#THIS IS WHAT I'M FUCKING TALKING ABOUT THOUGH I JUST LOST MY SHIT IN TUMBLR TAGS

[akuma-tenshi]

i love how my favourite dislyte characters are falken and chu yao bc they both make me absolutely descend into madness at every thought. if i'm thinking about dislyte i am either losing my mind over falken's hypervigilance being a shitty and unhealthy coping mechanism, OR i am thinking of every single unfriendly reminder i can give chu yao that he is mortal and can in fact die. pick your poison

[psalmsofpsychosis]

Some Batman: Telltale thoughts

[this is a Batman Telltale critical post, ye be warned.]

So. There are perhaps no words in the english language to describe with how stupid i feel right now.

I started Telltale Batman because i thought that it's one of the more distinct unconventional Batman narratives that would let you have a more interesting, complex and nuanced relationship between Bruce and Joker— the game even lets you bring all of Bruce's sincere hypocrisy and sentimental selfishness to the surface and have him admit that yes, he can fight the rogues gallery because it takes a madman to know a madman; to love a madman. For a moment i geniunely thought that i can escape the everpresent shadow of DC hays code in the freakshow funhouse that is Batman comics, i thought Telltale had done something different.

But telltale's approach to The Enemy Within is so flaky and flimsy and timid at best— such noncommittal twist on themes of pain and grief. They take on a hefty plotline, "what does it take to actually fight through evil and be surrounded by it? How long does it take before your resolve and your selfhood cracks? When you lose the mask, which one did you truly lose— The ideal persona, the superhero, the crusader, or the person underneath, the casket that holds all your humanity and your heart and your hopes? How long can you stare onto the abyss before it stares onto you?" It's indeed a very Nietzsche approach to Batman— except that a good Nietzsche narrative takes a lot of intentional plot points and honesty of thought and of heart. And Telltale doesn't commit, not to Bruce's characterization, and not to any other character, and definitely not to Joker's journey in any variation of it. The existence of the Vigilante route is useless on every front; Joker is going to turn into a villain anyway, just with a different hello kitty eyeshadow palette and an extra bland consolation lollipop. No good choice Bruce makes on Joker's behalf affects anything whatsoever, and i particularly love the "community and friendship and sympathy do not help the mentally ill and all that ever works is punishment and shock therapy and confinement and loneliness" message the vigillante route puts on the table, charming charming status quo commandments from DC as always.

Telltale Batman could only be revolutionary if it had dared to break comic convention and let the vigillante route play out like Selina and Bruce's relationship always does; very grey morality, irrational, full of tension and trust, unstable, intriguing, inexcusable, irreversible, unavoidable and heartfelt, human. But we can't have nice things in batmanverse, so both Joker routes run on stuck gears and topple and fall into a predictable narrative hole that neither Bruce nor Joker can claim out of.

And on the predictable front? this story is too lukewarm to be a good time for me personally. When you get 84 Batman comics per minute every other Tuesday, all ending the same way no matter whatever the fickity happens inbetween, you have to pull no punches. This is my 53368532th Batman-with-tragic-batjokes-implications read of the week, say something new or forever hold your blue-balling silence, i dont care.

[disneyprincemuke]

fly on the wall * fem!driver

she crashes in her third race of her f1 career, but she's more concerned about its repercussions than the concussion

pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, lewis hamilton x fem!reader

warnings: crashing the car

notes: ooooh my god i had to rewrite this 5 times because it wasn't up to my liking initially, and then tumblr was having some issues saving my shit so i lost it?? it's very sad fr

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

"are you alright?" sebastian's voice comes onto the radio.

his eyes are trained on the big screen, cameras focused on the car parked into the wall out of a turn. he couldn't get an answer out of his driver so he had to resort to the third party.

if his assumptions are correct, she would have hit her head on her seat hard at impact. but things like that can lead to so many bigger things that he might not even be prepared for. 

her vision slowly returns, blacking out for a mere second as the car went into the barriers of the baku track.

she had issues with her brakes for a few laps. sebastian had suggested retiring the car if she didn't feel safe, but she pressed on. the issue didn't seem so serious and it seemed manageable.

at first. 

it's a driver error - missing the early braking point to accommodate her already tweaking brakes. she missed it by a millisecond, clipped the wall and got sent straight into the wall.

she sighs, pressing the button on her steering wheel. "i'm okay," she answers shakily, tears now filling her eyes.

"okay, that's the important part. don't think about anything else. i'll see you in the medical centre." sebastian is quick to shut her thoughts down, clearly prioritising her wellbeing and not the car.

"i'm sorry," she sighs, voice shaking and lips quivering. “i’m so sorry, seb.”

this is only her third race in f1, how could she have already crashed out? on a race where she was so close to that podium. it would have been such a monumental moment — a woman on the podium. 

with 20 laps left in the race and her in 5th place, it wasn’t all that far out of reach at the time. yet, here she is causing a yellow flag as she starts to notice the smoke surrounding her. 

"like i said. don't think about anything else."

she sighs to herself as a marshal appears above her halo, greeting her with a soft smile. she nods, letting herself get helped out of her car.

but only one thought eats away at her: she crashed on her third race. what's everyone going to say about her now?

“let me talk,” sebastian sighs, hands up in the air as he tries to calm the girl sitting on the examination bed. he’s barely able to get a word in.

she’s slouched against the wall, purple balaclava in her hands as she traces the thread that holds it together at the hem. the minute he walked in, she looked up immediately with tears in her eyes and a string of apologies.

it hasn’t stopped since he poked his head through the door, cutting him off before he could even ask if she’s okay. 

“do you not see the problem?” she shrieks, eyebrows furrowing at sebastian. “i just crashed out! imagine what the media has to say about my performance today? they’re just going to use this as a reason to justify that i shouldn’t be on the track!”

sebastian drops his hands to his side, deciding that he’d just let her get it all off her chest. it might make her feel better. 

though, it doesn’t make him feel good that she’s continually talking down on herself. he vouched for her for weeks for a reason, and it’s because he believes in her. more than she does in herself, it seems. 

“i didn’t work my ass off my whole life just to be undermined because i’m a woman!” she tosses the balaclava aside, now picking at the loose skin by her fingernails. “i didn’t get this far for everyone to count me out because of one crash! can you fucking believe that shit? it’s a fucking rookie mistake, seb! i’ve been racing for years!”

she drops her hands by her side and groans again, rolling her eyes. “i’ve earned my rightful spot to be where i am! they are not going to care about that!”

sebastian shrugs slightly, overlooked by the infuriated woman across him. he can barely get a breath in before she continues, shutting his mouth immediately as she continues her rampage. 

“imagine the headlines tomorrow! a driver is as good as their last race — i know that! don’t try to sugarcoat it. you know i’m right!” she rambles on, eyes darting all over the room. she’s pushed herself off the wall slightly, clearly flustered over the course of events. 

she avoids sebastian’s eyes, the fear of fully breaking down in front of him prominent. crying over a crash seemed like such a silly thing to do, but there’s no denying how demanding the sport truly is. 

in her short three races in the season and people’s neverending criticism of her abilities, it makes her lie awake at night rethinking her position on the grid. 

following her crash, sebastian hadn’t expected for her to ramble on for this long. he initially thought that the crash would have sent her into a shocking silence, so while her anger is warranted, it was definitely not on his list of things to be ready for. 

“imagine what they have to say about me!” she throws her hands in the air, scratching her head gently. “imagine what they’ll say about you! it’s not going to be good, trust me! i’m a woman in a fucking racing car in a male-dominated sport!”

“hey!” sebastian’s voice bounces in the room, making her lift her head with her eyes narrowed into a glare. 

the sudden movement reminds her of her restrictions, hands coming up to nurse the back of her neck. she feels a sharp pain shoot through her head all the way down to her shoulders. “what?” she hisses, quickly looking down to hide the pain. 

“you literally just crashed head-first into a wall at 250 kilometres per hour! you’re lucky all you got was a concussion and whiplash! it could’ve been worse!”

“if i was lucky, i’d have been able to recover and get on the podium as we discussed! i was already 5th!”

“and you didn’t! that’s okay! you learn from things like these!”

“no, it’s not! i’m already hated as it is!”

“it’s part of the sport! fernando alonso has crashed, lewis has, and so have max and charles! every other big name in formula 1 has had their fair share! you’ll be okay!”

she finally meets sebastian’s eyes, slouching even more as she audibly sighs. he watches her body deflate, leaning back dejectedly. “it’s still different.”

she’s still in her fireproofs. her race suit had to be taken off during her short time with the doctor, hanging on the back of the plastic chair in the small medical room. her helmet sits next to her, underneath the balaclava she’d thrown on top of it. 

her hair is in a loose ponytail with stray hairs poking out and resting on her face. the adrenaline has yet to leave her body, chest heaving as if it’d just been over and beads of sweat still scattered all over her.

“i know it’s different. but everyone else who says whatever isn’t the person behind the wheel, you have to remember that,” he says in a soothing tone, finally coming up to stand next to her. he sighs, putting a hand on top of her head. “and i know it sucks.”

she shakes her head. “no, you don’t. we’re different; our problems are different.”

“the way they used to hate me, and things they say about you are different, yes,” sebastian nods in a low voice, his thumb now tracing circles on her head. “but you still can prove them wrong. you just started driving in formula 1 — you’ll have way more chances to shut them all up.”

“i could’ve already. if i just controlled the car a little better.”

“it’s okay.” he slides himself onto the examination bed, sitting next to her. he intertwines his fingers and rests his hands on his thigh. “everybody crashes at one point in their career.

“let the media say what they want, but not all that criticise you have been in a race before. nobody on that grid thinks you’re lesser than you are just because of what happened today.”

“you don’t know that.”

sebastian just shakes his head, refusing to elaborate any further. he leans back into the wall as well. “oscar is on the way with some snacks for you.”

crashing out during a race is never easy. years before he decided to retire, tapping and crashing out of a race has always been demoralising. it always feels like the first time when he does.

“i don’t need snacks. i need to go back to 4 hours ago when i was still on track for a podium finish in the first half of my rookie season.”

“with your talent, i can assure you that this will not be your only opportunity in formula 1. i will make sure of it, of course. wherever i go, you go.”

the door creaks open, cutting her off before she can throw an answer back as sebastian. “i’ve got your favourite snacks. i also stole a couple of twix bars from your backpack, i hope you don’t mind.”

“well, why’d you take them and still tell me about it knowing i wouldn’t even have given it to you in the first place?” she reaches for the nearest object next to her, yanking it towards oscar by the door. 

“because it was calling my name,” he shrugs, pushing the door fully open to reveal who he’s strung along to the medical centre. 

“i took a packet of haribo,” logan shrugs as he steps in. he flinches when she clenches her fist, scrambling to pull something out of his paper bag. “but i got you a can of sprite to make up for it! don’t be mad!”

her gaze softens when she notices lewis hamilton standing behind her friends, a paper bag hanging on his fingers as he grins at her. 

“how are you, sweetie?” his voice is empathetic and low, giving her a look that she’d seen from everyone she’s passed on her way here. 

she sees lewis and sebastian exchange glances, almost making her roll her eyes again. 

she doesn’t talk to lewis that often, but he has addressed her before when she would trail behind sebastian on the track. she would often greet him softly as she hid behind her mentor, or simply excuse herself when she sees either oscar or logan passing by. 

he’s a role model and the last thing she ever wanted to do was be too overbearing. to see him come to her aid is only a dream come true. 

“i hope you don’t beat yourself up because of that. you drove a brilliant race today,” he smiles. “everybody crashes out. don’t even care what others have to say about you. you did well.”

lewis understands being cast out as a minority. he will never understand the struggles and pressure put on her, but he can at least relate to a certain extent. “don’t even sweat it. you’re now one of the world’s greatest in a fast race car. you’d smoke anybody who would dare challenge you.”

oscar tilts his head. “why would someone random just challenge her out on the street?”

“oscar, shut up,” logan shoves the australian slightly, landing a warning smack on his shoulder after. “let her have her moment.”

lewis laughs but does wave oscar off as he returns his attention to her. “what they say will string, but trust me, this is not the end of the world. i know it feels like it.”

she nods to herself. “okay, hand me the snacks so i can eat away all my pain. i deserve it.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock

[anamericangirl]

I just wanted to send you a good morning. Even though it's 5:30pm.

It's been a long 4 years, this election cycle. I've seen the internet, mostly Tumblr, Twitter, YouTube, Twitch, other social media garbage hellsites, turn into the most divided and horrible people I've ever seen.

I've watched for 4 years as my left-wing friends have attacked me verbally, blocked me and/or slandered me on social media for so much as barely questioning their viewpoints, while also watching my right-wing friends (even the most deep seeded conspiracy theorists among them) just ask me if I'm free to play World of Warcraft or something with them while we laugh and joke about stuff.

I've lost over 30 friends in 4 years, 4 short years, with literally only 1 friend lost before that. 35 years alive, 31 years I only lost 1 friend, 4 years I lost 30, and all 30 were ultra liberal friends who decided in those 4 years that they couldn't even stand being around me at all because I had too many questions about their liberal beliefs (Example: When shown a video of a Mexican woman saying "You can't be racist to white people" I laughed and called her dumb. The friend who showed me it called me a racist piece of shit and said, "Every time a person of color says anything you have to critique them!" to which I replied "This is literally the first time you've ever seen me responding to a person of color ever what the fuck are you talking about?" and they blocked me).

In 4 short years, I went from being a super liberal with blue hair who identified as Transgender Nonbinary Agender, to being a regular ol' male man who no longer supports the ultra-fetishization that the liberal left has turned our country's values into.

In 4 short years I've watched my liberal friends and liberal commissioners confess things to me that are so disgusting that I have informed the FBI of 7 of them and have put 5 of them in prison for the vile shit they confessed to me.

And now, 4 years later, with Trump winning, it's the first time since this all began that I finally feel like we're waking up at the start of everything starting to heal.

These obsessive, disgusting sexual deviants who nearly tore our entire country apart who have called their opponents nazis, pedophiles, creeps, monsters, fascists, racists, sexists, homophobes, transphobes, etc. for 8 years are finally feeling real opposition from people who are sick and tired of their bullying and corrupt politics.

So I just wanted, now that it feels like it's finally coming to an end and the future is finally looking bright again, to say hey AnAmericanGirl, good morning to you.

Hope you're doing well!

It’s not morning where I am either, it’s about 11:30 at night but this is genuinely one of the most positive and beautiful things I’ve read today.

Going through everything you went through and losing so many friends in such a short period of time and turning it all into a positive hopeful message is really heartwarming to read.

So good morning to you too!

[screechingfromthevoid]

@disastertourwaterdeepedition

Sorry for the weird fucking post but like tumblr straight up ate your ask?? I had to search and screenshot from my email??

Its like super fine I love big rants and big feelings (especially about the blorbo of the month).

Whoa buddy if you wanna talk about a rant. This got so long I'm putting it under a read more.

I'm not sure any of this is above board conscious thought process. When he looks to Orym, when he thinks about how he feels about Orym, I think Dorian, king of compartmentalizing, gets a rush of all three of the things in the post. He gets a little too lost in thought looking at the way Orym's hair now tries to curl against his ear or how well tailored the armor is to his body, he first gets hit with the Will guilt. Then he thinks about "ohmygodtheresawaron" and he'd shovel all of that down. Because its not time to think about Orym and him. But he knows by the way Orym watches him "sleep". He knows by the way Orym refused to be princess carried in Aeror. (Seriously dude Dorian princess carries everyone. It would have been less suspicious if you let it happen). He knows because Orym didn't see his husband when they were in Zephrah. But when he dares himself to actually think about a possible future together, he uses the big three to shove it down. And no, he has no clue that Orym thinks he doesn't return his feelings. (Wow you're right. Pronouns are hard)

Lol to finally answer your question: I'm not sure! Because the thing is! Orym has gone down twice in a battle with Dorian there! And honestly if Orym being on death's door doesn't make either of them confess, i'm not sure what will! (thats a lie I do have an idea). But like Orym went to the moon and back and almost died on the moon and all the count communicate to Dorian was "I miss you"!! Orym nearly died twice in one battle and he didn't think to give Dorian a sloppy, "If I die again I want to have kissed you once" kiss before going in for another round of getting hacked on. Dorian watched him go down and had to bring him back from death's door (one failed save scared the shit out of me) and he didn't think to give Orym a "We need you, I need you" kiss.

My unfortunate thought process, which I can't decide if I want it to come true or not, is that Dorian has to get hurt. Like when I say hurt I fucking mean it. Taken down in a round or two, two failed death saves, hurt. Because then Orym will have to face losing Dorian again. Face losing the man he loves, again. He pours a healing potion into Dorian's mouth because warlocks don't have a single healing spell. (Just checked). Orym feels so helpless in saving Dorian, because a healing potion isn't nearly enough to keep him up. He starts to cry over Dorian's (now conscious) body. He whispers between sobs "Not again, not again. Dorian you can't leave me. I love you, please, I never got to tell you, please stay alive." and Dorian, having heard all of that, reaches up to cup Orym's cheek and says. "Alright, just for you though."

Or something like that.

As much as I would love for them to be adults and just talk to each other. I know thats not going to happen. (Please, Robbie, Liam, prove me wrong.) So I think major tragedy will be the reason they confess to each other. Because they're idiots in love with a lot of weight on their shoulders.

[arcane-vagabond]

Hey.

Go ahead and get settled because this will be...long, in true Liz fashion.

So, by now I'm sure most of you have heard what's happened. If not, you can search this blog for some answers or others for more.

I joined this fandom offiicially at the end of September after being a long time lurker. I had just lost my job and times were uncertain for me. I felt inspired to write, and as someone whose formative years were shaped by the fandom experience, I wanted to feel that sense of belonging again - to feel like a part of a community. I've talked about it on here before, but I started my fandom days in the original Hunger Games fandom when the first movie had just come out, and then I shifted gears towards the SuperWhoLock fandom. If you know anything about SuperWhoLock, then you know you had to have pretty tough fucking skin to be a part of any of it.

Of course, this was back in the day when fandom was an actual community and not authors having to beg for scraps of engagement and people thinking its a numbers game. I was a fairly large blog within the SuperWhoLock community (Waywardly-Carrying-On was the username), but I left fandom for a few years because life got hectic and I felt like I had outgrown the fandom itself as I was no longer watching any of the shows. As the years went on, I started to yearn for the fandom experience again, which is how I found myself dipping toes into several different ones.

I was so excited to publish my first fanfic. I had convinced myself that I wasn't a good writer (much to the chagrin of my irl friends), and I had put a pause on writing my original story. I wanted to write this idea about a cowboy and a girl using characters that I had grown to love like I did way back in my older days. So, I started posting, and I was so excited for the story, that I kept posting almost daily. MamaMay was one of the first people to embrace not only my story, but me as a person into the fandom. She made me feel welcomed and wanted.

Pretty much right off the bat I was already getting anons telling me that I was being too much and that I needed to calm down with all the posting. I was confused because...this is Tumblr. It's literally a blogging website? Why wouldn't I post? I decided to ignore the mean words (not before giving my opinion, of course) and kept on doing my thing. Well, the anons got continually worse and worse. I had a suspiscion as to who the anons could be, but I never had concrete proof. So, I experimented with blocking suspects until finally it worked. I'm not naming names because that's not my style, so don't even bother asking.

The fact of the matter is, some of you have entered fandom spaces for the first time, and you don't know how to act. You don't care to learn fandom etiquette as you've made abundantly clear by calling fandom olds every name under the sun while utilizing the anonymous feature. Newsflash, you're part of the problem. You're the reason why authors don't want to publish anymore. You are the reason that something that's supposed to be fun is starting to feel like a goddamn chore.

How many times can authors on here say that we aren't machines? We have lives outside of this website: family, friends, jobs, school, etc. Some of you really are just hellbent on making everyone around you miserable, and it's sad. You can't just leave well enough alone and let people enjoy something, no you feel like everyone has to enjoy it the same way as you.

Some of you go after authors on here because of some weird sense of jealousy too. I don't know why my shit blew up, babe, I really don't. But I started out with no followers and no support just like everyone else. I'll tell you what helped me though: following fandom etiquette and reaching out to other creators to build an actual community. None of this "I've reblogged three of your things and now I'm messaging you so that you return the favor." No, I reached out to make actual friendships which is what fandom is SUPPOSED to be. If someone was clearly not interested, it was fine!! I backed off and kept doing my own thing.

Some of you think being mean on the internet makes you big and bad. Guess what! It doesn't! It's loser mentality and I feel genuinely sorry for you. I'm sorry that people in your own life made you feel so small as to feel like you had to lash out at strangers on the internet who are just trying to have fun.

Anyway, this is my really long way of saying that I am taking a break for a little bit. I have no idea how long it will be - could be the weekend, could be a couple of weeks, could be forever. I need time to decide if this is something I want to keep persuing. If I come back, I don't know if I will remain a TGM blog or if I'll shift gears and hop into another fandom with a rebrand. Guess we'll just have to see.

To the people on here who have been a constant source of joy, laughter, and support: thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Your presence has meant everything to me, and I hope that my break sees me wanting to come back and giggle about the silly plane movie with you all again.

Nothing but love,

Liz 💛

[youcouldmakealife]

SOTM: Robbie, Playoff Willy, various Scouts; pull yourself up by the jockstrap

For the prompt: A little more of Robbie's time with the Scouts - Cup party, with the Tweedles and Willy, maybe Julius & Erin. Your choice - just more of that.

(I'm not here, but the tumblr queue is! Well. Probably.)

“Now, I know I have no right to talk about maturity,” Robbie says, then promptly ducks the jock that comes flying at him, the rest of his message going undelivered.

“No throwing shit at teammates’ heads during playoffs!” Playoff Willy yells.

“It wouldn’t hit him in the head if he wasn’t so short!” Bender says. “I misjudged!”

“Misjudging is not acceptable during playoffs!” Playoff Willy says. Robbie wants to write a book of his sayings. Like Sun Tzu but for maladjusted athletes who don’t know how to lose. Which is pretty much all pro athletes, in Robbie’s experience, so it might even sell.

Robbie nudges at the limp jock with his socked foot. It looks sad. Defeated, even. “Bro, when was the last time you replaced this?”

Bender looks to Playoff Willy, like he’s waiting for Robbie to get yelled at, though Robbie’s pretty sure Playoff Willy cares a hell of a lot less about feelings than he does about potential head injuries. Or like — anything. The only feelings Playoff Willy cares about are like, motivation. And probably bloodlust.

“Pike has a point,” Playoff Willy says. “That shit is falling apart.”

“But I wore it in!” Bender says. “None of the other ones fit right.”

Robbie pokes it a little further from him. The visitor’s room floor is sketchy as fuck, but he doesn’t think he can do the thing any damage at this point.

The elastic snaps. Well, snaps is a strong word. The elastic’s too damn worn for that, so it’s less a dramatic death and more feebly giving up on the last thread of life remaining.

“Whoops,” Robbie says. Maybe he should have considered that the thing was an antique before he started poking at it.

“Willy, look what he did!” Bender says. “That was my lucky jock!”

“How lucky can it be when we just lost the game?” Playoff Willy growls.

Bender is, thankfully, smart enough to realize that’s a rhetorical question.

“Still up a game, Playoff Willy,” Money says, and Playoff Willy shoots him a glare, but doesn’t say anything.

Robbie’s still impressed that Money’s got the balls to call him Playoff Willy to his face, and even more impressed that Playoff Willy lets him. Everybody knows Money is his favorite, but as the playoffs have gone on, that seems to buy less and less leeway. Money told him from the get-go that the longer the playoff run, the worse Playoff Willy got. Robbie didn’t really believe him, or maybe didn’t want to, but he’s got to say, Playoff Willy during the Conference Finals is a whole different beast than the first round. Emphasis on beast, there. If he mauled someone Robbie wouldn’t even be surprised. Unless they were playing well, he guesses.

Thankfully, Robbie’s been doing okay for himself, shutting down the guys he needs to shut down, so he’s also currently in Playoff Willy’s good books, at least enough that he doesn’t fear mauling.

“I’ve had that for eight years,” Bender moans.

“That’s fucking gross, dude,” Robbie says. “Genuinely. I did you a favor.”

Bender throws a glove at him. Thankfully, it doesn’t appear to have been around for two presidential terms.

“If I have to leave next game because I got nut shot, that’s on you, Pike,” Bender says.

“Bro, if you go onto the ice without a jock Playoff Willy will cup check you himself,” Robbie says.

He winces, but either Playoff Willy didn’t notice the slip, or Robbie’s earned even more grace than he thought.

“He isn’t wrong,” Playoff Willy says. “Normally I wouldn’t, since it’s a chickenshit play, and an auto major, but I don’t think they really care if it’s your own teammate.”

“Refs won’t give a shit,” Scratch says. “Social media probably won’t shut up about how he slept with your wife, though.”

“I can make it look like an accident,” Playoff Willy says. Robbie does not doubt him even a little.

His brow furrows a moment later. “I don’t have a wife,” he says, sounding almost unsure.

That would be kind of suspicious, but Robbie’s learned that’s just how Playoff Willy talks about anything non-hockey related, like first he has to go consult with normal Willy, who’s being held hostage somewhere inside him.

“That could not matter less to idiots on twitter,” Scratch says.

“Last round they said I slept with your wife,” Money says.

“Why did you sleep with my wife?” Playoff Willy asks, then, after checking with kidnapped Willy again, “You’re openly gay.”

“Like I said,” Scratch says. “Could not care less about your actual relationship status. Or sexuality, apparently.”

“Scratch is still mad about it,” Joey says.

“I’m not mad about it,” Scratch says. “I just think people should do basic—“

“I fixed it!” Bender says. “I fixed it, guys! All it needed was a little super glue.”

Robbie has such a bad feeling about this. Bender’s honestly lucky his balls have survived this long: that elastic was literally holding on by a thread.

“You don’t want kids, right?” Robbie asks.

“Oh yeah,” Bender says. “Not quite yet, but Lacey and I are—“

“Oh, give me that fucking thing,” Playoff Willy says.

Super glue isn’t going do shit to save Bender’s jock after Playoff Willy and a pair of scissors get through with it.

“Have some respect for your testicles,” Playoff Willy hisses, and then marches the remains of Bender’s jock to the trash can.

That one's an instant classic. Robbie is adding it to the book of Playoff Willy for sure.

“That’s one for the book of Willy,” Harvard says. Obviously Robbie didn’t need telling, but he does appreciate that it’s becoming a collaborative effort.

“Hah,” Robbie says. “Testicles.”

“Willy,” Harvard agrees.

“What are you two giggling about?” Playoff Willy growls.

“Nothing,” they chorus, ducking their heads so they don’t accidentally meet Playoff Willy’s eyes. That’s a mistake Robbie isn’t making again.

“It was so comfortable,” Bender mumbles. “Like wearing nothing at all.”

“Yeah, buddy, we know,” Scratch says. “That was kind of the problem.”

“So comfy,” Bender whispers.

*

Robbie’s never been to a funeral for a jock before, but he guesses there’s a first time for everything.

“R.I.P.,” Money says. “Like rest in peace. Not like rip. Though that is what you did.”

“Before getting hacked to pieces by a madman,” Scratch says.

“May you find peace and serenity in—“

“What the fuck are you guys doing?” Playoff Willy says.

“Scatter!” Money says, and they all flee. Well, Robbie doesn’t. Not because he doesn’t want to, but he’s fucking exhausted. Plus, he blocked a shot last game, and anything faster than an amble makes his leg throb like a bitch.

“What the fuck were they doing?” Playoff Willy asks.

“Funeral for the jock we murdered,” Robbie says. Well, Robbie’s crime was jockslaughter at most, but that’s not important.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Playoff Willy says, then bows his head, eyes closed. He doesn’t move for a good minute, and Robbie’s shifting uncomfortably, wondering if he's finally snapped just like the jock did, and if getting Money will help or just make it worse.

He startles when Willy speaks, murmuring, “Sorry I killed you.”

Presumably — hopefully — he’s talking to the jock, rather than saying it to Robbie just before he kills him. Robbie reminds himself he’s safe. He blocks shots.

“It was for his safety, and the greater good,” Playoff Willy says. “Thank you for your years of service.”

He opens his eyes then, and Robbie accidentally meets his eye.

Shit. He wasn’t supposed to do that. He doesn’t think he was supposed to see that either.

“I won’t tell anyone about this,” Robbie says.

Playoff Willy’e eyes narrow.

“Because there’s nothing to tell,” Robbie says.

“You’re a quick learner, Lombardi,” Playoff Willy says. “I like that about you.”

“I block shots too,” Robbie says, just to make sure Playoff Willy remembers his utility.

“You block shots too,” Playoff Willy murmurs, then nods to himself.

“Integral part of the team,” Robbie says, then, aware he’s over-selling it, he awkwardly shoots Playoff Willy two thumbs up.

Playoff Willy’s brow furrows, then, after a long consult with the normal Willy tied up in the basement of his brain, he gives Robbie two thumbs up back.

[crobones]

I saw your post, and I agree. Something about calling Sam Black a "manipulator" just reeks of misogynoir??

I just saw this! Sorry, it got a bit... lost in my inbox. But ABSOLUTELY yes. 100% every single time I see something belittling Sam, or putting others before her, it kinda just. EH. ehhh. not sure how to describe it. especially the posts where OP (hypothetical OP, not you, Anon) says they just "really appreciate the platonic relationship" like okay? Evan still has platonic relationships with two whole ass other people, there's your representation (hypothetical) OP.

In regards to the finer details of the misogynoir in the fandom though, I don't feel I can speak to that with any authority as I'm white. But it just feels like sometimes some people prefer Jammer/Evan because gay, and K/Evan because self-insert (which, the latter gives its own white-washing vibe that I side-eyes; and also, also - as a nonbinary person, I can honestly say sometimes fandom makes me think they see NB as "Femme Lite" or some shit)

Sam's entire arc has been about accepting that not all of her charisma is magic, and to understand that she has other qualities and characteristics that she should love about herself, too! Her arc would still be what it is, with or without Evan. Aabria made sure to make that apparent in the many pep-talks with Qohlye.

(And not specifically because other people see and love those things cough cough Evan cough)

She goes so far out of her way to make sure that it's not some magical influence that draws people to her that when Evan reiterated that he wanted to be her dog, she said "Stop! Nope! I don't want that much control over you. We'll talk about it later, though." People will look at that and say "she's manipulating by saying she's not trying to manipulate" like fucking what? tumblr/the internet has bastardized the meaning of so many words with therapy speak that I genuinely fear for some people.

K literally says they see shit on the internet that they agree with the sentiment and so they spout it like their own wisdom without fully understanding what any of it means, and the fandom saw the forest for the trees.

[oxygenbefore1775]

am i wrong giving my all making you stay tonight

➥zeke x fem!reader

➥tags: canonverse, the year is 850 just before zeke is deployed to paradis

➥cw: major mentions of hatred towards eldians, star-crossed lovers and forbidden relationship trope, zeke is a narcissist and a dick here, the reader is also not that nice tbh, twisted marriage proposal and all that comes with it, zeke has some morbid fascination with his death, derogatory treatment from zeke (it's hella toxic); nsfw! (mdni) but it's at the very end so don't hesitate to scroll all the way down if you wanna skip all the explanation to them fucking, rough fucking, man handling, prone bone, kinda dacryphillia, talking during sex, one instance of hair tuggung

➥wc: 8.4k — no beta we die like my sleep schedule while writing this

➥summary: the night zeke tells you about his upcoming mission on paradis doesn't go without its consequences.

➥a/n: so i have this huge-ass zeke fic that i'm writing in my mother-tongue and because i'm sooo original w my content on tumblr rn i'm just gonna translate some parts of it here with some alterations - prepare for some incoherent shit, i warned you, that's like the most delulu zeke i have ever written

He is not to be trusted.

There's a deceit lacing his each word.

Cold and cunning, he was nonetheless charming. You would be lying if you denied the scorching languor that the ice of his blue eyes kindled in you.

Fleeting sentiments filled your mind in his presence, renderring you deaf and numb to your own thoughts. Not to mention his words, their poison failing to fill your absent body as you often lost the thread of the conversation. A lopsided grin curled his lips whenever you found yourself confused and unable to answer his simplest of questions, yet again, your thoughts a molten and twisted mass. You knew no end to his teasing for your frivoulness that he elicited from you with naught but a look.

Who were you, compared to the War Chief Yeager? Neither wits nor status was on your side to rebuke his taunts. Courage was failing you, fleeing at the mere sight of the red gracing his left arm. Retaliatory jabs never landed, the harsh words melted at the tip of your tongue before ever reaching him. How he reveled in seeing you like this, feeble and helpless. Just some stupid Eldian girl, that's what you were in his eyes. Unfit to be by his side.

And yet, he yearned for it nonetheless. Otherwise there was no other explaination to the slight arrogance bleeding into the way he spoke to you, leaving no other interpretation but that of a hunter taunting a mortally wounded beast. A whim, display of power, oversaturated and evident.

Occasionally he would condescend to your polite and humble requests, presenting them in a way that painted him as virtuous, as if you should be overflowing with gratitude and praises for his mere consideration of your proposals. He, however, never stooped to an open request himself, whether it be willful ignorance or inability to put thoughs into words. In such cases you were left to rely blindly on your own insight, forced to navigate through the murky water of his genuine intentions.

But witnessing this facade of complacency that masked his features most of the time disappear never failed to amuse you. How easily it could be shattered with a simle act — merely increasing the distance between you by a few steps during your routine strolls or better yet vanishing entirely from his line of sight amidst the crowd. That's all it took for the cold arrogance to crumble away and give way to a barely palpable unrest as he sought to bridge the unfavourably long gap that had grown between you unbeknownst to him. Not too close, though, being wary of avoiding the contact between your bodies.

The game he played to you was cruel yet he persisted in subjecting you to it, time after time. The true nature of his motives eluded you. The shadow of pleasure he took in poisoning your thoughts was hard to deny. Until he inhibits you whole, there would be no stopping to the suffocating hold over you. You were keep falling victim of this, though, the torment gnawing at your body and mind.

His unbroken gaze was the image etched in your memory for eternity. As well as the burning need to keep you near, by his side. Like you not staying at his apartment for the night could cost him his sleep. Like not laying his eyes one you could cost him his peace.

He remained oblivious to the fact that you noticed all of this. How could he possibly entertain those suspicions? A stupid Eldian girl would never. And still...

His gait lacked definition for someone who got the military drills beaten into him from the young age. Strange — even the deepest of thoughts usually failed to lure out a reaction from his body. Always static and phlegmatical, now he paced up and down the room, forgetting you were here in this room with him altogether.

With quick glances, you attempted to read his expression whenever he would pass your form curled up on the couch, and all in vain. His features remained an unpenetrable mask robbed of any emotion. Maybe it was the coffee. Shifting your gaze to the table covered with dirty mugs, your assumption had some reasoning behind it but you quickly brushed it off. He'd been like that long before resorting to the caffein.

Hesitation coursed through your every movement as you struggled to come up with a proper reaction. As intriguing as it was to find out what exactly had been plaguing the mind of steadfast War Chief, you couldn't muster up the insolence of striking up a conversation first. Who were you to inquire, anyway.

"One could hear your thoughts from a mile away."

His voice shook the cushioned silence of the room, bearing the same shadow of amusement he usually graced your way, as if the last hours weren't filled with restless pacing. Looking up to meet his gaze, a spark of amusement melted the cold of his eyes. The chance to divert his churning thoughts towards such a trivial remark seemed to bring him a little relief.

He prompted you with a quirk of his brow. "Speak what is it you have on your mind, or else you might burst."

There was that grin again, dark and painting his features in shadows. You shifted on the couch, nails digging into the flesh of your palm. At this point, each word you were going to say hardly veiled any obscurity since he'd already knew the nature of her question. He liked being proven right.

"Nothing really," your voice lacked the lively rebuke that usually sounded in your constant bickering back and forth, his unrest had seemed to rub off onto you as well. "You just seem off."

Your overtly careful choice of words elicited his soft chuckle. For a few moments he looked down on you, pondering just how much of information he should tell you. If he should tell you. After all, it was the knowledge not meant for the likes of you, civilians.

The light-hearted tone of his voice bore a stark contrast to the atmosphere and the words he was saying. "They're sending me to the island." His lips pressed into a thin bloodless line once he fell silent, his unbroken gaze on your face.

A deep line etched between your eyebrows. Still puzzled, you looked up at him searching for some sort of visual purchase.

The island of devils — any warrior would be elated at the prospect of proving their worth to Marley in battling the spawns of Paradis. Yet this sense of pride never captivated Zeke. More than anything, frustration seemed to have bled into his fair features.

Question, perhaps stupid in its naivete, plagued you so you let it leap off of your tongue. "Is this good or bad news?"

"And what do you think?" He retorted, pained playfullness still lingering in his voice. "When you send four Titans to an important mission and this is followed by five years of silence, how good can those news be?"

The air in the room became thick with smoke and smell of tobacco — Zeke must've lit a cigarette without you noticing. Your nose wrinkling, you slid to the other side of the couch where the gray thick cloud couldn't reach you. Uncanny thoughts soon started festering in your mind.

You cringed at your own way of thinking yet you couldn't help but to ask once more. "Are you—" unflattering crack snaked its way into your voice. "Is it going to be for a long time?"

He must've found your seeming worry endearing. His shoulders trembled in a fit of silent laughter, taking amusement in you. Like a pet who suddenly pulled a trick unbefitting of their intelligence. Artificial light cast dark shadows on his face as he neared the kitchen table, taking a sip from one of the half-empty mugs.

"I can only imagine." He stole a gaze at you, eager to capture the row of fleeting emotion painting your features. "Those four must've done a gravely mistake and now fear to face the punishment or died a long time ago. Now they expect me to clean up after them." Benevolent grin tugged at the corners of his lips. "Warrior children, what a joke to Marley's army."

You shunned the way you had received the news. The insolence to fear, to assume the worst when you'd come to imagine him away on his mission was unacceptable of you, stupid Eldian girl. Your mind shouldn't be a harbor for such doubts. Zeke Yeager is a powerful warrior, the strongest in the unit. The red armband akin to the blood he'd spilt as an honorary Marleyan, a testament to hsi long service for the country. The island devils would be a little challenge for someone like him as his strength a prowess doomed him to imminent success. Your eyelashes fluttered as you sought solace in embrace of your arms, hiding your face in between your knees, away from his piercing stare. And yet you had the worries and you let them slowly eat away at you.

A temper tantrum would hardly influence Marley's decision and rid you of your predicament, but it didn't make you backtrack on your blind desire nonetheless. And he'd be thrilled to see your tears, especially if he was the cause of them.

Solitude started to weigh over your head like a dark stormy cloud. To be apart for such a long time rang so foreign to you. Foreign and cruel. Being at Yeager's side bore its benefits which you didn't hesitate to reap and now that the threat of those upsides being ripped away from you hung in the air, you felt... annoyed. You smiled to yourself at the fact that you'd finally been able to pin down your emotion. Annoyed sounded about right. And nothing else.

Noticing your downcast look, he decided to seal off your state with another barbed remark. "Spare Liberio your distraught sentiments. You weren't supposed to know about this in the first place. And I'd like to keep it that way in the eyes of the other people."

The ice in his gaze was persistent as he locked eyes with you. Not persistent enough to prevent the lopsided grin from twisting your lips.

In a fit of distorted glee, you inquired, your voice barely above whisper, "Why did you tell me about this then?" The words dripped with a mix of curiosity and spite, as if you had unraveled a hidden agenda beneath his carefully constructed facade. Your eyes bore into his, searching for a glimpse of vulnerability or truth amidst the web of deceit that surrounded him.

He was never easy to nail down so you didn't believe your luck when you caught a glimpse of emotion, as weak and light as the candle's flame, flicker in his eyes. And you didn't care for the nature of it — be it the amazement at the precision of your question or the anger with your insolence — it pleased you as long as it wasn't the usual cold spite. You found comfort in the knowledge that he, just like you, may be subservient to something other than his logic. That you're not the only one affected by the news of departure. The satisfaction was short-lived though as his features quickly acquired the same expression as before, a blank canvas you couldn't read.

The nicotine must've cleared his senses seeing as he scoffed at you in a condescending rebuke. "So that you won't make any fuss once you find the house empty." His hand reached to rest under your chin but you didn't accept the gesture, turning your head the other way. Stubborn behavior befitting the image of a stupid Eldian girl he painted you as in his mind. "It's still very much a secret mission so only limited number of people are allowed to know."

His touch rejected, he returned to the table, from which he continued keeping his unwavering gaze on you.

Did his remark suggest that his family was included in this selected group? Meaning, he went out of his way just to tell you? And for what? For you not to worry? Watching him form the corner of your eye, you couldn't help but to adore the stark discrepancy between his words and actions.

"I'll consider this your act of courtesy towards me." You shot back meekly, the tone of your voice suddenly growing more humble. At least you would have the satisfaction of having last word even if it meant resorting to your obsequious self.

Now, after a cigarette or two, he appeared utterly unfazed as if he weren't gambling with his own life by venturing onto the island of devils. When it came to his life, he never seemed to hold it at great value. You were the one to do it in his stead.

Curiosity took the better of you as you turned your head to face him, a hint of concern seeping through your facade. "How dangerous will it be? If the other Warriors had been on the island for five years, then those devils must be strong enough to pose a threat." You couldn't help but shudder at the thought of the mission potentially stretching beyond five years for Zeke. As capable and talented as he was, five years to his life were something that he just didn't have.

Zeke leaned back in his chair, the lazy twirling of smoke rising up out of his cigarette in contrast to the sharpness of the sneer that quickly appeared in the depths of his eyes. "For someone so uninvolved in the military campagns of Marley you seem to have too many questions about this mission. What's with the constant inquiries?" His words dripping with misleading benevolence.

His question momentarily silenced the room, knocking the air out of your lungs. Perhaps you indeed asked too many questions for someone of your station, someone who's supposed to be in a strictly comradely relationship with Zeke. You felt the tension growing more palpable the longer you kept him waiting. The glint in his eyes spoke volumes, a mix of amusement and knowing, hinting at the fact that he'd already got himself a satisfactory answer to his own inquiry. Part of you sensed that he'd guessed it right.

Nonetheless, you rushed to state the opposite in a futile attempt to undermine his own conclusion. "I think it's only logical of any Eldian to take interest in this mission." You pursed your lips before speaking again, feeling how artificial your words sounded leaping off your tongue. "The fate of the whole world depends on its outcome, does it not?"

At this point you'd grown too weary of him, his presence already intoxicating as it is. Why'd he brought you into his house? Just to tell you about his leave, take joy in seeing you shedding a shred of worry towards him but to mock you later for expressing those? Your drilled, bordering on automatic, response didn't win any favour with him yet managed to amuse him to some extent, evident in the way a mischevious grin split his face as he stood up from his chair.

His steps rang louder and louder with him approaching the couch you were sitting on. You let out a relieved sigh, cradling the hope that he'll finally grant you with leave, having had his share of playing games with you.

His eyes told otherwise. "No." He simply shook his head, denying you the last opportunity to leave his house. "I'll argue that there's more to it."

With that, his voice took on more sweetness that he usually allowed himself whilst talking to you which surprised you. At this point of your conversation he'd usually stoop down to tasteful taunts, a stark contrast to the moderation he was currently excercising, making your mind teem with thoughts.

"All the correspondence is forbidden for the Marleyan warriors whilst on the mission. Were you aware of that?" Still lacking a full comprehension of his motives, you nodded your head, your eyes big and doe-like. Nonetheless, he accepted your curt response, elusive benevolence seeping through his features. "Not if it's meant for the close family members, though. Also honorary Marleyans, like me. On that front Marley had been exceptionally allowing."

Again with the obscureness, as if expressing his thoughts in straight sentences would rob him of his last breath. Still, you continued to look at him, your eyes fixated on the enigma that was the fleeting chain of emotions lacing his features. The tips of your ears burning, the supressed frustration at having to sit here and listen to him welled up inside you. His monologue had just took off yet he was already dousing you with mental excercises you were unwilling to solve at this late hour.

Feather-light touch grazed against your temple, his fingers tucking an unruly strand behind your ear, bringing you back to the sound of his musings. "Wouldn't you be worried not knowing about my whereabouts on the Paradis?"

You rushed to deny his groundless assumptions but you found your lips too heavy to utter a word. Thus, he continued, a sliver of benevolent amusement in his tone. "Who knows, perhaps I would be captured or even killed and you would have no idea of my fate?"

The words sounded strange coming from him. He never paid any mind to the morbid consequences that may happen to him whilst on a mission and now that he was shedding light to it in front of you, it filled you with more confusion.

Still, you leaned in closer, intrigued by this newly discovered oddity of his, wanting to her what else he had to say.

"Aren't you?" He called out to you yet there wasn't a hint of condescention to his voice. As if he genuinely took interest in your answer, waiting for you to respond.

And you did answer, with a shallow "yes" whispered in the room. Usually you refrained from such vulnerability as this was often followed with barbed taunts, punishing you for the display of affection to someone as unfeasible as him. But this time, he seemed to had welcomed it.

The spark in his eyes was warm, an exception of his facade you rarely got to see. "Well, I just might help you to get rid of your worries. Would you like that?" You let him touch under your chin, lifting your gaze to see his.

In that moment, the fog of confusion clouding your mind began to lift, revealing glimpses of his true nature. Your eyes widened in surprise as you finally captured what was lurking behind the blue irises. He captured your gaze, too, as well as the sudden recognition, hence the smile, soft and warm, melting the curve of his lips as he opened his mouth to speak. You didn't have to listen to him to know what he was about to say yet it didn't substract from the surrealism of the situation.

"Be my wife."

Out of all the blows, this was by far the most cruel and perverted. The idea seemed too far-fetched, too out of reach for it to have any meaning behind it. You had grown accustomed to his teasing, his banter and the way he seemed to enjoy keeping you on your toes. Can this be another one of his games? Another way to rattle your composure?

Your gaze quickly turned skeptical. You couldn't risk remaining vulnerable in his presence and at this moment. You kept waiting for the mask of pretense to slide right off his face, for him to announce that he had indeed tried to trick you. Yet it stayed all the same, as if the expression was genuine, eyes brimming with inviting warmth like before. Still, doubt lingered within you.

Why should this day be a precedence? An upcoming operation on Paradis couldn't possibly cause this shift inside him. He'd been on other missions before and never before had his unwavering level-headedness left him.

He is not to be trusted. The words that were still echoing in your head are not to be trusted. The mantra sealing your lips, you tried to ward off the terrible temptation to give into what he was saying. He wouldn't hesitate to drag you through the mud if he finds out that you'd fallen prey to his words.

"You can't mean that." It was your final verdict. If he wasn't the one to aknowledge it then you had to be.

The smile on his lips gave way to a lopsided grin, as if your response didn't come as surprise to him. So it had been a game after all, you mused as you allowed yourself a mental praise for your own foresight.

"But I can." The rebuke remaining soft, he kept looking at you, waiting for your eyes to meet again.

It was of no use to you, though. All that you would see in the icy pools would be either that inviting warmth again or a blind wall. And neither of those would cast any light on what had been truly driving his actions all along.

The air felt silent and still. This — all of this — wasn't happenning to you. No night being spent at his house, no awkward pause between you two, no twisted words of proposal. It was all too much for the likes of you, common Eldian girl.

Regardless of your thoughts, he rushed to crush them, bringing you to the undeniable and inevitable reality.

He called out to you again, "So what?" the grin that seemed to appear on his features so often suddenly faded. "Will you be my wife?" You could only chuckle at his courtesy to having finally asked you, instead of bluntly stating his wishes.

With that, he sanked down on the sofa cushions, sitting next to her. The knowledge of his taunts, sometimes ruthless in their nature, implored you to momentarily refrain from answering his question and allowing him to continue, instead. The sincerity had no place in the words he was directing towards you. His statements were not to be held at face value, you had to remind yourself.

Nevertheless, you succumbed to the temptation that had been gnawing at you for a long time as you let your head fall onto his shoulder, the precise movement leaving no room for interpretation of your intentionall gesture. He would be hardly angry with you for such a display of weakness. Quite on the contrary, as your begrudgent vulnerability flattered him immensly.

The weight of the gone day suddenly crushed over you in waves, robbing you of any strength. "A lovely young captain's wife." The saccharine in his tone started to taste bitter. "Mrs. Yeager who would wait for her husband to return from military operations, her body and and soul devoted to him only. Who would meet me with joy and every evening after a working day take off my boots for me."

Wrinkling your nose, you otherwise didn't let your momentary disgust become apparent to him via your posture.

Alerted by your silence, he turned his head in your direction. His breath, hot and tart with tobacco, seared your face. "What do you say?"

Wife. The time had long come for you to forget this word. At this moment and in your position, it was an unthinkable thing for you. Who were you in comparison to the prized asset that Zeke was to the country? He was also no exception, even if the red armband signified otherwise. Bound by his service to Marley, he would never be allowed to dedicate even a sliver of his attention to something not pertaining to his warrior duty.

But on rare occasions you granted yourself the indulgence but also the freedom to your own dreams and you intended to do it today as well. Even if it was the first time for you to voice your hidden desires to someone else, let alone someone who figured in your dreams so often.

The warmth slid along her thigh where he ran his palm across your skin in a thoughtless caress, his touch radiating with heat. Just as thoughtlessly, you caught his movement, taking two of his fingers into your palm.

Being an Eldian in an internment zone, your fate had been sealed long ago yet you found comfort in the knowledge. With your future set in stone, you had all the freedom to fantasize about your chimerical impossible life.

Soon enough you started speaking, your words bearing the same bliss that his were. "Then your huge bath would be all mine and I would bathe in it every day. Definitely with bubbles. And you wouldn't be able to tell me anything against it."

Your ears caught a faint chuckle escaping his lips, accompanied by a subtle exhale.

The prospect of sharing a life with the captain held an irresistible allure. Despite all the taunts lacing his words, a grain of truth resonated within them. This was perhaps the best outcome an Eldian from the internment zone such as yourself could ever hope for. A sharp-tongued and occasionally unbearable husband aside, the advantages of such a union far outweighed the disadvatages. As the capitan of the warrior unit, his duties would often take him outside of Liberio, leaving you to revel in the opulence of your home for many days and even weeks to come.

Contrary to his words though, you would hardly harbour any sentiments over him not being by your side as he had teasingly described to you. Your heart would be unlikely to languish in lamenting the frequent separation, seeing as the luxury of your home would occupy your whole mind, sparing not a single thought for your warrior husband. Even in your sweetest dreams the love that typically exists between the spouses was conspicuously absent in your marriage. Such an emotion was barred for the two of you, as you remained essentially strangers to one another.

Your eyes dropped to the entanglement of your fingers from which he was in no hurry to free himself.

You started to forget yourself, as the most sincere of words weighed heavy on the tip of your tongue. "But also the coffee that you would brew every morning. I really like it."

His lips momentarily twitched, as if your timid praide had either amused or touched him.

A casual impudence found its way into his retort. "Oh no. After I get married I won't go into the kitchen at all so it will all be the responsibility of Mrs. Yeager." He dragged out the last words a little. "I don't want a wife who can't even make me coffee."

The warmth of his body enveloping you, you pulled your knees to your chest and settled into the comfort of your position. Usually, neither of you was insolent enough to seek proximity in each other's presence in this way. Besides sex, your bodies rarely touched, but at this moment it was all too tempting to mind your self-restraint. And yet, your move didn't provoke irritation in him. Instead, it seemed to have awakened a temporary surge of affection within him. He even opened his arms wider, as if embracing you more deeply. However, you couldn't ignore the subtle stiffness in his gestures, a reminder of the hopeless underlying truth about your relationship. You two were far from being a married couple and the likelihood of you ever becoming spouses seemed increasingly remote.

Possible or not, the illusion was sweet enough to numb the cynicism of your predicament.

Yet another breath of his scorched the shell of your ear. "But will you teach me? How to make coffee?" Your inquiry laced with naive politeness, you smiled as you felt his chest, a barely audible hum rumbling the air. "Will my husband have any other expectations of his poor tireless wife?"

In a feigned attempt to challenge him, your palm closed around his fingers even tighter, as if she wanted to attract even more of his attention to her.

This ploy of yours appeared to be succesfull, seeing as his hold of you grew closer. "Your husband would like you to spoil him with your cooking every day." He said with a soft chuckle. "Not that I have tried your food but that is all trivial. My regeneration can withstand the effects of any poison so your cooking would hardly deal any damage to me, no matter how disgusting it may be."

You fell silent at the lack of a proper rebuke, letting yourself get lost in this moment that you doubted you would see again any time soon.

And you were proven right. Just as you began to embrace the newfound comfort of your position, your hopes to have this moment last a bit longer were swiftly shattered. The warmth in his voice dissipated, replaced by a chilling tone as he leaned in to whisper into your ear. "Why deceive yourself?" His words dripped with cold determination. "I know all too well why someone like you would like to meddle with someone like me."

With no further explanation, he presented you with his armband, bright red fabric carelessly thrown onto your hand. The shift in his disposition was so sudden that you took a second to even register the feel of rough cloth against the skin of your palm. Disturbed by the intrusive nature of his inquiry, you tried to pry yourself away from him yet he didn't let you, his fingers finding their place under your chin to turn your face to him. The pools of his blue eyes were colder than ever, studying your expression, not losing sight of each fleeting emotion painting your features, as if the silent observation would provide him with more answers instead of just asking you directly.

Yet you didn't feel fear. In all the time that you had known each other, he never gave you the reason to be afraid around him. This surely had to be attributed to his charms since his each action, no matter how twisted or condescending, held a certain allure over you. Even now as you were pinned down in your place and forced to continuosly look back at him, all you could feel was frustration welling up inside you.

Your exasparetion started to overflow, evident in the way your brows knitted together. "You're hurting my neck," you voiced your discontent in a soft manner, only to be met with his unamuzed gaze.

He only got closer to you, your bodies pressing up against each other, his lips so near to yours that your mouth began to water at the bitter taste of tobacco dancing on your tongue.

Your protests were heeded, and he released his hold on your chin, seemingly satisfied with gazing at you. Another whisper, hot and sibilant, flowed into your ear. "It was hard not to notice, you stared at it too often." Instinctively, your hand tightened its grip on the red fabric, drawing it closer to your chest. "But I can understand your fascination with that thing. What is it that you want exactly?"

Considering all his past actions, his question sounded almost too caring, too soft and too thoughtful for someone like him. Were you a bit more perceptive in that moment, perhaps you would have been touched by his genuine interest but instead you couldn't help but to feel exposed. Maybe you did stare at it too much, as hardly a conversation with him went by without your excessive attention being drawn to some piece of fabric instead of the person it belonged to. You hoped that he hadn't been awake during the nights when you dared to harbor enough insolence to take the armband from his nightstand and pose with it in front of the mirror, the reflections of you with a red ring circling your left arm looking so dreamy and beautiful.

Hardly any Eldian in the internment zone didn't want to be an honorary Marleyan, and you were no exception. In fact, you were the most trivial showcase of this bold desire. It can give you a better life and safety and freedom, most of all. Freedom to go beyond the stone walls of the internment zone, even if for just a while.

In all your life you never came to think that the armband could be attained through the means Zeke had proposed to you not so long ago.

You were thankful to him for still keeping his composure. At least one of you had to. "So what is it? Everything, I assume?" You felt his breath hitch as soon as you answered with a curt nod. "Then everything it is. And I will give it to you."

The right words were coming hard to you yet you couldn't wait any longer to voice them. Pulling away, you finally put some distance between you two, finally free from his suffocating warmth. "Are you hearing yourself right now?"

Your attempts to reason with him were quickly put to rest with a single gaze he graced your way. The intensity in his eyes made your words falter on your lips, as a knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Right now, each of my word has weight so listen to me while I'm still talking."

Surprisingly, it worked. But it wasn't for his concise argument but rather the oddly familiar expression in the depths of his eyes. As you gazed deeper into those pools of blue, you saw a reflection of your own yearnings, a crack in his flawless facade. A pained smile bent your lips as you reveled in the realization that Zeke had given way to the same sentiments as you. And you thought once that he was insusceptible to this. A dark chuckle escaping your lips, the gravity of your predicament started to set in. Fools, both of you.

In a haste you took off his glasses before kissing him. You didn't want the metal frame to poke you in the eye again should the angle be not right.

His lips felt dry against yours, the tart taste of tobacco doing little to prevent you from sliding your tongue into his mouth. He smiled into the kiss as he felt you settling back into his embrace, the cushions collapsing under the collective weight of your bodies.

Your aggressive initiative was a welcome dynamic, with you quickly straddling his lap as he was left to take in the feel of your body. The coil in your stomach began to wind up with each painstakingly slow movement of your hips. The sloppy sounds of kissing rang loud in the room, interrupted only with your breathy whimpers whenever you grazed your sweet spot.

It took him all his strength to pull away, fake and long-soiled paragon of self-restraint lacing his tone when he spoke to you. "The couch would be too narrow for this." The voice barely above whisper.

With that, he grabbed you under your knees, drawing your legs closer to his body for a better purchase. Instinctively, you wrapped your hands around his neck and leaned into his chest so you wouldn't fall when he picked you up. His fingers sank into the pillowy flesh of your thighs as he carried you into the bedroom, your body barely a burden for him. A curt laughter rose from your chest and got lost in the tussels of his fair hair. You hadn't thought him to be so strong outside of his Titan form.

The springs of the mattress wailed as he let go of you, initiating your short fall. He looked down on you, his movements suddenly lacking resolve but his eyes still transfixed on your form. Reluctant to give any more thought to the ponderings teeming his mind, you didn't intend on waiting idly for him to join you. In the growing heat of the room your clothes became a nuisance, just another one of the barriers standing between you two.

Your fingers untypically spry for the state that you were in, you reached for the rows of buttons on your clothes, unburdening yourself layer by layer all the while watching him watch you.

Evidently, the sight of your naked form helped him come to his senses quickly as he stepped closer to the edge of the bed. In a bout of anticipation coursing through your veins you extended your arms towards him in an alluring invitation, starving to taste the tobacco on your tongue again.

All the same dark grin of his told otherwise. Instead of granting you the satisfaction of having his mouth on yours, he grabbed the hold of your hips to flip you over, tight grip sure to leave marks on the skin in the morning to come.

His weight came crushing over you, knocking the air out of your lungs and pinning you in place. Although he was using both of his hands to support his body, with each at the either side of you, it brought you little relief.

"Like I was saying," his lips pressed against the shell of your ear, you felt as if the reverberations of his voice reached your brain. "Marley allowing me to marry is more real than you think. Don't think they would refuse their most valuable asset in such a trivial matter. Maybe I'll even start winning more wars for them."

Your mind refused to give any more attention to his words, demanding a tangible satisfaction instead. You tried to arch your back in hopes that the sudden contact of your pelvises would make him forget his musings, forcing him to stoop down to the same level that you found yourself on, but it was all futile. Under the immense pressure your lower torso was rendered immobile, as if fused with the plush mass of the mattress.

The skin on your shoulder tingled with faint prickles where he rested his chin. "The armband, as significant as it may seem, is not the solution to each of your problem in the internment zone. A glorified scrap of fabric signifying that you're just a bit less miserable than all the others, that's what it is, really." he spoke, his voice tainted with sullen knowledge.

You absolutely hated how he remained so stationary while in arguably the most compromised position and how you lacked the power to change it. "Then why are you willing to go through the trouble of giving me one?" You hissed into the cradle of your palms, tone brimming with impotent dissatisfaction.

The next moment you felt him grabbing a fistful of your hair, with a violent tug forcing your head to turn to the side, your neck almost snapping from the sheer power of the motion. You were met with his gaze, angry yet at the same time seemingly insulted by your insolence to question his motives again. You responded in kind, your eyes watching his lips in anticipation of yet another one of his countless self-serving musings to be voiced. But you didn't hear any. He let go of your hair just as suddenly, nudging you to face away from him.

Sitting up straight, his body weight shifted towards your thighs as he was straddling them. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed his shirt falling to the ground. The sound of the belt buckle coming unfastened was the next thing you heard, the soft clang of the metal clasp filling you with thrill.

His hand snaked its way to your abdomen, pressing against the small of the belly to make you raise your hips and you felt happy to oblige, displaying yourself nicely to him. His touch lingered on you for quite some time after that as both of his hands traveled to the back your thighs, absentmindedly caressing the supple flesh in lazy broad strokes. A surge of goosebumps cascaded across your body, each wave driven not only by his scorching touch but also by a sudden flash of realization.

He must have noticed how shamelessly wet you were. The positioning of your hips left barely any room for his imagination and presented him with the delectable view of your slit, slick covered and pulsing with heat. Exasperated, you bit down on your lower lip to supress a desperate moan all the while he took his sweet fucking time to revel in the way your cunt flutterd around nothing begging to be filled. As much as you wanted to feel him inside you, you kept your pleas to yourself, left solely at the mercy of his self-restraint which you hoped had started to diminish already. You'd rather die than make your weakness for him known again, as if your body wasn't enough of an indicator already.

Eternity might have passed but he eventually moved, shifting some of his weight back onto his arms as he mounted you.

You couldn't help but gasp at the way your walls enveloped him, struggling to take his girth at first. A drawn-out raspy fuck emitted from his chest once he entered you, his motion slow yet persistent as he slid his cock deeper inside you. Careful not to harm you, he halted whenever your breaths became too shallow and frantic from the stinging of the stretch, not moving any further without your leave.

Minutes later you felt him reach the deepest part of your cunt, the immense pressure from his continuous thrust built at the bottom of your stomach, so unbearable that it rendered all the other sensations non-existent. There was no way he couldn't feel your body tensing up below him. Nonetheless, he kept on pushing, as if trying to break you. Even as you tried to get away from the uncomfortable feeling, he stopped you, putting his palms over yours as another way to pin you down. The weight of the pressure bore down on you relentlessly, within mere seconds, tears began to bead on your lashline, threatening to cascase down your cheeks and fall onto the sheets.

The skin of your nape grew hot where he doused it in kisses. Twisted sense of comfort welled up inside of you in hopes that his caresses, so out-of-place yet so warranted, would at the very least provide some relief to you. It seemed that he would persist until you fully succumb to him. A whispered praise poured into your ear once all the struggle left your body and your flesh became pliable to him.

Only then did he back down. Letting you catch your breath as one of his hands traced its way to your face, brushing a strand aside to get a better look of your eyes glistening with tears.

Little did you know that it would be the final act of gentleness he bestowed upon you for a long time, leaving you yearning for more. You didn't even had the time to savour it as he set a new unforgiving pace.

Beyond the tingling sensation of his cock dragging against your walls in a brutalizing manner, sharp hissing grazed your ear. "Why in hell would I go through the trouble of giving you one," he tantalised, each of his thrusts only adding to the mockery. "So you won't forget that you're mine while I'm be away".

"Mine and safe," he murmured then, confident that you won't hear him.

It wasn't his voice. It sounded so unlike him in this moment, frail and vulnerable, but you were the only people in the room so it must've been him.

A jolt of pleasure railed through your body with the tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot over and over again, driving you wild. Your pleasure became apparent to him as well, his motions gaining more precision to increase the blissful sensation for you.

Struggling to form words you nonetheless tried to, your lips and tongue heavy. "So this is what comes with being your wife?" You couldn't believe the tenderness lacing your tone at this moment. The sentiments were a cruel thing, not something you were supposed to have towards him, nor he towards you.

His reply was overtly eager, as he leaned closer to you, your bodies pressing together almost seamlessly. "Pretty much," his voice rang in your ear. "You must admit that you're very fortunate."

You craned your neck to face him, curiosity sparkling in your eyes. Taking in your alluring look, he couldn't resist the glowing skin of your shoulders, so transfixed on tasting the salt of your sweat on his lips that he ground to a halt inside you.

All you could do was rile him up even further, a chuckle escaping your lips. "Oh yes, the prospect of having you cater to my every whim sounds like a remarkably enticing endeavor on my side."

As your words hung in the air, a mischievous glint danced in your eyes, reveling in the effect they had on him. The corners of his mouth curled into a sly grin, mirroring your own playful demeanor and growing heavy with somber tone. With that, his hold on you became tighter, his hand groping at the fat of your thighs.

His hips snapped against yours with such a force that you nearly mewled, feeling the reverberations of his thrust echoing throughout your body. "Enjoying it while you can." His voice dropped to a low, husky timbre, tinged with a hint of challenge and sneer. "You've got only five years left for that."

This level-headed bordering on indifferent demeanor in a blind disregard of his own words struck a nerve with you. You gulped some air, desperate to conceal the outburst within you.

You wished he hadn't remind you of the imminent futility of your secret musings. You wished he would just carry on with pounding into your leaking heat with no thought to it. As he moved inside you, sinking his cock inch by delicious inch, the pleasure of it faded even if your own body continued having visceral reaction to the process, your gummy fluttering around his girth. Now, only lament had residence in your mind. If it wasn't for your unfortunate fate of having been born as Eldians, perhaps you could have a chance at a normal life. Without the constant thoughts of him slipping away.

His resolve undying, he pressed your body deeper into the mattress, the pressure of his hands driving the air out of your lungs all the while his cock kept winding the coil in the pit of your stomach.

"Widowhood would suit you so good."

His voice remained just as mocking as before, as if the life that was put on the clock wasn't his. You, on the other hand, were precisely the one not entertaining such remarks. "Tell me." You could barely make out the words amongst the squelching sounds. "Tell me, will you mourn me? Funeral would be hard to organize, admittedly, with no body left for you to bury, but-"

You rushed to hide your face in the sheets. You heard enough. You didn't want to hear anymore of his taunts.

The words still reached your ear. "Will you cry for me like a good wife should for her husband?" He came to a halt deep inside you yet again, ready to break you should you not answer. "I've never seen those eyes cry before. So will you or will you not?"

The satisfaction wouldn't come so easily to him as you remained motionless under him. Only your shoulders quivered with subtle tremors, betraying the hidden distress that stirred within you. As simple thing such as breathing brought you a lot of struggle so you could only hope that your poise would last through all of this.

"It's not like I've taken your tongue away," he mocked.

A gesture of feigned compassion, you felt his fingers card through your hair, lulling you into false sense of security in hopes of luring out a desired reaction out of you. The sweet tone of his voice came off as cruel and mocking as he coaxed you for an answer, his fingers toying with your clit only adding to the torture.

Sick twisted pleasure, that's what he was getting from all of this. Your answer to his inquiries evident to him, he nonetheless wanted to hear it falling from your lips, dry and bitten at.

Yet, when he spoke again, his voice shed all its malice, barren as it trembled slightly. "At least remember me after I'm gone, would you do that for me?" He called out your name and it sounded vulnerable coming from him, his tone etching deep within your memory.

With a lump forming in your throat, you struggled to find your voice as well as enough air to form a response. There was no purchase for your mind as a scorching wave of orgasm coursed through your body, your face contourting in pleasure and your cunt squeezing in around him. With that, the last bit of poise left you and you broke down completely.

"Yes!" you pushed past your lips, hot tears streaming down your cheeks and your shoulders shaking with each sob.

In this moment you suddenly grew unaware of your surroundings, deaf to his whispers pouring into the ear and numb to the tingling stretch of your core as he was chasing his own high.

The skin of your inner thighs soiled with his seed, you would normally rush to the bathroom to wash away the stench of sex but this time you thought against it, curling up on the bed instead once he rolled off of you. Only now you began to feel the weight of your confession. Why did it have to be you alone to crack under the surge of sentiments that held immense power over you?

He decided to stay in bed as well, watching you struggle to come to terms with what you had just said, complacent grin plastered across his face. Evidently, you made him very happy this night.

"When are you leaving?" you asked in a raspy voice, watching him as he watched you in the enveloping darkness.

His fingers reached for a stray strand, sliding it behind your ear. His tone was thick with mindless glee. "In a couple of weeks, plenty of time for me to convince Marley to green light the marriage." The kiss he left on your lips acquired a bitter taste with time. "What will you say?" At the lack of suitable words, you just nodded dumbly.

He is not to be trusted.

There's a deceit lacing his each word.

But as you gazed deeper into his eyes, glinting in the dark shroud of the night, you let him deceive you yet again.

(phew)

[yandere-fics]

♡ Selene Mommy Kink ♡

(Tumblr deleted it the first time i wrote this but I am determined to keep trying.)

You had always dreamed of having a soulmate since you were young, perhaps a cute elf who would obey your every command or a dumb as rocks werewolf who would be loyal to you and only you from day one, so needless to say, when you met your soulmate for the first time, who had just been flirting with another girl until you saw you and completely lost interest in the other girl, you were extremely disappointed, soulmates were supposed to be a wonderful thing to have, their presence would only add to your life, they couldn't make you miserable or fail you in anyways right? Turns out that was a sack of crap because you'd gotten stuck with the wolf god herself, a notorious womanizer who couldn't stop thinking with her dick for two seconds, it almost felt like the universe was laughing at you and so you would have to make Selene pay by being the opposite of what she was probably expecting as well, werewolves were usually in charge when it came to their mates so instead you would force her to take the submissive role in your relationship and let all your rage out on her.

"Dove, I'm very pleased you invited me back to your hotel, I'm glad you forgave me for that little... indiscretion earlier tonight." The longer she talked, the more you felt like your blood was going to boil, gods she was so frustrating, you were just so angry you'd gotten stuck with this disobedient overgrown child of a mate, sure she was a goddess and one of the strongest werewolves so technically the gods would view you as having been extremely lucky in the mate department but at the same time, her personality was shit and she'd fucked possible every unmarried human in your whole town so no you really didn't see how you could possibly be considered lucky here. Loyalty was the whole benefit to having a soulmate, they would be overbearing and sometime murderous but at the end of the day they were truly loyal only to you, meanwhile you were left with the one supernatural who likely had ever been with someone who wasn't their mate. She sat down on the bed with a smirk on her face which just made you want to punch her, under other circumstances you might have been blushing and thinking about how lucky you were to have such an attractive mate but currently all you wanted was to reduce her to a pathetic sobbing mess.

"Shut up, I haven't forgiven anything yet. You need to earn my forgiveness. To start with, I want you to call me mommy." You started to strip where you stood, you'd make her kneel and worship the very ground you stood on for the rest of eternity just to make up for how horrible it had felt when you learned your soulmate was nothing more than a filthy mutt, even then it still wouldn't be enough to quell your anger fully, though this did actually satisfy you in a way, sure everyone had gotten to see her intimately but you highly doubted anyone had ever been able to see her act submissive, it would be a sight for you alone, maybe you'd record her begging her mommy for forgiveness once you got her well trained enough for now. "Maybe if you cry for forgiveness from your mommy convincingly enough I'll let you have me tonight."

She paused for a moment trying to gauge if you were serious before she finally realized you were and got on her knees before you, her hands holding onto your ankles, trying to show you how desperate she was to even be allowed to touch this much of you, it would be cute if you weren't still plagued with the memory of that girl from earlier. "Please mommy, I'll do anything for you to understand I only want you, it was just so lonely waiting for you-" You kicked her hands away, you didn't need to hear her stupid excuses, if demons could wait centuries then so could she.

"Shut up, from now on you're not allowed to touch me until I give you permission, you will sleep on the floor next to our bed and you will only be allowed to hold me at night once you've learned to obey me. Now, do you want to cum?" She looked up at you, hers eyes tearing up when she realized she couldn't just ask for forgiveness and everything would be fine, the weight of her mistake was beginning to dawn on her, perhaps it wouldn't be so hard to train her, you just needed to make her desperate for even a crumb of your approval before taking it from her. "Then go ahead and jerk off to me, I'm not letting you touch me tonight, maybe in a week from now." She whined but despite that she still wrapped her hand around her cock and began to move up and down furiously, little whimpers leaving her mouth as she did, you doubt she did this very often, she most likely just went out whenever she felt horny, thinking about that again made you angry and you almost felt like stopping her but you decided you'd let her have this for tonight, it would be her last orgasm for awhile until you felt she had repented enough.

"Clean up when you're done, I need rest, maybe if you serve me well enough tomorrow I'll allow you to eat me out." You walked past her as she sat on the floor with her brows furrowed, clearly struggling to get herself off.

"Yes, I'll do anything for my dove, I mean m-mommy to forgive me." You clicked the light off, she could see well enough in the dark, she didn't deserve to have light when you weren't around anyways.

[kirabasai]

au where an ancient briar valley general accidentally gets tangled up in the space-time continuum when he combines his unique magic with teleportation, and gets spit out into general vanrouge's era. i'm thinking this is before levan or revan or however the fuck u spell his name disappeared. i'm going to be pasting parts of my original conversation with my friend bow_to_the_king (he doesn't have a tumblr but check out his ao3! he depicts fae and lilia beautifully) below, and THEN i will be adding my spitballing additions below the cut.

me: doing stuff rn but this brain bunny entered my head. general vanrouge x time traveler except the time traveler is a past briar valley general who disappeared one day. and is as feral as lilia so ofc they initially hate each other

me: brainrotted more. they're an owl fae

me: he's an owl fae?

me: she?

me: whatever's an owl fae

me: thinking... blue hair. so it's the blue/red trope

me: ok vibes for what i have of them so far is def not a she so. gonna refer to this time traveler w he and they until i settle on whatever sticks more

me: thinking their um is usually just jumping forward in time a bit. like 5 minutes max. they use it in combat decent bit because hey what works works u know?

me: until one day he's like. super desperate. so he used his um while teleporting. which mixes..... Badly. he gets tangled up in the spacetime continuum and spit out to somewhere near a camp of lilia and his soldiers

me: it would be rlly funny if this was a time that predated the animal masks. so they don't recognize lilia as someone from briar valley and lilia doesn't recognize him as someone from briar valley, because he has a cloak and mouth veil thingy (only eyes and some hair r visible)

me: so its like a huge misunderstanding until SOMEBODY works it out. but lilia and this dude r still bitter from their first impressions. so they r constantly at each other's throats and arguing over choices and whatever

me: it's like. a power / pride thing

me: and then something something something, something something something! dadadadada blah blah blah

me: and then they kiss

(- i said something around here abt being a literary genius)

me: i just love red/blue who start off in hate ok

me: technically enemies to lovers i suppose, even though they're actually on the same side.

king: Get that duality

king: Emotion enemies to lovers

king: Two alley cats that hiss at each other but end up cuddling eventually

me: and it's extra funny because they are similar

king: Ooooo do a but where they say the same thing at the same time and then proceed to glare at each other the rest of the meeting while trying to out do the other

me: it's funny because this dude is like. actually famous. he's in briar valley history books like lilia is in the present day.

me: everyone else is like oh my god... i can't believe im in the lost general's presence.... he's such an icon... i've looked at so many accounts of his battles..... while lilia is just like

me: die

me: i do not give a fuck

me: fight me

king: They get home from deployment and Owl gets flowers and such thrown at him and has people constantly wanting to talk to him and Lilia’s just stewing in contempt (and secretly territorial about every one monopolizing Owl’s time)

me: he actually is lowkey bitter about it "oh going out to greet your adoring fans instead of training?" and owl is like. "IM SORRY??? WHAT." and then they brawl

king: Oh my god

king: They’re Malfoy and Harry

king: Rivals to lovers

me: well yes

me: but in their heads they r enemies

me: so both technically

king: That adoring fan bit is absolutely something Malfoy would say to Harry

king: In like canon

me: shit you're right

me: ah well drarry is a classic i cant complain

me: just realized im at a point i should probably name owl…

king: Seras is a cool name

king: Seras is technically a female name meaning princess, fiery, or bright

(i noted this down and told king i usually collect a handful of different names & surnames and mix and match them until i find The name)

me: seras, emil, and cyrus/kir r my first name options

me: tbh i don't actually like cyrus/kir as much as seras and emil but i need to keep my options open wait wait wait

me: emil seras

me: lilia calling him seras not as in using his last name to be respectful but as in calling him princess to mock him

king: The general is a menace like that

and then at some point mid-convo

me: also while u were gone i played a bit in picrew typing to capture general owl fae's vibes

(i sent king the ref pics i made. courtesy of this picrew and this tiefling picrew.) [insert links]

king: Ooooooo those wings look gooooood

OKAY NOW ONTO MY YAPPING AND SPITBALLING BELOW THE CUT

first of all the CLOAK. the cloak is actually a necessity. it's a type of padded armor made of thick pressed wool tightly pressed together. not only is it warm, but the way the fibers connect together and work is that it stops piercing blows from swords. it even could stop very early bullets! (not modern day). from what i can tell, this was generally worn over the rest of somebody's armor? it also wasn't exclusively armor. shepherds and whatnot also used it to keep warm, and shield themselves from wind. generally there shouldn't be a hood, but i really wanted the hood. a little feature that stuck w the armor and apparel of briar valley soldiers through the centuries (because general lilia has a hood but no cape/cloak)

it's originated in the caucasus mountains, and is called a nabadi or burka. it was generally made from sheep wool (according to wikipedia, karakul wool which is central asian in origin). it is also a style of clothing customary of males in the caucausus region at that time. at some point, around the 18th century, russia appropriated it and made it apart of their armor (which is why it is also called a burka). you can learn more about the nabadi and padded armor in general here.

something i like to do is put little aspects of myself or my heritage into my characters, which is what i did here lol. i'm half kurdish and according to my father we (as in my clan i think) originated from the caucasus mountains and descended down to where we lived in the middle east (obligatory rip kurdistan).

i thought this form of armor would be quite suitable for emil, because not only does briar valley seem to be a very mountainous region (and mountains are COLD. also from what i can tell briar valley seems to be located quite up north so. extra cold.) additionally, some of the briar valley names just feel a bit. russian. if u will. such as lilia, zigvolt (ignoring the fact they immigrated), vanrouge, etc. also russia and the caucasus region in general? in asia. close to the middle east. which is also mostly in asia. sebek coming from an egyptian god and baul sounding a lot like baal. ik real world geography has no bearing on the cultural influences of the countries in twst, and it's more generally mashing a mix of cultures together, but it makes sense in my head.

so the cloak? 100% an essential and totally canonical to the briar valley region. (i did not expect to brainrot so hard on this part oh my god.)

[nvuy]

your writing style is a dream of mine, and the pacing & humor in your fics are some of the many reasons i decided to follow you !

i'm trying to write fanfics myself & potentially even run a writing blog! could you share a few writing tips?

you are so cute.

i’ll let you in on a secret: i started actually publishing my fics in 2020, but i since abandoned them because they’re embarrassing. however, here’s one as a starting point. i look back at it and cringe A LOT, but it was my foot in the door, and 15 year old me was very proud of it, so i didn’t want to straight up delete it.

i didn’t start out on tumblr because i get nervous being forced to interact with people because im a pretty abrupt person and i talk about the things that i like too much and im aware that can scare people away. it was about halfway thru writing old habits before i actually posted something. that was this and i posted it because i knew what little audience i had knew ME because i wrote a scaramouche fic. so. scaramouche content.

and because of the tumblr tagging system, people saw it, they liked it, and some people wanted more.

i then interacted with other writers slowly even though i was scared and frankly still am. you dont have to go around asking to be moots or spamming hearts left and right and putting their dicks in ur mouth, but being nice and having a scope around on what other people do on here helped me develop this ugly little blog i have.

i got really into hsr so i write a lot of hsr. i get a lot of people that ask if i could write more genshin impact, and i could, but at the end of the day, it’s my blog, and if i dont want to, i dont have to. i lost interest, so i dont really have to care about it, nor pay it any mind. do i still write it? sure! rarely, but i do. i don’t play wuwa anymore, but im down to write a piece or two if i get an idea, etc etc.

another thing is: don’t write in the hopes that you’ll post it on tumblr. same way i don’t think artists should draw just for the sake of posting. i have so much shit laying on various docs that won’t even be shown on this site, because it doesn’t need to be here. not because it’s bad, or it’s weird, but because i don’t have to post it, because it’s my blog.

the thing is you just be yourself and write whatever the fuck you want. i write horror & weird shit; my audience is probably well aware of that by now, and im not really worried to post anything super weird because its sort of what’s expected of me.

i know horror and romantic cannibalism connotations and yanderes and unsubtle sexy threats is not everyone’s thing, and that’s ok! they don’t have to like what i put out, and i don’t worry about it, because people who like your shit will interact, and people who don’t will not. and people that don’t like ur shit and still interact are losers. hit the block button & move on.

someone is always bound to like your works.

i guess the ‘funny’ comes from the fact that i try to write dialogue how real people would speak. in fictional context, someone like kaedehara kazuha could wax poetry for three hours without stuttering in game, but realistically, nobody can probably do that without pauses, stammers, messing up words, etc. so i try to incorporate a sense of realism into everything, even if it’s a fanfiction in a world where a small boy in white tights is a god and everyone gets tiny little orbs that give them magical elemental powers.

i remember that even though these characters are fictional, i write them as though they could potentially be real people that do things real people do: fidget, stutter, blush, try and be funny and fail, they have problems large or small, etc. you have to mould your personality and writing style to make these characters alive on what you put out—childe seems like a great husband on paper, but is he all that good when he has unchecked mental health problems and has violent outbursts and desires? think about it.

another thing: don’t doubt your skill and prowess, especially in comparing yourself to posts with like 10000+ notes. most of them are note farming bullshit anyway—and a lot of the reader community is more likely to click on porn fics than normal fics. its why the popular posts on the x reader tags are usually porn. it’s half the reason why confiteor is infinitely more popular that old habits when im pretty sure scaramouche is a bigger character on the popularity charts.

strictly nsfw blogs that people make i can guarantee you are a lot more popular than their main blogs.

which brings me to: dont hop on trends. don’t do it. youll burn yourself out. just write what you want. fuck everyone. do whatever the fuck you want. if porn is popular but you’re extremely sex-repulsed or not comfortable, don’t write it. dont write to please people; it’s your blog and your time you’re putting into to do what YOU like, and you’re sharing your work for FREE on a public platform. a lot of people can’t do that. there’s people that follow my blog that openly admit they don’t like yandere/horror/whatever content. am i going to change what i post because of these people? no. not my problem. don’t care. i don’t exist to please everyone, and neither do you. stick to what you like.

don’t write for fandoms you don’t give a shit about just because they’re popular. even if what you like has a small, non-existent fan base, i promise you’ll enjoy writing for that more than something that you’re creating for clicks. notes are nice, but again, you don’t have to post everything you create. half the joy in writing is rediscovering old shit you don’t remember writing for a fandom you actually like. it’s like a reward.

[aiscapades]

putting this under a cut bc i'm going off the rails (this turned into me x you fanfic) ?? happy new year

gonna take this moment to appreciate tumblr (and all of you). this is a fucking hell site and it always has been, but i've been here since 2012 and it's the only social media i actually use anymore.

my writing instagram account that i used extensively during nanowrimo 2022 was hacked and i had to fight this person for control over it (i lost my art account like this in 2018). but it's all mine again :) all my posts about my gay cowboys and me finally being proud of my writing (after giving it up for years) and all the cute stories i posted abt my characters (the only time i've ever talked like that abt my ocs on the internet) REMAIN ALL MINE !!!

AND YOU KNOW WHAT?

if i want to mention nasty gay sex and tell the hacker to eat butt and die I WILL! i won't be censored. even a story i posted got a popup warning me about the language. saying bitch is a fucking internet crime now???? mark zuckerberg's internet is fucking BLEAK y'all.

this is so baffling to me. how do people live like this??? i stopped using ig years ago (rip my photography hobby!) because it just kept getting worse and worse. tumblr is infamous for never really meeting its users' expectations but at least i can say luigi should be freed without a quirky lil popup message asking "are you sure??? you could get in trouble!!!" mark zuckerberg you are an actual ai lizard robot abomination and you are ruining humanity and our planet. i would skin you in an instant. no hesitation no remorse. you would become a human skin rug and i would stand on you with muddy boots and remark about how you don't fit the space very well then let my 3 pit bull mutts piss all over you. then i'd piss on you too. the things i would do to elon musk (and others) would actually get me banned off tumblr and i think that says enough.

i love this stupid ass website because at least i can be a person here and not be gaslit or brainrotted by an algorithm. i can share whatever media i'm currently obsessed with and see other people obsessing over it too and forge actual community and friendships. i may be alone every day irl but at least y'all think i'm worth interacting with (🩷). this is an unhinged rant about how much i hate rich people who are ruining all of our lives BUT IT'S ALSO an appreciation post for every single person who has ever even looked at me here.

i'm in love with you platonically and we're kissing platonically on the mouth or on the cheeks and forehead or whatever. i'm open to whatever if it's with you. you are everything bright and beautiful to me. i take your hands in mine (no bandages) and run my thumbs along your knuckles. i read your tags and it made me laugh out loud. i don't know why that shit post about the ts cast's eye colors has 300 notes and i'm worried for all of you but also that's hilarious and i appreciate the love. it's really cool that you draw and post fanart for all of us to fawn over. i admire you. i take your wrists now and pull you in for a hug. my boobs are big and i smell like aluminum-free deodorant but there's love in the way i hold you gently, and i hope you remember that feeling when you're sad. i would wait outside while you robbed a bank and be the best damn getaway driver even though i don't have my license. i would dig a footer with my bare hands then construct my own mud blocks to give you shelter when we finally run away from it all and find a nice spot out in the woods. the sun is warm on your skin and butterflies keep thinking you're a pretty flower. your ais fanart made me horny. also your leander fanart. and that was honestly unexpected but it happened! i ain't a liar. some of you i view as gods (in like a totally normal average way) and i hope you don't notice how my whole being trembles when you say something to me. i would sacrifice my firstborn for you if pregnancy didn't scare me. i hope you like the mark zuckerberg rug i put in our sitting room (in our shack in the woods where we escape everything bad). i know you said you prefer cozy minimalism but i want our feet to stay warm and i hope his glassy eyes don't scare you too much. if they do, i'll just hold you tighter :) you're safe with me. thank you for being you and sharing your interests with the rest of us. i hope you have a wonderful new year.

[aspengenic]

Hi, I saw your recent post/asks and I'm a little confused so I wanted to ask for clarification

I'm part of the DID/OSDD community on tumblr and I've been seeing a lot of posts there lately advertising the sunnyville minecraft server. It doesn't really look like my thing but we have a couple alters who love minecraft and were thinking of joining. But I stumbled upon your posts about someone named Eden who's the owner of the server being really gross and harassing people? Have I read that correctly? I'm completely out of the loop and I have no idea who this Eden person is, what they've done, if any of it is true, or how this relates to the mc server thats going around Tumblr right now. Pls explain like I'm 5 years old because I'm so so lost. This feels like the kind of thing you need to be 9 layers deep into lore/drama to understand in its entirety and I just can't decipher whats going on or what's wrong with sunnyville but I would really like to know the full story since I was thinking of joining

aight im at work so this is probably not going to be as detailed as it should be but eden/collectiveofeden/welcometosunnyvillesmp used to be known as aspensentourage on here and on tiktok. they did some reaaaaaal problematic shit like calling people slurs, doxxing childrens pks, trying to doxx a trans girl who is a minor and also said some super disgusting things about her and find out who her parents were (and roped other people to do it too), said gay people groom children, all kinds of things.

they did this for a long ass time (theres people saying theyve been doing this shit since 2019 but i personally havent been sent proof abt it yet). people told them how it was awful and harmful and they doubled down and said they didnt care basically.

heres just some of the screenshots i have from the aspenfrostsnark. theres much more on this blog though.

so anyway they gave an "apology" but only to the snark reddit about them. but no one trusted it and they promised they wouldnt be engaging in the system community anymore and stay off social media.

but they deleted the apology altogether and their excuse was "having an account would trigger me to look". but then they kept using reddit anyway with their account

theyre also posting back in the system community despite saying they were staying away from it bc they caused so much harm. they rebranded and refuse to answer people asking about it and will block anyone who does. they wont talk about it on their biggest platform, or anywhere.

many people aren't even aware that eden is aspensentourage. its all just super fucked up.

now theyre pretending to be fine with endos and pretending they didnt cause harm to endos and traumagenics alike.

no one trusts them because they are untrustworthy. those that do trust them are blinded by their bullshit and excuses.

hopefully this is enough bc i gotta get back to work before they catch me chilling in the janitors closet to type this lmao but if you have any more questions feel free to ask. youre also welcome to scroll through as much of this blog as you like

and anyone is allowed to add their own stuff of course

[the-rorster]

HEY YOU LISTEN HERE GOOD THE REASON WHY I REPOST BENNY FANART FROM OTHER PEOPLE IS BECAUSE I LIKE THE ART AND I WANT TO POST IT!!! YOU CAN"T FORCE ME TO STOP POSTING WHAT I WANT TO POST OR THAT I WANT TO KEEP TALKING TO NEW MBAV FANS I WILL DO WHAT I WANT AND NO CAN FORCE ME TO SAY NO ALSO I DON"T KNOW WHAT COMMISSIONS ARE BUT I DON"T WANT TO DO THAT CAUSE IT SEEMS HARD AND TIME CONSUMING WITH WORK AND EFFORT SO IT"S MUCH BETTER AND EASIER TO TALK TO NEW PEOPLE IN THE MBAV FANDOM BY TALKING TO THEM IN THE INBOX BUT I CAN"T DO THAT IF EVERYONE AVOIDS ME AND IGNORES ME WITH YOU AND ALL YOUR MUTUAL FRIENDS ON HERE STOPPING IT FROM HAPPENING BY STICKING YOUR NOSE WHERE IT DOESN"T BELONG STOP INTERFERING AND INSTEAD MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS!!!

That's called stealing. You're an art thief

How are you 25 not knowing what a commission is

Tumblr has a reblog button. If you like the art, you can send it directly from their blog to yours without cropping and stealing. If you wanted to post the cropped art so badly the very least you could do is credit the original creator of this. You can't excuse being an art thief.

You have not proven to deserve friends. Once you prove that, I'll leave you alone. Until then, I'm going to continue to warn people about the drama you bring around and tell them they don't have to get roped in if they don't want to. Because I've seen what happened if I don't and it was absolutely fucking disgusting

This is my business because I am also a fan of my babysitters a vampire and the last thing I want is to be scrolling though my feed and seeing someone responding to YOUR bullshit statements about the grooming. I'm stopping it in it's tracks

This is my business because I'm a MBaV fictive. Benny was my boyfriend and the way your grown ass talks about this highschool freshman is WEIRD

This is my business because just like some of the other people you've harassed, I'm a victim of grooming and s/a. Happy now? You win your prize? Rorys just a statistic, what do you get for finding that out, a warm feeling inside? I'm an escapee of some crazy mind control cult shit, does that also feel good to know? Are you winning? It's my business because you're making it my business when you bother others like me. And you don't know who is like me or not, so it's going to continue to be my business until you stop bothering people

* the cops didn't get involved when it happened to me either. They tend not to when you're the victim of a COCSA case and your preparator didn't know what she was doing wrong

But I remember every bit of. It happened. Cops or no cops. It still happened.

Now, with that out of the way, chat can we report Tumblr user @ilovebennyweir for art theft is that. A thing you can report people for. It would be a shame if they lost their super big Benny/Atticus collection

[sparkyblizz]

I need to talk about Robonyan and B3-NK1. if you're a fan of whatever the hell these two have going on, please read through this entire post I beg you. (I am a Fellow Fan of whatever the hell these two have going on and I'm just rambling about the hilarity of the writer's decisions, especially looking at episode 119.)

I'm gonna set the scene. been a fan of the game for years. used to watch the anime with my parents back when it aired on TV. I watched episode 23. even back then, even though it was the dub, with reanimated scenes, I picked up on what they were putting down. eventually forgot about this, went about my life. years later, talking about queercoding in video games with friend. bring up Yo-Kai Watch, talking about another instance of queerness, and then I remember episode 23. go to the wiki, research it. lose my shit when I find out that the version that I saw on TV was edited to make it less suggestive. also lost my shit when the wiki said the Latin American dub skipped it entirely. I just need you to know that because it's hilarious to me.

I ended up rewatching said episode, but the subbed version. the original, unedited version. holy shit. anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself. I learned about episode 85 and the Komasan Taxi segment. I watched it (subbed version). it seems the complaints may be from real viewers. I can't say I can prove that, but it is extremely funny, because Robonyan (at this point upgraded to Robonyan F) gets put on blast by someone's disapproving mother. Robonyan F becomes increasingly more mortified, trying to explain what happened by first saying that he's from the future and it's different there (hilarious excuse, based) and that it's B3-NK1's fault (which, I mean, he was the one who stuck his naginata in Robonyan, so, fair enough man). you might think at this point that the writers are gonna try and backtrack, apologise, something! you would be wrong. they FUCKING DOUBLE DOWN. Koma bros bring B3-NK1 in. guy is friendly and immediately initiates conversation with Robonyan F who cannot handle this situation at all, and the fact B3-NK1 just comes off friendly and relatively casual is amazing to me. (at least, that's how the subs where I watched it portrayed him.) peak writing decision. Robonyan F tries to not be horny, ends up being horny anyway. writers are committed to the bit. AND THEN THERE'S EPISODE 119. I only briefly perused tumblr to see what the fandom's got to say and I had yet to see anyone acknowledge episode 119. I myself was intent upon finding it and watching it after I see this in the wiki.

me, looking at the wiki saying B3-NK1 "distracted" Robonyan F: "what do you mean by that?" I just had to know the full context. so I watched the episode (subbed as well). and if you haven't seen it, let me explain its relevance. Nate and several other Yo-Kai end up competing in a grand prix. one of the racers is Robonyan F. according to the subs (which I know may differ depending on where you watch the show), Robonyan F is the crowd favourite. he's got a cool ass car (that he himself seems to be a part of) that manages to break free of the ice that trapped everyone else, caused by Blizzaria, who is also one of the racers. B3-NK1 is cheering for Robonyan F. he has a flag with Robonyan F's face on it attached to his naginata. he says that as they're both mechanical yo-kai, he'll cheer him on. he waves the flag excitedly. he then does something reminiscent of a cheerleader—he shouts "Hooray! Hooray!" then cheers Robonyan F's name, punctuating each syllable by swinging the flag—and his naginata—in a different direction. he then twirls it in his hand and it spins out of his grip and out of control, and ends up flying onto the track and embedding itself in the rear of Robonyan F's car. this causes him to lose control, the car starts transforming into references to different anime, and then promptly veers off the racetrack and smashes into a rock, making him the first racer to lose. he is in eighth place, LAST PLACE. that detail is hilarious and important to me. what this episode tells me is that the writers not only doubled down, THEY TRIPLED DOWN. they did it again! they made the joke again! and the way they do it is criminally funny. I'm just imagining that in the writer's room, they decided that they needed Robonyan F in this race because robot and robot car. but Nate has to win the race, which means everyone else has to lose in an interesting way. what's the best way to make him lose? reference episode 23 again! B3-NK1 is here purely for the joke! he's cheering him on, excitedly to boot! he seems genuinely happy to be here! but oops! he accidentally loses control of his naginata and it goes and stabs Robonyan F's car, and by proxy him, in the ass, and is what puts him in last place. FUCKING L. has this happened enough times for it to be a running gag? it might as well be one!

anyway I just like episode 119's implication that B3-NK1 at the very least likes Robonyan F, enough to cheer him on happily. even if it's just for a gag! love wins!