#Maybe aggressively positive I dunno

[blackbirdffxiv]

"Don't you ever worry about annoying people when you RT/RB old conte--" Absolutely not. Have absolutely no shame in reblogging content you created, no matter how old it is. Or content of creators you enjoy.

Encourage yourself/others to be perceived.

Also because I shamelessly love my blorbos and everyone else should perceive them too dammit.

[kombuuuu]

Somethin’ Soft for someone Tough.

Earth 42!Miles Morales x Fem!Reader

“Let me stitch you up, Miles.”

i ❤️ miles and he is so bf uhuh (i’m insane put me in a cell)

also he’s soooooo a simp in this, none of that ihu typa love his mama raised him RIGHT

warnings: injury, stitches, medical practices from someone who doesn’t know what the hell they’re doing, some angst, slightly suggestive at times

I dot NOT speak spanish so if anyone is willing to help with translation for future fics, I would owe my life to you (and give early release? i dunno wtv u want babygirl)

—

Miles didn’t understand your hurt. He didn’t understand why you hated him being the Prowler—, didn’t understand you crying when you found out. Or your shame and disappointment when it came to his..

-Profession.

It confused him, he did this to keep you safe. He’d already lost enough, he can’t lose you. He won’t. You just didn’t get that.

Having you be mad at him, loath him, despise and detest him for being Prowler. It was easier than you dead because he wasn’t.

He would rather you hate him, than only have your memory.

So when he came home to you sleeping in his bed, waiting for him to return to you only two weeks after his initial reveal, he did nothing but lay down next to you and let your hand slowly drag into his. Interlocking your fingers in a twisted pattern of forgiveness and relief.

And he didn’t try to understand why.

—

It was warm this night, the heat of a summers Sun leaving Brooklyn a mucky kind of hot. Sweat dripping down the flesh of those still dwelling outside so late, only taking solace in the rare occasion of a breeze through their clothes.

Which is why you felt ever grateful lying in an air conditioned apartment dawned only in a pair of your lovers boxers and a ribbed white tank top.

It was the pair you bought him a while back when browsing street stalls, decorated with little cats and hearts. You thought they were funny, he was not impressed (but he was happy you were happy).

Miles had been out a lot lately. Assignments, as he called them, had been increasing in frequency as of late. Willing you more and more worried about the boy you loved, he just kept coming home injured.

Which you endearingly (aggressively) scolded him for, tones of care seeping into your monologue of being safer with his job whilst he huffed and puffed begrudgingly.

Assuring you he was nothing but careful,—

“Mami, ¿por qué iba a ser imprudente con mi vida cuando te tengo a ti para volver casa a? Alguien tiene que cuidar de ti.”

"Mami, why would I be reckless with my life when I have you to go home to? Someone has to take care of you."

A bashful murmur of “Just be more careful.” Would only reward you with a hand on your waist and the beginnings of a smile. You sighed out in boredom, draping a hand over your forehead dramatically. Spread out on Miles’ bed awaiting his return that’s seemingly taking years.

A crash outside your (boyfriends’) window alerted you out of your position, the piercing sound of metal scraping against metal grating your ears. Shooting up from your laid position, you messily shuffled off the bed, almost tripping over yourself to get to the figure struggling beyond the glass. A heavy claw dragged the window open with the apparent little strength it had left, heavy breaths and short rumbles of discomfort reaching your ears.

The neon pink of the Prowlers mask greeted you, quickening your aid in slamming open the window and catching Miles’ stumbling body from toppling through.

A husking groan sounded from your sweetheart as the mask slowly peeled back, revealing the trails of blood creeping from a cut in his lip.

“Hey, mami.”

Miles was gorgeous, he was a still picture of a painted deity in living form. The plump of his lips dripping a slow streak of burgundy did nothing to taint the sight of him, you wished it had, maybe you could be madder.

“Miles, what happened?” Your concern had outweighed your admiration, you were now fretting.

“I tripped.”

You scoffed something unbelieving, smiling despite the ache in your chest at the poor sight of him. Your emotionally stumped man.

“C’mon, baby, come inside.” Your right hand caressed the side of his face, left collecting his claw adorned fingers in yours to help him through and into his room.

He squeezed his eyes shut as he stepped over the sill, sucking in a breath and hoping you didn’t catch it.

Glancing up at you from his hunched position, you gaped back at him, unimpressed but worried.

He dropped your hands, the clasps on his gloves clicking, and the metal dropped to the ground with a dull thud. Pushing his arms back and letting his backpack fall too, he cracked his neck and winced again.

You all but pouted at him, reaching for his hurt body in discontent.

He leaned down to put his head on your shoulder, breath tickling your neck as he peppered you with light kisses, nipping your skin in just a graze. He wasn’t one to usually be so affectionate, but his guard always lowers with you, shoulders dropping and pulse quickening.

“No está tan mal, ma.”

"It's not so bad, ma."

His hand lifting from out of yours and onto your waist, circling the exposed skin between his boxers and your shirt.

His boxers,—

—,his hand twitched.

“Not that bad?” Your hushed voice bled of concern. “There’s a gash in your side!”

The simple serenity he had found buried in your neck had been ripped away from him in an instant.

You all but hauled his body to the bed, urging him to sit down against the sheets whilst he sulked grumpily behind you. Pushing against his chest and sitting him down.

You ran to his bathroom, washing your hands thoroughly before opening the cabinet under the sink, reaching back to the first aid kit you had placed here for this exact reason and towel, you rushed back to his room and shut the door behind you. “Amor, It’s just a—“ Cutting himself off, he hissed and cursed some under his breath.

“No digas que es sólo un corte.”

"Don't say it's just a cut."

“Mi sol, I have suffered worse.”

“Let me stitch you up, Miles.”

You turned back, shooting him an exasperated look while you threw the towel. Miles catching it without much effort and putting it under him. Flipping open the latch on the kit you sat yourself next to his bed, knees underneath you and digging harshly into the scuffed wood. You grabbed everything you assume you’d need, setting it on the open lid of the kit and focusing back on Miles.

“You look good like this, mami.”

You choked slightly, glaring up at him.

“Take off your jacket, Morales.”

"Sabes, si querías que me desnudara..."

"You know, if you wanted me to undress..."

“One more word.”

“Understood.”

He groaned as he did. Jacket falling off his shoulders and onto the bed, he pushed it to the floor beside you and spread his knees. You shuffled closer between them, lifting his shirt enough to see the damage on his torso and sighed shakily when figuring he was right.

It was just a graze, but a damn deep one. On the right of his torso, falling just under his ribcage was a thin, deep gash.

“What were you cut with, Papi?”

His stomach clenched as you prodded around, checking the wound for any signs of oncoming infection and signalling for him to take his shirt off.

“A knife, probably.”

Despite the weary of the situation, a smug look adorned his face. You poked his stomach, him wincing.

“Figures.”

You hid your smile.

He slipped his shirt over his head, grimacing at the pull of his wound. You took it from him and set it aside, getting an unopened bottle of water from the kit and pouring it over the cut. The water ran through the blood, trickling down his abs and soaking the waist band of his pants, he tipped his head back, groaning lowly in pain.

“Mami, entiendo que estés enojada, but please be gentle.”

"Mami, I understand that you're angry, but please be gentle."

He gazed down at you lazily, the drawl of his accent coating his voice syrupy in light of his injury. He looked downright sinful, braids draping lazily and shoulders dropped. Leaning back on his palms with his legs spread.

“I am gentle.”

“Sure.”

You focus returned to his wound, grabbing a clean hand towel and patting his cut dry, gently.

The occasional hiss or moan would interrupt you, but other than that Miles stayed relatively quiet. Watching you work as you fixed him.

“There, all done.”

“Not gonna kiss it better?”

You huffed, amused as you started to put everything back where it belonged. You could change the sheets and dispose of the hand-towels tomorrow, right now he just wanted you.

Miles grabbed your waist as you stood, hands slipping behind you to shove you forward into him. He buried his face into your stomach and sighed. You giggled lightly, the lack of a smile on his face tagged with the need for your touch was something no one but you could get used to. Your hand slowly trailed up his bare back, nails scratching lightly at his skin. He shivered, tightening his hold on you further.

“Lay down, baby.”

He whispered your name, “Chiquita, you take such good care of me.”

Humming, you unhooked his arms from you and pushed him to lie back by the tips of your fingers.

“Gon’ spoil you after this.”

You grabbed the towel, surprisingly dry and dropped it to the floor with the other discarded items.

“You already spoil me, Papi.”

Miles kicked off his shoes, sparing you a glance and a hum at the endearment.

“‘S’cause you deserve it.”

He unbuckled his belt, threading it out through the loops and threw it to land somewhere. You dragged the corner of the quilt back up to the both of you, stopping halfway. Miles sighed in annoyance, huffing at his pant button and cursing it as he fumbled to pull his pants down.

You giggled, “Need help, baby?” He scoffed lightheartedly. “I got it.”

“Mhm.” He eventually did get it, pulling his pants off and over his legs, coughing slightly at the wind crushing his cut had caused him.

“C’mere mami.” He grabbed your thighs, dragging you on top of him. “Mm—“ “Shh, it don’t hurt.” You let yourself relax slightly, mostly leaning on your need as not to hurt him.

The stars in his eyes as he looked up at you, he sighed quietly.

“It’s hot baby, we’re gonna get all sweaty.”

“Hopefully.”

“Miles.”

You rolled your eyes in a laugh, hooking your arms around his neck and leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Mm, there. Now you’re all better.”

He rubbed shapes into your thighs, loving the proximity. The way your breaths mingled and skin stuck together.

He thanked the Moon and the Stars for letting him keep you, begged every day to anyone out there that could hear him to tether your souls and kill him have he ever lose you. Would kill a million men to keep you safe, and he’d already had a running start.

He cleansed himself of his sins with your love, showering in the light you provided for him, and watched the blood of any man drip from his fingertips and into the rivers you’d created in his veins. Letting it mix with his own and beat by the tone of his heart. Which only ever raced for you. Only beat for you. He could only live for you, your love and acceptance.

Of which Miles would never understand why you loved him, and he would never try to.

“Much.”

He laid down, you following. Lying your head on his chest and listening to his breathing stutter at the contact.

It was late now, far later than a healthy time to finally sleep. But nothing could break the bubble of ease that now seemed to suffocate him. Lulling him into a slumber with his love against his heart.

—

first fic shoulllllf probably be fluff b4 i angst again

as angst is all i’m good for

i literally don’t know how to write fluff so pray it was good

IF ANY TRANSLATIONS WRONG PLESASSSSSE CORRECT ME

[salbei-141]

Daddy Issues (John Price x Reader)

Masterlist

word count: 1.4k

warnings: 18+, fluff, angst, comfort, suggestive themes, daddy issues, confession, praise, etc.

a/n: I have exams, but this obviously takes priority (if y'all are doing exams, go revise loves, don't be silly and procrastinate like me, I believe in y'all more than I do me)

I can't lie I may be tempted to write a smutty part 2 to this I dunno...Price is a DILF and I know me and you both got daddy issues - I'm writing Captain Price fanfic after all, and you're consuming it, so I feel like part 2 is may be necessary...

Code name: Scarlet

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had missed 48% of your shots today, which was well below your usual average accuracy score. You felt yourself getting frustrated knowing you were better than this - you were a good soldier, you had made it to Task Force 141 all by yourself despite the setbacks.

Reloading your pistol, you moved yourself into the correct position and breathed in deeply, then pulled the trigger. You watched as it hit the outermost line on the target. What was with you today? You stood in silence staring at the target feeling dread crawling up your spine - maybe you weren't as good of a soldier as you'd believed you were. You felt yourself remembering the harsh words of your father reminding you that you were just a useless little girl.

Huffing to yourself, you slammed the gun down in front of you, rubbing your hands over your face, feeling that stinging in your throat. Were you really about to start crying? "Get a fucking grip", you muttered to yourself.

That's when you heard the familiar heavy footsteps of your captain. And before you knew it, his voice was coming from behind you, making you shiver lightly with its deep rumble, "You'll have some catching up to do Scarlet - Gaz and Soap are way ahead of you".

You don't know what it was, but the blatant disappointment in his voice had you wanting to hide away and sob - you were supposed to be his best soldier. The frustration and upset overwhelmed your senses, and you turned to face Price with a stoic expression and snappy tone, "Look can you just fuck off? You think you're making this any easier by standing there and breathing down my neck telling me I'm not good enough?".

He looked surprised - you had never snapped at him like this before, especially in front of other soldiers. He then knitted his brows together, staring deeply into your eyes with a blank expression that felt like the calm before the storm and spoke with a low tone, "Get in my office y/n." He watched as your eyebrows furrowed further and your eyes grew darker, as you went to open your mouth and assumedly defy his order, "Now y/n", you shut your mouth instantly and walked to his office as he towed behind while there was a gentle echo of whispers behind you.

As you opened the door to the office you walked into the centre of the room staring outside the window overlooking the premises. You refused to take a seat - it was defiant, but you also didn't want to get comfortable, you knew you'd fucked up royally.

The fire in you just 5 minutes ago had dwindled - you weren't aggressive to your peers, let alone your superior. But you bit at him - you weren't an aggressive person, just overwhelmed - you hadn't meant it.

You stood rigid and on edge - unsure how Price was going to respond to you. You watched as he rounded you, opting to stand tall in front of you, instead of sitting at his desk as you had hoped for.

"Want to explain what the fuck that was?" He stared down at you with piercing eyes that you were struggling to hold your gaze with his, his voice was gruff and stern.

The fire had dwindled in you completely, and you didn't know what to do or how to respond. You stared up at him looking lost - completely bewildered by your own actions, "I'm...sorry"

He watched as your eyes glazed over, he hadn't expected this when you were raising your voice at him mere moments before.

"What?", his brows furrowed confused by your sudden shedding of tears. You weren't an overly emotional individual and he'd never seen you shed tears during some of your most harrowing missions together.

You looked up at him ashamed - feeling like that useless little girl your father had said you always were, "I said I'm sorry John".

The use of his first name changed everything - it felt informal - he felt like he needed to comfort you as a friend, not as your superior.

"Come here y/n", he beckoned you into his arms, letting you wrap your arms around him and softly cry into his chest. He gently ran his fingers through your hair - unsure of what you needed from him right now, but the calming of your breaths reassured him that he was doing enough.

"What’s wrong?”, he pulled back slightly to see your face - your cheeks had flushed red and your eyes remained glossy with tears.

You shift your eyes around him, trying to avoid his gaze and his question. However, you feel as he gently lifted your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his as he waited for an answer.

“I’m just…overwhelmed”, he raised a brow at this - it was obvious that there was more going on.

“Can you tell me why?”, he sounded so gentle - he genuinely wanted to know - he cared.

You continue holding his gaze feeling the newly familiar burn in your throat as you tried to keep your tears at bay - not that it worked as you felt a few escape and trail down your cheeks again, being caught by John's thumb as he wiped them away.

“Do I disappoint you, John?”

"What?", he looked confused - you were probably his most hard-working soldier - getting this far wasn't easy, and it certainly wouldn't have happened if you were a disappointment.

“Do you ever think that I was a poor choice for 141?”, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing - he’d never doubted your abilities since the day he saw your first induction day to the SAS.

"Not at all love, why?"

"You said that I was falling behind...and my father used to tell me if I wasn't the best then I was just another person wasting everyone's time pretending to be something I wasn't, so I should just give up", you held your breath - never having admitted that.

He held your face gently, "Your father's a fucking idiot then love", you chuckled softly and he smiled seeing this - you weren't the same little girl your father would relentlessly put down; if your 10-year-old self could see you know, she'd be so proud of you, you knew that. John was right - your father was a fucking idiot.

"I couldn't be prouder to have you as a member of 141...but you're more than just a soldier love - I think the only time you've disappointed me was the day you got shit-faced with Johnny after your birthday last year"

You stared at him confused, absentmindedly placing your hands over his wrist that held your face, "Why?"

His tone changed - you'd never heard it come from him, "Because I had planned to ask you out -and finally taste those lips of yours"

Your cheeks felt hot as you blushed, shocked by his confession, "Why haven't you said anything?"

He leaned slightly closer to you, smelling the perfume that clung to your skin, "Lost the courage like the idiot I was"

You smile at him, your eyes having dried from the previous tears, "Well don't be an idiot again".

He chuckled lowly, "Don't plan on it love".

He pulled you closer to him, leaning down to meet your lips, kissing you softly, tasting the salt that lingered on your lips. He felt as you gently nipped his lip, feeling the way you smiled into him. He gently pushed you up against his desk, intensifying the kiss, as you both started to feel hotter, your senses overwhelmed by your captain as you felt his body pressed against yours. You gently pushed at his chest, making him pull away and look down at you - your pupils were blown, making him smirk.

"Take me on a date first?"

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead and spoke lowly, "Of course love - as much I want to fuck you against my desk right now, I think I'd rather take you out first and fuck you in my bed, hm?"

You blushed hard at him, "Maybe you'll get to fuck me against your desk another time"

"I hope so love", he smirked stepping away and holding his hand out to you, "Best get back out there before someone comes to check on you thinking I've lost it on you, huh?"

You smiled at him stepping around him to leave, "Good girl", you stopped in your tracks, ready to turn back around.

"Didn't tell you to stop", you sighed as you heard his low laugh as you left his office to go back to your target - everything before being forgotten as your Captain preoccupied your mind for the rest of the day.

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job, Post 391: Cat n Mouse, p2

“You’re wondering about me, about what’s happening. You were snooping because you’re curious, you’re nervous and scared. It’s okay, sweetie, I understand. I haven’t told you as much as I should about myself. A good girlfriend would, do that right? Well, I didn’t because I was a little, like…embarrassed. I was a little nervous about how you’d react, if you knew too much about me. I thought that you maybe wouldn’t like me anymore if you knew more about my past, how I grew up, how I got this way.”

“N-no Melissa…I w-want to know.” he stammered, “I want to know…you.”

That brought her a smile. She looked at him.

He sat there, on the counter, his 6’8” girlfriend's hands planted to either side of his hips. He’d just been caught, found in his hiding place. Melissa had been worked up, aggressive…she could get that way, he knew, and sometimes it got scary. Especially when she was so fresh and massively pumped-up from her weightlifting, her earlier workout. She was intense,  but as soon as she sat him down her mood had changed, like it tended to do, on a razor-edged dime. Right now she seemed earnest, still really energized but sincere. 

Jay, though, looked terrible. His face had gone ashen, and his stomach was in knots. Melissa knew all this of course, and she knew exactly what he needed.

“Here baby, hold this,” she said, offering him her bra and placing one of its huge, white, underwire cups over his nose and mouth. It dwarfed him, it dwarfed his face, and it could have easily covered his whole head. Immediately, though, his first breath began to make him feel better. Relief flowed through him as he was reacquainted with the scent of her skin. She could have released her perfumes to ease him, but this was haha better at the moment. I wanna make you know what you need.

From behind his bra-mask, he took nicely deep breaths as he looked sheepishly up at her, He tried his best not to look too embarrassed, but that was hard to do.

Satisfied, she smiled. “Feeling better? Good. Okay anyway, well, I guess I’ll keep going.”

Wordlessly, he nodded.

“You know it, right?. I’ve been able to do things, always, things other people couldn’t, even as a young girl. My mom knew about it. My sister is actually the same way, kinda, but different. I know you’ve seen it, or at least you’ve started to. Like how I grow quicker than other people, or how I get stronger and, whatever, faster and taller? My body does what it needs to, really really well.”

He looks confused. That’s normal.

“We didn’t have a lot of money, growing up, when I was young,” she continued, “my mom put everything she had into her, like, work I guess - but we traveled around a lot.” As she spoke, she made sure to position herself in just the right way to keep her big boobs bulging right in front of his face. Despite how enormously jacked she looked right now, she knew her breasts were still soft and hugely comforting to him. Staring at them made him feel better, just like that huge bra-cup covering his face.

“Me and my sister lived in a bunch of different places, so my mom could do her studies. West Coast, East Coast, Japan, Kentucky.  She also started showing me off, as I started to get older, when I started to…develop. When my body became, like, perfect. I got tall, strong. I got pretty. I never got sick. She brought me around the world to show me to…people. People and businesses with a lot of money. She was trying to…I dunno…see what she could get. Finally we ended up here, hooked up with Evolution, and finally I ended up with…you.”

Melissa was trying her best to be honest, mostly telling him what she thought she could. What she wasn’t telling him was…well, a lot. She wasn’t telling him that, after years of being groomed and grown by the people around her, this was her first real ‘mission’. This was the first time they actually asked her to do anything real instead of just studying and testing her. They normally just wanted what was inside her, like her…whatever. DNA. 

This had all become so much more than an ‘assignment’ to her though. This had become her new life. He had become her new life. This little man, breathing her ‘perfumes’ from her used bra, sucking on it for air like his life depended on it. This was the love of her life, her everything.

“You see…” Melissa’s voice grew quiet as her gaze shifted to the floor, down and away. For the moment, she looked uncharacteristically vulnerable. “...I never really got the chance to have someone, or make real attachments. I was always told not to, and that I shouldn’t. That I had much more important things I had to be doing. I needed to be training. I needed to be taught. I needed to be studied.” 

He could hear it. As confusing as this was to him, it was hard for her, too. She’d never felt like this before, either.

“But now, as weirdly as it started, I have you.” There was a palpable frustration and desperation in her voice, but with Jay there she realized: really, she’d only been living a half-life, part of her had been asleep. He had woken her up.

She looked down at him, and the powerful emotions that warmed her insides doubled, then doubled again in a rising tide, a swelling wave. At the same time an intensely manic glee returned to her speech, speeding it up as she looked down at the object of her affection. “And I love you! I love you so much. I never knew I could feel this way about a person, a guy. I was always told men were, like, less. Less than human. Not worthy of our time or emotions, that we were superior. But being with you had taught me a lot. You’ve taught me a lot, and now I don’t care what they say! They don’t get to decide what happens between, like, you and me.”

“W-who? W-what??”Jay asked, his voice muffled by her bra. He was, of course, confused and bewildered - and he wasn’t even getting the whole crazy story. Even with the most unbelievable parts left out - her position as an asset for the Movement, to say nothing of the witchery, the origins of she and her sister, or who her mother actually was - he was incredulous. ”Wait, wait, wait. Who’s t-telling you wh-??”

“My mom, and my doctors mostly, their bosses. People who want to study me, or use me. People who I’m starting to figure out don’t really care about me, they just care about what I can do. What I’m made up of.”

What the hell does she mean?? This is so weird!

“But I’m getting kinda fed up. I love you, and I want to be your girlfriend. I want to protect you from all these people that want to hurt you or take you, or study you. So, if that means getting bigger and stronger and more powerful than - oh god, sweetie - I want to get enormous. If that’s what it takes to keep you safe I want to be twenty feet tall. I want to be able to break down buildings and be your Momazon giant she-hulk girlfriend! I want to keep developing, keep growing, keep growing my body and all these things I can do and be your superhero, your…omigod…whatever you need.” 

It was happening, again. He could see it in her eyes, again. She was getting worked up, again. There was a manic energy building in her. His nervous fear and crippling arousal, though they’d never really left, started to redouble themselves  - again. 

She reached out, stroked the side of his head, fighting back the urge to grab his skull. 

Looking at him like this, watching him needily breathe from her bra cup, just manifested in her how dependent he was getting. His eyes were a puppy dog’s, and, gah, he was just so fucking adorable. She loved it. She loved him. She wanted to protect him. “I just feel all these people, all these, like, forces outside, trying to get to you, trying to take you from me. And it makes me so mad. Like…like…these lawyers. When I first saw them, in my place, in my office…nnngh oh my god.”

Her place? Her office? At this point, his mind was reeling. His attempts to find out what was going on just seemed to bring up even more questions and he could feel himself gradually retreating into denial, acceptance, and eventually acquiescence to all these powers around him that were beyond his comprehension. In her presence now, assaulted by her beauty and breathing in the scent of her from her used clothing, he’d completely lost himself. Lost in a fog, He forgot why his nausea had come, and why it had suddenly gone. He forgot about his shrinking, and why he could no longer swim or drive or tie his shoes. It was all gone. He was focused, once again, entirely on her. And he wanted to hear more, more of what she could do.

”Wh-what were you going to d-do to them?” he asked, his voice shaking in arousal as she saw him twitch, “To the lawyers that were trying to…stop us?” 

She smiled, hearing him use the word ‘us’. He didn’t even really know what he was saying, but she liked the sound. “What did I want to do? When they burst into the office?” she asked, still using one hand to stroke a gentle finger down the side of his quivering face, petting him. Her other hand still held her weight on the counter. When I heard that they wanted to take you away,” she said, her voice even and chillingly tender, “I wanted to kill them. I wanted to punch my hand into their chests and rip out their hearts. I wanted to break every bone in their bodies, arms, legs, skulls, and tear their heads off.” 

Jay flinched under her touch. The violence she described, the way she described it - such detail, with such casual confidence - it shocked him. This was his girlfriend. It was terrifying, but also strangely arousing and he groaned, his loins surging as he pictured it, the scene, the physical power she had, the grisly demonstration of her obviously immense strength. It seemed so surreal, but in the dark parts of himself he knew it was possible, what she could do to another human being. There were parts, darker still, that wished he could see it. He wanted to see how strong she really was. “Y-you would…oh god…you would do that? To p-p-protect me?”

”Omigod baby I would do anything to protect you,” her breath hot and sultry as she, put her weight back on both hands and leaned in closer inches from his face. Her big chest was beginning to heave in her out-matched white tank top as she sensed his growing arousal. He likes this. “I would fucking rip them to shreds.” Describing this to him was turning him on, she realized. He likes thisss he doessss. He likes the real me hahaha. In a manic flourish of raven waves, she let her hair down, throwing more caution to the wind. If he likes it so much why hold back?

She let her voice deepen. “Oh, but I'm not gonna stop there. To protect you. I want you - nnngh, oh god - as close to me as possible. And, I wanna keep you there.” Her heart had begun to beat hard, powerfully. “I feel like I want you against me, against my skin, always, actually inside me, in the safest place possible.” 

She saw how the deepening of her voice, its power, made him quiver. She knew she needed to try to control her urges, because they were strong, they were beasts, mastodons, giant she-mammoths inside her. They wanted to overwhelm him with their size, they wanted to smother him under their weight. For a moment she collected herself, puffing up her cheeks, then exhaled.

<whoooooooossssh…>

The poor little man almost fell backwards. Her breath - omigod my breathhh - it blew him backwards. He needed to catch himself with his hands behind himself, on the counter. He’d dropped her bra; it now draped down dangling over and between his legs. 

She groaned, her eyes fluttering when she saw him faltering, recovering. Oh my god he’s so weak. Her pheromones came from her skin, unbidden, instinctively.

“wh-wh-what…” he stammered, “wh-what was th-that..?!?”

“Hold on honey,” she purred, her voice deepening yet another octave as she saw another opportunity to show him his place. “I’ll show you.” She drew in a deep breath, pursed her lips, and once again blew.

This time, it was stronger, like being in a wind tunnel with gales scented of mint and honey. And with it he moved, he slid back on his butt nearly two feet across the slick granite of the kitchen island under him, nearing the far edge. His eyes went wide and the power of her breath began to falter as it broke down into laughter. Mad giggles erupted from her as she reached out and had to catch him by the ankles before he fell off the other edge of the counter. She’d just pushed him back with her breath, with the power of her lungs, and it made her giddy with laughter.

“Oh my god,” he managed, in his amazement, his eyes wide, “M-Melissa…how strong are you?!?" His voice was a mix of awe and intimidation, and it fueled her.

She smirked at his disbelief, her laughter cut as a sharp thrill of dominance coursed through her veins. Her eyes were locked on his, and with a gleam to her eyes that nearly made him whelp, she answered him. “I’m very. Fucking. Strong. I think I could blow you through the wall if I wanted.”

He was sitting still on the counter, but now his legs were splayed out in front of him, outstretched. Her bra lay across his lap, and, as he looked at her, he couldn't help but spread his thighs, slowly, timidly, further apart. He showed her its straining, tenting the leg of his slacks begging to be set free. He showed her his painfully trapped erection.

“Oh, Jay, oh my god,” she breathed seeing his member throbbing in his slacks, seeing the empty white bra so close to it, “look at you. Look at how excited you are. Do you like this? Do you like when I show off strength? What I can do?”

“M-Melissa, p-please,” he peeped, pleading with her for…what? Was he asking her to stop, or did he want her help taking care of him? Was he trying to show her how uncomfortable she was making him, or did he want her to show him more?

The confusion on his face made her smile. The poor little thing was just so lost. He needed her to show him more. “Shhh, watch, sweetie,” she said, as she stood up straighter,

flexing and curling her arms up into a double-biceps pose over him. Her muscles, her enormous muscles that emerged like this after training, bulged and flexed like two footballs. Their strength made her physical superiority even more apparent.  The sight made her tiny little boyfriend shake and gibber anew.

She now had visible lats flanking her chest, spreading to a cobra’s hood and exaggerating the V-shaped taper of her torso. The outline of her abdominal cavity beneath her tight-fitting top was apparent, with several inches of midriff and the bottom of her clearly defined six-pack visible. Her trunk and waist were ridiculously narrow in proportion to her chest and shoulders, but they were powerful with a lithe array of obliques. She had an impressive body, so tall, so perfect, and she wanted to show it off.

“Oh, sweetie,” she growled, allowing her upper body to relax for a moment before flexing again into an even more jaw-dropping display of her huge upper arms, “you look terrified. Why? Does it bother you, Jay? That I’m twice as strong as you? Haha, well, maybe a bit more than twice.” She flexed again; veins bulging from her biceps. “Ten times as strong as you? Maybe a hundred  times as strong as you?” She flexed once more, and her biceps grew to mountains that would rival her father’s. “And every day I’m getting stronger and stronger. Every day I’m getting bigger and bigger.”

When she spoke, her voice growing deeper with each word, he could swear he felt the pressure waves produced by her mighty vocal cords, waves of sound flowing over him. He squinted against the force of it bombarding him, but he bathed in its energy. He groaned, and would have closed his eyes, but he needed to look upon her, up at her.

Melissa loved it, she loved seeing him succumbing to her power, submitting to it. She’d held back before, like she’d always done. People, when they saw what she could do, always became afraid, backed away from her when she came on too strongly. They couldn’t handle her, accept her, or meet her charge. But him? She could see it: he loved this. He loved her being big and strong. And he loves being my boyfriend.

“Sweetie, you should come to the gym with me sometime, and watch me get bigger,” she said, “I can show you how I do it, how I’m going to get so. Fucking. Huge.” At that she moaned, dropping her arms down to cross her wrists in front of herself, so she could flex the mighty muscles of her neck and shoulders in a crab pose. Her trapezius muscles swelled, growing upward into a pyramid around her long and otherwise graceful neck. She groaned again as she watched his eyes goggle at this new display of her massiveness. “So. Fucking…HUGE,” she finished with a near-roar, blowing his hair backwards.

She laughed.

He quivered.

He trembled in front of her, and watched as she now began to lean over, above him. He could see individual muscles rippling in her shoulders and chest as she struggled to hold back a new wave of manic, unhinged laughter. She picked the discarded bra up off his lap, and dropped it on the counter beside them. Thick veins snaked across her arms and shoulders drawing his eyes down to her powerful chest.

”M-Melissa..?” he asked, not knowing what she was about to do. 

“Shh, shhhh Jay,” she growled, thunder rumbling deep within her chest before warping into the sing-song voice of a fairytale princess, ”Jay, Jay, Jayyyy…you are so good for me, so so good for me…” Her  mind was racing, becoming determined as she began casually taking off his shoes. “All I think about now is building muscles and fucking you with them.”

“Wh-what…?” he sputtered, “M-M-Melis-“

“Growing bigger, and holding you, and caring for you, and overwhelming you,” she continued, as she pulled off his socks - first one, then two - and dropped them on the floor, “I want to overwhelm you Jay, I want to become more than you could ever handle. I want to become so big that I’m like your whole world.”

His mind was racing, both scrambling for a way to calm her down and eagerly anticipating what she might do next. She’d already set to unbuttoning his shirt, undoing button after button with a frenetic fervor.“M-Melissa, y-you know you’re the most import-“ 

If she could hear him, he couldn’t tell. 

”You’re getting smaller, Jay,” she interrupted, having finished the last button, “Littler and weaker.” She opened his shirt wide and, after a moment of impatient consideration, ripped it in two, pulling both sides off his shoulders. “You need a big woman like me to protect you.”

urk..!

She eyed his body, the hollow thinness of his chest, the meagerness of his now-bare arms. Fucking amazing. Compared to her own female brawn - which she loomed above him menacingly now - he was a twerp, a weakling. Incredible.

She’d always known, even as a girl, that she was basically physically perfect, usually the strongest, fittest person in the room. It was just her reality, that she had physical advantages over others that just grew from year to year. It was, like, natural - well, haha, not completely natural. It was just the way things were. But here, now? Compared to him? It was…nnngh. She made him look like a bug. A tiny little bug. And she loved it.

And what does he think he’s doing now, this little bug of mine?

As she’d ruminated, he’d started to struggle. She’d pushed him down with one hand to the chest. She had him pinned, with his bare back to the granite countertop, and he’d been half-heartedly trying to stop her from undressing him. She’d worked his belt loose already, and was set to task on his fly. 

He seemed to have only half his wits about him, and grabbed at her arm, trying to get it off him. His efforts, though, seemed half-hearted. He was pushing hard, sure, as hard as he could, though to her it felt like the struggles of a small child. He was obviously so helpless against her, and it was as if he wanted to test that. He wanted this, she knew. He wanted to be helpless as a child for her, and that started getting her even more excited.

“Yeah, I like that,” she said, fingers still fumbling on the fly of his dress pants, “Try to fight off my big arm, little man. I’ll show you how weak you are compared to me.” She cocked her head as he grunted and groaned, trying to dislodge the hand which she had pushed harder into his chest. He was using all he could, but she wasn’t going anywhere. She knew he couldn’t do anything, just from watching him. Maybe once he was a strong enough guy, or maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was always weak like this. But now he’s no match for even one of my arms. Though, to be fair, not too many people are.

“You can fight it, but you can’t win,” she said. Her voice was preternaturally calm, but her lady-parts were all worked up and juicy. Sex is coming omigod sex is coming I’m going to fuck him so good. They were going to do it her way, her way, her way. She would show him, show him how things were going to be. 

The way they needed to be at work? In the outside world? Him, supposedly her boss? Fuck it. Here, alone, this is how it really is. The two of them could be themselves. She could be herself. She had so much she wanted to show him. It’s time to fuck some sense into him and show him how the world’s gonna work.

She took a nice long look at her wimpy little boyfriend as he pathetically pulled at her arm and looked up at her with his needy little face. With her eyes fixed on his, she tore his pants right off…

================================================

Thanks oodles to RiF for editing and help with the copy.

[chang-bunnie-bini-bop]

hiraeth • seo changbin [part two]

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✰ pairing - roommate!changbin x fem!reader

✰ warnings - reader passes out, very smalll angst, slightly suggestive [?]

✰ word count - 2.1k

✰ notes - what do you think he's hiding??? ALSO im so sorry i left you all hanging...i promise ill update frequently...'kay?

✰ tags - @hyunjinslittlestar @dunno-wut-to-do

✰ sypnosis: changbin takes care of you after you manage to somehow make your condition worse. but he's hiding something.

hiraeth - the longing for a home that you cannot return to, or never was.

masterlist | requests open!

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“So, do you want to tell me what happened?” Your roommate asked hopefully, curious, obviously. 

You decide to respond truthfully, mostly because he would probably see right through your lies. 

“Not really.”

Changbin was just…that kind of person. Wise, but funny when he needed to be. He knew exactly what to say, when to say it, and how to say it. 

He wasn’t the type of person to be afraid of his flaws, but to embrace them. This was a trait many people probably admired about him, but to you, it was the one thing that frustrated you most. 

You wished you could be like that. 

“Well,” He started, slapping his own thighs and getting up. “I’m just gonna-”

For some reason, a primal sort of instinct overwhelmed your mind immediately. You didn’t want him to leave.

You panicked and acted without thinking. 

Your arms darted out and wrapped around his stomach, head resting on his back. 

Changbin froze in his position, sagging slightly as your hand patted his tummy and attempted to pull him closer. 

You were so embarrassed, there was no way you were going to lift your head, not after pulling him around like he was your teddy bear. 

He turned around, holding your outstretched arms gently and folding them in your lap. 

You averted your entire face down, hair falling in between your eyes and effectively masking your whole face. 

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

“Your hair is so thin. Its become so ugly after that haircut.” The mom scoffed, yanking at the girl’s hair as she brushed through it. 

“Agh! Mom, careful! Also, I love the haircut. It makes me feel happy.” The girl talked back, earning an extra tough tug to the hair again. 

“Well, useless girl. Clearly, you’re ugly on the inside and outside.” Her mom made sure to push her head as she stood up, brushing her clothes off. 

“Now go to something useful, unlike your sister.” She spat. 

The thirteen year old resisted the urge to roll your eyes spitefully, knowing that it was probably better to just…listen to her. 

Maybe…she was just some useless girl. 

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

Yoe opened your eyes, and sunlight flooded your features aggressively. 

You whined and put your hand in front of your face, effectively blocking the sunlight. 

I probably fell asleep. 

Getting up, you look around the unfamiliar setting. 

Changbin was fast asleep beside you, putting cutely and hugging a Pokémon plush. 

It wasn’t uncommon for both of you to fall asleep next to each other, considering your biggest fear was loud noises, and thunderstorms occur pretty frequently. 

You had just…needed someone beside you. 

Now you had him. He groaned a bit and shuffled, the sunlight hitting him directly in the face. 

You almost had the urge to hug him again, but instead, you leaned down and pressed your lips to his cheek, thankful for the good nights rest. 

He squirmed slightly and almost woke up, prompting you to jump out of bed quickly and walk into the shared bathroom, which smelled like men’s perfume. 

The scent was so familiar you almost keeled over. It wasn’t strong, but it smelled sweet, like honeydew. 

You brushed your teeth, turning on the shower. Feeling almost lightheaded, you pressed your hand to your forehead, and yup, you had a high fever. 

You cranked up the temperature to the highest, needing to get your muscles loose after the tension of yesterday, your tantrum combined with your excessive workout. 

You threw off Changbin’s shirt, squishing at your own belly and deciding to wear loose-fitting clothing, today was a bloated day for sure. 

The shower you took felt like true luxury, a paradise in which you didn’t have to worry about your feelings, but rather yourself for once. 

The steam fogged up the mirrors, but you didn’t care about how misty they would be later. 

You stepped out and wrapped a towel around yourself, grabbing your huge t-shirt, puffy sweatpants and undergarments. 

The light-headedness returned, and only after you finished putting your clothes in the hamper did you realize your own mistake. 

Oh my goodness. I’m so stupid. 

You had taken a boiling hot shower, with an extremely high fever. 

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“Y/N-AH! I’m inviting some friends over for a while, is that okay?” Changbin yelled into the bathroom, rolling his eyes when you didn’t respond. 

He felt the steam of your shower circling his feet from the crack in the door, and his eyes widened. 

“YAH! Don’t use all the hot water! y/N!” He yelled, accentuating the last half of your name. 

“Hey, are you okay?! Y/N!” He knocked aggressively on the door, worry flooding his voice at the lack of answers, jiggling the locked handle. 

Then he heard a sickening thud. 

“Y/N! Hey, what was that?! Are you OKAY?!” Changbin screeched, banging on the door. 

His eyes widened in panic, and fright flooded his whole body. The door was locked. 

The master key. 

He ran to the kitchen and rummaged through the drawer, finding the key within a few seconds. 

Changbin ran back to the bathroom door and shoved the key into the lock with shaking hands. 

He managed to open the door slowly, covering his eyes in case…well, you know. 

“Y/N…?” He opened one eye, steam flooding his features. 

Your body was slumped over, the hamper of clothes knocked over and your hand resting on the pocket of one of his hoodies. 

Changbin took a deep breath, the heat almost unbearable. 

The older lifted your finished body over his shoulder while he pulled the hamper up again. 

Changbin adjusted his tank top and carried you to his room yet again, mirroring the previous night. 

He lightly tapped his hand on your cheek, attempting to wake your disgruntled body up. 

“Y/N-ah. Wake up, love.” He shook you lightly, and that’s what woke you up, finally. 

“C-changbin?” You stuttered, rubbing your eyes and gasping in pain as his hand pressed against your forehead. 

“Did you really take a hot shower with a fever?” 

You thought that he would gloat, laugh, make fun of you for being oh so stupid. 

But his tone was one of concern, of worry. 

For you. 

He wrapped his arms tightly around you, engulfing you in a blanket of warmth, which you definitely needed after the chill of of the room had overwhelmed your body. 

Your small frame shuddered, and you sagged in his hold, temporarily unaware of yourself, of anything. 

Numb. You felt numb. 

Like you didn’t care if you were happy or sad. 

Loud knocking tipped both of you out of your world, and Changbin grinned sheepishly at you as he motioned to himself. 

He wasn’t wearing a proper shirt. 

You rolled your watery eyes and walked to the door, hoping it wasn’t anyone important, considering your messed up state. 

“Hi-Is Changbin there?” A man asked. 

The first thing you noticed about him was that he was the epitome of perfect. 

Everything about him looked well put together, and his smile even had dimples. 

And then there was you, who was suddenly feeling very shy in front of him. 

“Yeah, Chan! I’ll be there in a sec!” Changbin yelled from the other room. 

You rolled your eyes. He was probably trying to find a good shirt that actually fit him and his muscles. 

Chan smiled down at you, and your mind immediately soured. Pity. 

But it didn’t seem like it. 

“What’s your name? Are you his roommate? He’s told me a lot about you.” Chan asked with a slight Australian accent, laughing at the end shyly. 

“Oh, my name is Y/N. Sorry, been having a rough week.” You responded, suddenly having the urge to shout ‘Aussie Aussie Aussie’ and see his reaction. 

“Everyone has those every once in a while.” Chan tsked, and Changbin chose that moment to emerge from his room, clad in a comfy shirt and sweatpants to mirror your own. 

Standing next to Chan, he suddenly looked way smaller, and you resisted the urge to coo at him. 

“Okay, we’ll be in my room, 'kay? I’ve ordered a nice lunch for you, and there’s a hot water bottle on the counter.” Changbin pointed out. 

Ever so thoughtful. You smiled at him for the first time in two days. 

“What about you? Did you eat already?” You asked, wanting to make sure he wasn’t skipping as he normally did. 

“Yup. I got Chan to confirm.” Binnie playfully slapped the man’s shoulder, and they both laughed while heading to his room. 

“Oh, and Jisung’ll be over soon.” Changbin called out, and your mood considerably lifted. 

Your best friend Jisung had already met Changbin, so he was a mutual friend along you two. 

You decided to slump on the couch and watch a movie, popping some pain medication and waiting for your food. 

When the doorbell rang, you bounced up from the couch and received the food, uttering a hushed thanks before shutting the door. 

You only just realized how starving you were. 

The package was ripped open and your mouth watered at the smell of the hot soup inside. 

For once it was actually hot. 

After gulping the soup down, which definitely helped your sore throat, you made a mental note to thank Changbin for all this.

The doorbell rang again, and you rushed to open it, almost knocking your toe onto the coffee table in the process. 

This time, it was Jisung, who bounced over to wrap you in a ginormous hug. 

Instead of pulling away like you normally did, you stayed in the hug for a while. 

This is what you needed. 

“Are you…okay, Y/N?” Jisung asked, and the question that you had waited so long for was finally voiced. 

You could feel your eyes tearing up painfully, and you sniffled quietly, the comforting embrace of your best friend made everything so much better.

“Oh no…I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have asked that!” Jisung bent down till he was about your level before wiping your tears off, concern lacing his voice and worry painted on his face.

“N-No. Don’t feel sorry. I’m just so happy that someone finally asked me that.” You avert your eyes, not wanting to see the full force of your best friend’s worry.

“Oh, Y/Nnie…” Hannie wrapped you tightly in his embrace again, and this time, he picked you up and headed to the couch, turning on some random movie. 

The day was full of cuddles and snacks, though you wondered what Chan and Changbin were doing the whole time. 

“I’ll see Changbin for a sec, yeah?” Han stood up and walked to your roommate’s door. 

You didn’t think too much about it, but then again, he had been seeing Chan and Changbin in that room quite often, hasn’t he? 

You knew it wasn’t your place to snoop, but you couldn’t help but wonder, what was he doing in there?

Either way, you decided to cook some dinner, knowing that Changbin often liked to skip his dinner, which you certainly did not enjoy.

You brought up a plate to his room, knocking on the door softly. 

Shuffling noises echoed through the area, and a very tired Binnie openned the door, however, his face lit up in happiness when he saw the food. 

“Aweee, Y/N! Thank you!” He took the tray, which had three bowls on it, into the room. 

Setting the tray down, he bounced back to the door to give you a quick, one-armed hug before running to the kitchen for some water. 

You saw your chance. 

“What have you been doing in there?” You ask, raising an eyebrow as he visibly panicked. 

“Nothing. Just some work. College never waits!” He grinned awkwardly, and that’s when you knew he was lying.

“What is up with you, Chan and Jisung lately? Are you…” Your eyes widened, and so did his. 

“What?! No, ew! It’s just something else…Y/N.” Binnie finishes oddly.

He sipped quickly at his water, bolting to his room again and shutting the door. 

You sigh to yourself before heading to bed. 

Maybe tomorrow would be better.

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masterlist | requests open!

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[moralesmilesanhour]

after seeing the Star Wars x atsv drawing I think it would be cool if you wrote miles x reader but Star Wars themed. :) if you can. Maybe they like play fight with lightsabers even though that probs wouldn’t end well

star wars au!miles x reader

A/N: warning. i do not know how sword fights of any kind work...but i don't think the star wars films do either lmao so bare with me please <3 also Miles is a bit more...rambunctious? in this one than I usually write him? so enjoy that maybe

(he may also be a little OP here ngl JUST A LITTLE but I still feel like this is at least somewhat in-character).

semi-inspired by that training scene between anakin and obi-wan!

"I almost had it!"

Miles' voice echoed as he paced around the now-empty training room. You leaned against a wall, watching him with an amused grin. "I swear, bro, Pav tripped me 'cuz he knew I was about to beat him."

"I'm a little more concerned that you let a rookie catch you lackin' like that," you laughed. "He's been here, what, like six months?"

Miles spun around to face you with his arms crossed, though there was no malice in his expression. "And you been here what, three years? But I still whoop yo' ass every time we duel."

You tilted your head. "Is that a challenge, Morales?"

That tell-tale grin spread across his features - the same one that made an appearance whenever he was the only youngling in the classroom with his hand raised.

"I dunno, Y/N. Is it?"

You got off the wall and stepped slowly toward the center of the room.

Unhooking the hilt of your lightsaber from your belt, you replied, "I needed a little dummy practice."

The saber hummed to life as soon as you toggled the switch, its blade glowing a brilliant blue as you began to circle your opponent.

Miles did the same, only he tossed the hilt in his hand like a drumstick first, flipping the switch using the Force instead for added showmanship before getting into position. His blade shone a vital green.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'."

He lunged into action as soon as the words left his mouth, swinging with gusto. His lightsaber crashed against yours, already having been raised in defense. You pushed him a couple feet away with a grunt.

"Miles, you're too-"

Before you could finish your sentence, Miles began swinging wildly with rapid rotations of his arm, and you were parrying several attacks on either side of you. Just as he was about to deliver a finishing blow, you got down and slid across the smooth floor beneath his arm to create more distance, and leapt to your feet once more.

"You're too aggressive," you said breathlessly as he began to circle you this time. "You're gonna tire yourself out, lose stamina. Lose accuracy, too."

Miles snorted.

"You sure it's me who needs stamina?"

He punctuated the sentence with a quick spin of his blade before attacking again. But this time, you ducked and it sliced empty air.

Once on the ground, you tried shooting out a leg and swinging it, but you were not as quick as Pavitr. Miles hopped over it with ease.

"Worth a shot," you grunted as you got rose up again and parried another attack.

"Oh, you think you funny, now?"

While he was distracted, you stepped forward and swung with all your might, knocking Miles' lightsaber out of his hand and sending it flying to the other side of the room. He promptly lost his balance and fell backward. When he remained there, nearly out of breath, you smiled triumphantly.

"Yup."

The smile soon fell from your face when you realized that Miles did not say 'yield'.

"Well I'm about to be hilarious."

He kicked his leg in a circle just as you had, forcing you to stay on defense and back away. This gave him ample time to get back on his feet.

You raised your arm in an attempt to attack, but Miles grabbed your wrist and stopped it mid-air. Like a ballroom dance, he used it to spin around and elbowed you in the lower back with enough force to shove you, but not enough for it to hurt. Caught by surprise, you couldn't turn to face him in time.

Your lightsaber was ripped out of your hand by the Force. Miles caught it, and suddenly your own blade was at your neck before you could blink.

"You're gonna have to do better than that, Y/N."

His warm breath hit your ear as he spoke. There was a smile in his words, reassuring you that he meant no real harm.

He deactivated the weapon, and pressed the hilt back into your palm. You turned to face him, thoroughly impressed.

"Shit, Morales, why can't you do that in training? They probably would've moved you up a level already!"

No longer in battle mode, Miles sheepishly scratched the nape of his neck. "I dunno, might get into trouble for that one."

"You're still too aggressive, though," you remarked, re-attaching the hilt of your lightsaber to your belt. "No defense whatsoever."

Miles rolled his eyes and started to make his way towards the training room's entrance with you following close behind.

"Yeah, yeah, you're just sayin' that 'cuz you lost!"

"I won until you decided to play dirty! Not very Jedi-like of you, Morales."

"Tell me about what Jedi do and don't do when you can lift a plate off the table."

"...Touche."

[sehtoast]

Inspired by the cozy corner talks about tiny Homelander, I got to thinking about maybe how Ben loves the idea of smol Homie and likes to doodle cute versions of themselves.

During a lull in crime fighting, Ben pulls out a sketchpad and begins doodling chibis of himself and his boyfriend while Homelander is confused about why people like depicting his godlike self as a tiny person, Ben has to explain how these adorable mini characters capture the essence of cuteness that he sees in his beloved boyfriend.

More Benlander please 🙏

;_; thank you for requesting my boys. i'm sorry this took so long

“What are you doing?”

They’d perched up on the Chrysler building once again for the night– their usual spot.  Benjamin had brought his bag, which seemed a little off to Homelander.  From it, he pulled a beat up notebook and a pencil that looks like it’d seen better days at least a few years ago.

“Drawing,” Ben says.  

The bug is resting against Homelander’s back while he gazes out at the city.  The curiosity becomes killer after a while, especially with that scratchy sound of graphite on paper permeating his every thought.  Homelander turns slightly and rests his chin on Ben’s shoulder, peering over but still supporting his little spider’s position.

“Eugh, those things,” Homelander groans.  It’s those damn tiny cartoons again.  People are always drawing him like this and posting it on social media.  Some tiny, upbeat, no nose having, cutie-pie silly thing.  Now Benjamin was doing it too.  “C’mon babe, can’t you draw me looking like, I don’t know… Cool?”

At that, Ben deviates from the other figure and immediately starts drawing sunglasses over the tiny Homelander.

“Not what I meant!”  

“I dunno, I think you look good with some shades,” Ben replies with a cheeky grin.  The bug moves back to drawing the other figure, which slowly manifests into looking more and more like himself in full costume.  “Besides, you are that cute- and these capture it perfectly.  You give me cuteness aggression and stuff.”

He joins the two drawings at the hands, sketching hearts in the space above their heads.

“If that’s what you wanna call it…” Homelander rolls his eyes, but he can’t help the tickle in his heart at such a statement and… cute display of their relationship.  “What other stuff do you got in that book?”  There had to be more, right?  Benjamin was at least halfway through the pages.

“Oh just… stuff.” Ben replies.  In truth, there were quite a few pages like this– some even dated back to before they were unofficially-official.

Homelander’s arm comes to circle around Ben’s torso, pulling him even closer.

“Show me?” 

In truth, he found these little things interesting.  Sure, Benjamin was many great things, but he was also lots of little things.  Little peculiarities, hobbies, fascinations.  Just when he thinks he knows everything about the bug, Benjamin reveals something new and fascinating.

Inside the sketchbook is a multitude of scribblings.  Characters Benjamin likes, sketchy skylines, chunks of text more along the lines of journal entries…  The best, though, is when Homelander notices the first doodlings of himself and the way they become more and more abundant.  They grow in detail and elaboration until it’s clear he’s taking up most of his little spider’s thoughts.  Hearts around his name, his face, side profile, silhouettes of him blocking out the corners of several pages…  So much more than those little monstrosities his little love bug had been scribbling just seconds ago.

Maybe he’ll let it slide that Ben draws him so… adorably.

[lionydoorin]

so talk about tara! literally anything you want!! skateboarding!tara, thoughts? what sport do you think tara would think is useless and just an utter waste of time. what's sam's favourite sport and does tara support her in that love. what's tara's most hated food enemy. does she have any skills she keeps hidden from everyone, too shy to admit to.

swinging my legs and twirling my hair thinking here . ummmmm

skateboard!tara would be SO cute!!! even cuter if it was something she got from sam. i can imagine little tara wearing a helmet and pads that are simply too big for her, balancing herself on the board while sam is in front of her, helping her by holding her hands out while tara moves (or tries to).

i don't know about one she'd dislike, but i think tara would have a certain soft spot for sports where you have to run. she can run pretty fast, but she runs out of breath just as quickly, so she'd have to sit out and watch the kids during P.E. while they ran around, laughing, with the ball.

i can also see tara trying a sport once (maybe soccer, since, well, jenna used to play soccer, or another sport which i'll get into later but it's what i think sam might've played) but maybe she had a bad asthma attack during practice or a game and had to be sent to the hospital – cut to christina prohibiting her from practicing, not for her own safety, but because she hates having to "waste her money" on hospital bills. it's not that tara's asthma was specifically bad at that point where she couldn't play, seeing she did practice for a while! but this one isolated episode was enough for her mother.

sam's a basketball girly for me. maybe i'm saying this because i'm a basketball girly (gender neutral) myself, but... sam playing basketball since she was little? it being one of her safe places, besides tara, and her dropping out as punishment for herself after her dad left (maybe because he was also a basketball player? i dunno? but i see her dropping out at 15/16 when she started to get more and more involved with drugs)? her old teammates and coach trying to reach out and help her, but she's running away from them and rejecting said help? tears.

^ more of basketball sam! i think she'd play in quick, but strong positions, maybe as a small forward or a shooting guard, where she'd be okay with an average to tall height (not being one of the tallest on the team) while also having an aggressive play style. sam was a tall kid that took a while to grow into herself, but her base was very stable, and she was quick, so she was a great and very versatile player. great shooting, amazing infiltration and layup technique. the coach loved her and saw great potential in her.

baby tara admiring how much of a good player sammy was and attending every single one of her games???? yes!!! she was too small for basketball, yeah, but sam was just so cool. sam teaching her how to shoot? sobbing sobbing sobbing

to this day, sam still watches the NBA/WNBA and knows a lot about basketball. whenever they watch together, tara loves to watch as sam gets into the game, how she's involved, standing up from her seat and watching close to the tv, hands on her hips, analyzing plays and players and all but screaming when she thinks something's wrong. it's very entertaining, and tara loves how alive her sister feels.

(not sure which teams she'd root for, though. lakers?)

tara's a very picky eater, and for a while she was super used to bland food because she cooked (or tried to cook) things for herself a lot when sam left, so i think she'd hate very strong flavours.

she loves pasta and loves noodles in general, though, so i think by the amount of instant ramen she ate when she was younger, maybe she could have a surprisingly good spice tolerance? but she only eats the same brands and doesn't explore much!

when judy and wes offered to take her out for dinner, she'd always order the most simple thing on the menu and wouldn't add much salt to it.

she eats slowly, as well, separating things on her plate and making sure what she likes is far, far away from what she absolutely would not eat.

and after scream 5, she became a vegetarian because, well, the smell of meat reminded her of some not very nice things 🫶

about secret skills!!! hmm.. i like to imagine artist tara a lot, like she draws a lot on her free time and doesn't show it to a lot of people. even sam is surprised to see how good she is when she got back, and then the guilt coming from realizing she didn't know that because as much as she was there when tara started drawing, she wasn't there, you know?

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

I'm not sure you need people to announce that they're just here for fun? it's tumblr...surely that can be assumed?

i dunno sometimes it seems like when you say this stuff it's a bit of a straw man argument because I don't really see anyone on here taking this stuff that seriously. we are not larries! no one is claiming Paul's kids are fake or anything lmao. yes people like to look at the history but again it's tumblr, it's just for fun.

maybe there is a whole other delusional side to beatles tumblr that i am not seeing, but i think maybe if people are getting mad when you argue with their dumb little posts it's just cause they think that you, in fact, DO want to spoil the party!

I have been waiting for someone to make this joke ever since I got that url. Have had to make it myself often <3

1. "we are not larries" is an incredibly low bar.

2. the specific contents of theories isn't the only thing that makes them conspiratorial. it's about the way they're argued.

3. Actually, I am thinking of One Specific Event from about a year and a half ago that was treated as people "spoiling the party" when in fact it was an example of good faith engagement with a seriously worded discussion post.* Maybe you missed that, and it's not like it's a super common occurrence. But in hindsight, I don't find it surprising given the climate here.

*I can provide more details on this specific thing in DMs if someone is curious. I don't wanna hash it out on main, especially since I was only peripherally involved.

4. This isn't about whether tumblr is your space to have fandom fun – I do assume that. It's about whether someone is making arguments in jest or if they mean them seriously. Both of these things might be fun to someone (but maybe I could have worded that point better in the original tags).

5. No, no fake kids, and this fandom isn't plagued by a central figure who's to blame for all the "bad stuff". Plus, it's "decentralized", so no singular entity is controlling some super specific narrative. This definitely keeps the space in check. That's part of it though: it's all very sociological, which makes my issue difficult to address because most single posts aren't a problem in of themselves, but there's a tangible vibe to the whole thing. That's also why I want to tread lightly here; I know a lot of it is a joke, but it's hard to tell what isn't. Like, yeah, I've been passive-aggressive lately, but I've also been watching this for a long time. And I regularly see things I perceive as a strawman against my position as well as absolutist rhetoric, which reads just as much as picking a fight as any of my recent posts do. If you talk about there only being "one explanation" for something, what is that, other than putting forward your theory as true? Is it really Not Serious? Every time? Even when the post is presented in a serious way, with sources and evidence? People on this site talk about what they expect Mark Lewisohn to include in his Definitely Trying To Be Serious And Factful biography series. Those demands are never serious? And I don't want to just ruin people's fun for no reason! But I also have a hard time dismissing every single thing that Sounds Kind Of Serious as Probably A Joke (and I do do it, pretty regularly) And I semi-often see people doing things that set off my alarm bells, even when they are not proclaiming Stella McCartney to be a lifelong actress. (reminder that several people on here freaked about the For Paul tapes story being semi-debunked last November; like actively scorned people who were trying to figure out how that story came about and where it originated. That's not normal, sorry to say! And, funnily enough, about a year ago, there was a blog on here pushing a very very very esotheric version of McLennon [and even trying to monetize it] and while most people dismissed them for the kook they were, they splashed onto the tumblr scene in an identical way [saying something that amounted to: "how dare you imply this apocryphal Paul McCartney quote might be fake?"] –––– so my question is: is it not that serious? I Don't Know You Tell Me!)

6. This is @ me mostly, I guess. I just feel like this space has become more and more of a monoculture. Shipping is the default angle with which everything is approached. If John and Paul write songs that are maybe not about each other that's not often seen as worth diving into. (See: Beautiful Boy tinhatting). I actually want to try and change this; get more diverse content on this site, but I guess I assume it's not welcome, which is on me, really. I have slides explaining my specific reading of Double Fantasy (yes, seriously) and there isn't really much stopping me from posting them, outside the fact that most people on here seem to have a very different relationship to the songs from the album than I do, so I assume they won't care. But y'know, I'll try to just Make More Content and see what that does. (For the record I know that sounds whiny. And I do seriously want to do better on that front)

[mancavecloset]

“How much more weight does coach want you to gain, tubs?” Mikah joked to his roommate, Nate, in the locker room after practice.

“Dunno, he just said I gotta get bigger if I want to contend with the upperclassmen for playing time,” Nate replied through gulps of his mass gainer shake.

”Well, *this* is certainly getting bigger,” Mikah teased, poking Nate in his softening midsection.

“Okay pipsqueak, not all of us can be little shredded 150-pound slot receivers,” he jabbed back, returning Mikah’s playful poke by brushing him on the abs with his high-cal protein bar.

Nate had always loved getting bigger, as evidenced by his muscular 6’3 frame that he’d cultivated into a scholarship-earning Offensive Line position at a state university. But something about the way he pushed himself to consume thousands of excess calories per day for the past four months had unlocked a newfound erotic excitement in him. Mikah pointing out his growth, and even teasing him physically for it, caused Nate’s above-average manhood to stir in his teal jockstrap more than he cared to let on.

“I weigh 158 now, thank you very much!” The sandy-haired Mikah replied with a toothy smile. He too had been asked to put on some size, though his bulk had been less aggressive than his dorm-mate’s.

“So who you callin’ tubby then,” Nate joked back, again placing his meaty paw on his smaller roommate’s chiseled abdomen. “Sounds like this 8-pack is gonna turn into a measly 6-pack.”

“Well maybe I can trade it in for a keg,” Mikah smiled back, pressing his finger deeper into Nate’s belly and thumping his newfound layer of chub. He too was fighting back a growing erection in his blue jock.

The two had been fast friends as roommates at the start of summer practices. Both were undersized for their positions, and had been paired in order to hold each other accountable to their lofty dietary requirements.

Mikah, standing at just 5’7, was a natural speedster who made up for his diminutive stature with his agile quickness and sharp athleticism.

Nate came into college at 235lbs, and while that was plenty imposing in his varsity days back home, he’d been asked to beef up to be a better protector on the offensive line. He had been going above and beyond on his bulk regiment, and had already gained more than 30 pounds since the start of his time with the football program.

Mikah was in awe of how much Nate pushed himself on the field, in the weight room, and most impressively, at the dining hall. He had started intentionally keeping a stash of snacks and high-calorie treats in their dorm, which his overfed roommate more than happily scarfed down at a blistering pace. Before bed every night, Nate had taken to housing an entire sleeve of Oreos or a box of Uncrustables, washed down with a heaping glass of whole milk. Mikah would watch in lusty awe as the overfed stud gorged himself in his undies, milk droplets rolling down his chin onto his softening pecs and bulging abdomen.

Secretly, Mikah was incredibly turned on by how chunky his beefy stud of a roommate had been growing. Based on the raging boners he noticed Nate sprouting every time he stuffed himself, he was starting to sense that he wasn’t alone in that feeling…

[random-thought-depository]

Just gonna do this like a band-aid: quick and rough so it's over with fast: Trump won.

Looks like Republicans are likely to control the next Congress too.

After having slept terribly last night because of election anxiety, I feel weirdly calmer now. At least now I know the outcome, we lost, they won, I know what to expect, and I can plan from there.

The smart guess was always that this was basically a coin toss, but in the last few days before the election it looked like things were looking up and I'd allowed myself cautious optimism. That made the disappointment of last night sharper.

The results really do look humiliating for Democrats, looks like Trump won the popular vote, though I guess that might change as all the votes get counted (not that this would concretely help us much).

In retrospect I think the fact that Harris's path to the top of the ticket was "do poorly in 2020 primaries, get picked as VP because Biden thought she was someone he could work with, become the obvious successor when Biden dropped out" might have been a huge red flag. Of Hillary Clinton, Joe Biden, and Kamala Harris, Biden had the most competitive primary, and I think one practical lesson for the Democrats from this might be the importance of having their candidate be selected by a really competitive primary. You should stress-test your Presidential candidates to verify that they're actually good at winning national elections before you put them at the top of the ticket!

I'm not super-optimistic about the "this big tent establishment-led don't spook the centrists triangulation approach isn't working, it got us an underwhelming victory with a once-in-a-century wind at our backs in 2020 and now this, the Dems should have been much less dismissive of the uncommitted movement and taken a much harder line on Israel, should have full-throatedly advocated for left-liberal economic policies instead of trying to get the country to swallow them on the down-low like trying to get a dog to swallow a pill by wrapping it in meat, should have aggressively attacked conservative institutional advantages by doing stuff like court-packing, etc., not just cause that's a morally superior set of positions but cause it'd be a better political strategy" take being anything but wishful thinking, but, I dunno, at this point part of me is thinking, yeah, maybe we might as well try that radical high-risk high-reward strategy next time cause the present approach clearly isn't working well. Then again, even if that would work I'm not optimistic about the Dems actually trying it instead of defaulting to their usual reflex of deciding they lost because they got too left-wing and moving right to chase the center-right vote. I dunno, I think we've basically just found ourselves living in the bad timeline again.

I really wouldn't want to be in Gaza, but I extra wouldn't want to be there after January 2025. I expect Trump will give Netanyahu a free hand to kill and kill and kill.

Oh, a rancid cherry on top: Trump is really old and if he dies or becomes incapacitated in office we'll get ... President J.D. Vance. Eeeeww. Shudder. That guy is such a creep. At least he's spectacularly uncharismatic so he'd be likely to lose in 2028 if he's the incumbent then and we still have competitive elections by then (at this point that cannot be taken for granted).

*Sigh.*

I fear we're in for a rough four years.

[cyberrat]

Okay VERY specific bitching idea esp for Pack stuff: you want the alpha at head of the pack to be generally chill/calm, lazy big boy just vibing and letting their betas and omegas be calm n comfy… only aggressive when protective (and really intense in ruts and heats)

Little shitty upstart alpha gets all aggressive and mean always trying to sniff around n bite the omegas and fight the chill alpha until Big Boy has enough and just *grabs* and pins them and gets bitching. Sorry u have lost alpha privileges, it’s just so much easier to deal w an overexcited omega than a bitey alpha……..

I FEEL LIKE I WAS SO INNOCENT FIVE MINUTES AGOOOOO

I am SO not normal about this. Fuck. Holy… holy shiiieeet.

Both scenarios are giving me such a hard sucker punch of a boner 😭

Like just this MAAASSIIIIVE Alpha that takes care of another Alpha that proves to be too dangerous for society. I dunno if I want the more dominant Alpha to be this super lazy guy that doesn‘t break a sweat wrestling the other into submission; or a big asshole themselves that lets the other Alpha get a taste of what a dipshit they have been.

It smacks so much of castrating in IRL it tickles me endlessly. „Oh u r too rambunctious to breed again so we might as well cut that testosterone off 😌“

Gumshoe being the designated bitching Alpha at the precinct. Like he‘s so big and a bit dumb but very gentle. Once the verdict has come down that one of those criminal Alphas is no longer allowed to actually be an Alpha, they send Gumshoe in to take care of it…

But also the hurt/comfort potential of an erstwhile Alpha that got forced into an Omega position despite not needing it???? Another Omega fucking around with them (cute Omega on Omega action 🥵🥵🥵) maybe tickling that Alpha back into them after years of laying dormant. Ugh. Fuck. I am so not normallll about this fucking thinnnngggggg

[omniblades-and-stars]

Things I'd Like to Know About My Fellow Writers

I was tagged by @korblez, thx bb.

Last book I read: The last book I finished was City of Light, City of Poison by Holly Tucker, which is a fascinating look at an era of French history I know almost nothing about (granted ... that's also most of French history). That being said, I came to a very different opinion on the subject, Nicolas de la Reynie, than the author. I am currently reading the Night Lords Omnibus by Aaron Dembski-Bowden, I know almost nothing about Warhammer, but I am enjoying it a great deal.

Greatest literary inspiration: Shoo, I dunno guys. One day I want to ride that high of making people feel the way I felt about the spiders in Children of Time by Adrian Tchaikovsky. I have never EVER ever been so moved and invested in a story as I was about a story that is partly about the evolution of spiders into sentient, sapient beings with culture and science. I have far away dreams of doing nonfiction work like Mary Roach. I love her writing and the topics she chooses so much. Stiff and Spook are some of my most favorite nonfiction works.

Things in my current fandom(s) I want to read but I don't want to write: Crawling on my hands and knees for stories about Blackwall that don't involve a love triangle with C*llen. But are also still good characterizations of my boy. I am positive there's more but my poor brain, she is soop.

Things in my current fandom(s) I want to write but I think nobody would be interested in them but me: The exploration of one of my Shepard's backstories via an extended afterlife sequence. More stories with original characters and only original characters in them (I'm an original character machine, you guys should just have me make up characters for you.)

You can recognize my writing by: Repeating phrases, flashback sequences, conversational prose and (so I'm told) strong character voice. Maybe someone gets stabbed a little, and it's kind of sexy. Dance clubs apparently.

My most controversial take (current fandom[s]): Jack and Miranda make no sense as a couple. It's probably not controversial, but I really hate the Arrival DLC and I will continue to take every opportunity I can to yell about how much I hate it. It was narratively important for Mordin and Thane to die. Same vein, I felt like Shepard dying at the end of 3 gave me a sense of closure and finality. Shepard's story is ultimately a tragedy if you really think about it. (This has not stoppd me at all from writing Shepard lives stories.)

Top three favourite tropes: Enemies to lovers, religious metaphors in sex, are flashbacks are trope? Well, I am making them one now.

What’s your current writing mood? (10 – super motivated and churning out words like crazy, 0 – in a complete rut) I dunno ... like a 2. I'm mad strugglin' right now. The ideas are there, but then when I look at the documence, they all run away.

Share a random frustration: I'm just really frustrated with my own brain right now. It's really aggressive TV static right now.

Tagging: @commander-krios, @ferniliciousness, @lag-train, @mushroommanchanterelle

[pink-strawberry-kissess]

Pirate AU, ada is a beautiful seductress and pirate ship captain meanwhile leon is a handsome bright eyed english frigate captain tasked with the capture of dastardly pirate captain wong

i think this is the second or third ask about pirates au T_T

i do enjoy pirates! i do not like them enough to write an entire au about it skjbfdsjkfjsf

IM SORRY SFKBDSFJK

i see ada not as a captain but more of a nami like character- where she's tricking people, pretending she's lost at sea and then finding her way onto boats and then stealing what she needs before ditchin them

i see ada stumbling onto leon's boat, he's not a captain either. he's working under some really sketch people but he's not aware of that. the captain on his boat is a lot more aggressive, wanting to throw ada off the boat right away but leon sneaks her onto it.

she doesn't trust him, but she's forced into the position of taking leon's help. he's all too trustworthy, maybe he was well off too and ended up on the ship somehow. he just thinks that ada is down on her luck

she steals from him also but feels worse doing it, since he's the only one who's ever helped her and hadn't wanted something in return. he catches her stealing- and he doesn't stop her, thinks that she needs it more than him anyways. they talk a bit. explore their backgrounds and how they both ended up on the ship.

i dunno

im being smutty but they have hot pirate seggs ig kjbsdfjnkfdsfs

when ada leaves, she does return what she stole from leon, even maybe leaving him something so that he could escape if he wanted to at some point. ada leaves eventually- finding another boat for other reasons, but she thinks that she'll come back for leon at some point. if it's not for getting leon off that boat, it's then to kill the captain

sljndfskjssdfgfd

[cheerstotheelites-if]

Dunno if it will work, but Weylyn fluff with this song? (Perfectly Imperfect - Declan Donovan)

So call me when you want me and I'll come running Find me waiting at your door So tell me if you're lonely and it won't last long 'Cause I'm in love with you (you)

~•~•~

And at the sound of crashing items and aggressive thumps Weylyn comes running.

He nearly slips as he stops at the doorway, grabbing the frame for support as he steadies himself. His eyes look up, seeing nothing but an assortment of thrown books and notebooks, your pencil case and its items in various places around the empty classroom, some chairs and tables moved out of its place aggressively.

And you are in the middle of it, sitting on the floor and with teary eyed rage.

"You okay?" Weylyn asks, which you look at him with the glare you held.

"Does it look like I am?" You sneer, sniffing and looking away.

A soft chuckle leaves Weylyn's lips as he walks over. "I apologize for asking then." He sits down beside you, his signature worried look on his face. "What's wrong?"

Nothing was its reply for a while.

Weylyn still sits, patiently waiting for an answer that may or may not come.

"It's okay if you don't want to tell me now." He reassures after a minute or so has passed, a matching smile to accompany his words.

Even if you are facing away from him.

"Is there anything I can do to help you?" He offers as the silence stretches on a bit longer.

...

"Hold me." Your voice comes out, cracked, broken and wavering. You look at him, the fire of rage long faded out, only to be replaced by a person so worn out and tired. "Please."

An arm reaches around your shoulders, pulling you close to a body full of warmth and love and kindness and everything you can't ever hope to be.

He's perfect in every single way.

And you aren't.

You often question yourself why he would ever spend time with someone like you, who's so broken and fragile and cracked in unfixable places that are visible for everyone to see.

You hate it, being in this position again.

And you want to lash and scream and shout in your spite and anger at yourself for existing like this.

Weylyn rests his chin on top of your head, which you now realize is now leaning onto his chest, and he hums a small tune. It's not melodic or heavenly like Fleur's or Zephyrine's, but... it's enough.

Comforting and sweet.

...

Ah, this is a taste of the heavens, isn't it?

"I don't really know what happened," Weylyn began after a moment, "but just know that things are going to be okay. Maybe not today, but tomorrow it will."

You said nothing in response and Weylyn didn't seem to mind, going back to gently humming whatever tune that came to mind.

You turn your face to his chest, burying your face in it as you loosely wrap your arms around his waist. A gentle hand rubs your back in comfort as the humming continues.

"Thank you." You softly utter, and you feel his hold tighten just a bit more.

[eyesofshan-if]

Keep going, you say? Angst gremlin rubs its hands together gleefully...

Gremlin aside though these lines are so sad... Dalhwa what did they do to you sweetheart? Maybe the lines arent meant to read as sadly as I am reading them but sounds like she needs some unconditional love with no real expectations...

Dalhwa, standing in the dark garden watching the koi, stiff and trying to keep a stiff upper lip when she sees the commander... then the commander just comes forwards and pulls her in for a hug... letting her sob into them and hiding her from the world for a second, but letting her have an outlet with them... softly assuring her she's safe with them and can stop pretending...

Dalhwa trying to explain a difficult decision she had to make, her brows furrowed and a slight aggression to her tone... or maybe she's trying to stare down the commander, expecting judgement or to have to defend herself in someway, only to have the commander just put a hand on her shoulder and squeeze in that reassuring way that reminds her to relax her increasingly tensing shoulders. Telling her, assuredly, just two words:

"I understand."

Letting her defensive aggression fall a little in relief, realising that, even if just this once, she doesnt have to fight tooth and nail for her position.

...

Maybe in her nightmares, she worries that the commander would just be like the others... who just want her for... less than savory reasons. Her status, her beauty...

Or perhaps, in a fit of rage, in the midst of an argument, one of them says something they shouldnt have. Perhaps Dalhwa insulted commander's savagery, or dog like loyalty to the emperor... or... something. Whatever it is, in the heat of the moment, the commander, blinded in hurt or fury, only strikes to hurt back.

"Why dont you just go entertain those little weasels out there then?"

They throw her performance clothes at the ground in front of her, jewellery and head dresses following soon suit, the more brittle stuff breaking upon contact with the ground.

"After all, this is the only thing you're good for."

(The third alternative scene the gremlin whispers of may just be a touch too dark... involves a dishevelled Dalhwa and an aloof commander)

Dont know much about Dalhwa though :c she strikes me as someone taught by experience to keep herself to herself, and had to claw her way to the top while playing by the rules of a world that isnt catered for her, if ya know what I mean? But I dunno. Im excited to meet her though, even if she could potentially break the neck of Hoseol... and I am distinctively in the pro- Hoseol camp. Pretty little dancer lady?

Hhhh if you want me to stop sending stupidly long angst posts at any point lmk lmao i might get carried awayyy

Else the angst gremlin continues its insidious little dance

i cannot tell whether you are pro-hansol or pro-hoseok... but both!! both are good <3 and as for dalhwa, you might be meeting a couple of ROs before you see her, so you'll have to wait for a while before you meet pretty dancer lady 🤭🤭 but you've gotten her personality down pat