#I feel like I could add more and that I may not make complete sense in some regards but I am very tired

[justmeinatree]

06 - ‘Cause I Want You Bad

Summary : Part 6 to Let Passion Get Too Much … niall x louis x reader threesome

previous part /// jump to pt. 1

TW : smut, edging, subspace, pussy spanking

Word Count : 4.5k

GIFs : unknown, msg for credit

louis knew he shouldn’t be doing this. he shouldn’t have you on his lap, shouldn’t have his hands gripped into your bum, shouldn’t have you slowly grinding on him, shouldn’t have his tongue in your mouth. but when you came down the stairs wearing his grey sweat pants, louis just about lost his mind. 

“where’s niall ?” louis groans, something that makes your eyebrows furrow. not that you didn’t love niall, not that you didn’t always want him around, just, right in this exact moment, you weren’t exactly thinking about him. 

“’s saturday,” you mumbled against louis’ lips, as if that explained everything. but when you feel louis’ face contort into confusion, you explain between kisses, refusing to ever fully remove your mouth from his. “when we’re both home on saturday mornings,” you start, pausing to kiss louis deeply, your grip in his hair tightening, teeth sinking into the plushness of his bottom lip. “we take some time for each other,” kiss, “we like this cafe a few blocks away,” kiss, “he’s gone to pick up scones, muffins, coffee,” kiss, “s’tradition.”

and suddenly louis felt like such an intruder. you two had a saturday morning tradition, and here he was, getting in the way. he pulls away from the kiss, hand pressed on your chest, keeping you far enough to be just out of reach of his lips, eliciting the sweetest little whimper from you. “i can leave, darling.”

“wha- no,” you shake your head, pulling his hand from your chest, back down to your hip, mouth attaching to his neck, “he’s getting breakfast for three,” you explain, taking a moment to suck a small bruise behind his ear, smiling as you dip back into his lips. “s’about all of us now, remember ?” you murmur, not giving him a chance to really answer, too caught up in his mouth.

louis swears he can feel his heart swell at the thought. he was being included into a long standing tradition. if he’d ever felt insecure about his position in this relationship, it was definitely waning. the only problem now, is that louis’ desperate to get inside you, and niall’s on his way with breakfast, dammit. “how long until niall’s back ?” louis finds himself asking, most of it coming out as an incoherent mumble, one that he has to repeat when you give him enough time in between kisses. 

you groan in frustration, eyebrows furrowed, “why are you so preoccupied with niall right now ?” seriously, the question may have come off bitchy, especially if your name was niall, but truthfully, you were having the most incredible moment with louis. him being all you could clearly focus on, and here he is, asking about someone else.

“isn’t this kind of pushing the cheating line ?” louis asks, remembering the night, a while ago now, where the three of you came up with one rule, only including louis if you were all present. and although louis’ quite sure that having a very heated makeout session won’t really bother niall, he can’t be so sure that the same could be said about putting his entire cock inside you. 

you were still momentarily confused, until the rule floated back into your mind, when realization of louis’ apprehension made complete sense. you sit back on louis’ thighs, shoulders slumping, looking at him in pure adoration, “things have changed, significantly since then,” you chuckle softly. honestly, the opportunity just hadn’t presented itself for you and louis to have a moment alone like this, and therefore the rule lay far down in your memory, almost forgotten. especially by now, when you were pretty certain that niall would not mind one bit. he’d probably find it incredibly hot to walk in on louis’ cock buried deep inside you. “niall won’t mind at all,” you add for good measure, leaning forward to dip back in for more kisses, hips grinding down harder on him.

louis groans, whining slightly. fuck, he wanted to, wanted you, so badly. but he couldn’t bring himself to it without expressly hearing from niall that it was okay. he needed to be certain that the rules had changed for everybody. and so louis’ grip on your hips tighten, holding you in place, ceasing your movements, “not until niall gets back,” louis warns softly. 

well fine, you think to yourself, but you didn’t have to make it easy. your hand grips into louis’ hair, tipping his head back, exposing his neck. your mouth works its way over his stubbly skin, tracing feather soft kisses, and teeny nipping bites. you take your time, slowly working over his entire neck, paying close attention to spots that made his breathing hitch. 

louis kept his hands gripped into your hips, not allowing you the satisfaction of grinding down on him. but he was losing his resolve quickly. it was so easy to get lost in you, so easy to give into anything you wanted. and the moment your mouth closed around his earlobe, sucking and biting softly, as you breathe out a groan, one that reverberates right into his ear, shooting down his spine, going straight to his cock, louis was sure he’d lost complete control of himself for a moment. his body reacting on its own, hips bucking up into you, hard.

it pulled a moan from you, again, landing right in his ear, as your forehead rested against his temple. “again,” you whine breathily in his ear, figuring the trick to getting louis doing whatever you pleased. it seemed to go hand in hand with how much he loves and gets off on hearing niall speak.

louis can’t help himself, hips lifting again, groaning as he feels you, still wearing his sweats, surely sticky with your arousal by now. another thought that swirls through his mind, not helping the situation he’s put himself in. louis turns his head, catching your lips with his own, pulling your mouth from his ear, kissing you deep. kissing you hard. he needed a grounding distraction, and it was the best thing he could think of. plus, it kept your mouth busy from bringing him right to the edge.

it was a few minutes later, that you both recognize the thwacking sound of niall’s shoes being thrown off unceremoniously, followed by the trudging of his footsteps. “finally,” louis breathes, pulling away from your mouth, hips rolling hard into yours.

niall rounds the corner into the living room, right as you whimper, eyes locked on louis’. a smirk pulls at niall’s lips, dropping the coffees and treats on the end table, “guess the coffees are going cold this morning,” he laughs. 

“fuck yes,” louis groans, head falling back on the couch, eyes closing, “i’ll get us more later, but for now, please just get over here.”

niall looks at you in slight confusion at the snippiness of louis’ tone. he’s met with your rolling eyes, and the word “rules,” as the only explanation you give. you can see that niall takes a moment, much like you did at first, just to remember what that was, eyes flicking over fondly to louis’ when he realizes. “since when do you follow the rules, anyway ?” niall asks, chuckling, even more confusion etched in his features.

louis groans loudly, laughing, as he shakes his head. he lifts his head from the back of the couch, cheeks turning a slight red as he looks back and forth between you and niall for a moment, gaze filled with adoration. “since i really don’t want to fuck up,” louis admits.

niall flops himself on the couch next to louis, pulling him in for a quick kiss. he almost couldn’t believe the surge of emotions at louis’ confession. “y’not fucking up, mate,” niall murmurs, eyes locked on louis’ as he says it, wanting him to understand the seriousness of what he was saying.

“we want you here, louis,” you murmur, reaching out to take his hand in yours, squeezing it. “in all the ways,” you add, meaning that it wasn’t just sex anymore. 

louis knew. he knew this. you’d both been so sweet, and so patient, always reassuring him. truthfully, he just needed to get out of his own head. needed to let himself live this, be in it fully. “i know,” louis nods, his eyes holding so much truth, so much love. “i’m sorry, i’m getting there yeah ?” he admits with a soft sigh.

“remind ya every fuckin day if i have to,” niall chuckles playfully. although the statement stood, he happily would remind louis every day if he needed. still, lightening the mood was his strong suit, especially in moments like this, when you were both so clearly right into each other, bodies craving. it was no time to be having this talk.

both you and louis know what that meant. you both know niall well enough. the little joke was his way of ending the conversation, of tabling it until later when the time would be more appropriate. “now, it seems i’ve interrupted something,” niall smirks at the two of you, sitting back against the couch, making himself comfortable, taking his coffee and muffin, raising his eyebrow as he looks back at the both of you. “don’t stop on my account,” he smiles, taking a tiny bite of the chocolate chip muffin, and a small slurpy sip of his coffee for emphasis. 

you bite your lip, looking back at louis, gentle smile pulling at your lips. louis looked so soft, so cozy. you couldn’t help but reach out and cup his jaw, pulling his face to yours, kissing him deeply again. you could feel how much more laidback he was now that niall was here. you hadn’t realized before, but now that he’s so much calmer, his entire demeanour looser, it clicks in your mind that he may have been a bit nervous earlier. you just aren’t sure why. 

although it had been over a year since the first time you brought up the idea of a threesome in that hotel room, louis still relied heavily on niall’s cues for just about everything. not that he didn’t think he couldn’t, more that it felt tried and true, and he couldn’t fuck up since niall never fucked up. niall knew you so well, he just always knew. and louis’ still learning, so really, it just felt easier, and much less stressful, to feed off of niall’s cues. 

so now that he was here, watching and savouring his breakfast, slowly growing a stiffy, enjoying this way too much, louis’ grip into you tightened significantly, his entire behaviour shifting. 

niall though, wanting the show to move along, tuts softly, “get naked already,” he laughs around his mouthful of food. but still, it worked, as he watches you slowly raise to your feet, standing between louis’ legs, gripping the base of your tank top and pulling it off over your head. it was still much too early in the day for a bra, your chest instantly exposed to them. louis’ hands cup the sides of your breast, groaning softly, as his thumbs reach out to flick over your nipples, “beautiful girl,” he breathes, before his palms slide down your sides to the hem of his pants that you were wearing. louis slowly pulls them down, watching a strand of arousal connect your centre with his pants, watching it snap as the material falls down your legs.

louis groans, gripping your hips, pulling you up to him. his mouth instantly falls on your pussy, sucking up any arousal that he can. a loud groany moan falls from your lips, head tilting back, louis pulling one of your legs, bending it at the knee, and resting your foot on the couch next to him. the position gives him better access to your cunt, mouth working tirelessly, hands gripping into your bum, holding you in place. 

you gripped into louis’ hair, centring yourself, as your eyes roll back, the messiness of louis’ technique always sending you reeling. he was everywhere you didn’t even know you needed. shifting from his tongue to his lips to his teeth, licking, sucking, nipping, from your clit to your entrance to inside you, pressed on your sweet spot. you’ll have to remember to ask if he has a technique, or if he just goes for it. either way, you were already so heated, breathing laboured, coming out in soft breathy pants.

with all the work that louis had put in before niall even got home, and the extra work right now, your cunt finally getting direct contact with the man you’ve been craving for the last half hour, you could feel yourself approaching your first high. could feel the heat start to spread through your body, could feel your muscles start twitching. 

louis could feel it too. your tummy was spasming, legs trembling, moans more desperate. he brought you right to the edge, right to where the coil was about to snap, and he pulled away, looking up at you with a smirk, “not yet, love.”

his mouth, his chin were soaked, tongue licking over his lips, just waiting for your reaction. it took your brain a quick moment to catch up to the fact that your pleasure had ended so abruptly, a groan grumbling from the depths of your chest, falling forward, forehead resting against louis’, a look of desperation on your features.

all louis does, however, is press his mouth to yours, invading your senses with your own taste, licking into your mouth, depositing more of your arousal onto your tongue. 

niall was watching on, desperate for a taste of you, his breakfast long forgotten, pants pulled down halfway to his knees, shirt discarded somewhere on the floor. he hadn’t given in by touching himself yet, but his hand was gripped into his upper, inner thigh, and he was losing resolve. something about watching the two of you was so hot to niall. he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, but he thinks he could do this for the rest of his life. watch you two until he’s so worked up that he needs to join. 

your hips drop to louis’, his cock perfectly nestled between your folds, rolling yourself on him. the tip of his prick was hitting your clit so deliciously, then catching on your entrance with every sway of your hips. you were picking up speed, teased right to the edge just moments ago, now furiously in search of the high you’d been denied.

“makin yourself feel good, pet ?” niall asks, his eyes roaming both your bodies, entranced in the glistening pool of arousal you’ve left behind on louis’ skin, the little red fingerprint indents in your hips and your bum from the strength of louis’ grasp. it was a miracle niall had been able to hold out so long, and still somehow finding the composure to not jump in just yet.

louis’ eyes were trained on your centres, watching you use him to pleasure yourself. with every backwards glide of your hips, he could see just how wet you were making him, feeling your arousal pool below his cock. he could feel your clenches whenever he’d hit a more sensitive spot, could hear your moans getting breathier, your urgency becoming greater. you were close again. that much, louis was good at reading. and just as you were about to scream out, he was pulling your hips clean off of his, leaving you with no friction, and no means to reach your peak.

you do end up screaming out, although not as erotically as you’d planned. it was just about the most frustrating thing you could think of, making your entire body twitch as it came down from nothing. “please,” you find yourself begging, “please louis, please,” you add whinier, whimpering as you grip into him.

niall catches the moment that louis’ eyes flicked to his. louis was checking in, making sure that this wasn’t pushing you too far. he thinks that so far, he’s only witnessed you revelling in multiple orgasms. he’s never been a part of a scene that involved edging with you. by niall’s reaction though, louis knows you’re alright, that this isn’t your first time, that your whines hadn’t reached any thresholds as of yet. 

and so, without hesitation, louis slides his cock inside you, angling his tip right for your sweet spot, something else he’s learned, and gotten quite pro at. it knocks the air straight out of your lungs, gasping for a breath, as louis keeps up a slow, hard pace. 

your head rolled forward, looking down at louis desperately, unshed tears pooling in your eyes, pleading gaze hitting him. for the first time, he held all the cards. he could see that you were on the edge of tipping into floatiness. and no matter how much power your gaze held, louis needed to see where he could push you. as soon as your cunt started to flutter on him, tremors almost overlapping, louis pulls out, “not yet, darling,” he groans, watching the shift in your eyes. 

louis only felt fully comfortable doing so with niall watching so attentively. he knew that if anything, niall had the situation under control. it appeased louis. and little did he know, it appeased you as well. 

your body falls forward again, being left on the peak, just to fall once again. your mouth crashes onto louis’, needing an anchor for a moment, gripping his hair for balance. you were a whimpery, panting mess, your hips flailing, trying to escape louis’ grasp. 

niall couldn’t hold back anymore. his cock was so hard, he was growing more and more needy, and he was desperate to have an opportunity at bringing you to the edge as well. so he comes to a stand behind you, fingers reaching out for your hole. 

the added touch made you jump slightly, not having realized that niall had gotten up and was now right there. he’s quick to reassuringly shush you, murmuring, “y’still stretched from last night ?” his fingertips dance around your ring of muscles, index slowly breaching. you were so mellow, muscles still relaxed from last night, niall would have no trouble joining the scene. it makes him reach over to the drawer in the end table by the couch, pulling out a small bottle of lube. 

louis looks on with a playful smirk and raised eyebrow, “dirty, the two of you,” he laughs, incredulously shaking his head. although, really, he shouldn’t be surprised at this point. obviously you two would have lube within easy reach, always at the ready. 

niall slowly eased his way inside you, your muscles giving way easily, eyes fluttering shut, mouth parting as you moan out. your face was buried in louis’ chest, back arched, hips straight up. louis gently coaxed your head up a tiny bit, enough for him to kiss you deeply. you were so tingly, so buzzy, egged on by the moans niall was echoing out from behind you. 

you were so close to the edge, brought closer and closer each time, almost permanently trembling. “please,” you whimper, needing to cum, needing it so badly. you were so hot, so desperate for a release. but niall didn’t allow it, pulled out a moment later, making you bite into louis’ lip, hard. your body trying to curl in on itself, unable to in the position you were in. “need to beg a lot more if you’re that desperate,” niall tuts with a smirk.

niall takes it upon himself to not allow you the break they’d been allowing you up until now, reaching below you to grip at louis’ prick, pulling a gasp from him, placing his cock right at your entrance, pressing you down to sit on him. both you and louis moan out loudly, bucking up into you, making you rise entirely, lifted by his hips, cock empaled into you. 

they were taking their turns, bringing you right to the edge, pulling out and letting the other have a turn. it was constant, keeping you right there, unable to attain your peak. your body was limply being shuffled from straight up against niall’s chest, to folded over louis’ body. you were gasping for air, pleading with loud whines. the back and forth and back and forth feeling of switching holes and switching cocks, you could barely keep up, not with the way you were floating now, so far gone. you felt so properly used, like a doll for them to fuck. and you loved it. the best release.

you’d lost count of how many times they alternated being inside you. all you knew was that you were about to lose any resolve. you were teetering on the peak, and niall had started recognizing that their time inside you was getting shorter and shorter. but really, niall wasn’t ready to give you what you wanted. he and louis, however-

niall decides to keep your hips floating, above louis and a bit too far from himself. he reaches down below you, gripping louis’ cock and tugging quickly. it pokes a hard breath from his lungs, head falling back and baring his throat, “fuck, niall, fuck,” louis whines out, the sudden contrast from the slowness of his thrusts inside you, to the quickness of niall’s hand threw him in a bit of a frenzy. 

as floaty as you were, you recognized that niall was working louis now, was bringing him to his own edge, while still denying you yours. it made you whine more desperately, crying out pleads, tears streaming down your cheeks as you realize that they’ll be letting themselves cum. without you. something they both manage quickly with all of their own edging in the process.

louis moans out, cum painting both your pussy and his own stomach, back arching as he does. niall uses the cum on his hand to stroke himself, cumming moments later, also painting your sopping cunt. it was so dirty, the image that niall was privy to. your heat leaking a mixture of arousal and multiple loads of cum, right down onto louis’ cock. without much thought, niall leaves an open palm smack right over your centre.

you cry out loudly, muscles spasming, gush of liquid erupting from your cunt. the spanking wouldn’t make you cum, niall knew that. but it sure could make your squirt. “colour,” niall’s quick to ask, quicker than louis even thought of it, another testament as to why he likes to have niall around for these moments. and as soon as a quiet “green” spilled from your lips, louis had shuffled down, head between your legs, taking a turn in landing his own smack to your cunt. 

with another loud cry, you gushed some more liquid, louis’ mouth awaiting to catch as much as he could, happily humming as he swallowed. “want a taste, tommo,” niall grunted, landing another spank himself, louis ready to collect. he slithered from his spot between your legs, gripping into niall’s hair to tip his head back. louis pinched niall’s chin, making his mouth open, depositing your squirt into his mouth. niall moaned out, swallowing, mouth suctioning to louis’ in an intense kiss. their first one of the day. and they were indulging. full of tongue and teeth clattering, groaning right next to your ear, you whimpered, trying to get their attention, desperate for them. 

once louis pulled away breathlessly, noting how blissed out you looked, leaned back against niall, head tipped over his shoulder, gasping for small breaths, body trembling, tear stains on your cheeks. you looked beautiful. louis kisses his way back down your body, figuring he could give into you just a tiny bit, before smacking your abused cunt once again, needing to taste more. 

you were so far gone, you couldn’t think, your brain too prickly. the pleasure that had taken over your body was so intense, skin heated like it was being burned, electric zaps coursing through your veins. you’d long lost count of how many spanks your poor pussy had taken, revelling in the gushing pleasure it allowed you each time.

“make her cum,” niall speaks out to louis, starting to note just how far you’d fallen. no longer able to answer the question he’d been asking for a good minute. a question that you hadn’t even heard due to the ringing in your ears. nor had you registered the fact that he told louis to make you cum.

so a surprised squeak left your lips as his mouth closed around your puffy clit, suctioning it into his mouth, flicking his tongue quickly. “cum, petal,” niall murmurs against your ear, knowing that the words would reach your subconscious, trembling so hard as your high finally peaked. it was so strong, body wracking, you fell through niall’s arms, louis’ hands quickly reaching up to catch you. he slithered from under you again, letting you rest against his chest as you gasped and panted for breath, far out of consciousness.

you weren’t sure how long you’d been using louis to recover, but his hand was gently stroking your hair, niall sitting next to him, playing with your fingers, stroking your palm. 

it was the soft shuffle of your head, burying yourself more into louis, that makes him realize you’d come to. his other hand reaches around you to squeeze you lightly, niall smiling at you, “welcome back, petal.”

you hum, nodding, smiling at them, still too exhausted and weak to lift your head. “be here all day if y’need, darling,” louis murmurs quietly, ready to give you the comfort needed after the intensity of the scene. your heart melting at his willingness, humming breathily, leaving a soft kiss against his skin. 

niall can really see how good louis is with you, but also realizes that he’s leaning a little too much on his experience. he remembers the early days with you, when he could learn you and test with you. it’s those moments that brought you two as close as you are now. the opportunity to make safe mistakes and learn from them, getting to know each other intimately by trying and by getting messy. and he trusts louis, knows that you do too. it was just time for louis to trust himself, niall thinks. “we’re gonna need another talk, rethink those rules,” niall hums, watching you nod, and a fond smirk pull at louis’ lips. things had changed, it was time that the rules and the dynamic did as well.

……

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

tags : @acesofspadess @mar1posita @gorlsinmultifandoms @emmaarenstarr @slutforcoffein

@blondedmgc @daphnesutton @hslt-2809 @louischasesniall @take-a-cchonce

[onewhomariaentrusted]

Tell the class a scene you really like from DBH 👀

Oh this is probably going to be such an unoriginal opinion, especially for a Connor fan. But my fave would have to be the Bridge chapter scene. It's literally nothing but a tense conversation, yet it carries more weight for me than many of the other action packed scenes.

Hank having his "oh shit" moment where he finally comes to the realisation that androids may just be alive. And it's shaken him. I mean sure, he's worked with Connor for a day or so, and sure, he's seen some snippets throughout the investigation. Mostly androids running away or lashing out due to their mistreatment -- but robots showing love for one another? The arguably most human thing you could do? Hank didn't need the assistance in rationalising the want for another drink, but the Tracis sure helped anyway. At this point, I don't want to say that Hank's viewpoint is entirely changed, since if you're playing as machine Connor it can end quite badly, but it's what I would consider the most prominent turning point.

But what about Connor? I'm usually playing along the deviant route, so my Connor is usually snarky, but not an entire asshole like he is when you play full machine. And in those playthroughs, there's several small moments that Hank has seen Connor act sympathetic. But is it real? I like the fact that when Hank asks Connor why he didn't shoot the Tracis, the option for "Truth" is what leads to higher software instability. It may or may not be intended, but I'm definitely one of those that believe that Connor was designed to be a deviant. A deviant in the biggest amount of denial the world has ever seen. However, this chapter is what I would consider to be Connor's turning point.

I mentioned that I usually play the deviant route, but I would also note that when I do play machine Connor, I play him as manipulative. He will do and say whatever he can to achieve his goals -- this usually means being nice to Hank where possible -- but not at the risk of the mission. In this chapter however, if you've been acting as a machine this entire time, many dialogue options are locked out. And from memory there is no way to increase the relationship with Hank in this scene. There is no lying to him. No manipulation. It's either cool neutrality, or aggression. And for reasons I can't quite put into words, I really enjoy that fact.

[violetduchess]

Hot things they do:

Summary: Hot things the Hashira do.

CW: Suggestive content

Note: The people have spoken and I have delivered.

Rengoku

Rengoku has a habit of running his hands through his hair, a gesture that's become almost second nature to him. It's not a nervous habit, but rather a confident and unconscious display of his self-assured nature.

Every time Rengoku runs his hands through his hair, a few strands inevitably fall in front of his face. The way those strands frame his handsome features adds an irresistible charm, making him even more attractive.

After an intense training session, Rengoku's body is drenched in sweat, highlighting the contours of his toned muscles. It's a sight that leaves you mesmerized and longing for his touch.

Those strong arms of his, glistening with sweat, hold an undeniable allure. They exude a sense of power and strength that could easily overpower you, and the mere thought of it sends shivers down your spine.

In your wildest fantasies, you can't help but imagine being at Rengoku's mercy, his arms wrapped around you tightly. The thought of him using his strength to pleasure and dominate you is both thrilling and irresistible.

Rengoku's physical prowess combined with his gentle and caring nature creates an intoxicating blend. The contrast between his powerful presence and his tenderness is what makes him utterly captivating and irresistible.

You find yourself yearning for those moments after training, when Rengoku's muscles are still slightly taut from exertion. The sight of his sculpted physique fuels your desires, and you can't help but crave the touch of his strong, capable hands.

Sanemi

Sanemi's habit of using simple phrases like "hm?" or "mhm" may seem minimal, but there's something about the way he says them that sends your heart racing. The rawness and directness in his voice have a captivating effect, drawing you in and making every word he utters incredibly significant.

When Sanemi wants your undivided attention, he lifts your chin with the top of his pointer finger, gently guiding your gaze to meet his. The intimate contact ignites a surge of electricity within you, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything else. Face-to-face with Sanemi, it's as if the entire world fades away, leaving only the two of you in an intense connection.

Whenever Sanemi is near, it feels as though you're floating in orbit, completely enthralled by his presence. His commanding aura and magnetic personality are captivating, making it hard to tear your eyes away from him. Every interaction becomes a mesmerizing experience, leaving you spellbound.

While Sanemi may not be one to share grand gestures or elaborate speeches, his silence holds great significance. In those moments when he chooses not to speak, his focused gaze and unwavering attention communicate volumes. The intensity in his eyes conveys more than words ever could, leaving you breathless and eager for his next move.

Sanemi's presence has an undeniable magnetic pull, drawing you closer and leaving you captivated. Whether it's the sound of his voice or the touch of his finger against your skin, the effect he has on you is undeniable. In his company, the world around you fades into insignificance, and all that matters is the connection you share.

Giyuu

In the early morning hours, as the sun gently kisses the horizon, Giyuu's voice awakens. It carries a certain allure, a perfect balance of raspy tones and a hint of sleepiness. It's the kind of voice that makes you want to listen to him speak endlessly, losing yourself in the melodic cadence of his words.

During his training sessions at home, there are moments when Giyuu dons clothing that is just slightly too short, revealing glimpses of his well-defined abs as he stretches his body. It's a sight that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine, an enticing display of his physical strength and dedication.

Every now and then, when his gaze catches yours, Giyuu playfully remarks that "staring isn't polite," his deadpan manner adding an unexpected charm to the situation. It's his way of acknowledging your attention while maintaining his composed demeanor, a playful interaction that leaves a lingering sense of warmth and teasing in the air.

Gyomei

Gyomei's protective nature always has you by his side, seeking comfort in your presence. He instinctively pulls you close, finding solace in your proximity, especially in crowded places.

You feel a gentle pressure against your lower back as Gyomei's hand rests there, creating a comforting connection that sends pleasant shivers down your spine. It's a subtle gesture that makes you acutely aware of the effect he unknowingly has on you.

In public, Gyomei's preference for keeping you close is evident. He wraps his arm around your waist, creating a shield of security and making you feel cherished. The physical contact sends warmth flooding through your veins.

The sensation of Gyomei's hand on your lower back becomes a source of both comfort and excitement. It's a touch that reassures him and stirs something deep within you, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken connection between you.

Gyomei's protective grip on your waist in public spaces becomes a silent declaration of his trust and reliance on your presence. His touch radiates a calming energy, reminding you of the unspoken bond that exists between you.

Mitsuri

Mitsuri's excitement is contagious. Whenever she gets enthusiastic about something, her eyes sparkle like a starry summer night, and her vibrant voice carries her joy for miles.

There's an undeniable charm in Mitsuri's little habit of bouncing up and down when she's excited something else bounces too. It's like her energy can't be contained, and it adds an adorable touch to her already endearing personality.

Animals are drawn to Mitsuri's gentle nature and warm energy. They have a natural affinity for her, and it's not uncommon to see furry creatures flocking to her side. She welcomes their presence with open arms and finds comfort in their company.

Uzui

Uzui, in moments of vulnerability, finds comfort in resting his head in his partner's lap. It's an intimate gesture that creates a sense of closeness and trust between them.

When Uzui slowly opens his eyes, his gaze carries a magnetic quality. It's as if the world falls into place around him, and his partner can't help but be captivated by the depth and intensity within his gaze.

There's something undeniably alluring about the way Uzui lowers his head, whether in deep thought or as a display of his relaxed demeanor. His partner finds themselves drawn to his subtle movements, which exude confidence and a touch of mystery.

Uzui's undeniable self-assurance is a magnetic quality that draws others to him. He knows he's attractive, and his partner can't help but be intrigued by his confident presence.

Uzui's effortless charm and attractiveness seem to emanate from within. It's as if he effortlessly carries an aura of refinement and sensuality, leaving his partner unable to resist his magnetic appeal.

Shinobu

Shinobu has a penchant for oversized sweaters, particularly during the colder months. Despite the slightly loose fit, she still manages to look incredibly stylish, especially with the cozy sweaters emphasizing her delicate frame.

However, due to their oversized nature, the sleeves of the sweaters tend to be a bit too long for Shinobu. As a result, she often finds herself with sweaterpaws, her delicate hands peeking out from the oversized sleeves. along with the top of her breast,

While Shinobu doesn't actively sing on her own accord, she possesses a beautiful singing voice. Most of the time, she unconsciously hums tunes to herself when she's lost in her thoughts or at ease. The melodic hums serve as a testament to her tranquil nature.

Obanai

Whenever a single strand of hair dares to stray onto his partner's face, Obanai can't help but brush it away with the lightest touch. He does it with such nonchalance that it often catches them off guard, leaving them flustered and secretly thrilled by his subtle display of affection.

Obanai finds great delight in teasing his partner by brushing away those tiny stray hairs. He'll do it playfully, pretending to be completely absorbed in the act while slyly observing their adorable reaction. It becomes their little game, with both of them cherishing these tender moments.

Muichiro

Muichiro has a habit of fixing his gaze on you, his eyes filled with adoration, and he can't seem to take them away from your presence.

Whenever you catch him staring, a soft smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and his dimples make a subtle appearance, adding to his charming demeanor.

You can't help but feel a blush creep up your cheeks as you ask him what he's looking at, only to receive a gentle shake of his head accompanied by a quiet smile, leaving you wondering about the thoughts behind his adoring gaze.

Muichiro's unwavering attention and admiration for you make you feel incredibly special and cherished, as if you're the center of his world.

His silent adoration speaks volumes, expressing a depth of emotion that transcends words, creating a connection between you that is both sweet and intimate.

Despite his quiet nature, Muichiro's eyes communicate his feelings with such clarity and sincerity, leaving you with a warm and fuzzy feeling in your heart.

It's a delightful and slightly embarrassing secret between the two of you, as you both understand the unspoken language of his adoring gaze and the love it conveys.

All rights reserved @violetduchess. All works of fanfiction belong to me, please do not copy, translate or repost any works without my express permission. Thank you.~☆

[crossdressingdeath]

A thing I wish DAO went into more: the way Alistair is in some ways incredibly selfish. Like, the way he refuses to take charge of the group is treated as kind of endearing in the text, but the game doesn't really get into what a massive burden he just... drops on the junior Warden present with no warning or discussion. Think about it: the Warden is heavily implied to be very young (possibly younger than Alistair, definitely around the same age), most of them have no real experience in leadership, several of them have no experience in the world outside their small corner, all of them have only been Wardens for a few days. And Alistair dumps leadership of the group on them and refuses to take any of that weight. Does your Warden like leadership? Are they any good at it? Is it exhausting and difficult for them? Alistair doesn't care! He doesn't want to lead, and that means you have to lead, and whether or not you want to lead has no bearing on that. It's not a discussion, there's no suggestion of sharing the responsibility of leadership as the Wardens of the group; Alistair metaphorically throws the responsibility at you and runs.

But if you go for low approval with Alistair it's basically all about calling him childish and immature, even though I think a much more compelling low approval dynamic is the Warden despising Alistair for putting so much on them with no hesitation, but being stuck with him (because they know as well as he does that they need all hands on deck Warden-wise) and stuck with that burden of leadership (because a Warden kind of has to be in charge of the group and even if one didn't no one else in the group would be very good as a leader in this situation, and Alistair has made it very clear that he won't take it). Even at high approval it would be very compelling to have this sense of resentment at how Alistair just assumed they'd take on the burden of leadership and refuses to take any of it for himself. But that aspect gets completely ignored in the story, you don't really get the chance to raise the matter aside from asking why you're in charge despite him being the senior Warden present a couple of times.

It also adds something really spicy to the fallout of sparing Loghain, though, because... Alistair forced the Warden to take on leadership. He made them be the one to make these hard choices. It's never been a discussion, it's never been the Warden's choice whether or not they take on responsibility for these tough decisions, Alistair always just expects them to do it. And now they've made a call he doesn't like, and he abandons the group on the eve of battle because of his wounded feelings? I'd argue that's as much a betrayal as sparing Loghain if not more so, and certainly more of a betrayal of Duncan's memory; Duncan understood that a good Warden must be driven by necessity, not emotion or even morality, and I feel like in the Warden's place he likely would've made the same call. They need Wardens around to kill the Archdemon, as many as they can get, and even one more could make the difference between victory and defeat. The Warden and Alistair may not know the details, but with the most senior Warden present saying they should make Loghain a Warden instead of killing him a logical assumption would be he has a very good reason for saying so and maybe they should listen to him! I would've loved it if during the argument with Alistair after sparing Loghain you could really get into that "You forced the responsibility of making these decisions on me when I never wanted or asked for it, you don't get to throw a tantrum now that I've made one you don't like" aspect of it, but you... don't. And that's a shame, because it takes a lot of depth away from his dynamic with the Warden.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

It started back when he was 16.

His parents found out about him and Vlad thanks to the fruitloop being an idiot and practically outing them both. Danny was so lucky that he had planned for a situation like this. He had go-bags ready with a few changes of clothes, a thermos, some weapons, a star projector, lots of money from Sam and enough medical supplies to make a hospital jealous.

It was a good thing too, after crippling the GIW and destroying all the gear they and the Fentons had they destroyed their research and everything ghost related. Vlad at this point was already dead so he wasn't much of a concern.

Dannys had landed in an alley in a new dimension, only problem now was the parting shot his mother gave him on his back. Due to the placement of it Danny couldn't reach to treat it properly and he didn't know anyone in this dimension who could help him.

Thats when his ghost sense went off. He groaned, hoping he wouldn't have to fight a new ghost in this state when a man in a red helmet (Mask?) walked up to him and motioned for peace.

"I'm not going to hurt you." The man said gently, "I just wanna look at that injury, maybe help."

Danny stared at him. He didn't feel anything off about the guy and Danny prided himself on being a good judge of character. "Okay." He scooted himself around so his back was exposed to the stranger.

"Wow, you're really not from around here." Danny stiffened, had he been tricked? The man made no moves to hurt him, just got to work tending to his wound. The man was swift, and aside from the slight sting of an ointment he didn't recognize there was no pain at all.

Once Danny was all patched up the guy made to leave, "Wait!" Danny called out and the man halted, "Who are you?" The man turned his head to look back at him, still facing away from him, "Red Hood."

As it turned out, Red Hood was the new up and coming crime lord who everyone was talking about. He came seemingly out of nowhere and was making a lot of waves in Gothams underbelly. Gotham...so this was Dannys new haunt.

Danny wanted to protect it but...he wanted to protect Red Hood even more. So when he heard about Red Hood forming a gang he made a decision. He gathered up materials to make his own supervillian outfit- basically an all black outfit with a long hooded coat and combat boots- and to add the finishing touch he put on a all white gas mask that he had made himself, complete with a voice modulator, night vision, heat vision, etc. If Hood ever wanted him to prove it was him he could make his mask glow using his ghost powers. Not that it was needed. Hood seemed to be able to sense him in a similar way that Danny could but in a much much smaller range.

With that being said, hoods men didn't trust him at first, which was fair considering he just started randomly appearing at their operations and helping them out...by force usually. They weren't sure what to make of him but Danny didn't want to go through the usual goon enlistment process as Hood would want to know his name and face and everything else and Phantom was...well a phantom.

Danny liked to hide, even in plain sight. He couldn't deny the little game of cat and mouse they had was fun. Hood would try to follow him home or track him or get him to take off the mask and Phantom would dodge his attempts every time.

It took a while, but Red Hood did eventually come to trust him, going so far as to make Danny his right hand man after 3 years of working together, though that may also be because he had rarely failed any of the tasks Hood had given him.

Maybe thats why he never told any of the bats about him. He had picked up that there was something between Hood and the bats but he never could figure out what it was without prying into his bosses personal life. Still, it was rather shocking when Red Hood showed up one day with a large red bat symbol splayed across his chest.

It also made him look at how freaking chiseled his boss was. He couldn't count how many times he had to drag his eyes away from his abs and chastise himself for thinking that way.

Danny was in love with a man whos face he would never see. But that was fine. He was happier standing by this man's side and yearning than he ever was back in Amity and it wasn't like Hood knew his face or name either.

-----------

He felt like a halfa though an incomplete one. He had a core but it felt hollow, like the soul was forcibly removed somehow and only emotions remained. Hood gained a bad reputation for flying into a monstrous rage but was always calm when Danny was near, a fact that even Red Hood himself seemed to pick up on.

Hood began to fall for his second in command pretty quickly, always trying to feed him and take care of him (as is his love language) while Danny was openly obsessed with assuring Hoods safety and well being even going so far as to use his powers (that no one knows about) to overshadow a computer and hack into the bats systems to make sure Hood was okay after a prolonged period of him being MIA.

The bats are freaked but Danny being Danny gets lucky and they always seem to miss his trail by a hair. Lucky ghost.

Things start going sideways when Fenton tech starts showing up in this new dimension only for Danny to find out his parents have remade the portal and are looking for him. The bats are being hunted by his parents and and the now rogue government agency the GIW. Danny tries to explain things to Hood without compromising his own secrets but once the newest Robin gets captured and Hood freaks Danny puts everything on the line to go rescue the stabby bird.

[fourmoony]

hey, you could do something with reader telling james (or poly!marauders) that you're pregnant. reader was tense and hesitant about what his reaction would be, as she thought he wouldn't like the idea

thanks for requesting!

f!reader 1k cw: pregnancy

James has his head almost inside the pot of soup on the stove, poking and prodding at it with a wooden spoon as though it may bite him, when you cross through the arched entryway of the kitchen. He turns his head over his shoulder when he hears your socked feet padding across the tiled flooring, glasses fogged up and his smile bright.

"I don't think I did it right." He tells you, forbearing a greeting all together.

His brows hook in the middle when he turns back to the pot, lips pouted just a little. You peek over his shoulder to find a simmering pot of vegetable water and find yourself biting back a smile. Sweet James, your loving and doting boyfriend, always up for a challenge. You don't have the heart to tell him there's entirely too much water and not nearly enough stock in the pot, so you rub his shoulder encouragingly, place a kiss to it, after. "Looks lovely, handsome."

It pulls a warm smile out of your boyfriend, who seems more encouraged by your words than you think he should be. He's so trusting, so loving, leads with his heart and his soul, and nothing else. He puts too much faith in you.

"Remus' never looks like this, but I s'pose thats because he does it in the slow cooker." James placates himself with a shrug, eyes back on the steaming pot.

You hum a mild agreement, pulling yourself up onto the worktop so you're facing James. He likes the company whenever he's cooking. You like the domesticity, the routine, spending time with him whilst completing a task, talking about your day, your friends. It's nice, to be so comfortable with the person you love.

"Did you write down the instructions as he was giving you them? Or are you going from memory?" You ask James apprehensively.

He doesn't reply at first, too occupied with throwing a load of raw potatoes into the pot. They drop to the bottom of the pot with a sickening thud, water splashing over the sides. James winces as a droplet catches the side of his arm and turns to you with a weary look, "From memory. He was going too fast and the landline was crackly."

There's no saving the soup now, so you allow James to continue his ministrations. You'll pretend it's even better than Remus'. Anything for James. Anything to see him smile.

"He said he hopes you're feeling better soon, by the way. Sirius, too." James adds, face dangerously close to the open flame of the gas cooker as he adjusts the heat.

You blanch. You'd mentioned feeling poorly to James yesterday morning, a little tired, a little sick, stiff, the normal beginnings of a cold. The soup makes sense, now. "You asked Remus for his soup recipe because I mentioned feeling a little poorly once?"

James nods, shrugs like it's no big deal.

You've never felt this kind of love before, the kind of care and consideration James has.

"Jamie, I'm not poorly." Your voice is a little unsteady.

You'd wanted to wait, tell him when you'd figured out how you felt about it yourself. Wanted to be sure whether this was something you wanted, something James would want. You know he's a good man, a good person with a massive heart, but you've not been together for as long as you'd have liked, you're not married, there's a list of things that could make James run for the hills and you wouldn't blame him.

But you know him. You know James Potter. He's never ran from anything.

"Well it's too late for that, I've already made the ruddy soup, now." James teases, poking the pudge of your thigh with the tip of the wooden spoon.

"James," You try to garner his full attention, away from the burning vegetable water, "I wasn't poorly."

He frowns, probably trying to pin together the phrase with the way you're acting and comes up with nothing, so he says nothing.

"I'm pregnant."

James doesn't say anything for a minute. You can't read him. Eyes wide, jaw slack, eyebrows lost in the messy tuft of his fringe. Just when you think the silence might choke you, the fire alarm sounds, loud and abrasive. It kick starts your boyfriend's brain and he grabs the nearest tea towel, motioning for you to stay put, and wafts the smoke away from the detector.

After, in the silence that follows, he leans over the kitchen sink and opens the window, turns off the stove.

"When did you find out?" He asks, voice unwaveringly calm.

Your heart slams against your rib cage, scared and begging you to run, "This morning."

James nods, "How do you feel?"

"Nauseous. Confused. Scared."

James softens, crosses the distance between you. His hands are soft on your face when he slots between your legs, eyes swimming with emotion. He smells faintly like OXO stock cubes and his normal cologne as he rests his forehead against yours and heaves a deep breath. "You wanna do this?"

"Only if you do." You answer truthfully.

"I love you, you know that?" His voice comes out hoarse, and you realise he's holding back tears.

Tears spring to your eyes, too, when you nod, "I know."

"There's no one else I'd rather do it with."

Relief washes over you like a bucket of cold water, bringing the air back to your lungs, life back to your heart. You're laughing into the kiss that James presses to your lips, giddy and excited. He presses two gentle pecks there, after, and one to your forehead.

"Holy shit I'm gonna be a Dad." He sounds awed, in disbelief.

You laugh, "Yeah. You are."

"And you're gonna be a Mum."

"That's generally how it works, babe." You say placatingly, thumbs swiping over his rounded cheeks, holding his face in place. His smile is like the sun, bright and blinding. You feel warm all over just looking at it.

"I need to phone Sirius." James announces, turning on his heel to make for the landline.

You shouldn't be surprised, not when Sirius is an extension of your boyfriend's being. So, you simply wait until you can hear James ramming his fingers against the telephone, and dump a couple more stock cubes into the soup.

He can thank you later.

[heartsofminds]

i'm calling just to hear you scream - part ii.

“Free means “fuck.” She’s gonna fuck us, Sugar and you don’t even fucking care!” or it's your first day at The Bear (or is it The Beef still?), Richie is convinced you're a fed, and Carmen may or may not hate your guts.

A/N: well surprise, surprise! here's part two of i'm calling just to hear you scream. definitely more of a filler chapter before everything starts to implode and get more serious and downright grimey, but i hope you enjoy!

The shadows created by the awnings of the sandwiched businesses chill your bones while the Sun makes your backside sticky beneath your sweater and light spring jacket. Chicago is beautiful in March, but always full of surprises.

One day comes an icy snowstorm that adds to the gray slush collecting on the side of the street and the next a blissful sixty-one degrees that gaslights everyone into walking around with shorts on because it’s just “so warm.” 

You can’t revel in the tranquility for much longer. Not when you’re pretty sure you’re coming up on the address Natalie emailed you two nights ago. 628 West Wager Street sits prettily in between an old antique shop and a Chicago Cubs merchandise store that has definitely seen better days. Despite no sign hanging on the window and the glass completely shielded from outside eyes by brown butcher paper, it somehow looks like it belongs; the younger sibling of a once booming and vibrant street scene. 

Being outside of the door is a feeling that fills you with both anxiety and uncertainty. You know you’re in the right spot but you don’t feel like you are; not when you can’t hear any noise coming from any of the three storefronts that stand in front of you. You’re made even more uneasy when you see the five by eleven sheet of insulated foil wrap with capital letters written in Sharpie taped to the front window. 

The Beef is closed. Thank you for your patronage. The Bear is coming. 

The nerves start to hit you even harder. All Natalie had mentioned over the phone and through your frequent emails have been about needing help with a restaurant. The name of the aforementioned restaurant had never been disclosed and its location remained a mystery until this morning when you got an email with the unspoken directions that Apple Maps would omit. There’s nothing more embarrassing than doing a consult and not knowing any of the details. It’s even more humiliating when the feeling of being made a fool seems inevitable. 

Your arm refuses to move forward and yank the door open in case this is some sick prank. You half expect Becca to be hiding behind it with the “good ole boys” crew that is full of Senior and Junior partners at your law firm; their only purpose is to further humiliate and belittle you more than they already do on a day-to-day basis at the office. 

It’s a ridiculous thing to think that someone would care enough about you and your shame to do that, you know, but it’s the only way you can rationalize your brain warning you not to touch that door. Your eyes catch your reflection and suddenly you want the concrete sidewalk to swallow you whole. You take in how your navy blue pantsuit engulfs you and how your work bag seems to get heavier and heavier as it hangs solemnly at your side. 

You don’t belong here. 

The itch to turn around and run back to the train as fast as you could possibly manage crosses your mind, but the shattering of the quiet oasis around you interrupts that thought before it can materialize. 

“Do you ever shut the fuck up!” you hear a voice scream.

“Do you ever realize you don’t know fuckin’ everything!” another one screams back. 

The sound of a wall being hit accompanies the shouts as well as numerous other voices joining in on the cacophony the verbal altercation created. 

Call it a hunch (or just having enough common sense), but you definitely are in the right place and there are certainly people inside. The scary part of not knowing is over. The absolutely horrifying part of having to see where you fit in is pending. 

Your fingers grip the solid metal door handle and you rip it open. The resounding squeal it emits makes you want the floor to swallow you up whole. The chaos of screaming shouting and yelling start to pause before the sound of the sledgehammer hitting the wall a second time interrupts it and sends it into a full frenzy once again. 

The world seems to be moving in slow motion and your words are caught in your throat. You’ve never seen chaos like this before, but you’ve definitely felt the way you’re currently feeling every day for the past five years. Faces you don’t know, a nagging feeling of responsibility, a dire need to do the best job you possibly can and not fucking up and not pissing anyone off, and yet no idea where to even start. 

“If I already fuckin’ told you you were tearing the wrong wall down why the actual fuck would you do it again!” a strained scream bounces off the walls. 

You jolt at the echo. The current lack of infrastructure and an igloo of scaffolding tarp amplifies the sound by three thousand decibels. 

He can’t see your face because his back is turned toward you, but the temperament and the mop of curls tell you the obvious. Carmen. Natalie’s brother and shareholder that she had subtly warned you about in a half-joking, half-not tone when you had spoken on the phone the other day. 

“To prove a fucking point,” a lankier taller man scoffs back. Richie. Their cousin, not cousin (which you don’t really understand, but you chalk it up to a deduction that not everything is meant to make sense), and the absolute bane of Natalie and Carmen’s existence at times. She had also warned you about him on the phone. “Even if I’m wrong you never fail to always think you’re fucking right like a – like a fucking baby! You walk around here pissed the fuck off and fucking changing everything and makin’ it everyone else’s fucking problem –” 

Carmen lunges at him and two other men from the crowd almost pick him up from the floor to prevent him from tackling Richie. 

“Everyone else’s prob – You’re my fucking problem! You’re my fuckin’ problem and all you know how to do is fuck up and make everything fuckin’ worse!” 

“Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuckin’ pissy ass pamper cry baby.” 

Carmen tries his hardest to wrangle himself out of the hold he’s currently in. Sydney, a genius and the Lord’s prayer (according to Natalie, also), clumps herself near him as he remains twisting and turning like a toddler fighting a parent’s protective hold through a temper tantrum. 

“Chill, chill, chill. Stop. Just stop,” she gently coos. Her hand claps the shoulder of one of the men holding him up. You can see the gentle squeeze it gives to provide silent comfort, but you wonder if the softness in her tone is to deescalate the situation or to help regulate herself. 

He’s dragged out to what you can assume is the backdoor and it slams with a cadence that demands attention. A sharp thud can be heard five seconds later accompanied by various, “Yo, what the fuck, dude?”’s. 

He must have kicked the door. He definitely kicked the door. 

Your body continues to stay frozen in the bare entryway. The survival skills you’ve adapted kick into full effect. Don’t make a move. Don’t make a sound. Do not piss anyone else off. 

The aftermath of commotion and chatter fills the room and leaves no space for you. You have half the mind to put your hand back on the handle and dip out before anyone notices. You’ve been here all of three minutes and you feel as if it’s been a year. The shouting and the hurtful insults and the frequent use of the word “fuck” send a blush down your chest. You’re embarrassed because you’re starting to think that you can’t handle it. You’re not good enough. You’re not strong enough. 

What the fuck were you thinking even coming here? 

The push of your thigh against the door causes the rusted metal hinge to groan again. The sound is indiscernible from relief or protest; staying or leaving. Either option makes your skin crawl. The sudden redirection of eyes casts a dome of silence and everyone zones in on the thing that wasn’t there before: you. 

No one moves and for a second, you don’t think anyone blinks. The realization of someone infiltrating a rather robust and rage-filled argument occurring at nine in the morning sinks in before the vein of awkwardness begins to bleed. You know the logical thing to do is to introduce yourself; to force a plaster-like smile on your face and extend your hand and ask how everyone is doing. 

But you don’t. 

You can’t. 

Natalie can feel the alarm bells going off in her head when her eyes float to your figure. You look worried; a flash of pensiveness and subtle fear floods your facial expression and she starts to panic. Opening a restaurant is beyond humbling and asking Becca Cantor for her help was a last-ditch effort to contain the smallest bit of confidence she had left. Besides, she would rather roll over and die than you to walk out that door, tell Becca about how they’re sledgehammering walls with a gang of lunatics at the restaurant, and somehow get a call from Uncle Jimmy that turns into a stern talking to about how they’re just dicking around with his money and how it’s a waste of time. 

You absolutely, positively can not walk out that door. 

She’ll make sure of it. Even if it’s the last thing she ever fucking does. 

Her feet carry her faster than what her brain is aware of. Her eyes have to catch up with the scenery passing her in a blur as she walks up to you. Seeing her face calms you down in a way that is small but not unnoticed. She has kind eyes and a calm demeanor. This is the kind of client that gives you confidence. This is the kind of client that brings you joy. This is the kind of work you were made to do. 

“Oh, hey! You found it!” she cheers. Her hand brushes against your bicep in a welcome. 

The pool of spit inside your mouth gets swallowed as you curtly nod. “Yeah! Yeah, I thought Apple Maps led me astray but I was definitely in the right spot.” 

Pretending not to notice the curious gazes behind your interaction proves difficult, but it’s not something you’re not used to. Working in an office means there’s always someone in your business and you always feel like you’re under constant surveillance. 

At least this time, the threat of humiliation seems considerably low. The obvious danger of being chased out of here with a sledgehammer is considerably high though. 

“How are you doing?” you ask quietly. A conversation of niceties always makes things less awkward and gives you some leeway for at least learning who the owners are of the staring eyes. 

“Yo, who the fuck is this, Suge?” Richie asks, wiping his plaster-covered hands on his shirt. His face still harbors a flush that had yet to dissipate. He also has kind eyes but you know from the moments you witnessed prior that he can turn his kindness off and on instantaneously. 

Natalie rolls her eyes and huffs. The damage control that she’s doing is not going to plan. She had grown up around cursing and incredibly forward questioning and knows that not everyone else had, and from the disastrous commotion you stumbled into five minutes prior and the way your eyes show more of the whites than the irises, the crudeness needs to take a backseat. 

At least enough of one to ensure that you’re not about to turn around and bolt out of that shitty ass door that she had been bitching at Richie to oil for the past two months. 

She moves to stand next to you and puts her arm around your shoulder. Natalie knows that the second they find out that you’re an attorney all hell will break loose. Something about accusing you of being “fed” and coming to rip the “fundamentals of democracy” out from under them brews in her mind and she gags a little at the thought of having to diffuse yet another shit show before ten in the morning. 

The unwelcome taste of acid tinging the back of her tongue makes her take a mental note to ask her OB about being so nauseous. 

“This is our attorney,” she starts and begins to ignore the groans coming from the crowd in front of her, “She’s gonna help us with some...things.” 

Richie scoffs and throws his hands up. He wipes at his nose with his forearm and some of the plaster residue makes a home on the tip of it. 

“You brought a fuckin’ fed in here, Sugar?” His eyebrows rise to his hairline and it doesn’t take a genius to know how he doesn’t want you here at all. “I told you I had this under wraps. The fuck do we need a fed up our ass for if we’re just tearin’ down walls and shit.” 

You sigh and Natalie can feel the anxiety radiating off of you. She’s starting to absorb it, but the fight in her to make this right persists. 

“Well, first of all, the fed has a fucking name, you dick,” she snaps, “And you’ve been slinging beef sandwiches your entire adult life so the fuck do we need you for?”  

Richie exhales as the rest of the people around him start to snicker. 

“Damn, Papa. You need to pipe down,” whom you guess is Tina from some of the people who had been mentioned to you through the phone calls (and there’s so many goddamn people in here for it to be out of business and you’re sure you’ll need to start doing flashcards every night to remember who they are). 

“Thanks, T,” Natalie and Richie chirp in unison; their voices capturing the different emotions of annoyance and triumph differently. 

Some more harsh words and excited chatter served with a side of frustration occurs and you’re so checked out that you don’t even realize that no one has asked you directly what your name is. The animated voices and exaggerated body movement swell the room even more; pushing you outside and three blocks away so vividly through emotion that you have to check to make sure your feet haven’t moved. 

No one has asked who you are and which firm you came from. No one has asked how you are. And still, no one has asked you what your name is. 

They continue to talk and joke and yell and you start to feel yourself shrinking in. 

Smaller, smaller, smaller. 

Gone. 

You know that it’s not personal. It’s almost never personal, but the mind tends to conjure up ideas when it can’t make sense of the feelings it detects from the body. 

Maybe it had just gotten thrown to the wayside. Maybe they were making room for direct conversation with you to occur later when things weren’t so awkward. Maybe they don’t hate you and think you’re the worst and may actually like you.

But then maybe they don’t. 

Maybe they just don’t give a fuck. 

In your catatonic daze, you hear an offhanded remark about how you look like a high schooler who just waltzed in after a Model UN convention and that Natalie has no idea what the fuck she was doing. The laughter that follows highlights those who actively agree and the agitated huffs of frustration show those who silently concur. 

In any other circumstance, you probably would have joined them in laughter or returned a smart-alecky response or accompanied them in making fun of you, but this isn’t a different circumstance. You’re in a construction zone on a Saturday morning, overdressed with a pantsuit on, and have not a clue on how hospitality law works, and the facts leave a non-disputable conclusion. 

You’re the odd one out and you can’t get an invite to be even no matter how hard you try.

You truly don’t belong here. 

“Richie, have you ever considered that maybe we need to do it right this time?” Natalie asks, her tone dripping annoyance, “Her being here clearly doesn’t affect your ability to be an idiot, so you can go fuck yourself because she’s staying.” 

Richie narrows his eyes at her. His lanky limbs flail as he attempts to make his emotions seen without having to verbalize them. Natalie has had it with his stubbornness and she knows that she might be puking her guts out in about fifteen minutes. The great debate has to have an ending in sight soon. 

Besides, she knows that Richie’s apprehension toward the whole thing is because he’s resisting change and trying to get under Carmen’s skin. It doesn’t matter how great she knows her brother can make something. Richie will try and put a pin in it before it becomes something he no longer recognizes. 

Just like their dad. Somewhat like Mikey. Especially like Carmen (even though she knows he doesn’t recognize his own stubbornness yet). 

“Jesus, that’s fuckin’ horse shit if I’ve heard it,” he sneers, “And I happen to be very intelligent and very charming – and FYI – I also know how a fucking business works and all this “foo-foo,” “high dining”, microgreen shit –” 

She holds up her hand to him and rolls her eyes. She’s surprised she hasn’t been able to see the back of her skull yet. “It’s fine dining, but whatever.” 

“Fuck all the way off. Fine dining, microgreen shit is a dishonor to our roots and I will not stand for it.” 

Natalie’s hand smacks down on a metal rolling table with a rusty toolbox and a wrinkled pad of Post-it notes. The sounds of clanky metal snap everyone’s attention to her. Natalie was never mean. She was always sugary sweet and ooey gooey; trying to be in everyone’s good graces at all times and forever attempting to fix things before they had the potential to be broken. But she could also brush the sugar off and leave a bitter and tongue-curdling hurt if she got pushed to her limit. 

She’s not had a full night’s rest since she got asked (more like begged, but she’s not one for bragging) to be their project manager, she can’t bare to stomach anything nowadays without wrestling the urge to puke it back up, and the fucking pregnancy hormones are filling her with unexplained bouts of rage as of late. 

She is not one to be fucked with and Richie knows that. He just always wants to poke the bear. 

“Well that’s fuckin’ sad that your “roots” are tied to an Italian beef shop, but that doesn’t change my mind whatsoever,” she pushes past him with more force than she intended, guiding you along with her to wherever she had in mind, “You can bitch and moan and holler all you want but you’re not the one losing your fucking mind over fucking paperwork so whatever other unhelpful and extremely negative shit you have to say can get shoved up your ass and you can get fucked because I’m not putting up with it.” 

Richie is rendered speechless – a phenomenon that does not occur very often. 

She turns to you and gives you a friendly smile. Her hand rests softly above yours that are bawled into anxious fists. “Let’s go into the office so we can talk some more. Are you okay with that?” 

You’re still frozen in equal parts shock and fear; too scared to say no. 

“Umm. . .yeah. Yeah, we can go to the back,” you swallow and she brisks you away to what you assume is where all the paperwork is housed that they need help making sense of resides. 

You arrive outside of a closed wooden door and Natalie steps in front of it, her arms coming down to hug the hinges of it in a way that makes you slightly worried. “So I know that you’re not a hospitality attorney and I know that you’re doing this for free and you’re totally at liberty to say you want out the second you say the word,” she speaks softly. 

You know that she’s starting to panic. Your feelings and her feelings are starting to merge into one; two halves of the same whole – people pleasers. 

“But it’s. . .a lot and I don’t know even know where to start and this is legitimately driving me insane so –” 

Her anxiety starts to break your heart. The pang in your chest makes your decision for you. No matter how uncomfortable you are, you know you need to do the right thing out of the kindness of your own heart. 

“No, it’s fine!” you cut her off, “I’ll take a look and we’ll figure it out. Nothing you have here is too much. I can promise you that.” 

Ocean blue irises engulf you with sentiment and appreciation through their gaze. Natalie’s shoulders sag before her hand finds the gold doorknob. A deep breath adds to the noise of chatter and squeaks of the faulty fire alarm in the hallway. The oak door opens with a wheeze and a groan; stuck because of the swell its wood causes from the constant fluctuation of temperatures in Chicago. 

“Well,” she begins, “Here it is.” 

The mountains of cardboard boxes all labeled with acronyms and doodled with nonsense send the pit in your stomach down to your toes and through the center of the Earth. 

Holy fucking shit. 

Natalie notices your shock and starts to go back into “fix-it” mode. She hasn’t eaten at all today, but she figures that the emotions bubbling up and down at a fixed and constant rate are what fill her insides and are making her nauseous. Bile starts to make its way up her throat but she forces it back down. 

She’ll be damned if this goes even more sour than how she knows it has. 

“It’s a lot and it’s more sorting things and making them make sense than doing actual work? Like you’re gonna be doing work but it’s not rocket science. . . Not that being an attorney isn’t hard! My husband is one and I. . .need to shut up now,” she word vomits. Despite the apparent fact that she’s panicking, the sound of her voice is soothing and the gentle hand she places on the junction between the base of your neck and your shoulder does wonders to ground you. “And there’s no rush to have all of it done. It’s a work at your own pace kinda thing?” 

You both know that she’s fibbing about the last part. 

The frantic text at 11 PM last week and the hour-long phone call debriefs you had yesterday and three days before say otherwise. This is her compromising and making her needs smaller. This is her being like you and you being like her; being like each other. Digging yourself into holes to help others no matter the effort – no matter the pain. 

“No, I’m doing this because I want to. Just let me know exactly what you need and we can get to it as soon as possible.” 

You know that you must have said the golden word because as soon as the statement leaves your mouth, Natalie whips out her phone and starts reading off a list she had compiled of all things that have some link to the legal world. 

Contracts. Permits. Tax revenue sheets. Paystubs. Workers Compensation. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. City Ordinances. Chicago royally fucking anyone who dares to open a business, really. 

The sad part is that this should scare you. This should make you want to run out of here and never look back and purposely take the long way to get somewhere if you knew where you were headed would cross paths with the restaurant. 

But you don’t do any of that, and the buzz of finally doing something that you know is helping people overpowers the migraine of stress you can feel looming over you the second you agree to help them out. 

“You’re amazing,” she says, eyes twinkling with admiration. 

Your cheeks turn a shade of baby pink that you hope she can’t see. You’ve never taken well to flattery. 

Richie’s knuckles give a soft knock on the door and it opens before either of you can think to welcome another presence. His gaze finds both of you fist-deep into the first box labeled “Cocksuckers: For IRS - 1987.” You already know that he’s not related to the Berzattos by blood, but the beautiful blue eyes make you question that fact. He gives a sheepish smile almost to apologize for his interruption and you think he’s about to apologize before he opens his mouth and says, “Suge, your dashing baby brother is bout to blow a fuse because the fed is here.” 

Natalie stops what she’s doing. Her hands come to rest on the flimsy cardboard box and she throws her head back to eye the ceiling. If she can count the row of six vertically, maybe she can slow her breathing and calm herself down enough to spare Carmy the chewing out of a lifetime. 

One. 

“Sugar!” 

Two. 

“Get the fuck off me!” 

Three. 

“I said get the fuck off me! I need to see my fuckin’ sister!” 

Four. 

“Sugar!” 

Five. 

“Leave me the fuck alone!” 

Six. 

“Natalie!” 

Her brother appears in front of her disheveled and angry. Even though she’s only five years older than he is, she always sees him as the little baby she used to put in her strollers and push around for years until he got too big and too “grown” to think playing with his older sister was cool. Years spent with him also meant years studying him; knowing his ticks down to the smallest one and learning how he expresses every emotion. 

It was the only way she survived living in that house until she was eighteen. 

Dealing with an angry Carmen is nothing in comparison to dealing with an angry Michael or even attempting to console a slightly agitated mother. 

Besides, Carmy’s anger, while often misguided and very explosive, was never unexpected. He always has a tell and there’s always a few seconds before he completely comes unglued. Adult temper tantrums are shit shows, and quite frankly she’s fed up with having to diffuse one of his every couple of hours as of late. 

Her face starts to fall when she sees Carmen’s left eye begins to create that deep crinkle it does when he gets pissed. He starts to wrinkle his nose and she knows that he’s about to start screaming. 

Richie lets out a whistle before pushing Carmen’s head in a playful yet agitated manner. Before his hand can be swatted at, he jumps out of the way and joins in on a distant conversation about his daughter’s last dance recital. 

He has a smug grin on his face that Carmen wants nothing more than to slap off him. He knew that touching him would provoke him even more.  

Richie always has to poke the bear. 

Always. 

Carmen tries to contain his anger the best he can. Even though he’s totally against the idea of having you in the building, he knows there’s jackshit he can do about it now. Sydney said yes, Natalie sought you out, and Uncle Jimmy thought the idea was brilliant. The vote was three against one and he knows that all he can do is go fuck himself. So much for everyone promising not to make decisions about the restaurant without his okay. 

It’s not like his credit will be the one that’s fucked if this place turns to shit. 

His arm stretches to hold the side of the door’s hinge and supports his body weight as he leans to the right. “You hired a fucking attorney and didn’t tell me?” he snaps. His face pinches in a way that brings his nose, eyes, and mouth closer together; a face their mom used to make before she came totally unglued. 

You have your back turned toward the door he’s looming in. Something about being targeted makes you want to be blind to it; to shut your eyes as tightly as you can and will it away. You know that the way he’s acting has everything to do with him and nothing to do with you, but you can’t help it. When you feel out of place, every action to push you further out feels personal. 

“She’s doing it for free,” Natalie scoffs, putting a lid back on one of the boxes and crossing her arms over her chest. She would offer up more information, but what would be the use if Carmy is as wound up as he is? 

“Free means “fuck.” She’s gonna fuck us, Sugar, and you don’t even fucking care!” he screeches, seemingly uncaring that you’re right in front of him and that he’s biting his sister’s head off as if it’s nothing. 

You start to pull files out of the boxes faster than you were before. The distraction is needed because you know that if you listen too intently to what else is being said, you’ll start internalizing it later. 

Nothing with you. Everything with him. Nothing with you. Everything with him. 

“No. She is not gonna fuck us,” she pushes a finger into his chest and her nostrils flaring, “You’re gonna fuck us because you’re being so stubborn and stupid and can’t have a goddamn conversation like an adult.” 

His chest pushes deeper into his sister’s finger. “You calling me a baby? You calling me a fucking baby?” 

Carmen usually isn’t one to pick a fight in his everyday life, but once he gets started he refuses to back down. The rational part of his brain knows that he’s going overboard but he can’t help himself. The rage inside has nowhere to go and this whole thing is really pissing him off. He’s so fucking sick of everyone acting like he’s too immature and irresponsible to handle things.

Natalie’s finger comes out to become a full palm. “Well then stop the yelling. Stop the pissy pamper attitude. Stop wasting our fucking time and just admit that you’re way over your fucking head and don’t know everything.” 

Carmen balls his hands into fists and licks his lips to prevent him from saying something really fucking mean. He knows that Natalie is just trying to help but she always is, and it fucking sucks when she always saves the day even when he doesn’t want her to. The restaurant was supposed to be theirs; supposed to be all him and Mikey and everyone who made them into the people they are. It was never supposed to be his. It was never supposed to be his when he has not a goddamn clue what he’s doing and Natalie driving herself borderline insane trying to proactively fix everything before it turns to shit. 

He doesn’t know what to say because she’s right. Sugar is always right and Carmen is always wrong and he wishes Michael was here to balance them out; to add a third option so it wasn’t so split. 

But he’s not here. He won’t be here. He never really was here. 

“Fuck!” he yells at the top of his lungs. 

“Fuck!” Natalie shouts back. 

Argument over. 

His shoes slide on the floor with ease and he tries to steady his breathing. His arms let go of the door frame and his head hangs with the dissatisfaction of still housing a boulder of anger. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he whispers, voice growing smaller as he walks away. A loud clash of hollowed metal is heard shortly after. “Fuck!” 

“Punching the lockers doesn’t get rid of the fact you’re a little bitch, Cousin.” 

Richie has to poke the bear. 

Always.

[markrosewater]

Hey, Mark, I'm not to make another UB-related request. This isn't coming from an anti-UB place, and it's just one Goose's opinion, but I'm sure there are others who feel this way.

Can we get rid of flavor words, please? I haven't seen a single upside to them presented, just downsides:

For decades, one of MtG's biggest strengths was capturing the ludonarrative. Having to spell it out makes it seem like you all have lost confidence in your ability to make card design that makes sense with the captured flavor.

If a design is intended to be funny (the Street Fighter cards come to mind), it feels like you're pointing at the "joke" and saying "See? Please laugh." As a person who has a comedy background, I'm sure you understand why killing the frog is bad.

Death of the epithet: The most minor of the criticisms, but I really think "Ian Chester, Science Teacher" reads better than "Ian Chester" and then calling his ability "science teacher." (I may be mixing up the WHO teachers, but this applies to both, luckily.) Epithets also make it easier to depict multiple "moments" of a character without giving a card up as the "definitive" version of that character.

It feels like you don't trust players to get why the card text is what it is. Telling your audience you don't expect them to be smart (or rather, literate) enough to "get" it doesn't really help. I've seen people say they add flavor to the cards, but the flavor isn't diminished by removing the flavor words (flavor is when things are fleshed out and living, not when things are spelled out). If it's for fans of the IP, then they already get it (Oh, the activated ability that grants flying is referencing this character's rocket propulsion). Non-fans of the IP aren't benefited either, as they will sus out said character has rocket propulsion or be left completely in the dark (see Cult of Skaro: These words do nothing to tell me about the ability. If you were to leave them out, I'd still be able to sus out that each ability corresponds to one of the four Daleks depicted).

Lastly, they make cards harder to read. When trying to grok a card, there should be as few words as possible I'm supposed to ignore.

I understand some people will go "I recognize the thing" and a bulb in their brain will light up, but something being easy like this doesn't mean it's better or that we actually like it more.

I guess there's the potential upside that you could slot in numerals to power up my Baron von Count deck, but I don't see any real tangible upside to them. Obviously I'm missing something. Can you say what it is?

(Also, even if you don't answer it,thank you for taking the time to answer this book of an ask. These are feelings I've been sitting on since AFR and keeping an open mind on in case I changed how I felt from my initial reaction.)

Flavor words can do some things that we can't replicate elsewhere. I agree they can be overused, and are not always used optimally, but I don't think we want to throw out the baby with the bathwater.

[wosoragebaiter69]

ignored

alexia putellas x fem!reader

request: here

A/N: this photo is my roman empire and new tiktok pfp 😜 (my titles on fics or SO over dramatic icl)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Being the second captain of Barcelona, meant coming with a few responsibilities. Like showing new players around, and trying to include them in the atmosphere to make the whole move less daunting. It probably makes sense considering we are the best in the world.

Which is what’s happening right now, we’ve signed a new centre-back, considering we barely have any due to injuries. Currently we rely on a defensive midfielder, and anyone we deam can do it. Not ideal. January transfer is like heaven.

We walk around, talk about our lives a little bit as I try to make conversation more homey. Apparently she has a girlfriend who plays for PSG and I talk about Alexia, my other captain and long-time girlfriend. Who may (definitely) have a slight jealousy problem.

After a while of talking and walking, we make it to the gym and I announce the arrival.

“Everyone! As you know, we have a new person joining us! Make her feel welcome, included and we won’t have any problems. Got it?” They nod their heads going back to their respective activities as the new recruit smiles fondly at me, something which doesn’t go missed by Alexia.

I turn to face the CB.

“Now you, let’s get you headed for the locker room. I’ll show you your area and then you can go home for now. I’m assuming Jona has emailed you a schedule of everything?” She nods.

“Alright, now message me if you need anything and I’ll add you to the main group chat all of the girls are in.” She smiles and I lead her toward our changing rooms showing her where she’ll be.

“You can decorate a little bit, add some personality like some of the girls have. Anything you need can be kept here.” I point to a door at the end of the room.

“That’s the showers, obviously if you’re going anywhere after trainings. I know Patri likes to play music, so I suggest some strong noise-cancelling headphones if you don’t like the music. Any questions?” She shakes her head, I smile.

“Well then, go home. Settle into the new apartment, Ale and I live pretty close to you. Same with Ingrid and Mapi, who are also willing to answer anything else you have in mind.”

I pause.

“Now, if that girlfriend of yours ever comes to visit I’d like to meet her, I know it seems straightforward but I do like meeting new people.” I notice the recruit blushing, and pat her shoulder before leaving.

- - - - -

Over the next couple days, I ensure the new defender is fitting in well and she is. Hanging out with Ingrid and Frido but also Keira and Aitana, it’s good to see.

Alexia might think differently. I noticed her getting worked up over something but I can’t imagine what. I can but I don’t know how when a quick instagram search could cease any of her worries. She’s too straight headed for that.

It’s after training when I see her approach, I’m speaking on tactics in the locker room when Alexia slides in next to me, her arm wrapping protectively around my waist. I smirk then hear what she has to say.

“Ready to go home amor?” She says, kissing my neck softly, something she’d rarely do in such a public setting. I stifle my laugh nodding and saying my goodbyes to everyone else, getting in the passenger seat of our car as Alexia insists she always drives.

I sigh, her jaw is set and I can tell something is wrong.

“Alexia, qué pasó?” She shakes her head, her knuckles growing whiter as she grips the steering wheel. I know I can’t do anything but I seem so helpless at the moment.

It’s a completely different change from the confidence in the change rooms to now not even speaking to me.

We head inside without saying a word, I head straight for a shower to hopefully get a grip on where the conversation with Alexia will lead.

- - - - -

After the shower, I walk into the living room and Alexia is sat with her legs crossed in the couch, staring straight ahead at the blank TV. I break the silence.

“If you stare at the poor TV any longer I think it’ll break.” She doesn’t say anything, just nodding slowly her eyes darting toward me before back in front.

“I will not do this Ale. You need to tell me your feelings or we can’t work this out.” She huffs leaning back.

“Lo siento, I just… missed you.” Her voice quiet, I nod in understanding, I spent a lot of time with the new defender.

“So in other words, you’re jealous?” She blows an air bubble between her lips. (do you guys know what i mean by that)

“Maybe.” I can barely hear her voice but I don’t need to.

“Well baby, nothing to worry about because A. she has a girlfriend and B. I love you more than anything. Never forget that. I’ll try make more time and maybe we can meet the new ones girlfriend when she comes to Spain.” She nods slowly.

“Sorry I acted this way.” I shake my head.

“No, it’s ok. I understand, I sort of put you aside. I’ve learnt and I’ll prioritise your feelings a little bit more in the future.” She nods, tears glistening in her eyes.

“Te amo Ale. Remember it forever.” I place my lips against hers, gently and full of passion that I’d never give to anyone but her.

When oxygen gets the best of us I rest my forehead against hers, breathing in everything of this moment. Oh, I never want to leave.

[seyaryminamoto]

My latest completed commission may have been a bit ambitious... because I went wild with it. But I certainly relished in doing so :') Combining my favorite ship with my favorite-ever Disney movie is, uh... a dangerous concoction :'D

The commissioner specifically requested for Azula as Mulan, Sokka as Shang, and Xin Long (my OC dragon from Gladiator) as Mushu. The rest of the cast was up to me to choose, and I pretty much went wild rewatching this movie and picking out some of my favorite moments to recreate them in my style, with these characters. I came up with a lot of correlating characters between both ATLA and 1998's Mulan, but I couldn't hope to draw EVERYTHING, unfortunately. Still, if you want my reasoning for the cast correlation... check out the Read More! Beyond that, feel free to reach out to me if you'd like to commission me, or if you want to join my Patreon!

The Herbalist as Mulan's grandmother might feel arbitrary but she honestly felt like the ATLA elderly lady with the most similar personality to Grandma Fa. Fickle, with a unique connection with a seemingly perfectly ordinary animal, old and sassy? Figured it fit! So for once, the Herbalist is Azula's grandma! xD strange notion, I know, Azulon/Herbalist is not a ship I ever thought I'd accidentally put out in the world but there have been wilder ships than that in this fandom...

Momo became Cri-Kee, I wasn't 100% sold on it but when I considered that Avatar features soooo many hybrid animals... I figured he could be a hybrid cricket-lemur. Weird, I know, but eh? Better than nothing xD

Aang as Chien-Po was a no-brainer. He's the only character I settled on instantly, never even considered anyone else for the role. Their personalities line up really well, and Chien-Po's tendency to be OP and resolve things that are outside of other people's reach sounded like he was prime Avatar material! So, while their dietary preferences are an obvious difference between them, I decided to go for it nonetheless considering all their other similarities!

Kino (another Gladiator OC) is Ling, and he actually did give me a ton of trouble to choose. I considered many characters for the role right up until I realized that Kino's personality actually lines up fairly well with Ling's, down to being a class clown type (who ABSOLUTELY would have cut gym class!) and breaking out in song about the hypothetical woman he'd like to fight for? Yeeeeah that's right up his alley xD but there's another reason why I picked Kino...

... And that is my likely unexpected choice for Yao:

ZUKO.

ZUKO IS YAO.

YES.

I'M NOT EVEN SORRY.

(For the uninitiated, Aang, Zuko and Kino are best friends in Gladiator, very often together, and they make a really good team, so that's the extra reason why Kino became the obvious choice for Ling aside from having really similar personalities, definitely closer personalities than, say, Jet, for instance.)

People have likened Zuko to Shang a LOT since ATLA aired. This is the main reason why I'm even making this huge note! I suspect it's primarily because of the aesthetic, let's be real here, and because he becomes Aang's teacher, but people have exaggerated Zuko's alleged similarities with Shang, or taken them out of proportion, in many ways. I actually remember an AMV ages ago with "Be a Man" and it was Zuko "training the Gaang"?? It... didn't feel right to me. Obviously, someone might rebuff with "well, how does Sokka make MORE sense than that, though?" And believe it or not, I have arguments for that... (when do I not...?)

Not only is this what the commissioner specifically requested (and it obviously lines up with the ship we love!), but let's examine the actual reasons why Sokka as Shang adds up:

Sokka actually had to train a bunch of toddlers who weren't paying any attention to him. You know. Kind of how Shang had to train the unruly soldiers who weren't getting anything right. Sokka has a positive relationship with his dad (Zuko, ofc, does not). Shang also has a positive relationship with his dad! And not only this, but there's a military component to both relationships, specifically with Shang wanting to follow on his father's footsteps and aid him in the war... so much like someone else I know, who jumped at every opportunity to rejoin his father in the war, even wishing to join him as a child until Hakoda tasked him with protecting their Tribe instead (kinda like Shang is tasked with training soldiers rather than joining a battlefield).

And the final cherry-on-top that I'd loooove to hear Zuko fans try to argue against... is sexism :') didn't Sokka get characterized as a sexist guy for four episodes, which made people decide that this was his main character trait even if it went away that quickly? Um, yes, that happened. Shang literally sings the memorable song that's a crazy ode to masculinity, including the rather sexist line of "did they send me daughters when I asked for sons". Shang outright abandons Mulan once they discover that she was a woman all along (while, admittedly, choosing to abandon her rather than KILL HER, which as we saw from Chi-Fu, he was NOT supposed to spare her!)...

So, is this REALLY what Zuko fans, who willfully believe their boy is a feminist king (... why? beats me...) are trying to compare their unproblematic blorbo to? :'D Me? I have no problem linking Sokka with Shang due to Sokka's beginnings and due to the fact that both Shang and Sokka have similar growth when it comes to accepting femininity is as valid as masculinity, and as they both learn to respect women as fighters and potential heroes! (I simply do not believe Sokka's ENTIRE tenure in ATLA was about that, though, and that's what I continue to clash with the fandom over...) So... all this is why I've reasoned that Sokka is a VERY solid choice for Shang, in fact, better than Zuko could hope to be.

... but this isn't all.

Maybe some might accept my arguments for Sokka-Shang. And then, they might ask:

WHY ZUKO AS YAO, THO??

... And the truth is it took me long to see it, myself, but HOLY SHIT, DOES IT FIT!

What is the primary thing we remember about Yao in Mulan? This guy is constantly itching for a fight, to prove himself, surely riddled with insecurities that he exteriorizes through overcompensation of masculinity. He's funny as fuck, but he's taking himself 100% seriously as a manly man all the time, and he's always ready for violence. But there's one more thing...

He treats Mulan as his RIVAL.

And more often than not? SHE SCREWS HIM OVER. Intentionally or not.

What does that sound like? Why, yes, it sounds a LOT like Azula and Zuko's sibling relationship!

The fact that Yao is a temperamental dude who lashes out easily at things (oh, something he has in common with Zuko!), that he specifically resents Mulan (in this case, Azula, just as Zuko does!) and is either constantly looking to defeat her and prove his superiority over her (... wait, just as Zuko with Azula??), that he has a black eye perpetually across the movie, and it's his LEFT EYE (just as Zuko's scar is on his left eye! :'D), that he's friends with a pacifist he has basically nothing in common with, personality-wise (just like Zuko and Aang!), and that he pretty much has a REDEMPTION ARC in which he goes from a bitter, asshole rival to Mulan to treating her as a friend and ally, to the point where he was disappointed to leave her behind and THEN joined her at once when she says she has a plan? :') I have always been critical of Zuko's redemption arc, goes without saying. But if ANY of these characters redeemed himself in any significant way, it certainly seems to be Yao to me, and with people gushing NON-STOP about Zuko's redemption? Why, he ought to be the character who goes from bitter rival to loyal friend, right?

So. I'm not even sorry. Zuko is Yao. And I'd dare say that he should be flattered by the comparison, even, because Yao ends up being cool as FUCK!

I don't really talk about this much nowadays, but Mulan was my favorite Disney movie growing up, it ABSOLUTELY had a formative influence on me as a little girl, and Mulan was my favorite female character for a looooong time. Thus, any excuse to rewatch this movie makes me happy as heck. With the wisdom of age I know, of course, that it's not perfect, it's not what China wants, it's not the most thoughtful depiction of Chinese culture or the most faithful adaptation of Mulan's poem (... but I'd also dare bring up that the 2009 Chinese adaptation ISN'T all that faithful either...), but it has a kind of magic in it, a solid storytelling flow, so many memorable moments one after the next, that I could hardly choose which scenes to depict... Disney has never again seen the storytelling heights it reached with Mulan in 1998. I don't even care if that's a controversial opinion in any way... this is their best animated feature for me, and nobody can change my mind.

So... depicting Azula, my beloved, in all these scenarios as this character I adored and idolized as a child, was so damn fulfilling for me. While some might think that, personality-wise, these two ladies don't have much in common, the fact that Mulan is sent to a matchmaker who basically tells her she looks good but is going to be the worst wife ever...? Our girl Azula, with all those insecurities about being unloveable and a monster, probably would relate big time to that.

Mulan is also an INTELLIGENT soldier rather than a brawny one, which is how she starts to make progress in the army, it's how she manages to overcome the huns with that avalanche... and Azula's primary difference with most other antagonists in ATLA is that she's smart as fuck. She is very strong, no doubt, but a LOT of that strength comes from her intelligence, from assessing situations in unique ways, from planning and strategizing. The way Mulan finds the most unexpected solutions that still pay off reminds me a lot of how Azula achieves unexpected feats through rather unorthodox means, capable of taking over a city with basically no bloodshed while her nation has spent 100 years trying and failing to do so through major army incursions and who knows how much senseless violence. Obviously, I'm not saying what Azula did is GOOD and it's kind of dumb that we always have to point that out... I'm merely comparing the magnitude of the feats, and the fact that they both come from ladies who use strategy and intelligence to achieve their goals rather than muscle and physical power.

And while anyone would rage at me for the comparison between Fa Zhou (her dad) and Ozai, the truth is the dynamic between them CAN be compared, if loosely: Mulan literally goes to war to keep her father safe. Azula goes to war under her father's orders. Hell, she makes herself BAIT in the Eclipse to make sure the Gaang won't get to her dad?? While it's very much possible to say that both characters have different personalities and attitudes in life... I'd also bring up that their contexts are evidently completely different. I wouldn't say for certain that Azula, had she been raised outside a Royal Family, would be EXACTLY like Mulan... but they might have more similar traits than one might expect. Ultimately, though... I love them both. And this opportunity to swap their places was pretty much a dream come true!

Alright, that was plenty of rambling xD ultimately, I had a blast doing this commission, as I'm sure is obvious by now. So! If anyone wants to commission me, feel free to check out my prices right here and hit me up if you're interested!

[blushcoloreddreams]

Perfume IS an essencial: Here’s 4 reasons why

Good Afternoon Dear Reader! Happy Saturday directly from Argentina

Before we dive into today's topic, I wanted to talk briefly about why these "practical" and lighter and style blog posts are JUST as important as the heart-felt blogs on heavier topics and more practical ones like organization, cooking and cleaning tips

This blog is a place where I am trying to gather useful information to help us grow as feminine women, whether that is in our hearts, our homes, our lives, or even in our own skin. I believe in a well-rounded growth perspective: I am trying to improve many areas of my life, even if they are just practical and simple.

So today I wanted to talk about one of these more "practical and simple" topics: perfume.

At first glance this topic can seem kind of boring, like "yeah, no one likes smelling bad, so wear perfume, DUH." But I think perfume is so much more than that!

I believe that a spritz of perfume can actually improve your day, your confidence, and your overall aura as a feminine woman.

***DISCLAIMER: I know that smells can trigger allergic reactions in people, and there are actually fragrance-free zones such as certain churches or work environments. Do not break those rules just to follow my advice LOL!

The women jn my life were always had a passion from perfumery and I remember using it even as a child, but I only started being interested in it during my teenage years and in the past my interest and collection only grew. But I remember that during times of intense sadness in my life, I understand that something simple as even filling in your eyebrows can be a completely exhausting task! So much personal care falls off your daily routine when you can't handle what life is throwing at you and I think that adding perfume to your routine can be an easy way to elevate your grooming.

In order to really stick to this habit, I decided to focus on WHY I should wear perfume. So here we go! This may convince you too.

1. Perfume Adds LUXURY To Life

I know what some of you may be thinking: "I'm just at home, and deodorant is good enough for me!" or "I'm just in an office chair, why do I need to smell amazing?" and finally, "I'm just going to work out later so it doesn't matter!"

You know what I say to all those reasons?

You are an amazing woman and you deserve to have a little extra luxury in your day, even if you are behind a vacuum, a computer, or a treadmill.

Most of us aren't going to be lounging on a velvet chaise with champagne and a cashmere blanket wrapped around us tonight anyways! We're not living that lux life, so why not add extra luxury into our days?

When you're vacuuming the house or reading through spreadsheets, it can be easy to feel like cinderella BEFORE she went to the ball. A fragrance reminds you that you are an elegant, feminine WOMAN, and that you are WORTHY of a little luxury.

So pick up a fragrance you love, (doesn't have to be costly,) and indulge! You are WORTHY of that extra 10 seconds on yourself.

2. Perfume Can Make You HAPPIER!

So today I was spritzing on some body spray when I realized that I had a soft smile on my face. Seriously: I was just smiling to myself! Sol de Janeiro cheirosa 71 (my newest obsession! ) evokes a reaction of pleasure: it makes me smile.

Do you remember learning about the senses in school? They can evoke emotion, thoughts, feelings, and action. Touch can make you take action when you feel pain. Taste evokes pleasure when you encounter delicious food. Likewise, smell can evoke pleasant emotion or distaste.

If there was a little life hack that could have you smiling 2 more times a day than you already do, wouldn't you do it? Fragrance is SUCH simple way to accomplish this!

And a bonus? When you smell good, other people notice! I LOVE when my husband tells me I smell good, or when a friend goes in for a hug and comments that she loves the smell I'm wearing. Smelling good feels GOOD!

3. Perfume Helps You Get in Touch With FEMININITY

When I was a kid, Id watch every morning my mom and grandma get ready and wear their favorite perfumes ( that I have the smell in my memory to this day). I made a promise to myself that when I became a woman at the age of I would begin doing 3 things EVERY DAY: wearing lipstick, carrying a stylish purse, and wearing perfume.

I think I knew, even as a child, that perfume was for women. Full grown, feminine, gracious, beautiful women. Adding fragrance to your routine is a way of stepping into that feminine womanhood and embracing yourself.

Perfume can also be especially helpful for women who are kind of uncomfortable with their femininity. You can begin exploring the possibilities with just a small change. Add a bit of mystery, femininity, sweetness, or glamour to ANY outfit. Elevate your look and tip toe into femininity with a fragrance. Pair a ponytail and sneakers with some vanilla body spray: you might be surprised at how it makes you smile!

4. Perfume Helps You EXPRESS Yourself

I truly believe that the sense of smell is neglected in our modern culture. We are MUCH more focused on the visuals of our beauty routine: hair, fashion, makeup, etc. And why? Well, you can't smell a picture on Instagram! Why invest in something so small when no one can really experience it? Who cares about smell?

Well, maybe we SHOULD care! When you meet someone, you are taking them in through a lot of the senses: a firm handshake, the visuals of their face, the way their voice sounds, and yes, THEIR SMELL!

When you go out into the world, think about the entire picture of you as a person: your smell, your style, your "vibe." What is your overall aura? Perfume can help you add a dimension of creative expression to your overall vibe and style. Express yourself!

***Bonus tip: Hydration is essential for perfume performance and it starts from the inside by drinking enough water and continues with applying lotion before your perfume. (Even better if you can do it post shower when your skin is still a bit damp). Some people also apply a small bit of vaseline or petroleum jelly to your wrists and neck (the pulse regions) before you spray. It helps your scent last longer!

And closing, perfume can add luxury to our day, help us feel happy, help us get in touch with femininity, and allow us to express ourselves! What's not to love?

xoxo

Júlia

[uplatterme]

MORAX, The Second.

MASTERLIST | BARBATOS | BEELZEBUL

cw: sub!zhongli, dragon hybrid!zhongli, jealous!zhongli, dom!reader, they/them pronouns, dacryphilia, drink spiking, overstimulation, orgasm denial, implied poly!zhongli and poly!reader

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ZHONGLI AND HAPPY NEW YEARS EVERYBODY! this is gonna be sappy so feel free to skip this note but i want everyone to know that i’m truly grateful for my readers and the commissions that i’ve gotten this year despite me being gone half of the year. i love you guys so much, let’s look forward to a year full of simping and i hope that everyone’s wishes will come true as well :D

———

Your visit to Liyue was uneventful, and you liked it that way, just needing a time to unwind especially with having too much on your plate lately. You planned on merely checking out newfound ores and jewelry to add to your collection. Unfortunately, things took a rather quick turn than your normal visits.

Your hands were on Zhongli’s collar, clutching them angrily despite the unfazed appearance of the archon. Your head hurt, you were dizzy and annoyed being woken up and put in this state by no one other than the man in your grasp. His eyes were serious and stern, acting like he didn’t understand what it was that he did wrong.

“You!” You slurred out. “You purposely made me drunk!”

“I…” He mused out, disappointed at how you’re behaving.

“My apologies, It wasn’t my choice to upset you.”

“You archons and your spoiled attitude… Is that a requirement for being one?” You sighed, letting go of the man and trying to regain yourself.

“Just weeks ago, Barbatos pulled a similar stunt. Seducing me, even.” You expanded on your reasoning for being angry.

“Did it work?” He questioned, a worried look on his face that he may have been too late.

You let out an amused laugh. “If it did?”

Silence seemed to fill the cave you were in and you found yourself idiotic for letting another god have his way without noticing it. You two had a meal, Zhongli calling over the waiter each time to refill your glass. Not wanting to seem rude, you kept drinking. 

The Geo Archon’s mood had been sour ever since you saw him. 

He put his arms around your waist, not letting you go and blocking the entrance with one of his structures.

“I…How do I say this? Must you really spend time with that drunkard and that girl more than me?”

You clenched your fists, his warmth relieving the coldness of the now dark cave as the light which was previously coming from outside was now shut. Your eyes only focused on Morax’s glowing ones.

“Morax… You and I both know that you’re different from Barbatos.”

You knew that both of them were the complete opposite. Morax was the one who thought of things in a more calculated manner. However, if one continued to store their feelings without a word, they would eventually come crashing down like a meteor.

“This isn’t something you’d normally do.” You restated so that it would be clearer for him.

“If it’s something to prove that I have fallen deeply, even comparable to the deepest layer of the earth for you, then it is. It is something that I would do.” His words would take even a bard for a surprise.

“I’m already bound to Barbatos. Does that not sadden you?” You questioned the god.

“It’s not something that I wish to be reminded of.” He admitted.

“I see. I’m still not happy about this but…should I make that the least of your worries?”

It didn’t take much for the god to be lost in a trance full of pleasure. It was as if he was a zither who’d let out a sound each time you plucked his strings. Perhaps it was due to the darkness making his senses twice more attentive but he was just too sensitive, far too sensitive.

It didn’t matter where your fingers lingered upon, his breath would hitch as he awaited for you. 

Undressing Morax revealed his toned body, shiny and gorgeous scales that beautifully decorated the human form that he took. 

“No amount of Mora could compare, Morax.” Your words made his heart flutter, he always liked it whenever you praised him.

It embarrassed him that he was already in this state when he was the one who said that he would seduce you. If he couldn’t even last long, how would he even be able to achieve that? He stopped your hand that was making its way to his cock, to your surprise.

“Is this not to your liking?” You asked.

No one may be around, but the rocks would always remember. They would remember everything, especially the contract that he had decided to make with you.

“It would be better if we were to make a contract.” He stated.

“A contract? For what?”

Morax bit his tongue, were you really forcing him to say it out loud? His cheeks heated up, thankful for the darkness that surrounded the cave.

“To not finish until penetration begins…”

You sealed your lips, not expecting him out of all people to say something like that. “Alright, and what if you do?”

“Then, you have the right to deal with my body as you wish.” 

“Big talk for someone as needy as you.” You said, latching your fingers to his nipples that had his cock twitching.

Zhongli’s sensitivity finally made sense. He probably hadn’t had sex in this human form of his, which was why each time you kept pushing his buttons, he already felt being sent over the edge.

Still, you knew how he was about contracts. He wouldn’t disappoint you now, would he?

Maybe you should take back your statement of him not being familiar with the art of seduction, especially with the way he fluttered his eyelashes at you as he moaned out loud, whispering your name under his breath.

“Haah!~” Zhongli spat out, feeling your teeth on his shoulder. You didn’t expect him to react so much from just a bite, but he is a dragon, perhaps having his skin hurt when he’s not used to any kind of pain was something he found pleasurable?

You haven’t even gotten to the best part yet and he was already providing so much.

Morax’s cock was something you needed to see to believe. His smooth skin contrasted with its rough and large shape. Moreover, he’s already oozing out cum more than the average man. If you weren’t paying attention, you would have mistaken it for him already being at his climax.

He yelped when he felt you grind against his groin, tears swelling up his eyes. You weren’t doing much, just allowing the friction from your clothes to do all the work for you. Yet, Morax is sobbing as he chanted your name like it was some sort of spell.

“Ugh, Please!” He screamed out, your fingertips lightly dancing on the tip of his hardened cock. He may have said it out loud but it looked more like he was saying it to himself, that he shouldn’t cum this easily.

His voice serenaded you even more when you grasp what you could of his cock and slowly started stroking up and down. His thighs quiver, seeking the warmth and movement from your hand. His body moving on its own, humping and grinding against the cage of your hands.

“Stop—stop! I can’t—Not yet!” He whimpered out desperately, the pleasure was too much to the point that his body was moving on its own accordance and he couldn’t do anything but to grit his teeth together, begging his own body to stop before he stepped out of line.

He faced down, face full of shame as he had no choice but to swallow in it, that he as the god of contracts, was unable to fulfill something that he proposed himself.

“Nghh-!” You pulled his ponytail like it was a collar, making him face you as he dwelled in the pleasure that you had given him oh so generously.

His vision is blurry, mind too hazy to think but he focused it on you. Your face which seemed to be judging his actions. He pushed down his sobs, holding them as much as he could, not wanting to receive your wrath.

“Good boy, I haven’t even said anything and you’ve already got it.” He sniffled, quieting down even if your movements had become more quick and rigorous. He was furiously shaking his head, begging for no more. If he couldn’t even take this, he’d just come off as someone narcissistic, someone that’s all talk.

His hands held onto your arms, drool dripping down to Morax’s chin. He wouldn’t be able to stop it anymore and he was letting you know that.

“Hmph! Ah-ah-ah!” 

His nails grew sharper and started digging into your skin, though it seemed as if he was unaware of it. You continued stroking his cock determining when he’d reach his limit. He looked like a mess, continuing to beg himself to stop although none of his pleas were to you.

You stopped at the right moment, his back arching, cum splattering on the floor. He didn’t cum. He didn’t, but he felt both disappointed and glad that he didn’t.

“Good job, Morax.” You congratulated him.

“You held back…” He said breathlessly.

“You should be thanking me and apologizing instead.” Morax glanced at your scratched arm and flushed a deep red.

“I-I apologize! It wasn’t–” You placed a finger on his lips.

“I’m still mad about everything. Don’t think just because I gave you what you want meant that I have forgiven you.”

He clicked his tongue. “I see. What will it take for me to be forgiven then?”

“I don’t know, just let me have my way with you while I think about it.” 

“Of course–Hn!” Zhongli choked out a sob. You didn’t even let him finish before you had attacked the god.

“You’re so fucking slutty, Morax. Look at how you crumble under me.” Your cold voice sent shivers down his spine, already cumming from having his insides played with.

Your words conflicted with his thoughts. Why was he so enamored of you to begin with? To the point that even if you throw such harsh words, he would still consider them as praise regardless.

He cried from the way you ravaged his walls, you were so forceful but it felt so damn good. Like you knew that this was just the kind of thing he was into.

You had him scratching the ground beneath him, unable to hold onto anything inside the cave. It’s cold, and the smell of alcohol you previously ingested mixed well with your smell. It was addicting, something he couldn’t get enough of.

His throat hurt from moaning nonstop, but how could he restrain himself when you’re fucking him as if there’s no tomorrow?

“Hmpf–Keep going!” He pleaded, knees bruised against the ground.

Morax shivered when he heard a crumble coming from his right ear. The structure that he’d placed there collapsed due to his senses being dumbed down. He whined as he realized that he could see everything, all the biting that you’d done to him, his legs sticky with his own cum and the marking that he’d accidentally placed onto you.

Worry came right after when he figured out that if the entrance was open, people could pass by or hear him. Or worse, any of the adepti would be able to hear the pathetic noises that he was making right now.

He shut his lips together, crying out instead of making any sound.

You slammed your legs even harder, Morax gasping as he shook his head at the pleasure that was overwhelming him, cumming again within just a few minutes.

“N-No more…” He begged, hoping that you’d take any kind of pity on him.

“You say that, yet you were the one who said yes. Just earlier you suggested that I may do what I wish with your body and now you’re taking it back?”

“Do you think that’s fair at all? Mr. God of Contracts?”

Morax reached his climax again and this time, the god growled. A dragon’s roar that was surely heard by everyone in Liyue.

You giggled. “Rex Lapis, you were supposed to be laying low. Is it that good?”

“Please–!” 

You sighed, not being able to believe that you were strapping another archon to your belt.

“Fine, but only because you’ve proven that you’d risk your identity to others to be with me.”

You don’t think you could handle two archons fighting over you and you’re sure that Barbatos already knew of what you two did. 

You’re just glad that Ei wasn’t like them.

Or so you thought.

[3liza]

I'm trying to figure out how to communicate instructions to other people about how I almost completely escaped my crippling adolescent body dysmorphia and anorexia but the thing is I don't really know how it happened. it was like one day I woke up and didn't care that much.

i still had all the central psychological dysfunctions but it was like I had decided to ignore them because I had finally internalized that I was acting crazy and acting crazy, unlike being crazy, is a choice. unless you're experiencing psychosis or delusions. and the body dysmorphia is a form of delusion certainly but it's a form you can still sample against reality and see that it's not matching up. you can't do this with actual hallucinations but you can do it with stuff like obsessive thoughts about how ugly you are and how everyone hates you and how ugly people have no value etc etc. that kind of stuff is observably false and integrating constant reality checking into your obsession loops will derail a lot of the delusional obsession. your brain will fight back with arguments like "it's fine for her to be ugly because of magical reason I made up but it's not fine for me because of another magical reason I made up" but these arguments can also be quickly reality checked into irrelevance even if you still *feel* they are true. you may FEEL that the obsessive delusions are true but you can, to a certain extent, make a decision to KNOW and more importantly to ACT as if they are not.

so the new thought loop could go something like: "I'm so fucking ugly. so what if I'm 'ugly'. it doesn't seem to matter when I look around and reality check my level of ugliness to the success and affection people uglier than I am seem to experience. there just be something else wrong with me. but that doesn't make sense because actually a lot of people do like me and care about me. i have proof of that in the form of messages and memories. I'm so fucking ugly. but I'm looking closely at this unfiltered Getty image in incredibly high resolution of a celebrity on the red carpet. and she has terrible skin. her skin looks just as bad as mine does in the brightly lit bathroom mirror because there are no filters on this brightly lit professional journalist's photograph. that's really interesting. i bet I can see the same level of ugliness in everyone else that I see in the mirror if I really look"

i don't think you can fix yourself to be not crazy. i don't think that's a thing that happens. i think most therapists are useless or MLM subscribers who want to try out their latest hype word MLM technique on your because they paid $3000 to be "certified" in Hidden Dream Cousin Interrogation Biodynamics, which will test 2% better than jingling keys in front of the control group in two papers on PubMed until crumbling to replication crisis in three years.

i think what you can actually do is add additional systems checks to deal with how fucking crazy you are and always will be until you stop being able to fuck up as much with it. like an airlock system basically. i think good therapists are able to show people how to do this and maybe get them meds that tamp down some of the nasty things the craziness constantly causes to happen. but they're so rare I've never actually met one lmao

[rewritingcanon]

What would you say are your more controversial opinions about the hp characters?

ohhhh okayyy. i feel like my opinions on a lot of the characters aren’t controversial because i dont feel super strongly towards anyone in any negative light but here are some i could think of at the top of my head:

i’m glad the malfoys faced more extreme backlash after the second wizarding war. a lot of people in the fandom seem to be very sympathetic towards draco and scorpius for getting dogpiled with the brunt of it (which yeah, it sucks, especially for scorpius) but the prejudice makes complete make sense to me. if i was someone who didn’t know scorpius’ character, and had someone from my family get killed in the second war due to death eaters or something— seeing the malfoys still be wealthy and walk around freely without any jailtime, i would be bitter too. they’re hated on but they’re still one of the richest families ever, so they’ll live LOL

another anon has asked about this and i haven’t responded to them yet but when i do i will link it here for my reasons. basically: the best character in the cursed child is harry potter. i think the way they wrote his character and ptsd carried the play. it was def his story, not albus’.

i do think dumbledore has some aspects of him that may be considered morally gray, but mostly i dont think he is. he does everything for the good of the world, and his complete selflessness leads him to sacrifice anything for it— even himself and the people he loves, when necessary. i completely understand why people wouldn’t agree with his methods though.

james potter isn’t a sunshine character he’s a dickhead. fans of him made him a golden retriever character to be more palatable for modern times. i like him the way he is: an asshole and then less of an asshole 👍 this is what true stanning looks like

pansy parkinson is racist and out of all the female side characters, developing HER is so questionable from fandom

harry had questionable descriptions about a lot of male characters to make people think he could be a little 🏳️‍🌈 there was bill, there was sirius, there was cedric. but draco is not a part of that list. harry was not feeling draco whatsoever throughout the series but drarry shippers cling to that one ‘obsessed’ line

furthermore, harry rejecting draco’s offer of friendship wasn’t a sad or a ‘what if’ scene. draco was being a classist piece of shit and harry didnt want to fuck with that, there isnt any way in any timeline he wouldve accepted draco’s friendship.

slytherin sucks just generally lol. people want so bad to pluck anti-heroes out of a series that was written specifically with the mind to make all the characters suck.

hermione and ron’s drama isn’t as toxic as people make it out to be. yes, this includes the time hermione sent birds after him. people act like its the end of the world but she was tackling puberty and the end of society soooo i give her a pass to tweak out.

mostly every harry potter character has horrific names. like literally mostly everyone. even the name harry potter 🙁

movie romione wasn’t that bad LOL

severus snape’s ‘redemption’ or whatever was so ass. he bullies kids for five years and then everything is chill because… true love? on harry’s mum? are you kidding me 💀

weasley family angst goes hard but people (especially percy stans and some ron&ginny stans) acting like they’re the most toxic family to walk the earth make me want to rip my hair out and eat it. molly loves her kids guys shes not evil. jesus.

genuinely trying to think of more but i can’t right now…. maybe i will reblog and add to it. i feel like most of my opinions aren’t that controversial though 😭

[hunny-pp]

PENACONY 2.1 SPOILERS /

[basically a more elaborate version of my twt thread on this]

I don't think I'm the first or only person to say this, but I do think Gallagher is v likely a memory zone meme

EDIT: heres pt 1.2 with additional evidence

Sunday deduces that Gallagher is an amalgamation of fifty-one Family members, who he's inherited physical traits from to create the appearance he has now.

Gallagher alludes in his own story that he may not be human

In short, Memory Zone Memes are amalgamations of multiple fragments of the Memory Zone, all have reflections of different memories, cognitions and emotions.

A meme in definition is when something, usually ideas, culture or behaviour is passed to another person through imitation or non-genetic means.

It makes sense for Gallagher, as he mimicked the physical traits of Family members without taking them or that trait away - these NPCs are very much fine and you can interact with them. It's more like a copy-paste onto himself.

Other little details include: -This could change in the future depending on if we get any fire units, but for Gallagher specifically, he takes the Raging Heart materials - which is harvested from a Memory Zone Meme-type enemy. This one's a bit of a stretch but it fits nonetheless

-His signature colour is magenta - shown in his clothing, his marketing materials and in the VFX of his attacks, his claw and his brew. This colour is specifically his and not something he had inherited from someone else.

Memory Zone Memes, especially "Something Upon Death" have stark magenta/purple/pink eyes and cores. When seen from afar or at least in a general sense, the shades are similar enough

-The writing style of Gallagher's stories feel strange, like different aspects of Gallagher's personality and life are on the outside looking in. Akin to a reflective surface giving off different reflections from different angles of the same subject. It adds to the idea that there are multiple aspects and fragments within Gallagher all looking within each other.

Mixology and The Dreamjolt Hostelry:

Gallagher's main interest outside of work is mixology. Like any culinary craft, there's an inherent science behind it, and it takes a lot of work and knowledge to craft well constructed cocktails and drinks. Symbolically, mixology complements Gallagher, as he himself is a combination of a diverse range of people. When you view these inherited traits isolated, you know they come from someone real - but when put together, they form One Complete Gallagher - cohesive and seamless.

While you can say the same for different branches of culinary arts, mixology in particular symbolically represents Gallagher the most. This is just from a layman's perspective but when I view the same with cocktails - from a general inspection it's one cohesive drink even if from taste or watching the process, I know it's all made with different components.

Notably, when Gallagher talks about mixing drinks, he describes it as akin to combining different emotions, experiences and memories into a singular cocktail and it's reflective of both customer and bartender's own current state of being.

His philosophy on mixology links back to the concept of Memory Zone Memes, manifestations of fragmented memories, emotions and cognitions nestled into a vessel.

The reason why I bring up the Dreamjolt Hostelry is because of the Vignettes in a Cup event (spoilers for it). It's not explicit in his stories or voicelines, but going by the Trailblaze quest, it's implied that the Dreamjolt Hostelry is the lounge/bar he regulars for a drink or to hone his craft as he's v friendly and familiar to Siobhan and is seen in the 2.1 trailer to be serving a Dreamjolt Domescreen (whether it's Lady or not doesn't matter).

Dreamjolt Hostelry is in the sealed off dreamscape Reverie, where the corrupted Dreamjolt Troupe monsters and Memory Zone Memes reside. Notably, where you encounter Something Unto Death in key moments of the story.

I'd like to believe Gallagher is very comfortable with the company of monsters, going by the fact that he himself is non-human.

In Vignettes in a Cup, Siobhan explains that the reason why she mixes drinks for the Dreamjolt Troupe monsters is that it helps regulate their emotions - since the dreamscape is falling apart and in turn they have become unstable.

Gallagher himself in one of his idle animations drinks an unknown concoction from his hipflask once his scar starts acting up - in which it settles back down. It's hard to discern in this point in time how long this has been going for, but as a non-human entity (meme or not), the dreamscape's decay is also likely affecting Gallagher and thus he has to regulate himself.

Why Do The Heathen Rage?: In the mission "Why Do The Heathen Rage?" we learn a lot of the Watchmaker's secret history as well as a general run through of Gallagher's own personal story.

First off, a lot of Penacony's trailblaze mission titles are references to songs, literature and media relevant to the themes of Penacony and/or by American classical authors or poets (ie Heaven is a Place on Earth, Cat Among Pigeons, The Tell-Tale Heart).

Why Do The Heathen Rage is both based on Psalm 2.1 Old Testament, but also it's a fragment of an unfinished novel by Flannery O'Connor. Fragment of a novel -> Gallagher is made of fragments of different people -> Memory Zone Memes are fragments of (I'm booed off the stage for being a broken record).

The story tells of a man called Walter Tilman who lives on his family's farm. There he starts to write letters to different people - particularly to Oona Gibbs, a black civil rights activist. However, he writes to her under the guise of a black man, and writes with the intention of testing the commitment and integrity of her beliefs.

Going with what we know in hindsight, Gallagher is masquerading around as a human, likely as a Memory Zone Meme as we've realised hopefully by now that they're the monsters most likely to pull something of Gallagher's calibre off.

This is all I'm gonna talk about from "Why Do The Heathen Rage" mainly because my additional theories are based off leaks and are more speculative.

Bonus section: "Something Unto Death" When it comes to Gallagher's connection to the Memory Zone Meme "Something Unto Death", a lot comes from his many symbols of death. This is just a bit of a bonus since we're talking about Gallagher likely being a Memory Zone Meme, we might as well address the elephant in the room as well.

For brevity, we'll call the little guy "Death Meme". Death Meme is a Memory Zone Meme created from the Dreamscape's fear of death and murder as "death" shouldn't be something that can happen in the dreamscape.

Gallagher has a FUCK ton of symbolism and nods to death. The most striking is that Gallagher's iconic "I'm Thirteen", which is the number for the Major Arcana "Death". (For additional reference I also think Thirteen could be the amount of Amber Eras he's lived in, or that he's at least 1300 years old. Also since he has a lot of dog theming, 13 dog years in human years is around 60-80 depending on the dog's size).

Additionally, thirteen is a common number to represent bad omens and misfortune - namely the well known Friday the 13th superstition, amongst other things.

When Gallagher makes you a drink, no matter what choices you make - the cocktail will have a memento mori/death/morbidly themed name and he will accompany most of them with a sardonic toast.

Gallagher's eidolons are names of different cocktails which fit his mixology theme. However, Corpse Reviver, Last Word, Death in the Afternoon and Blood and Sand are all death centric names, as if he couldn't get edgier enough.

There's also the call into question his playstyle, where he's a much more aggressive battle healer than the likes of Luocha and is the first abundance character to provide debuffs on the enemy, and derives healing through damaging opponents.

Conclusion: If you've read this far then I'm assuming you're as normal about Gallagher as I am. But yeah, there is so much to him I haven't touched on, his connections to the Enigmata, my continuation on this theory based on leaks and his shared past with Mikhail, what I think he'll do in the plot moving forward. This patch and its characters are themed around hiding secrets and that there's more than meets the eye. Gallagher in particular has proved to be the most mysterious of the trio, as while we've gotten a clear enough picture of both Acheron and Aventurine but there's still enough intrigue to keep them going, Gallagher's just given me more questions than answers man.

[flameofthescorpion]

And so Icarus fell into the ocean

WARNING: Plays after the events of Transformers One, spoilers Ahead! Please watch the movie first before reading this all!

Canon-divergance!

also warning, both characters are assholes --------0--------

Sentinel laid on the cold floor of Iacon’s metal surface, his final resting place as his fading spark watched with his weakening senses as D-16, or rather Megatron, was banished from the once Grand City temporarily turned battleground. As his thoughts started to blur, as his hatred for the new Prime started to fade and go numb. The new glows of blue hues started to blur and dance in his remaining vision; he felt a presence, as if Death himself had decided to claim his very spark instead of letting it simply fade.

He could not hear the sound of pedes heading into his direction. He could feel it. Feel as the ground next to him aggressively shifted as the figure came closer, as if it was trying to avoid the mech without much success, the air filled with electrical tension to the point Sentinels frame lightly prickled.

“It's a shame really.”

Sentinel heard a gruff, dull and nearly drowned out voice next to his dying body, his auditory receptors barely able to differentiate clear words from white noise. Yet he could make out the disappointment in the bot's tone, not melancholy for his fate, no, closer to simple disappointment and even boredom. For the mech, it seems almost like some sort of entertainment value had been lost. ”I really thought you would have lasted longer. The great Sentinel Prime himself. You may have been a sleazy traitor but being beaten by a bunch of miners. a group of bots BENEATH your greatness? Tsk tsk tsk.”

Sentinel slowly saw as the bot walked into his vision. Due to laying on the floor, currently bleeding dry, he could only look at the bot's pedes as they seemed to circle him, analyze him. He could not tell much about the bot, his voice was alien and his frame seemed to have a golden color, similar to Sentinel’s wings in tone. “But I could help you turn the tables, I could give you everything back you once loved. everything you have lost and so much more, and unlike the quintessons I do not want to be compensated in precious Energon, oh no no, i just want you to complete a few…errands for me, errands where I am sure we can come to a mutual understanding. For example, we both want Optimus Prime dead, no?”

The false Prime didn't know what was worse, the constant pacing, or the fact that the bot was speaking in such an indifferent tone, as if he wasn't talking to a bot about to die. Save him? How was that supposed to work? Something did not add up, yet the promise of getting everything back was so luring. “A great Prime such as yourself does not deserve such a fate. What does it matter? You did some shady deals, you had kept us safe after all, even if it came at a price, that is what no one else understands. You are our true savior yet these fools were so blinded by Primus and his choice of messiah that they do not realize. You and me. How about we make them realize?”

Sentinel debated mentally with what strength he had left, already seeming to the point of numbing sensations and desperate thinking that he didn't even know how the figure hissed out Primus’ designation like it was a toxic poison. He would have everything back? everything? He did not even have to try to speak out that a deal was a deal before the bot spoke up again. “Save your words, I know the answer.”

Was all Sentinel could make out before passing out from having lost too much of his own life force, thinking this was all going to slow, nothing was going to matter anymore and that he simply wouldn't activate again.

However fate had other plans as he came back online in what seemed to be an abandoned medical office, the air stagnant and the silence deafening. He slowly sat back up from the medical berth he was resting on.

Observing his own self he could see how his colors seemed to have significantly darkened, his once deep and rich blue resembling more the tones of gray or black with blue tints. His wings seemed to be intact for the most part only to have become jagged and blackened, a far cry from the gold they once were. Even his optics have become “stained” as his reflection showed them how they have become the colors of a golden flame. Yet the most concerning detail was his torso, large scarring seen on the ripping seams, making him believe he was simply just welded back together instead of having had any qualified medic look at him. Going over those scars however he could tell everything worked like it was supposed to. 

“Active?”

Sentinel recognized that voice, instantly tensing. Turning around to finally analyze the bot who had helped him for no reason it seemed. He was definitely right with his prior thoughts of the bot being mostly golden coloured, yet some details seemed so…wrong. Optics such a deep purple that it seemed almost unreal to look at them, and a wolfish grin revealing plenty of sharp teeth, especially the canines which were more fangs than anything. Sentinel could make out Alt mode details on the bot, they were cogged, but yet he had never seen this individual before. Someone completely new. They had wings, that must mean the bot was some sort of aerial cybertronian. In a way it was almost like looking into some kind of twisted mirror image of himself, it was uncanny to say the least.

“You owe me an explanation.”

Sentinel huffed out in slight irritation, he was in no mood to put up an act after nearly dieing

“Who are you, why are you helping me?” He added, as he kept a steady position, he couldn't let the bot know that he was somewhat intimidated by their appearance after all, he? of all bots? intimidated? No. At least he shall not show that he is.

“A mere fan of your work, an admirer. a fan you could say.” The figure spoke again as they walked out of the shadows, their facial plates were white similar to Sentinels which only further intensified their purple optics that had locked onto the false Prime. “My name is not noteworthy. I doubt it is of any importance for someone like you.”

The bot replied, their words composed and tone showing indifference.

“I would like to know the name of the bot who is going to be my business partner.” Sentinel doubled down. Finding it suspicious how his new partner was not willing to even give out their designation. “Tsk. See it this way. If you get caught, you can't say it was me who helped you because you can't refer to me, I won't suffer just because you made a mistake. it is a mere safety net for me.”

The same way Sentinel doubled down, so did the other individual in the room. While Sentinel held his ground, the other bot was starting to get a rather annoyed attitude, clearly not enjoying being talked to like that. Sentinel was still before finally dropping the matter, cutting the clear tension in the room. The golden bot seemed to mirror his action, demeanor switching back to indifference as they took a big vent in “Do we not have more urgent matters to address?” Sentinel hated how the other seemed to try taking the lead in this all. HE was the Prime, HE was entitled to be in the higher position of the two, yet he was smarter than go against someone who clearly had just welded him back together. The air still thick he relented and accepted the fact that the other would have the lead for now, but his time would come.

“Listen to me, Sentinel. I don't see why you should do any errands for me NOW. we have time with everyone figuring out how to lead things without you.” Sentinel perked up as the other bot essentially started to circle him again.

“You told me I would get everything back.”

Sentinel stated matter of fact, he wanted to see what hook this…creature had in its deals.

“Patience, patience. With time. It's not instantaneous. Why not start off small with that task? Who was at fault for this all?”

The figure questioned as they grabbed one of his servos, urging him to leave the empty medical bay with them.

“Optimus Prime and Megatron.”

Sentinel scoffed out, as if the answer was obvious. “Was that REALLY where things got out of servo? Was it?”

The individual questioned, leading them out to the abandoned halls, the debris in the dusty walls showing how long this station had really been abandoned as he began to think. “If Darkwing just would have done his task correctly then.-” “None of this would have happened.”

The figure completed the sentence for him as they let go of his servo. Leaving him on his own for now. “Tell you what. Why don't you go your own path for a while, and I will just call you once it's time to hold up your side of the deal, yes?”They did not give Sentinel the entitlement to even answer as they walked off and disappeared behind a corner. Sentinel picked up the pace, in confusion before turning the corner and seeing no sight of them. What is this thing? Not a Cybertronian that was clear, and that worried him. However, this entity was right, he had an open bill, and he would destroy anyone in his way, they betrayed him, they all did.

Wandering the silent halls he began to think, to plan. He could not just run into danger afterall, Darkwing wasn't an issue however someone in the possession of the matrix of leadership very much is and that isn't if the Quintessons haven't already noticed some things off and started the war all over again. However he found solace in the fact that Optimus and Megatron have been separated and thus he wouldn't have to face them at once, Optimus’ little friends however were another thing, afterall Optimus did not achieve all of this by himself, they managed to turn everyone against him. He paced angrily, no no, Optimus shouldn't be on his mind, he should keep his mind on the next step instead, and that is Darkwing. If Darkwing would have just appropriately gotten rid of him like he insinuated, then none of this would have happened in the first place and Darkwing was much easier to beat than his other options as of current since his “guardian angel” will quite clearly not assist him in this. Repositioning his wings he made up his mind, first Darkwing, and then he will plan accordingly to take out his bigger enemies, something in his mind truly just tells him to go ahead and cause as much as chaos as was possible, mayhaps it was revenge, or maybe it was something else, but Sentinel could care less. He was alive. That was good enough for now. 

Darkwing was easy enough to find, due to the new Prime’s rule changes deaths are minimized. All Sentinel had to do was find where Darkwing is holed up and then snuff out his miserable spark for being a failure in his book.

However the problem was that he couldn't get spotted, everyone would probably think he was some sort of horrific demon, well in their defense he did not exactly look the best either. But that was an issue for later, he had one advantage to this situation, they thought he was dead, so if that is the case all he had to do was take out Darkwing without being seen and they would never suspect him. That gave him an idea.

------------

Silently he crept through the dark night, trying to remain in the shadows of Iacon, his dark colouration giving him the advantage now that the city was only partially lit up. The false prime had been to 3 holding cells he had knowledge of already, and Darkwing was in none of them, he had around 5 to go and he knew his chances of finding Darkwing would increase each time. He had made up his mind by freeing Darkwing first and once the mech was away enough from society that was when he was going to strike. Just like how he used to do it, he could stage this as a simple accident while Darkwing was breaking out and before anyone would find out what really happened, Sentinel was long gone before they could patrol the city.

As the false Prime checked out the next holding cell he couldn't help but wonder who to next take out. He wouldn't let Megatron and especially Optimus get out of this alive, HE would get the last laugh, he supposed Megatron due to being banished would be a next appropriate target before taking on the new Prime himself, he would claim the Matrix, as he was supposed to claim it first before Primus dared robbing him of his rightful place. The thought of Primus alone gave him a feeling of frustration and even disgust. He WILL get the Matrix of Leadership. HE was the rightful owner!

Sentinel was snapped out of his thoughts when he finally spotted Darkwing from the shadows, now he couldn't let Darkwing see him, or else the fool would shout or scream or whatever to alert the guards either on purpose or on accident. So he waited…and waited and waited.

Waiting until Darkwing went to recharge before fiddling with the Lock, now having claws made that very difficult and it felt like an eternity before he managed to unlock the cell. Slowly approaching he attempted to wake Darkwing, slowly shaking him as to not immediately startle him online, afterall Sentinel needed a while to back up. Slowly noticing Darkwing coming online, the false Prime ran off, leaving the door wide open so Darkwing gets the point and once again waiting in the safety of the darkness he had gotten so used to.

At first Darkwing seemed unsure, looking around for any present guards who seemed suspiciously absent, which was Sentinels doing, they weren't dead to say just…out of service for a while. Yet Darkwing didn't seem to know that.

Darkwing eventually took the opportunity, foolishly sneaking off while the guards were still out like a light, not knowing he was running right into his death.

Sentinel took up the chase, just far away enough to not be on Darkwings radar until they were far away enough from the facility before catching up to Darkwing and giving him a swift end by piercing his spark with what seemed to be built in blades on his forearms…since when?- Does not matter. His “guardian angel” must have had something to do with this.

A shame really, Sentinel would have loved if Darkwing would have at least put up a fight but it'll do. As he positioned Darkwing to make it look like his death was a simple accident on Darkwings part he felt a prickle in his back struts, electricity gathering in the air, he expected to turn around and be faced by a firearm but instead he was faced by his “angel” once again.

How long had they been following him? Did they see everything? “Who are you?! And this time do not give me a vague answer!” Sentinel demanded as he approached the mech, who slightly backed off, not in any fear, more irritation and bitterness as their facial plates contorted in an expression of unamusement and frustration. Their body language slightly hostile and wings in a defensive position as their purple optics locked onto the false Prime with their teeth nearly beared in snear as they approached him again, seemingly fed up with the attitude they had been given until now. “Someone you really should not have deleted from the archive records, Sentinel.”