is how things are here"

but seeing this at a time closer to us than to canaan house really brings it back to a "this is insane" territory

which I think is very effective narratively, especially to do it now

you're not here for literary criticism from me, though, so let's continue

he goes through who of his lyctors was religious to begin with, who took it as some sort of spiritual experience, and who didn't

mercygirl wasn't and was weirded out but moved on from it really fast

if you ask me, everyone moved on from it really fast, but I'm not a lyctor so I have no say in the matter

according to dr reverend emperor john assface, this was because they wanted to believe

because "everyone wants to believe that God's randomly made them on of the X-Men"

and, not to stop in a minuscule quote for too long and give more unsolicited literary analysis instead of memes but, this sentence shows a lot about this man

idk if this was picked specifically or if I'm reading too much into it BUT

out of every other superhero or superhero group or comic book character with powers he could have chosen, it's so interesting that he chose the x-men

because the x-men are notably different from many of them, especially from their time, because they were oppressed due to their powers

it wasn't just that their powers or their saving the world gig made things complicated for their lives, literally a big part of their narrative is that their powers make them a target of oppression to the point of persecution and violence

some of them famously don't want to have powers

and mutants who do have a good relationship with their powers rarely have a good relationship with society

but he overlooks that and only focuses on having superhuman abilities

and I think that says a lot about this man in just one nerdy sentence

because he's either a) overlooking the entire social context in which the x-men operated to only laser focus on their powers without caring about the rest

or b) he believes himself a victim and a target of society as a justification of being "chosen" to do what he did

since we're at it, because I think it fits the current book narrative and worldwide narrative

this is from 1993

ANYWAY

dr reverend emperor john says he knew, by this body moving thing he was doing now, that he could use this power "for good. Could be used to fix everything, used for you"

we still have this thing where he talks to harrow but as if harrow was around back then, so I think he's talking to ice cube barbie?? but I'm not yet sure what's happening

he also says the corpses were his batteries, which doesn't sound to me like doing good in general, just doing good for him, but anyway

they didn't want the people funding them (who had pulled the plug on them literally and metaphorically) to find out because they could be "used for evil"

so they decided to communicate with the people to spread the word themselves without anyone doing it for them

they decided to stream

cue to agustine and mercygirl as mods in the youtube chat prompting the command !sponsor to promote hello fresh ads while dr john shows the corpses

DAY THREE (CORONABEER MENTION)

CHAPTER 11 (fifth house skull, WE'LL TALK ABOUT THAT)

nona keeps talking about the pool situation, which she says is from her dreams

which doesn't line up with alleged harrow talking to dr reverend emperor john each time in between, but we'll continue

she says she's holding the "girl with the painted face" underwater and she is lying there but not drowning

but there are still hands around her, holding her

nona believes she must be mixing moments

I wonder if underwater girl with painted face allegedly harrow is where ice cube barbie used to be?

because a) it'd explain why she's not drowning but still underwater

and b) we ended up at the tomb last time in the end of harrow's book

and harrow went inside the empty tomb

WAIT A MINUTE

when harrow got into the tomb, it was empty

chains were broken and there was a sword and

fifth house erotica courtesy of gideon

IS THAT WHY THERE'S A FIFTH HOUSE SKULL IN HERE?

BECAUSE OF THE MAGAZINE?

pelase don't answer that, don't tell me anything at all, just let me fail

nona reproduces the way in which she's being held in the dream with camilla and says that in there it doesn't feel "sexy"

to which camilla asks wtf do you know about what sexy is

not in those exact words

apparently, she learned it from honesty

and says she thinks a painting of two flowers is sexy and asks camilla what she thinks is sexy

camilla says "eating breakfast"

camilla is sponsoring my apparel, this is the second ace tshirt with a quote from her I make from this book

nona tells her to ask palmolive what he thinks is sexy

my guess would be dying girls he never met personally

camilla says "strong work ethics and high test scores"

I'm getting a wardrobe out of this conversation

pyrrha is making breakfast and upon nona entering the room

or house section divided in a small space they call a room

she asks what they had been talking about because it "sounded fruity"

nona is onto pyrrha's bs though and can tell she hasn't slept, so pyrrha confesses that she went to the park

the park where she asked palmolive not to let camilla go

she says she didn't save anyone in a way that camolive would understand, so she doesn't want nona to tell them she went

nona isn't good with lies and I totally get that

pyrrha also tells nona to be careful about sriracha girlie because she was at the burn cages and keeping some sus company there

nona gets all mad about pyrrha saying that and calling her name "stupid"

I got mad at nona for getting mad in behalf of people she doesn't know anything about instead of trusting the advice of people she lives with

pyrrha doesn't insist much and nona says she isn't going to stop being friends with sriracha girlie because she has 0 self preservation and a death wish

as established in this same recap

pyrrha is then asked what she thinks is sexy and she pretty much describes commander wake

"love a redhead" she says

wonder if she knows what gideon looks like or if she's just still referencing commander wake

because she met her in harrow's body and I don't know if the oversight with gideon's body being misplaced happened after or before pyrrha saw her

DON'T TELL ME

nona says she doesn't think redheads are sexy, which palmolive thinks is important to note down

I also think it's important to note it down because it's more points for the "this is gideon" side of the scale

when asked what he thinks is sexy, palmolive gives the most boring answer yet

"those little outfits nurses wear"

does he have a thing for yami kawaii stuff? nurses outfits, sickly seventh girls? is this a thing for him?

or is this like the regular sexy nurse fantasy type stuff? the spirit halloween type stuff?

or is this silent hill nurse type stuff? the ones that can kill you?

I don't know, I'm gonna leave it at that, whatever works for you, my dude

we don't have time to ask palmolive specific on his fantasies, though

because the door opens suddenly and there's a GUN and a THREAT

love starting the morning with chill stuff

AND WE'RE DONE!! I'll see how I work through the chapters, they end up getting long if I wait too much but I don't want to oversaturate, which I was probably doing. Anyway, sending hugs and love your way ♥

[gnohomotho-blog]

Just a game (part 2) 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋

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Pairing: Hwang In-ho / The Frontman x fem!reader

Summary: We're getting there, folks. (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞ ☜(ﾟヮﾟ☜) Mostly fluff, need, imagination, fantasy, slow burn. Focus on the f!reader, because you deserve nice things. She's home, receiving odd gifts, some sweet, some...quite the not sweet, the game and plot and trouser legs thicken (I'm so sorry, it's literally 2 a.m. here). In-ho definitely isn't obsessing over you, hatching elaborate plans, thinking of you so hard he'll break another turtleneck. Not saying the f!reader has any specific issues, but if you recognize any, I hope to be nothing but respectful. ♥ Oh, and we have a dream sequence, Freud would be proud.

(This was mainly meant as a "put your feet up and be cozy, read about yourself and feel good" read, the action will come later. Among other things. I'm so sorry, my thesis is driving me mad.)

Warnings: It's the god damn Front Man The usual Squid Game warnings, mdni, stalking, spying, voyeurism, touching, self-touching, sexual themes, sexual almost-intercourse, descriptions of anatomy and body parts, blood, yearning, some terrible references and Slavic folklore. Privacy? In my fic? It's less likely than you think.

Word count: 4.2k

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A cup of tea. A cup. You were watching the cup. Steam rises from it and folds into nothing. Your stomach is churning. Is it stress? You ponder. Seeing the liquid close in on itself as you stir it. Again and again.

"It'll get cold." You say, to no one. You try to breathe. Heart pounding. Head a bit spinny. You look around your room. Dimly lit, warm orange light from a salt lamp. You check your blinds - still closed, still safe. Noise from other people you try to filter out. Why do you jump at every single sound? Why does white noise blaring its head off make for the only atmosphere you can stand? You wonder. You get up. The world spins. The phone lies on your bed. As it has for the last three hours. Unchecked. Your sound is off. It always is. You turned off everything this time. It's just black. You try to think, ground yourself, poems float through your pounding head. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the tall mirrors of your wardrobe. An oddly shaped form stares back at you.

"Jesus Christ…I look…like shit." The mirrored lips curl around your words - but it might as well have been a stranger speaking back at you. You don't recognize yourself, and what you do, you dislike. Like a funhouse mirror. Without the fun. Your long hair falls across your shoulders, curling towards the ends. Your exposed skin is cold and giving a nice exposé of every vein under your neck, driving rivers of blue across your collarbones, your shoulders, your chest. You won't look further. They seem to be drawn to your middle, pooling across your skin. People often referred to you as pale, no matter your actual skin tone. When things got a tad too heavy, you became transparent. It was calming, sometimes. Calming that so much was trying to keep you alive to the point of exhausting itself and sending highways of signals through every vein to keep at it. Your head spins again. More poems. Try to drink the tea.

"Light your candle, one, two, there's a moth…" You know the rest. But the lips fail to speak. You pick up the phone. And almost knock over your tea. Then proceed to fight an urge to fling it into a wall and watch the stains roll down like fresh blood.

Seventeen missed calls from a blocked number - your now ex-companion. A worried message from your friend, no doubt spurred by said ex-companion with an entirely different story to reality. Frowning, you adjust your dressing gown and tie it down to hold everything in and hold you together.

"Hey, Y/N…I know you probably don't want to talk, but I'm sorry things went so badly. I'm here."

You hate yourself a little more. Clara has always been a darling, you…cared for her. A lot. You wish to say "loved", you squint your eyes and wish to say you love her. People are kind. People are always so very kind. And you can't drink a cup of tea. Nor reply. There's also an email. From a set of numbers, no name. You open it, against your better judgement. No subject, only a photograph. Of your door. Your door inside your flat. Which is locked. You didn't ring anyone in. You, of all people, didn't hear any steps on the stairs. You live at the very top floor. And still?! What is wrong with you lately, now of all times?

And still, there is a photograph of your door. With…things? Your shoes were gently placed beside your mat.

"Um…" You knock on your housemate's door - how grateful you are for the economic situation which doesn't permit you to live alone now, you think bitterly as his steps approach.

"Oh, Y/N, how are you? What can I do you for?" Ever the cheerful voice and visage stands before you, half dressed, always flooded with work and hobbies. The room behind him is full of papers and candles, manuals and scripts, and information that probably shouldn't be lying around covered in bird photography snaps. It calms you a tad. You breathe out and uncross your arms. In the back of your mind, you wonder what he's always so entranced with.

"I'm getting there, thank you, Lubo." Your chest falls a tad, you really do feel a bit better, but very on edge. You fidget with your fingers as you speak. "Would it be alright to ask if you could open the main door with me? Something is there and I've been listening to too many IRA anthems to trust it." Because making a joke out of a very serious situation never failed you yet.

"Sure!"

You notice one of the birds on the ground behind him. Gazing at one photograph a little longer, you smile at the birdie and its soft grey feathers, little black dash across its little eyes...you realise you're looking at a shrike. The universe really is sending her best.

════════════════════════════════════════════

You open the door as Lubo endeavours to rummage through the things on your doorstep. It seems to be a very neatly wrapped black box with a pink bow. With a little token of a crow embossed on its side. Heavy, by the looks of it. You half expect your ex-companion's limbs to be soaking its insides.

"I'll take it indoors and disinfect it, ok? Just so it doesn't feel like you've contaminated the flat." You nod, thank him over and over, and feel very grateful for him remembering your slight fights with obsessive cleanliness and parasites. But this looks…clean. You take a knife from your room, the knife that's been under your pillow for good reason. Kneeling, you gently unwrap the box altogether and distance yourself from the thing for a little bit. Breathe. It's just a box. Those never go wrong.

It's…full of…gifts?

Your…favourite flowers, perfectly preserved. No one knows your favourite flowers that well. Under them, resting under jewels of crimson poppies, lies a book of poems, the ones you use to calm yourself down; the ones that make you feel less alone. In the correct languge, even. Next to the poppies, hot water bottles, wrapped, fluffy, still warm. Under them yet, medication you couldn't get from your doctor for the entire month due to disagreements and never being heard, half of them aren't even sold in the country. Bath salts, dark chocolate, tea…there seems to be so much. Your face is caught in a mixture of attempting to frown, being swept off your feet, and deeply uncomfortable with what is basically an encyclopedia of you in a box. You carefully lay the items to the side and begin to notice things you truly need your housemate to not see. You lose your breath for a moment and blush so hard you almost forget both the kindness and terror of the rest of the package. It seems to be divided into care for you and…some other forms of urges. As if. As fucking if.

"Google, remind me to photograph this tomorrow in good light," you say to nothing, "to use as evidence either after this person manages to kill me or before, if the courts move faster than an asthmatic ant with heavy shopping."

Against your better judgement, you carry the box to your room and watch it for a while, as you do other things, but can never quite relax. Surely he can't be serious. Your name isn't Shirley.

There was also a note you now keep flinging on your table and crunching in your hands, neatly written, with no name.

"Dear Y/N,

should you wish to meet someone qualified to help with the attached records, it has been arranged. Be at the coordinates listed between the red and white gift and you will be taken care of. No harm will come to you. You are safe. As right as rain."

Right as rain…that's a part of a poem, that absolute…dear God, fuck, the thoughts in your head are tumbling down at you and you collapse onto the bed, staring at your knees. It's a good thing he somehow didn't include your most loved flowers, since they're all poisonous. One of them you like specifically because it is elegant, sharp, snowy, and beautiful - and all of her body, leaves, and seed pouches scream "don't fucking touch me, if you do, you will die and wish for death the entire time you are doing so". You would very much like to be the flower now. Make someone else hallucinate.

You search the box again and find the beautiful gown, in red, and the gentle white lace undergarments - as kind and gentle and revealing as they are elegant. A little QR code is nestled between the lace.

"Nope. Nope nope NOPE. Absolutely not," you say out loud. Fighting the fact that the nightgown under the two other garments is cozy and light and so very beautiful. And it smells…oddly familiar. With a hint of something else. As if someone knew you loved scents of sweetness, vanilla, caramel, honey, and skin combined with darker, heavier tones that don't usually mix with feminine perfumes. Something lovely and gentle to draw you in, with something far more potent, enveloping, and enthralling to drag you down the lake to drown. And yet. Still. Something else. Something more. You decide to put on the gown and stare into a little crow's eyes. Such a pretty little statue, you don't even remember where you got it from.

"I'm going to be alright. Water is fine. This is just water. We've been here, we've been in the mud up to our noses." You are whispering to yourself, trying to sooth your mind. Metaphores, poems, sooth sooth sooth. You close your eyes, think of beautiful women, barefoot, in the dark of a forest. Glistening lights in their long hair, lights in their gorgeous eyes. Light on their feet, as they dance upon the water and through the marsh. You cannot drown a forest spirit of a woman scorned. They will mesmerize you, dance you, dance you to the end of your love and tether, and pull you into the depths. Then kiss you as you gasp for air.

You undress, eyes still closed, holding the long white gown. You slowly slide into the fabric, which clings to your skin as a lover's touch at the first sign of morning light. Still trying to be as unbothered and confident as a forest Rusalka. You aren't. But the gown smells nice. And it's quite light. Long sleeves, fabric that reveals but doesn't scream. Lace around your chest and stomach, falling down your hips and thighs.

…Kiss you as you gasp for air.

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In-ho was pleased with his gift. Not only the gift, but the message. Upon message. Upon message. He wondered, quite hopeful - yet reserved - if you understood them all. No matter.

You will. Oh, you will. Every word. Even if he has to cling them to your skin, one by one, with his own lips.

To the surprise of absolutely no one except you, perhaps, the small bird brought him all the feedback he could desire. Rather low quality feedback, he thought, as he watched you ponder, watched you crunch up the note, and watched you dress. Instinctively, he looked away as you began to slide your own clothes down. He glimpsed perhaps a strap, perhaps more skin than he first saw…light reflecting off you, sliding down, further down, caressing your tenderness…yet he looked away, calmly resolute to not look back. His gaze remained firmly in the corner of the room, he certainly wasn't fighting - or imagining himself being the photons of light resting on your supple skin. No. It would be unbecoming to watch a lady undress, so vulnerable, so unknowing. Never mind the rest. If you looked up the word "hypocrite" in the dictionary, In-ho's face wouldn't be next to it. It would be on the next page, because he would never be caught. As he looked back, you were dressed, not looking at yourself.

In-ho frowns for a moment, before he sees the rest of you. Even though it's just a phone screen and the picture quality truly isn't doing you justice, his breath is caught. He shifts and looks around instinctively, only a flicker of the eyes and a small movement of the neck. But he's nervous, nervous to be so exposed. He chuckles to himself just as unnoticeably - he's spying on you yet he's the one feeling exposed..was the chuckle to ease tension? This is just a game to him and you are nothing, after all. No one. He shifts once more and uncrosses his legs, one hand slowly combing his hair firmly away from of his forehead. Nothing. Just as it is nothing that is making the jacket around his neck feel tight. He sees you stand, further away now. He sees your entirety in the white flowing fabric, the lace, the…entirety…of you. His coat needs to come off, and is discarded to the side in haste. The remaining turtleneck isn't much help, but he goes in, now fully enthralled. Positioning himself, he endeavours to enjoy you. Slowly. From the tip of your head to the soles of your feet, remaining fully in control, admiring, never taking, never grabbing. Never…needing. But as he moves down your face, your cheeks, your chin, along your neck all the way to your hair resting on your now exposed shoulders, back to your mouth and lips - he leans into the screen - those supple yet reserved, tender lips whispering gently and curling around words as if speaking to a sleeping lover in the night who is caught in a bad dream, the eyes - damn the picture quality - the eyes that glint, yet resemble dark pools amid features that are…that mean…his heart is fast. His eyes pools of reckless abandon. They flicker to the movement of your hips and tick fast, fast back up top, stopping at the almond curve the nightgown begets your breasts - In-ho's hands twitch as his fingers yearn with a mind of their own, to hear you gasp and squirm and melt under their touch as he teases, cups, and caresses in the gown's place. Tender flowers, waiting to be kissed. As you move, for him, for his eyes only, his mind floods through its inhibitions and begins racing on instinct - yet does so wrapped in cotton; barely subdued. Algorithms, scenarios, plans - ten a second - gather in his mind - resting on nothing but your features, spurred into existence by you, your lips, your form, your movement. He's watching the last flame dance before him in a sea of suffocating darkness, and it is his. Tension grips The Frontman's trousers as he digs his fingers in to feel something, anything, as if to drag himself back, painfully if need be - all this…for a low quality moving picture of you.

You. Your self before him. No adjective does it justice to In-ho, no painter could stroke its surface, nobody could own this moment. Nobody but him. And he cannot reach, reach through the screen, for you, for you mean…you in your entirety, before him, vulnerable, bare, unknowing, both a deity to be worshipped and a form to be devoured and left pleading, barely breathing under him, his grasp, his hot breath, you, you mean…

…nothing to him. In-ho leans back again. He breathes a bit faster, containing himself. As his breath slows and features fall back into place, he straightens the trouser leg and exhales. Your name is on his lips as he does so; he whispers it to himself. A name that doesn't seem to leave his tongue, no matter how many times it wraps around every syllable.

"Y/N, Y/N, Y/N…you are nothing."

He turns off the screen with one click. "Nothing." He gets up, leaving the phone behind. He is back to his true self - unbothered, cold, empty. A statue of stone. It was fun while it lasted, but the shell he wears gets tired of the falsity imbued in it during these little sidesteps. Little adventures to ease the monotony. Your records lie on the table, next to his glass of dark liquer. He walks over slowly, cradles it, sipping with restraint, and puts it down just as slowly in the exact same place. He goes on with his evening, thinking, it must be said, of nothing. He continues his work, thinking of nothing. Nothing replaces the drabble of his underlings as they update him on the latest games. Nothing is on his mind as he showers, nothing is in the water that glides down his own body. Nothing is in the warmth that he doesn't imagine being replaced nor coming from a different source. The voice of nothing is in the hiss and humm of the shower, nothing sings to him sweetly as it envelops his form. Nothing is woven into his satin sheets, nothing still smells of the perfume he picked for you, nothing is in his bed and pillows and nothing is slowly, invariably, fatally invading his mind. The cologne he uses, the same cologne he rubbed upon certain parts of the gown you now rest in, isn't combining and wildly interweaving with your gentle, warm, sweet, yet heavy scent. Nothing is everywhere and nothing is driving him absolutely stark, staring mad as he lays there - naked, exposed, amid satin sheets, it is nothing that invades his dreams and wraps him in sensations he can still only dream of.

════════════════════════════════════════════

Barren lands and dusk. No flowers. No life. In-ho is alone. As far as the eye can see lies nothing. He cannot feel his mask. A shape is in front of him, laying there, incredulous. Unfitting its surroundings. As if guided by an unseen hand, he walks up to her slowly and kneels beside her. She is dressed in white fabric, falling across her skin, exposing more than is becoming of such a form. Her hand is resting next to her head, her other at her side. She is peacefully asleep. A gentle humm escapes her lips - she must be dreaming. In-ho glides the back of his hand everso carefully across her cheek, guiding it down her neck and stopping at her collarbones. Her chest lifts in a slow rhythm as her skin touches his. She is his. Is she not? He could...open his hand, and his hand opens. He could place it around her neck, and he does. As he feels her warmth and blood pumping into his hand, he thinks he could squeeze and hold down. He doesn't. The form reacts to his intentions, seemingly, her face frowning in the most unnoticeable way, lips falling from their previous peaceful expression to a worried frown. As if caught in a bad dream.

No, no, no.

In-ho releases the pressure and merely rests his hand on her neck, pushing errant strands of hair away from her skin. They fall around her shoulders and between the fingers of his other hand, which lifts instinctively to cradle her head. Her expression relaxes, and he smiles almost on instinct. Suddenly, her eyes flutter open and gaze into his own, almost unblinking and holding his gaze. The pools of comforting darkness set in an innocent visage drive electrical current through his entire body and In-ho almost has to steady himself against the ground where his hand is holding her head, still. She isn't scared, she only gazes and studies, lays, and rests in his own dark eyes. Her smile mirrors his. As if the two of them were already familiar, already far beyond anything novel. She whispers to him.

"Darling, this isn't your place."

In-ho doesn't think, he knows the voice. The gentle, slow, melodic whisper that he wishes to hear before he goes to sleep himself. Putting more strength into his grip, he places his dominant palm in hers as it still lays beside her head. He squeezes her down. Without thought, his body shifts to move above hers, holding her gaze, now directly on top of her, without touching her body with his. His hands no longer gentle, but firmly holding down. His thumb caresses her cheek as his other hand pushes her palm into the ground.

"It doesn't need to be."

As the sentence barely left his lips, he connects them with her neck, firmly kissing the skin and pulling her into his bite. The taste is intoxicating, and beckons for more. Sweet, tender, pure, intoxicating. Down her neck he plants kisses and barely restrained bites, gliding his touch, gripping her hand and moving his other to her neck once more. He hears gasps and timid moans, and he moves down, lips brushing against her chest and resting upon it. He lets go of her hand and finally grips her, under the small of her back, caressing and squeezing her waist, lifting her body into his. Now he feels her. Now he feels her being react and pressure and squirm, now he feels the pulse of her body directly under his and melting into him. Every movement, every gasp, every beat of her heart - in his control, under him, sinking into him. Her waist lifts against his and he eagerly helps it up, feeling his need against her body, finally, all he needs to do is tear off the gown, take her, make her fully his and hear her cries and moans as he takes what is his. Still in control of himself, he fully recognizes his itch, his need, his voracious hunger. He recognizes it and fully gives into it.

But the dream does not let him.

Something is wrong. The body is colder now, her breathing is slow, her voice no longer caressing him, her being no longer reacting to his touch. The current fizzled out. Pulling away, he sees the damage done - even as her eyes are wistful and her smile still there, it is sorrowful and soft, gazing down at him although broken under him. He sees her neck and chest, her breasts exposed, her skin red with bite marks, red with his signatures. Lines where his grip failed to falter rest on her tender flesh, her pallor a canvas for his need and depravity. For his destruction. He does not want this, he does not want her like this, his mind races and tries to get back in control but cannot. The canvas before him begins to soak through in crimson, blood pools into the white fabric where he lay and pushed and tried to take her. As he watches the gown cling to her stomach with blood, fear drives cold daggers through his back. He is no longer the Front Man, he is himself. Himself before a Front Man ever was. And he is...scared. Still her voice reaches him, doing nothing to alleviate his state, doing nothing to destroy the damn invisible barrier that keeps him from holding her close, holding her together, holding him together.

"Not like this darling, not like this again."

How is she still smiling? How does she seem so cold yet encompassing an utter lack of proximity? Holding her now seems like the most sacriligeous, repugnant thing he could do. His hands shiver lightly, how is he afraid to touch her now? After all that? She is his, his, this is all so incredibly wrong! He doesn't care, he doesn't have feelings for such frivolities, she is a dime a dozen, she is worth nothing, and she is nothing to him; nothing.

And she's still smiling, a little laugh escaping her lips as if she can hear his inner turmoil and has seen it thrice before.

"Taking what you want, never what you need."

In-ho looks down at his own body, which begins to feel cold and wrong. As if missing something vital. He smells copper, his hand feels hot as he touches his chest yet his body grows colder. The last thing he remembers before waking up in a freezing sweat is looking down at his own body, now filled with open chasms wherever it touched hers - gaping empty holes that can be filled with nothing, bleeding him into the ground as she watches on.

In-ho gasps, springs up into a seated position and touches his chest, his stomach - and breathes in relief. As he is composing himself, a new manner of play begins to form in his mind. Between hurried breaths and elevated pulse beats, he plans a new way to play this game and win.

[baphometsss]

my childfreeness is projecting again so here, have some of my childfree headcanons

Solas is sterile because he's old as fuck and his balls just don't make baby batter like they used to (Trick lk confirmed this teehee 🩷)

Did they ever work though?? I mean he literally just manifested as a fully grown man like all the ancient elves did. Iirc that's why modern elves don't have DNA. We never seem to find out when they started having babies naturally so it's possible he was always sterile (kind of like in TRC when Ronan pulls people out of his dreams and they don't even have internal organs)

Taleani Lavellan has always liked spirits and animals more than people because they're kind of uncomfortable around kids and people in general so not breeding is a very natural choice for them

Not to say they don't care about them at all bc she had a duty as her clan's midwife and helped all the new mothers out etc but she just doesn't have a clue how to talk to kids and has no desire to learn

Solas also doesn't know wtf to do around kids and either ignores them or talks to them like they're fully grown adults while they stare back at him blankly

He also canonically doesn't like loud noises and bollocks Blackwall for training the kids right outside his room in DAI

"Not now kitten Daddy's lamenting his war crimes and I have to talk him down again"--Lavellan probably

Being childfree makes them focus on each other a whole lot more. Makes me think about that old photo of some soldier returning from war to meet his kid for the first time ever and just shoving it under his arm upside down so he can kiss his wife. That would be Solas as a dad

Seriously they would have 0 time for that kid while the other was present . Tough luck kiddo your mother's wearing a low cut top today and her titties look divine. Go play in the Fade and don't come back for at least a couple of hours

Straight up Gomez and Morticia Addams if the kids weren't there

Absolutely fucking awful parents . No time to be normal when there are blighted titans to deal with

Also they can explore the Fade much further and learn so much more without having to get a spirit babysitter in

They can nerd out over all the new discoveries they make and do all the dangerous experiments they like without having to worry about the safety of a person with no sense of danger

They can have impromptu shags on the kitchen table and not worry about getting walked in on and scarring that kid mentally with their outrageous sex life

When they're stressed from a hard day of titan soothing and they just want to relax and talk they don't have to fight the bedtime battle or deal with whatever stinky mess the kid made

Lavellan doesn't have to worry about losing her teeth, or becoming incontinent, or having any of the myriad health issues that arise from pregnancy and childbirth with limited resources to do anything about it

Solas can teach Lavellan how to take a big wolf form like him once he binds her to his life force so they can live forever and it won't endanger the kid

Taleani doesn't give a shit about having a legacy but who needs one anyway if you live forever?

No kids stuff littering the house means more space for books and dangerous artefacts and frescoes that won't get ruined by sticky hands

No arguments about how to best raise a child. Just arguments about philosophy and war crimes

No kids mean they can sleep all they want and have epic dream escapades without interruptions

Just. No kids in the Fade prison allowed. Or the Fade. Or within a 500 mile radius of Solas and Lavellan. Seriously who the hell thought that was a good idea in the first place

[melrosing]

about what you wrote. i hate tywin/littlefinger/joffrey. tywin is one of my least favorite characters because not only he is evil but also he is dishonest. but even tywin has goodness in him. he seems to be really in love with his wife. cersei has nothing good in her for me. there are evil and incompetent male characters george wrote, but there are also evil and competent male characters he wrote. the thing is cersei is the only female villain in the series (i can think of). and george wrote her as both sociopathic and incompetent. and that's my issue. it seems like in george's mind evil woman are inherently evil and can't be admirable and smart. maybe my assumptions are wrong.

if you think Tywin Lannister has more goodness in him than Cersei i don't even know what to tell you lmao. for one thing, love is not redemptive, and it does not equate to goodness. for another, we have no real idea what Tywin's relationship w Joanna was really like, but in any case, why would we give it more weight than Cersei's love for Joffrey?? you can twist yourself into a pretzel arguing one was more pure or honest than the other but you wouldn't have any real evidence with which to make your case.

and yes, Cersei is the major female villain in the series, but I don't agree that she's the only one. Melisandre surely qualifies in some sense, and she's been given a POV as of the last book. she's done horrible shit but you come to understand her reasoning, and she's written empathetically. there's also the Green Grace, who is certainly smart and I'm pretty sure about to be unmasked as ADWD's true villain. and there's Asha, who not many people would consider a villain, but she doesn't exactly begin ACOK on the side of the Starks. and that still leaves out interesting characters like Lysa and Barbrey, whether they meet your standards or no.

there are certainly more male villains - not exactly surprising given this is set in a hyper-patriarchal society and they're going to be the ones with more power to act as such. but to say there no other female villains, or that they're all incompetent, is not true to the books.

and on this:

it seems like in george's mind evil woman are inherently evil and can't be admirable and smart.

this argument just feels all over the place to me lol. based on Cersei alone, who is one (1) of our female villains, you think that GRRM is only capable of writing inherently evil women - even though it's plain from Cersei's story that she's very much a case of combined nature and nurture. and then how many of the male villains are admirable like?? for all that Theon is sympathetic, is he admirable? is Littlefinger? are Roose/Tywin/Ramsay etc etc? I find it so frustrating that female characters are expected to be everything at once where male characters can be literally whatever and ppl will call them complex. who cares if Cersei is 'admirable' or not lol she's a villain why is that any of your priorities

[manic-sapphic]

crimson waste catra ranting~

it's ironic, cause w the backdrop of a lifeless desert wasteland, every moment of the super pal duo out there gives me so much damn life. hp restored in full every time.

catra and scorpia, desert beauty queens in less than a mf'ing day, just casually ruling the place.

they party for the first time in their lives - catra is actually letting herself laugh about shit and has been all damn day - pretty sure she laughs more that one episode than prob like, the whole series at that point. after the sword 1/2 i feel like it doesn't get heard much.

they kick ass across the desert, and yeah, a grip of catra's laughter was done while leaving a trail of mf'ers in need of medical attention you know they def don't have in the crimson waste ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

aw but poor scorpia :/ (i maintain she and catra both ended up w who they shoulda)

but it's still sad to see her get the closest she's ever gotten to breaking down catra's walls only to have it last 2.5 seconds before they're reinforced to the max. cause scorpia def was down to hang out as a desert duo and yeet any lil moron catra points at so far into the horizon, even if they survived the impact, there's no way they coulda possibly had enough water on em to make the walk back.

--but before any of that, i think it's catra's initial reaction to finding out the crimson waste isn't uninhabited after all -- so much about catra's lil monologue in the desert shanty-tavern kinda floors me.

it seems like catra doesn't care anymore if she lives or dies - part of her speech in the tavern is just a cautionary: "i'm down to go full-tilt savage, claws out, with 0 regard for how it turns out. i'm up for the coin flip so if you're gonna come at me, you better be too"

and her behavior after that point seems to reflect that as well. but what i find to be pretty heartbreaking about it is probably that it takes being at her wit's end, feeling so worthless and existence so pointless- it's not until her life feels irrelevant to her that she can let go and kinda enjoy herself. but ultimately, she'd rather let go for good; catra would rather dissolve into the void than make any attempt to return to her real life.

and in the waste, as she warns everyone in the tavern not to fck w her, there are these brief sentiments she actually allows herself to express aloud - prob cause it's a room full of strangers she never expects to see again - of vulnerability interwoven throughout her threats of hostility (even if they're expressed in an aggressive tone)

she warns everyone against tryna mess w her, yeah. but it still kinda gets to me that, however vaguely, she even tells them why.

cause catra didn't do that. not anymore.

and ps i dunno if it's just me, but i'd imagine after how much time had passed since shadow weaver used catra to escape-

hearing "shadow weaver is in bright moon" probably hit different than if she heard "shadow weaver came to bright moon" or "was in bright moon" ... i'd figure knowing adora was fine with sw sticking around, prisoner or not, might get under catra's skin a lil extra at the time.

[bloogers-boogers]

Abel: stop it! stop it! STOP IT!

*everyone goes silent*

Abel: I'm not Lucifer's son! Can you all already shut the fuck up about it! Can't you guys just accept I'm biologically Adam and Eve’s child?! There's nothing wrong with that! Move on.

Charlie: I'm so sorry Abel..

Angel Dust: I'm not. There's no way you're their kid, you look nothin' like ya pah.

Cain: he has the shape of him.

Abel: HEY!

Cain: but maybe that's because he's fat.

Abel: you're just jealous of the possibility I'm right. Which I am. Cause no matter how many times I tell you I'm our parents kid, you don't believe it!

Cain: cause you're not. I saw it with my own two eyes. Dad got fucked by Lucifer and then suddenly you poofed into existence. So you're not mom's. So no, you're not Adam and Eve’s brat. I am.

Abel: here again with the same bullshit theory that dad birth me and that 'somehow' it was him who had an affair with the devil!

Lucifer: *cough cough* yeah.. theory *cough*..

Cherry bomb: everyone hear me out. It was Eve who fucked Lucifer and Adam birth Abel who was conceive from the affair.

Everyone: ....

Everyone: *starts arguing again*

Adam: *entering the room and heard Abel screaming again that he was son of Adam and Eve*

Adam: you're wrong.

Cain: aHA!!! wait. What? So i was fucking right?! I fucking knew it!! I wasn't having a bad nightmare as a kid! It was a nightmare! A real one. Where you and the devil fucked behind some bushes.

Adam: what? *cough* What're you talking about. No. He's not Eve’s or Lucifer’s. He's Lilith.

Everyone: WHAT?!!

Adam: I thought everyone already knew that? *side eyes Lucifer* what? Why are you acting all surprised? Didn't she tell you?

Lucifer: *still in shock*

Adam: there's literally a whole myth about it. Lilith got envious of Eve being set as her replacement and forced sex with me. Though, they kinda went far off with that one. It was mostly Lilith seducing me with fruits and a nice song and I admit, I was dumb to let that cunt seduce me, but, she was hot. And that song was a banger so we fucked and it was awesome.

Vaggie: but those were all myths! How did you think we'd know, they're millions of stories about you guys!

Abel: ... so.. all this time it was you who cheated on mom?

Adam: oh fuck no! That cheating bitch cheated on me first! I just went ahead and cheated with my original wife. It wasn't even cheating, we were separated at the time. Even if divorced wasn't a thing back then, me and your mom split up after the whole apple thing before we reconcile and banged again.

Cain: *having a really bad headache now* so you're telling me you fell in love with Lilith again at some point in that story??

Adam: *sigh* I didn't fall in love with Lilith. I was confused. So was she. We were never in love. It was more of a sense purpose kinda thing? Lilith’s purpose was being challenged after being told Eve took it away. So she figured if she took me away, fuck, have a kid with me, which was basically what we were originally meant to do. It would finally sastified her. Which it did cause we immediately separated after banging and she got pregnant. She "seduced me" by wooing me, stroking my ego and with promises like I would no longer have the need to want to find a sense of purpose, like her. But unlike her, my purpose was never fulfilled because I was meant to have children with my wife and build humanity. It was never stated for me to do it specifically with Lilith. It was "you, Adam, are meant to name all the animals of this planet, build humanity alongside your wife, who would partner and care for you and your children into death due apart" or some shit like that. While Lilith unintentionally found a loophole with hers, she, was meant to birth a child from Adam. Specifically. She did and moved on. Well, kinda? Cause she still has that itch to check on me sometimes, bitch about my shit and then turn it around to asking how's Abel.

In short. Lucifer stole Lilith from me. They ran off, she came back years after, took me while I was currently separated from your mother, we fucked, she left after birthing Abel, I assume back to Lucifer? And I went back with Eve. I discovered she had birth Cain and Azura while I was away. Eve and I raised Abel.

Cain: I need a drink..

Lucifer: so that's where Lilith went off after we had that argument...

Abel: someone kill me... again.

Cherry bomb: this is one fucked up family

[clemelntine]

Heartkillers ep 10 uncohesive stray thoughts

With screenshots cuz I take to many and I'll feel like that's wasteful if I don't at least use them for a post

God, this scene reeks of codependency. But like in a good way, yknow. In an evidence of love way. They just don't want to be apart because they care. And I guess cuz they're scared they won't see each other again.

I love Fadel and his consistent morals. He'd been silent, letting Bison get his anger and revenge, cus that is not his main thing, but as soon as he hears any word of deciet or lies, he's right on his feet getting involved.

Yeah that checks.

I have to wonder, tho, if Lilly is a poisoner, why were Fadel and Bisons' parents shot? And why would she train them with a gun instead of the weapon she know best?

That's not the unbelievable part dear. She seems very capable of all that. Look at what she made you do

Acting like some housewives worrying about their husbands away at war or some shit.

Imma be real with you. I wasn't paying attention for a bit, and I read this as "Why don't you try and top Fadel?" and I got a little hopeful for a bit.

We've got a comeback from the -two rings on one finger, no other jewelry- look from style. Love this energy.

For anyone wondering, the first time we saw this was in episode 6 when he was out drinking with Kant, so it might just be what he wears when he goes to get drunk with his buddy. Guess there aren't too many occasions for a mechanic to wear a mid finger index ring. It tends to get in the way a lot when moving (like manual labor). And if you dont wear a ring often, choosing to wear no other jewelry to make your specialty ring pop makes a lot of sense.

Sorry, I looked too deeply into that.

Lillys actress is so stunning. The discomfort and distaste on her face is so subtle but to perfect.

Oh, drama, Keen already knows about (one of) their lovers and tried to kill him. I wonder why he used a gun, tho. The only flashback/scene we saw of them pre assassin, while training, was to show that Keen was a worse shot than Bison and Fadel. Did he improve or was the reason he missed (only hitting styles arm, not killing him) because he still has bad aim.

Also, could the tattoo be Kants' work? It kinda reminds me of his spiderweb arm tatoo, but that doesn't mean its his style (he might not have done his arm one himself), so who knows, maybe they know each other, maybe they don't.

Fucking romantic loser, holy shit. He couldn't see gay people without thinking of his boyfriend

That's not something to be fucking proud of cassie

Nr. 1 god his hair looks fucking good like this

Nr. 2 Mister poetry over here, annoying piece of shit with his lovey dovey words

Ofc Style would instigate a cheer, like this is a cheersquad and not a murder operation

I really need him to stop mentioning it all the time, like he is proud of it or something

Oh, uniform kink. Interesting

Okay, I kinda feel bad for Keen now. Nobody seems to care about him (except Thanon ig, I hope nothing bad happens to him). Lilly didn't even care enough to use him.

Also, jesus Fadel, you're brothers. You've never put in even an hour of effort to ask about his day or some shit, rude. (I get that they are all just a product of Lillys creation but but this seems a lil excessive)

With the tattoos. That is quite a bold plan. There is like a 50/50 change they (rich ladies) are put off by the tattoos. Guess some might see it as an adventure and be into it. It's still a gamble.

Also like how does he know golfing, tho? Had he golfed before, or is Kant just good at improvising, because he looked quite knowledgable.

The way he has lowered himself to look up at her through his lashes, the fucking bitch. Once again using First height for storytelling. This time, Kant has lowered himself to make Lilly feel like she is above him and in control.

Idk if she is open-minded or if she could just smell the gay on him.

Ahw, he cares. Does he expect Keen to do that, tho? Like Fadel knows that he already tried to kill Style and has shot him. He doesn't seem likely to suddenly care about the wishes of his brother, who doesn't even care about him.

Not too sure what it means but i just noticed that Fadel has his whole head and neck angled up while Styles face is pointed to the front and he is just looking up with his eyes, through his eyelashes.

Maybe it's to show that Fadel is more confrontational while Style is more scared of Keen.

Oh, calling his bluff, cute. I dont remember if Fadel backed down when Bison pointed his gun at Style but if he did (i think so) that contrast shows very well how succesfull Lilly has been in driving them apart by making them all think Keen is less capable (mostly because she just didnt let him train)

Ofcourse he has to brag, has to lay out his success (he could have kept it to himself to use it for longer, but whatever, guess he expects to take him out right here, right now). Because Keen doesn't actually have any negative feelings towards Fadel (except maybe jealousy), he mostly just wants to prove himself to be capable. Even though he is holding the gun, it is Lilly who has her finger on the trigger. Without her constant critique, he would have felt the need to do all this. It's really her words that are driving Keen to do this, not Fadel (and Bisons) actions.

Yeah, and i feel like Keen should know that. Doesnt he know about her killing Fadels boyfriend, and he knows she wants Style dead as well, he has all the evidence he needs to see that Fadel and Bison dont have any more freedom or happiness than he does, just more tasks.

The continual cutting to Style while they talk about Fadels ex probably has to tell us something, but i honeslty can't read that much off his face. Is he jealous?

You're telling me Fadel couldn't figure that out himself. Even if he didn't think about it too much then (too sad or something), now with this new info he has about her, it shouldn't come as that much of a shock. She killed your parents and is trying to kill your boyfriend. It is not odd to think this patern is connected.

The desparation in both his eyes, his words, and his voice; it's fucking heartbreaking

Squished Fadel, perfection

Styles speech was a lil akward, but he got his point across and he has never really been a poet before. The honesty, although clunky, makes it seem more vulnerable and true, more like Style

Fav scenes

Fadel and Bisons emotional breakdown in the abandoned building. Omg the feelings..

Kant golfing was very cute.

Kant and Bison in the empty pool. Shit was stunning.

Fadel and Styles last scene. Maybe I just like Fadel crying and strong emotions.

For anyone wondering about my statistics, I took a total of 180 screenshots. 81 of Fadel and or Style, 58 of Kant and or Bison, 10 of Keen, 8 of Bison and Fadel together, 7 of Reurat, 5 of Lilly, 5 of more than two characters in a shot, 3 of Kant and Style together, 2 of Lilly and Keen together, and 1 of Babe

[reginaphalangelobster125]

Little Braids

Peter Parker x Platonic Parent Figure Reader

Summary: You tell Peter about your braids and he wants some.

Warnings: very angsty, still mourning over major character deaths

Notes: This is set sometime after DSMOM, reader is some kind of immortal being (could just be a longer lifespan than humans, like Asgardians), reader has magical powers, reader and Peter live together

Word Count: 1,017

You stood at the sink, washing some dishes when Peter came out of his room. He had just woken up so he was sleepy eyed and his hair was messy and fluffy. You looked at him and smiled for a moment.

"What?" He laughed out as he noticed you staring.

"How come you always put gel in your hair?"

"I don't really like the fluffy thing"

"Really? It's so cute!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, you look adorable when you come out in the morning with your fluffy bed hair"

"I have kinda thought about doing something different but I don't know"

"I think you'd look great"

"Thanks. While we're on the subject, why do you always have little braids in your hair?"

"They're for the people I've lost"

"Oh, I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything"

"No, it's okay. Most people don't care or sometimes don't even notice, it's nice to talk about them"

"Oh okay, well then, who are they for?"

"The two behind my ears are for Tony and Nat, the two at the top of the right side of my head are for two old friends from Asgard"

"You know people from Asgard, that aren't Thor?"

You laughed lightly at his intrigue "Yes, I knew many people in Asgard. These two are for Thor's mother and brother"

"Loki? The guy who invaded New York?"

"He wasn't always like that, something bad happened that made him snap. He was actually very sweet when he was younger"

"Did you spend a lot of time with him?"

"Yes, Frigga taught us magic, I can't even count the hours Loki and I practised seidr together"

"That's the magic you use?"

"Not all of the time, I used a variety of mixed magic. Some seidr, some mystical arts Doctor Strange magic, I never know what they call that, it's had a few names. I have magic naturally within me as well"

"Like Wanda?"

"Yeah, like Wanda"

You look down for a moment, remembering your old friend "See these two braids on my left, those are for Wanda and Vis, and the two smaller ones next to them are for Billy and Tommy"

"Who are Billy and Tommy?"

"Wanda wasn't very well after what happened to Vision, no one would be, and she used her magic on a small town"

"I remember that, it was on the news"

"Yes, well, she also created fictional children, Billy and Tommy"

"Oh"

"The thing is in every other universe they're real, just not this one"

"Oh, is that why Wanda went kinda...."

"Yeah, yeah it is"

You took a deep breath and gripped the kitchen counter tightly, sending a small crack through it.

"Shit, not again" You muttered under your breath.

"I can go to my room or go patrolling if you want"

"No, it's fine. I need to be able to deal with this eventually"

You took another deep breath and smiled at Peter "So, you wanna do something different with your hair?"

"Uh, yeah"

"What are you thinking? I used to be a hairdresser for a while so I can help"

"You were a hair dresser?"

"Yeah, I think it was the 1950s or 60s on earth at the time, I get a bit mixed up when I go from planet to planet"

"Wow, that's pretty cool"

"Thanks, so you got any ideas?"

"I kinda really liked your braids, you know, how they mean something. If that's okay, I'm sorry, I just shouldn't have said anything"

"No, no, that's fine, it's kind of one of the cutest things ever. You wanting to be like me, because I'm a super duper amazing role model"

He let out a small chuckle "Yeah, you're pretty fantastic"

"So, do you want one for Tony and one for May?"

"Yeah and um I though maybe two little ones for Ned and MJ, I know they didn't die but"

"I get it. To you they are gone. I'm sorry I couldn't do anything"

"I get it, there are universes to save and you were busy"

Neither of you said anything for a moment, the tension made the air feel thick.

"Wait, who's the other braid for, the one sorta near the middle?"

"Steve, I still visit him but, he-he's not the same. The Steve Rogers I knew has been gone for a long time"

"I'm sorry"

"Ah well, it's all a part of getting older I suppose" You joked as you bit back the tears forming in your eyes "So, four then?"

"Yeah"

Peter sat down and you put the braids on the sides of his head, just above his ears. He got up to look in the mirror and came out with a big smile on his face.

"These are amazing, thank you"

"N-no problem, kid"

"What's wrong?" He saw you sitting on the couch fiddling with your hands and sniffling.

"Nothing, 's fine"

"Did I do something wrong? Is it the braids? I'm really sorry"

You looked Peter straight in the eyes and cupped his face in your hands "Peter, you never need to apologise to me, I'm here for you no matter what and I'll always be here for you. You are more than I ever could have asked for and you make everyday better. I want you to feel comfortable with me and I don't want you to feel like you need to apologise for everything"

"I just, I feel like I mess up everyone's lives just by being in them and I-I don't wanna lose you too"

"Sweetheart" You said softly, quietly.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and placed your hands on the back of his neck, stroking his hair gently. You planted a small, sweet kiss to the top of his head and rested your head on his, holding him close for a moment. His arms moved to your waist, hugging you back tightly, too afraid to let go.

"In case you hadn't noticed, my life can't get much more messy"

He laughed softly through quiet sobs.

"I love you Peter Parker and that will never change"

"I love you too"

Tags:

@impetusofadream @goldfishthegr8 @avengers-official-recruit-agent @goreygirl03 @xenasolos @sparklyturtlefox @rios-sythe @nekoannie-chan @ilovemarvel12 @hayneyney @n3ponen @8812-342. @everyonesfriend @pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse

[arceus-insanity]

One thing that always bothered me about Izuku's choice of career was just how implausible it is Izuku as a character and for the setting. Because Izuku becoming a teacher would mean that he needed to get a college degree and have several years of experience before being able to get a job at the most prestigious hero school. I get that Izuku would have connections with the Staff and for being a hero that saved the world, but Izuku would still be extremely inexperienced at being a teacher because he would barely have a degree just one or two years out of college and would have no tangible way to hold the students in line to maintain discipline or to protect them in case of emergencies. (Then again UA seems like they just have lousy standards to begin, so it might not be a problem lol).

In truth, I think Izuku should have been a police officer, yes, I know in the west, people have a lot of negative feelings towards cops today for all kinds of reasons. But a career as a police officer would have been more plausible for Izuku once he graduated from UA and allow him to stay pro-active because not only did All-Might suggest this in the beginning of the series, but it would fit more for Izuku's character and relate more to Tenko's backstory because Izuku could have been that guy that helped a young boy find a safe place after a devastating tragedy. Bringing heroism down to earth, like the story should have emphasized instead of Izuku becoming discount iron man and ditching his teaching career as soon as it was convenient. (I know that Hori had Izuku say that he would do both but that's typical Hori trying to have his cake and eat it too)

This is really well articulated

Unfortunately the endings biggest issue is that it's very rushed. Both in the reading and creating of it. It's hard to tell exactly what was going on, but I am very much of the belief that Hori should have taken a fucking break before finishing the manga.

There were so many things that needed to be addressed that rather than be cut or well researched was badly rushed, a lot of the time got taken up by last minute cameos that led no where and proving the Bakugou fake out really did mean Jack shit, and the rushed epilogue continues that trend

As for Deku actually saving the next Tenko, this is one of those rushed over points, and a big part of why I don't believe there can be a true happy ending without the League alive and being there to fix it.

Deku didn't see Tenko walk through the streets for who knows how long, or even his family enabling the abuse, he only saw Kotaro go to hit Tenko. That framing very much empowers Deku's preexisting biases. That it's just a couple bad people or moments and not the system as a whole that needs to be fixed

Uraraka's attempt of helping the next Himiko makes more sense but still falls short. Because there's no true change to the system, she's with the kids for a very short period of time and is effectively just playing with them. She also doesn't know about how Himiko was abused growing up and how quirk counselling only cared about fitting her into a mold, this further abusing her. And Uraraka is the best attempt out of all the pros and adjacent

[messrsrarchives]

and also based on this comment section, i feel the need to clarify that even if you have a HBO Max subscription already,,, it's still doing harm???

we get so caught up in mass change that we make no change. we get so caught up in this idea that by doing something we change everything, when that's not the case.

everybody on earth could boycott. the reboot could get 0 streams and she would still be a transphobic piece of shit because whilst, yes, boycotts are about mass change, we can't change a person's morals and her pockets are already fully lined.

what you can do, is stick to your own morals. because mass change isn't the only worthwhile change.

one person not watching the show does not make a tremendous impact, of course not. but one person posting about it online and receiving 10k+ likes? that makes a difference. that makes a different to how safe people feel, that makes a difference to those 10k people who now feel justified in engaging, that makes a difference to the people IN these spaces who want to facilitate a welcoming community.

and yessss, there's no ethical way to engage. i can talk about jkr as much as i want on tiktok and yet when i post about her characters, it is promotion.

it's about doing the least amount of harm possible. because one post and one comment section of people saying how easily they'd abandon their morals for some content? That makes a change.

that makes a massive change to how welcome we feel in these spaces.

and i am so Tired of the "one person doesn't make a difference" mentality - we've all been there! i've said it too.

but (1) nobody is asking you to be the only person to do it, that's why we have these conversations. (2) it's evidently not one person when everybody falls into this mindset,,, maybe something could be done? (3) that's what you say, and then you go to facilitate talks. you don't use it as an excuse to do nothing and cause harm

and most importantly, one person can.

you can make a difference in your corner. you can make a difference with the people around you, with your account, in this space etc etc. you can not talk about the reboot, you can delete pro-jkr comments, you can make it clear where you stand (and not even loudly! you don't have to be loud about it, you just have to be Consistently On Our Side)

we desperately need to free ourselves from the idea that mass, widescale change is the only valuable change and instead start thinking about all the small, seemingly insignificant changes we could make that have a massive impact on a fandom space.

because you can make a difference. to the people around you, and to the space you're engaging in. it's just that you're too focused on alterating everything that you don't recognise the other ways you're causing harm.

harm is harm. no matter how indirect. and i really wish people got that.

at the end of the day, i don't care who watches it. you do you, i'll simply know you're not someone to associate with. but i DO care who posts about it, because then it's abundantly clear that you have no respect for this space, or our comfort. you just want some likes,,,

i don't care who watches it, i care that i have to sit back and see people show just how little they truly care about our existence if they get some sparkly new content.

(and p.s. streaming on HBO Max even with a sub,,, still gives her money? "we were already involved in the maki-" then idk. delete your subscription? or don't add more money to her pocket? stop making excuses and hiding behind "roadblocks" that are literally poorly placed traffic cones that you can move)

i am ONE minor inconvenience away from deleting my account i am going INSANE

make it worth it for WHO??? FOR WHOOOOO 😭😭😭

[tumbleweedtech]

Cirvran heirs of shit and paranoia

Hey Marina, Go fuck yourself you shitstain. :) I don't even know what ship cirvran is meant to be. I'm not even currently writing for this fandom. But you know what? Fuck it. Someone, tell me what ship this is I'll write something for it. You pick. It'll probably be terrible because I'm fully in CoD brainrot right now but this rancid, festering pustule just can't understand it's her behaviour that makes people not want anything to do with her. ffs. absolute piss stain. I do not care about you, what you like, or what you dislike. I had quite happily forgotten you existed. Please go fuck off, and then when you've fucked off as far as you think is reasonable, triple that, and then go fuck yourself in the face with a rusty fork while you're there. K? Thanks.

[keii]

late morning