#TUMBLR NEVER LETS ME POST HERE ITS SO FRUSTRATING | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sanakimohara · 1 year ago

Note

This is my second ever ask in my 10 years of having Tumblr so please let me know if I’m saying this wrong or if this is rude 😅 but please could you do a felix or chan incredibly insanely darkly jealous a lot of breeding kink and rutting and c8ck dumb reader 😮‍💨😅😅 pretty please

“UNDER THE INFLUENCE” L. F.

Awe well I am honored to be your second ask here on tumble. I think I'll take Felix on this one...give him a bit more love in my post stream..

{ MDNI }

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Today was not supposed to end like this. You had no intention of being in a room alone with him -especially while you both were ‘working’- but here you are. Trembling and writhing as Felix had his fill of you.

It was a miracle that your makeup wasn’t smudged; thankfully, your hair wasn’t too messed up from its original wet and wavy look. No matter how many times Felix ran his fingers through it or if you pressed your head against the thin walls as shrouds of ecstasy hit you, it stayed modestly neat.

One less giveaway of what the two of you were getting up to in his dressing room.

“Felix…F-Felix th-that’s enough….Ahm!” You groan as quietly as possible, trying hard to not let anyone outside the room hear how amazing it feels to have your cunt devoured like there was no tomorrow. The blonde completely ignored your demand, swirling his tongue in quicker circles around your clit before delving into your dripping entrance.

He’d been at it for the past ten minutes at least, never letting you pull your hips away from his oddly rough grip, keeping your legs wide open as you sat on the -previously organized- makeup vanity. You felt terrible about doing such inappropriate things with a man you swore you’d never met all day.

All fucking day.

You’d refused to admit that Felix was your significant other to make the photo shoot between you and a male model less awkward. A small sacrifice you were both used to driving to keep your relationship concealed and stable, but for one reason or another, Felix felt a simmering rage when he heard you deny your ties to them.

He hated it so much that he’d been less approachable and friendly for the better part of the day.

The staff noticed Felix’s change, whispering about how on edge he was on and off camera-cordial to everyone like always- but noticeably annoyed. You’d seen it too, very concerned he wasn’t feeling well and convinced just checking on him during the staff hour-long lunch break wouldn’t do any harm to anyone.

Everyone except you.

Felix was not above taking his growing frustrations out on you. The instant you shut his dressing room door, he’d covered you, hands preemptively inching the bodice of your silk skirt to touch your bare skin underneath as he placed one fiery kiss on your lips after another. “Stop letting him touch what’s mine, angel,” he whispers into your parted lips, drinking in the immediate whimpers you let out in return.

“You can’t be serious, Lix. More than half of the shoot requires us to “

He rolled his eyes, smirking in disbelief at your attempt to reason with him, “Does it look like I fucking care. Either keep his hands off you, or I’ll ensure it myself.” The rare sight of anger adorned Felix’s gentle features, voice a rumbling whisper, and the combination propelled you into subspace within seconds. He was never this openly possessive. He’d pout or sulk if you didn’t give him attention occasionally, but this…

This was new.

It made you nervous under his gaze, rendering you speechless as he hugged you close, lips reconnecting to your own in another sequence of tender kisses as he walked you backward into the vanity. Your exposed back hit the mirror with a soft ‘thud’ and you flinched away from it. Felix brought you close to him, letting his warmth resolve your shivering and trailing his hands over the intricate details of your artistic bralette.

You pulled away, smiling proudly as Felix took a moment to admire your decorated breasts, eyes darkening with desire as you leaned back with a knowing smile on your face. “Like what you see, Liz?” You tease him, giggling softly as you turn your head to look at him through the reflection. He nods slowly, tongue poking one of his cheeks as he snakes an arm around your waist, closing the tiny gap between you two and effectively spreading your legs to frame his waist.

“You know I do, angel. Always will…” he mutters adoringly, placing a trail of heated kisses along your neck, shoulder, and finally, the curve of your breasts. He groaned in displeasure as he realized the material was intricately clasped, making it a hassle to remove and one less place on your body for him to play with.

Felix solves the dilemma quickly, licking a long stripe over each one before nipping at your skin until barely visible bruises are raised on your skin. Your face burned hot, lust seeping to panic as he marked what he knew to be his, and though it felt amazing, you knew he was inching you both towards exposure.

“Lix, please don’t…they’ll see those…mm,” you bit back a moan as he made another affliction, purposefully making it noticeable. You flinched against him, hands flying to claw into his shoulders, “That’s enough…” you moaned into his ear. The demand lost its edge as it slipped off your tongue, concern becoming a blur as Felix tangled a hand in your hair, pulling it so you had no choice but to let him stain your skin with as many love bites as he pleased.

Your brows knitted together as each one became more intense than the last, the arm around your waist holding you flush against him, adding to the mind-numbing pleasure he was inducing.

You tried one last time to reason with him, stuck in thralls of heat and logical thinking, “Felix…th-“

He cut you off immediately, devoid of any sympathy for your plight, and his authoritative tone made that abundantly clear.

“I don’t care,” he retorts, and you whine in response, “..But I do.”

Felix laughed dryly, inwardly amused by your signature pout but unsympathetic with your reasoning. “You shouldn’t,” he replies softly, bringing his hands to caress your face. You stared up at him lovingly, leering into his touch as he pecked your lips, the subtle hums of approval thundering in his chest, building the pool of heat in your core.

“I know, Lix….” You murmur into the kiss, feeling his hands drop to your thighs, giving them light-handed squeezes. You subconsciously roll your hips to get his touch closer to your dripping cunt. He smiles against your lips, chuckling at your eagerness and immediately giving in to you.

“Desperate little angel, aren’t we?” He teased you, discreetly slipping the many rings off his fingers as you nodded your head and let out a breathless “mhm” in response. Felix shifted your silky skirt to the side, draping the fabric off of your legs as he cupped your mound with one hand. He bit his plush bottom lip as your hips bucked into his hold. A sheer thong was the only thing keeping your soaked folds away from him, and he remedied the obstacle by pulling it to the side.

“Fuck…” you hiss as the cool air hits your exposed cunt, slick going ice cold as Felix prodded to skilled fingers past your entrance. “It’s a miracle you don’t have cum running down your leg, love. It must be so hard walking around this wet for me, yeah?” His voice carried so much weight, doubling down on your own pleasure as he fingered you at the slowest pace possible.

You were at a loss for words, thoughts, or any coherent reaction as he curled his fingers forward to hit your sweet spot. Felix wanted a verbal answer, not just the satisfying gratification your moans brought him, “Need to hear you, angel..or I’ll stop.” You shake your head in displeasure, blushing heavily as you rush a reply, words slurring into excited whimpers.

“Y-yes…s-Ahm….fuck Lix…y-yes you’re right….”

“Good girl…” he whispers, pumping his fingers faster and pressing your clit with the pad of his thumb. You yelp quietly, whining curses as a familiar tightening ramped up in your stomach, and you clenched around his fingers as a result.

Felix groaned vicariously, smirking wildly before withdrawing his hand. “N-no! Lix, please!” You nearly shout in agony at the loss of fullness, ready to cry as he drops to his knees, faking a frown as he comes face to face with your glittering core. “You’re being awfully loud for someone who doesn’t want to get caught, love.” His warm breath fans the slick entrance as he speaks, putting you in a daze that intensifies when he flicks his tongue against you.

“Don’t care anymore…jus’ wanna cum,” you mewl as he focuses on the task at hand, finding the rhythm to taste you with his tongue perfectly and urging you to cum in his mouth with every deliberate action.

His blonde hair tickled your thighs, low moans sending vibrations through you in waves and heightening the toll your climax took on you.

Felix refused to stop until your cunt was all he’d be able to savor for the rest of the day. You nearly fell forward on him in a state of elated exhaustion as he stood back up and kissed you deeply. Your eyes slid shut as the creaminess of your release and his spit seeped down your throat, a wanton moan spilling from you both as his tongue danced with yours, and your hands traveled up to grip his hair.

“Careful…” he grunts, the sound giving way to an altered whine. You pull the blonde strands harder, lips connecting to his jawline and making your own mark on his tan skin. He reaches for his belt, glad his outfit wasn’t nearly as complicated as your own, and a sigh of relief comes out as a sharp exhale through his nose the moment his cock springs free.

You smile against his skin, eyes trailing down to get a view of it, “You’re such a hypocrite,” you taunt him. Amused to see how affected Felix was by the mere thought of another man laying his hands on you.

He groans, muttering a semblance of disagreeable words before shoving you back with gentle force. The conjoined feeling of the cold mirror hitting your heated skin and the instantaneous contact of his throbbing shaft gliding up and down your glittery folds has your back arching as ripples of pleasure course through you.

Felix drops his head to the crook of your neck, a few strands of his hair ghosting your skin as he places featherlight kisses. “Lix..” you mumble lowly, unable to think straight as he breathes in your scent, his hands grazing down your spine as he does.

“Promise me he won’t touch you again,” he whispers in your ear, his hips pausing, the tip of his cock inching into you ever so slightly. You whined loudly, head lulling back as your brows furrowed in frustration, one hand slipping from his tousled hair to clasp around his throat. Every breath he took raised his Adam’s apple, your thumb gingerly baring down the muscle as you shook your head slowly.

“I can’t..please don’t make me,” you plead for a compromise, but Felix disregards the refusal, pushing into your cunt inch by inch, torturing the both of you with the long-awaited security your fluttering walls would impose on him. “Yes, yes you can…you will. Promise me, sweetheart. Open your pretty mouth and swear to me that you’re all mine..” Felix shifted between pleading and demanding, eyes flickering from your expression of pure ecstasy as he sunk all the way into you to the space where you two connected.

A train of thought no longer existed for you as he pulled out slowly, slamming back so harshly that the vanity quivered from the subtle force. Your mouth fell open, eyes rolling in earnest bewilderment the rougher Felix got. “Fucking answer me…,” he groans, burying his cock in you, and refusing to move until you stuttered out a response.

Work be dammed. Telling some random guy to keep his hands to himself for the next few hours paled in comparison to your need to cum….and was honestly a task you’d do whether Felix was coercing it out of you or not.

So, as much as you cared for professionalism…it’d have to take a backseat to whatever emotion he was dragging you into now.

“I. I promise it won’t happen again…I promise, Lix…” You didn’t care how pathetic you sounded, past the point of modesty and clinging to Felix for dear life as he picked up the pace of his thrusts. Your chest pressed into his, the intricate details on your bra chilling his burning skin and prompting him to hold you there with an arm snaking around your waist.

He fisted the sheer material of your skirt, almost ripping through it as he tugged it higher, nails digging into your skin possessively, and you winced in pain as he brought his lips to your ear again. “Hm, does it hurt, angel?” He asks, feigning concern, and the contrast of the sweet gesture amid brutality made your head spin endlessly. “Y-yes,” you huffed as a moan built in your throat, quickly slipping out as he shifted one of your legs up and around his lean waist. The adjusted angle drew a surprised cry from you, cunt gripping every ride and vein of his cock as he took advantage of the position. He was bruising your sweet spot with an intensity and speed you’d never experienced before.

Felix was generally endearingly romantic and rarely this aggressive with you. Seeing, well, witnessing this side of his character was an edge for you on its own.

You were surprised that you managed to hold out this long without cumming and even more taken aback by the steady stream of arousal pooling on the vanity beneath you. Felix noticed it too, cock twitching inside you as pride flooded his system, “You’re making such a mess, pretty girl… does it feel that good?” He grinned triumphantly when you nodded without hesitation, hips rolling to meet his thrusts at an even pace for as long as possible.

“Gorgeous, so…fucking gorgeous..” he praises your every reaction, running a hand down the expanse of your torso, stopping to press down where you could feel his cock the most. You blushed as the applied pressure emphasized exactly where Felix was inside you.

The coil in your core teetered on the verge of snapping, your hands disappearing underneath the hem of his designer dress shirt, and your manicured nails scratched into his toned torso. The simple action caused Felix to buck his hips and wrap his free hand in your hair as he brought you into an open-mouthed kiss. It was sloppy, void of any decency, as the both of you chased your high at the expense of the other.

You clawed at his skin, moaning louder as the knot in your stomach begged to loosen for the third time in a row. He stared into your dreamy gaze, reading the warning in them as he held your head close to his.

Felix wanted nothing more than to etch this very moment into your mind for the rest of the day -your life. The thought of you walking around, filled to the brim with his cum as you posed for one picture after the next plagued his conscious, and undid the last link of reason for him.

“Fuck this,” he snapped, brows furrowing with determination as he pulled out of you, and slid you off the vanity to bend you forward on it instead. Thankfully, you caught yourself in time, too dazed to stop him from kicking your legs apart, and reentering you from behind. “Felix…” you groan exasperatedly, shuddering as his cock stretched your cunt with ease, causing a thin drip arousal to slide down your inner thighs.

The blonde leaned over you, a hand resting on the curve of your back as he returned to his pace from earlier. Sweat starts to build on his tan skin, a concentrated expression adorning his angelic features as he pounded into you.

Blank.

Your mind was entirely blank the longer he bullied his cock against your sensitive womb and the tension mounting in your body multiples exponentially as he lowered himself to speak in your ear lowly.

“This is where you belong, angel. Just like this, with me, an no one else understand?”

You nodded weakly, fighting back tears as the urge to cum from the sound of his voice tempted you.

It’d only take one more possessive word from him -paired with that salacious smile on his face- to unravel you. Felix was at his end, too, eyes sliding close as the precision of his thirst became a tenuous blur.

“You think he’d use you this well, love?” He slurs the question, unintentionally pulling your hair as he snaps his hips harder. “No…”you sigh deliriously, reaching a hand to run through his hair and bring him in for a heated kiss, while the other latched against the mirror to hold you steady under his weight as the knot in your core spiraled loose.

“That’s it….angel, fuck, you feel so good…” Felix doesn’t even try to be discreet, zoned in on the way your cunt gushes on his cock, greedily taking the hot ropes of cum he releases. Oxygen alludes to you for a few seconds, an overbearing heat rushing through you and your body quivering in the aftershock.

You looked divine. Unreal even. That pleased smile on your lips as you giggled shamelessly only added to the glow you emitted in your shared highs.

“He won’t touch me again, Lix..” you panted softly, smiling more expansive as you clung to him tiredly and laid your head on his shoulder.

He understood then. Why he’d felt so stricken with jealousy over you the whole day. Yes, he loved you, but the underlying notion that no one else knew it angered him.

What good would it do him not to try and claim you, at least? If fucking you into the bliss of oblivion was what needed to be done….he could make that sacrifice.

Felix kissed the top of your head, grinning as you whined defeatedly as he shifted his hips to settle his cock further into you, “See, that wasn’t so hard to agree to, now was it, love?”

You pout, raising your head to glare at him playfully, “No….but now the stylists will have to cover me in two layers of foundation!”

Felix raised a brow, gently rolling his hips into again, and you melted underneath him at the overstimulation. “Who said we were done, angel?” He asks, smiling at your fucked out reflection shifting to a look of desperation. You opened your mouth to say something but the words died in your throat, replaced by a broken moan as he gradually pumped his length past your tender walls, spreading his cum over them, and edging you both to another round.

This was not how your day was supposed to go, but there was no fight left in you, and certainly not enough left to refuse being stuffed full with Felix’s cum for the next thirty minutes.

Felix chuckled at the sight of you accepting your fate, subconsciously rocking your hips back to meet his, and welcoming the oncoming warmth of his accumulating releases.

Maybe making him jealous could be your new favorite hobby….

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This one was fun. I'm kind of proud of how it came out too....my editing is getting better hehe.

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

Credits to owner 🖤 FYI if I met him and he made a joke I’d start laughing the same way zendaya was cracking up everytime Tom holland opened his mouth….i mean how else am I gonna convince Felix he’s my soulmate lmao 🖤

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calebsmoocher · 11 days ago

Text

After an argument, MC begins to navigate Caleb's 'lockdown' regime. When she thinks the coast is clear, she finds him half dressed. Should fit into the main story. Angst after a shaky reunion.

Word count: 1.5K

A/N: Yipee my first real tumblr post. My mind has been consumed by Caleb. Anyway, just a short bit of angst while i figure out how to use tumblr and get used to posting. woohoo

The glare of sunlight roused her from a night of intermittent sleep. She sat up with a wince, clutching her head as the sun’s harsh rays felt like a panging taunt. She fiddled with the curtains in between her fingers. They were wide open, a rare occurrence as Caleb was always the one to draw her curtains each night. But last night he didn’t, or rather he couldn’t, as she had shut him out before dinner. Slamming and locking the door. She rubbed her temple. She had lashed out at him for insisting he accompany her everywhere while she was in Skyhaven.

“I don’t need your constant surveillance-”

“Surveillance!? You’ve been in Skyhaven for all but two days. And you think you know everything that’s out there. This isn’t the DAA; you’re not staying on a campus for God’s sake.”

“So what?” She cried. “I’m a competent Hunter. I can hold my own ground. Why do you always diminish that?”

He scoffed, rubbing his jaw. “I never said you weren’t a good Hunter-”

“You implied it.”

“Let me finish.” His gaze hardened and she knitted her brows together in frustration. “There are things here unlike Linkon. Unlike anything you’ve probably encountered at the association. Fleet guards can barely hold their own as is.”

She shook her head. “Like what? What’s out there that’s so dangerous?” He looked past her into the kitchen, then checked his watch.

“Come on, dinner’s ready. You can help me set the table.”

She scoffed as he walked past her, throwing her hands up. “You won’t even answer me,” she yelled.

She hadn’t managed to get him to break at all. He would just ignore her or change the topic. Treating her like she was the same dumb kid from their childhood.

Her stomach growled. That’s what she got for having the argument right before dinner. The devastating weight of shame dwelled in her stomach, overpowering her hunger. She felt like a brat. Like the dumb kid she was so adamant she wasn’t anymore. Even if he was being considerably overbearing, she knew he was trying to protect her. The familiarity just let her lash out at him easier. Show him all the ugly sides to her that she hated so much.

She checked her phone. 7:40 AM. Surely he had left by now. She’d rather starve than have to face him at this moment. She’d apologise tonight, after she’d had time to reflect and cry about it. Rehearse something to get back into his good graces.

She opened the door slowly and its hinges whined out. The house was eerily silent. So far so good. Stepping out onto the cold tiles, she peered around every corner till she made it to the kitchen. He really had left. She felt an inexplicable pang in her chest, but she brushed it off as her being on the brink of starvation. Pacing around the kitchen, she began opening each cabinet. Where did he store the bowls again? Much to her surprise, each cabinet was full. He had enough crockery, containers, and cutlery for a family of six. Did he regularly have guests over? Someone special maybe that stayed here for long durations of time? That same pang ached in her chest again. She really needed to find a bowl soon!

“Ahem…”

She jumped, turning around at the sound. Caleb stood in the doorway, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. He was wearing the grey button-up shirt of his uniform and his white pants.

“...” She couldn’t speak. She felt like she had been caught red-handed. A silence enveloped him, both of them admiring the interior until their eyes caught onto each other. Now, neither could look away.

“Good morning,” he offered.

“...Morning,” she replied. She rubbed her arms. “I thought you had left already.”

“Is that why you-” he bit back his words, sucking in a breath. “Are you hungry? You didn’t have dinner last night. Let me make you breakfast.”

She gave him a small smile. “You don’t have to do that. You’re going to be late.”

“I’ll call in. Please, let me make you breakfast.”

Another pause.

“I’m…sorry for last night. I was…I was being irrational. And I lashed out at you.” She dug up the courage to look at him, but he looked equally apologetic.

“I’m sorry as well. You’re a brilliant Hunter. I didn’t mean to undermine you.” She smiled at his words, shaking her head. An awkward fog of tension still surrounded them.

She tiptoed towards him, closing the distance. He gave her a once over. She was wearing a thin shirt and a skirt. He took her wrist into his clasp, rubbing over the goosebumps on her flesh.

“Your feet are cold. Let me…” He turned, exiting the room quickly. When he came back, he was holding a pair of slippers. He kneeled down, guiding her feet into them. That was strange. They were pink. And they fit her perfectly. Was the person who he was having over a girl?

He had always made her play the role of his pretend girlfriend when they were younger. Was it now that her role was no longer needed?

“So…Porridge? Or how about pancakes?” He gave her a warm smile, fighting to fill the silence.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll go get breakfast with a friend. I don’t want to make you any more late.” She returned his smile, gesturing for him to finish getting dressed. She had a few friends from school who had moved to Skyhaven. Surely one of them would be up for a last minute breakfast.

But Caleb remained still, his smile faltering. “You’re going out?”

She furrowed her brows, trying to gauge his reaction. She sighed. “Are you serious?”

He let out a strained exhale. “Come on, I’m just looking out for you.” He was still on about this. Now that she thought back to his apology--and hers as well--neither of them had claimed to be wrong.

She closed her eyes, turning to walk back to her room to get dressed.

“Hey, wait. Wait.” He gripped her arm, moving in front of her. He gaped desperately at her, struggling to find words that wouldn’t push her over the edge.

“Are you really going to keep me in here?”

“No, I…” She searched his eyes. And in turn, he searched hers. She was unwavering in her resolve. He could see that. Would they really fight again? After they had just supposedly made up? He sucked in a breath before slumping his shoulders. “...Help me with my tie, won’t you?”

She blinked.

He picked up his tie from where he had laid it on the table. It was black and silky, and cool to the touch. He offered it to her, eyes pleading. After a moment's silence, she took it, their fingers brushing against each other.

“You expect me to believe you don’t know how to tie a tie?”

He shook his head pathetically. She smoothed out the fabric, hooking it over his neck.

“I wonder how you managed to get by without me,” she murmured under her breath, playing into his trick. As she tucked the fabric under his collar he lifted his hands to hold her arms, thumbs rubbing over her elbows. She was careful not to let her cold fingertips graze his neck. Every swallow, sharp breath, and rustle of fabric was amplified. It made her ears prickle. It made conscious of her every breath being so close to him.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised again. “I keep…messing up with you. It’s like everything I say and do is wrong.”

She sighed, looping the tie around itself. “No, Caleb. I know you mean well. It’s just- well I need to be my own person.” He nodded, hands shifting to smooth over her upper arm.

“I’m not trying to control you. I just can’t trust anyone but myself to keep you safe.” She finished looping the fabric, pulling the tie tightly into position.

“Not even me?”

He didn’t reply immediately. And she sighed before bringing her hand up again to loosen the tie slightly. She smoothed out his collar. Then brushed down the fabric of his shirt.

“All done.”

Before she could leave he held her back again. He was always at a loss for words with her.

“...Thank you.”

She shrugged in his hold. “Have a good day at work.” But her words were bitter. And she sunk out of his grasp as soon as his grip loosened. He gave her cheek a parting pinch, offering an unrequited smile. Just like that he was back to his cheerful self. The walls around him hardening like steel. Impenetrable and unyielding.

“Okay, pancakes it is.”

#love and deepspace #lads #lads caleb #caleb love and deepspace #caleb #caleb x mc #lnds caleb #l&ds #l&ds caleb

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sheeezu · 15 days ago

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A conversation with myself. (Past self and present self)

I used to have a tumblr account with zero followers. The blog's sole purpose was to scream out into the void, my frustrations and agony. It wouldn't be tagged, and it wouldn't reach anyone. That was the purpose of it.

(Don't read this. If you were to read this, this will change your opinion on me. But don't worry, you don't know me, we're strangers. Therefore you must have a moldable opinion on me, some shifting post I made resonated with you, perhaps. And that's all.)

There's no turning back, there's no synchronisation anymore once you let go

Why hold on to others so hard, you don't know. Assume them royalty, assume them authority over your thoughts, your life. One day you're going to have to walk away from them, it doesn't matter if they've benefited you or not, you might as well walk away empty handed, with your soul half developed, dependent on someone else, have you asked yourself, why do you need other people's success stories or advice, to achieve something? Does it not set your soul on fire, do your eyes not burn, that you still haven't taken control.

You don't have to be synchronised with your environment, with the thoughts of other, since once you sought after a new identity, does it not sound ironic, you're a supposed creator of your reality, but you're still looking around for step by step instructions, what are you, a fraud?

Don't contradict yourself now, don't embarrass me now, you're choosingly still here

Stop saying you're fighting something, you never jump to go "I'm fighting gravity/physics". If you despised it so much, you'd stop thinking about it, without your energy, will it exist? No. You know that, than what's so "tragically beautiful" about choosing to be aware of this place? Are you a sadist?

What do you try to find?

Who will you find here? Was your family lineage so rich you delved into its root? Let's face it, it was a shit show. Do you have plans of sitting by the lake, reminiscing about your pain? We can do this elsewhere, I fear even the swans might attack us here. Does the end of your suffering give you a superiority complex, who do you think you are, acting all high and mighty? There's a new flow to your tone, you're helping people. How much more can you achieve in this reality, I'd see, you're going to tire out once again. The first impression of this reality will remain our last.

It weren't heaven

An impossible goal, it wasn't our place to begin with, unfortunately if you escaped flying bullets, you should be at the minimum be granted a half assed paradise where you still have to ask a glowing projection of your assumption "please".

You should be glad you escaped it, acting like a devil did the trick, as your sinister walk prevented you from ever seeing your soul being sucked out of your feet, as you rocked yourself at 80.

You're not a savior

You're not meant to be, you might think it's the truth, either you could be selfish or selfless. You can not reach anyone at this state, the voices which don't reach their ears might as well land as bullets in their chests. Just close your eyes, and shift to the fairytales, you always wanted to be a hero, anyways.

You are a rebel, but you can't start a revolution

Good, you've escaped the traditions and the wicked culture, the tag you were given at birth. You were brave. You ran with your weak bones and anemic blood, good. Its cool that your intensity of energy, dreams and ambition push apart the foundation of all existence. Its cool you built a world for yourself, a dazzling exhibition of self-expression. But don't fall into a delusion. As if a few paragraphs written in the dark at 3am are going to change anything. You're as powerless in this reality as you always were. You don't belong here, you're as invisible to the people here, and they're to you.

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buckats · 20 days ago

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Jason Todd x Fem!Reader.

Note: this is literally my first time posting on Tumblr. I have no ideia what I'm doing, so give me a break. Tysm! :)

Summary: Loving Jason was never easy. He’s temperamental, impulsive, got a short fuse and some serious trust issues. He gets frustrated over the smallest things when they don’t go his way.

You love him. And even though it doesn’t always feel mutual, it never stops you from staying.

Jason knows—deep down, he always has—that he’s not good for you. Never was, never will be. He tries to push you away, but somehow, you always find your way back. Like a magnet. Or maybe he just doesn’t try that hard to keep you away. Because at the end of the day, he’s the one calling when everything falls apart. And it hurts you both.

Part 01.

I slipped my phone into the left pocket of my jeans as I stepped into the abandoned motel Jason had told me to meet him at. The walls were peeling, revealing layers of gray and beige paint that had long lost their battle against time and neglect.

The air carried a damp, metallic scent mixed with mildew and rust. The floor was smooth gray concrete, stained with grease and dried blood. The sound of my boots echoed in the deafening silence.

“Jason?” I called out, my voice bouncing off the walls, but there was no reply.

Old, dusty furniture was scattered haphazardly around the room. The place was a mess. Empty liquor bottles littered the floor, some rolling to the side with the breeze sneaking in through a half-open window.

Jason had told me he was in room 69 on the third floor, so I made my way up the stairs since the elevator was out of order.

As I climbed the narrow staircase leading to the upper floors, faint groans of pain became audible with each step. I quickened my pace.

At the top of the stairs, I found a tall, heavyset man in glasses leaning against the wall, clutching a black medical bag in his hands. He wore a white coat—Jason's personal doctor. Although, Jason never actually let him do his job.

My eyes landed on the yellowed door to his right. The number 69, etched into worn metal, hung crookedly above it.

“Where’s Jason?” I asked.

The man lifted his gaze to me, straightening up and regaining his usual professional posture. He looked nervous, scared, uneasy. Jason must’ve said or done something to rattle him. Probably one of his typical threats like, “Don’t touch me, or I’ll kill you.”

“In the bathroom, ma’am” the doctor replied. “He caught a stray bullet in the shoulder, but he won’t let me treat him.”

I nodded, offering him a soft, reassuring smile.

“It’s okay, Freddie.” I gave his shoulder a firm pat. “You can head home if you want. I can take it from here.”

“Are you sure? Mr. Todd said the same thing, but I’m not sure if…”

“It’s fine, really” I cut him off, meeting his worried eyes with a sincere look. “I’ll talk to him.”

I knew how stubborn, arrogant, and impossible Jason could be. The look on the doctor’s face told me everything I needed to know. Jason had likely chewed him out for stepping even an inch out of line.

Finally, the man sighed, giving in.

“Thank you.” He genuinely seemed relieved.

Honestly, I never understood why Jason kept him around if he never actually let the poor man help. All Jason ever did was scare the life out of him.

I watched as the man hurried down the stairs, practically fleeing.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I approached the door, stopping just before touching the handle. It was clear I was about to deal with Jason in one of his terrible moods.

I turned the knob to the right and pushed the door open, its hinges creaking in protest. The room before me was surprisingly tidy, considering the motel’s deplorable condition. However, the walls still bore the same wear and tear—peeling and stained, just like everything else downstairs.

The queen-sized bed was positioned at the center of the room, pushed against the wall. The curtains swayed gently every time the wind blew, and the room was dark. The only light came from the moon reflecting against the closed glass window and the soft yellow glow spilling out from the bathroom.

The only real mess was on the bed: an unloaded pistol rested on the edge of the mattress, next to a bloodstained sheet. Dirty gauze was scattered around, evidence of a clumsy attempt at treatment.

Another muffled groan came from the bathroom, the sound thick with pain and frustration. He was clearly struggling with the bullet.

“Jason?” I called out, my voice low but audible in the quiet room. The space seemed to grow even quieter after my words. “I’m here.”

Taking a few hesitant steps forward, I turned to the left and saw him. Jason was standing in the bathroom doorway, shirtless, staring at me with a rigid, intense expression. His eyes burned in stark contrast to his pale face, his jaw clenched as though he were holding back a storm of anger.

I glanced into the bathroom, taking in the complete mess he had made. There was blood on the floor, mostly around the sink, and discarded gauze and dirty bandages scattered everywhere. The yellowish light flickered intermittently, and the walls were just as worn and weathered as the reception area downstairs.

My eyes shifted back to Jason two seconds after quickly scanning the mess inside. Blood dripped from his left shoulder, trailing down to the floor. His tense muscles were covered in scars and bruises—permanent reminders of everything he had endured. A massive purple bruise stretched from his side to below his abdomen, accompanied by deep cuts and lighter scratches scattered across his skin.

His right eye was swollen and blackened, a fresh cut on his lower lip adding to the collection of old scars, while a red scrape ran along the side of his cheek. He looked battered, exhausted—and yet, he still radiated a raw, untamed intensity.

“Jesus, Jason. Are you okay?” My voice came out soft, sweet, and filled with concern.

“Do I look okay to you?” he snapped, his voice low and rough, hitting like a punch.

"How did this happen?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, almost afraid of setting him off.

Jason let out a sharp breath, running a hand down his face, clearly out of patience.

"Does it matter?" His words were clipped, loaded with frustration. "It wasn’t even supposed to happen" he muttered, his jaw tight.

He turned away, and for a moment, my eyes couldn’t help but trace the scars on his back. There weren’t as many as on his chest, but the deep purple bruise starting near his ribs and stretching down past his abdomen wrapped around to his back.

My stomach twisted. Seeing him like this—marked, battered, hurting—it all made sense why he always seemed so tense about being touched.

"Why did you call me?"

Jason didn’t answer right away. His hands gripped the edge of the blood-streaked sink, knuckles white. For a second, he looked lost, staring at his reflection in the cracked mirror—the hardened lines of his face, the heavy eyes, the scars that held stories he’d never tell.

"Help me stitch it up." His voice was low, rough, but still carried that sharp edge that always seemed to cut through everything.

Was that all he wanted? Probably. It didn’t matter, though. I’d help him. But he’d had someone else here earlier—someone who actually knew what they were doing. Even so, Jason always insisted on handling things himself—or, apparently, dragging me into it.

"Okay" I said quietly, not pushing back.

I stepped closer, trying to ignore the weight of the moment and the tension rolling off him like a storm cloud.

"Sit" I told him, nodding toward the closed toilet lid.

His eyes narrowed in irritation, but he obeyed. His movements were stiff, impatient, like even the act of sitting down was a nuisance.

Jason flinched slightly at my touch. His muscles were taut, tense, as if every fiber of his being was on high alert. He seemed uncomfortable, deliberately avoiding my gaze, and it left me uncertain.

Was it because he was half-dressed? Maybe. I wished I could read his mind, but his expression remained neutral, closed off, completely unreadable. Jason had always been that way—hard to decipher, like a book locked tight and hidden away.

Our faces were almost too close. Sitting down, he was nearly at eye level with me, just a few inches shorter. I kept a careful distance, as though any wrong move could shatter the fragile balance between us. I knew Jason hated being touched, and I’d always respected that.

I picked up the needle and thread with steady hands, ignoring the weight of his gaze as it flicked to them.

“May I?” I asked softly, meeting his eyes for a brief moment.

Jason stared at me in silence, as if weighing whether or not to trust me, before giving a curt, slow nod.

“Are you sure you want me to do this? I might mess it up and leave an ugly scar” I said, my voice low and almost hesitant.

He scoffed, a short, ironic laugh with no trace of humor.

“It can’t get any worse.”

And he was right. Even if I made a mistake, any mark would blend seamlessly with the others, just another piece of the story his body already told in silence.

"Besides, I'd rather take a risk with you" he added, a slight teasing tone in his voice.

“Sure” I murmured softly, mostly to myself, as I prepared to begin. "Can you pass me the cotton?"

He turned his head, reaching for the sink and grabbing what I needed. Without saying a word, he handed it to me.

I took a deep breath, then started cleaning around the wound where the blood had dried. It looked nasty, and the worst part was still ahead.

Holding the needle carefully, I sighed again, almost as if this would hurt me more than it would hurt him. I pressed the tip to his skin and got to work, threading carefully through the torn flesh.

Jason flinched noticeably at the first stitch. He lowered his head, letting out a low curse under his breath. His fists clenched so hard his knuckles went white, and his palms flushed red.

"I'll clean this mess up when we're done," I muttered, nodding at the blood on the floor, the sink, and everything else.

Jason looked up at me.

"You're not my maid."

"I'm not your girlfriend, either" I shot back. "Not anymore."

He glanced away, like it still got to him. Which is ironic because he's the one who break up with me first.

“Why even bother having a personal doctor if you won’t let him do his job?” I asked, trying to break the tension—or at least get an answer.

“I didn’t ask for him in the first place” he shot back, his voice sharp with irritation. “Bruce hired him. Now I’m stuck with him.”

I chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it.

"Is this his way of apologizing? I thought you two had already settled things" I joked.

The needle pierced his skin again, and Jason exhaled sharply, the muscles in his arm tensing under my fingers. He didn’t immediately complain, but the sound of his teeth grinding was enough to make me hesitate for a second.

“Stay still, it’ll hurt less” I murmured, trying to focus.

“Just get it over with” he grumbled through clenched teeth, impatience clear in his voice.

I ignored his tone and pushed the needle through again, stitching carefully, but he still flinched, letting out a pained grunt that made my shoulders stiffen.

“Fuck!” he growled, his fist slamming into the edge of the sink. “This hurts as fuck!”

“Stay quiet, I’m almost done!” I snapped back.

I knew getting upset would only make things harder. A possible argument was on the horizon, and I didn’t want that. Not again. All I wanted was a little peace with my boyfriend, but the way he acted made it seem like he didn’t want the same. And it hurt, even if I didn’t admit it.

“I’m just trying to help. And you’re the one who asked me for help in the first place!” I added.

“If I’d known it’d be like this, I would’ve just gone with that damn doctor” he shot back, his tone dripping with contempt.

The way he said that made my stomach turn. The casual insults were so childish coming from him, and for some reason, it disgusted me. I mean, he’d always been like that. Even as Robin. But back then, it was lighter, less malicious. Just rebellious teenage stuff. Now it felt like an adult being a jerk for no reason.

“You don’t have to talk like that.”

His gaze lifted to meet mine, and it was like I’d hit a nerve. Or provoked him. I’m not sure which.

“Why? You don’t like it?” he asked, his voice taking on a challenging tone.

“I don’t like people insulting others for no reason” I replied, straightforward and casual. “Especially good people.”

“Yeah? How do you know he’s a good guy? There are plenty of wolves wearing sheep’s clothing out there.”

“He seemed harmless to me” I countered. “And he was trying to help you. Even after you dismissed him so rudely.”

“Of course he was” he retorted, sarcasm thick in his voice. “He’s getting paid to do it. Hell, I’d do it too.”

Well, yeah, he was right. I’m sure Bruce shelled out a hefty amount of money for him. Otherwise, he wouldn’t put so much effort into helping Jason all the time. Or would he? Maybe spending so much time around Bruce has softened me. No one in this damn city does anything out of the goodness of their heart without expecting something in return.

Focused on finishing the last stitches, my hand faltered for just a second when Jason let out another groan. As I moved the needle, my fingers slipped slightly, and the tip pierced deeper into his flesh than it should have.

“Shit!” Jason snarled, suddenly jerking upright, the abrupt movement nearly knocking me over. “What the hell are you doing? That fucking hurts!”

“I’m sorry! It was an accident!” I blurted out, trying to steady myself.

“I’ll do it myself. Fuck.”

Without warning, he shoved me aside. It wasn’t intentional, but it was still forceful enough to make me stumble back a few steps. My chest tightened at the way he treated me, a pang of sadness surfacing only to be replaced by something stronger: anger.

I wasn’t going to let him do this. Not again. I’ve had enough of playing the cat while he insists on being the dog in this. Screw him!

“What is wrong with you, Jason?” My voice came out loud, firm, and full of indignation. "I am here, reaching out to you, despite everything you've done, and you still can't get out of your own way."

Jason turned to face me, fury etched into every line of his face. His eyes burned with an intensity that almost made me back down.

“God! I feel sorry for you!” I spat, my voice laced with contempt and frustration.

Not waiting for a response, I turned on my heel and stormed out of the bathroom.

“Don’t you turn your back on me!” His voice boomed through the room, deep and furious.

In an instant, his large hand gripped my arm tightly, yanking me back toward him. I nearly stumbled into him, my face brushing lightly against his.

“I should’ve turned my back on you ages ago!” I shouted back, my voice trembling, thick with anger and hurt.

The silence that followed was thick, almost suffocating. The tension between us felt like a rope about to snap, every breath feeding the fire that was already out of control. The air between us was heavy, charged. I could hear and feel his ragged breathing, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Then, suddenly, something in his face shifted. The hardness melted into something softer. Almost uncertain. Jason closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, his gaze locked onto mine. Calmer now, but still intense.

He released my wrist slowly, his fingers brushing against my skin as they withdrew. I glanced at the red mark he’d left, and it seemed like he noticed it too. His jaw clenched, and he pressed his lips together, as if silently chastising himself.

With a hesitant motion, Jason brought his hands to mine, holding them with a gentleness that starkly contrasted with the moment before. He lowered his gaze, looking almost ashamed.

“I’m sorry” he whispered, his voice rough and low, as though the words were hard for him to say. “I shouldn't have yelled at you. Or freaked out. I had no right to do it.”

"I'm tired, Jason" I whispered, my voice heavy with the exhaustion that seemed to weigh down every word.

Jason raised his hand to my jaw, tilting my head up so I would look at him. His eyes were deep, filled with regret and a frustration aimed at himself.

"I know. I'm sorry" he whispered, resting his forehead against mine, the closeness bringing an unexpected sense of vulnerability.

"You said things would be different. You promised you’d change." The pain in my words was far from subtle.

I was practically sobbing into his chest, holding back every tear that threatened to fall.

"I'm trying" he replied, his voice laden with a quiet sadness.

As if seeking an anchor, I buried my head against his bare chest, silently asking for understanding, for silence, nestling into his warm body. The strong, steady beat of his heart was both a comfort and a torment.

He wrapped his arms around me, his fingers gently brushing the nape of my neck in a soothing motion, tender and careful, as if trying to calm me.

I needed this—his warmth, his comfort. Rare as it was, it felt like a lifeline, a fleeting solace in the storm.

“Loving you is really hard.”

He didn’t say anything, just stood there, still and silent, his chest rising and falling slowly with each breath, his fingers gently stroking my hair as I kept my face buried against his chest. Every movement of his fingers was so delicate, it seemed to contradict the constant chaos he carried inside.

Had I hurt him? Did he feel offended?

His voice broke the silence, rough, deep, and low, like a whisper: “I know.”

Want more? Go on my AO3 account! I'll post the entire fanfic there! ✍🏻

#jason todd #red hood #female reader #jason todd x fem!reader #dc comics #dc universe #arkham knight #eventual smut

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fushiglow · 2 months ago

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Here’s my AO3 wrapped for 2024!

This time last year, I was really proud of what I'd achieved with my writing in 2023. Little did I know that I was about to blow myself out of the water in 2024!

I've never been this productive for a fandom in all my life; it's actually wild what my brain has come out with in the last 12 months, even through all the ups and downs the year brought with it. Though the ending to 2024 was particularly hard, I won't let anyone take that away from me.

Glo, you did amazing actually ✨

Words written: Over 200k words published in 2024 and many more sitting in my secret WIP pile!

Works published: Twenty three published works for Jujutsu Kaisen, 21 of which are complete. Help.

Work I'm most proud of: Over the Threshold, even more than last year. My love for this work is infinite and blue.

Work that readers enjoyed most: This time last year, Over the Threshold didn't have many readers yet, but I think it's safe to say that this is now a reader favourite too. After that, however, it's probably Mailman AU or Office AU — hard to judge which since they were cross-platform, but while I think the strength of love was stronger for the former, the latter probably wins in sheer numbers.

Fastest work to write: Thunder. I've said it before, but this fell out of my brain onto the page in a single morning.

Slowest work to write: It took me three months to write chapter 12 and it wasn't even that long, so unfortunately it's Over the Threshold. Progress on this fic has slowed significantly towards the latter half of the year and it frustrates me, but I won't rush this work!

Number of WIPs I'm taking into 2024: God, I've literally lost count at this point, but I know we're over the 40 mark. I have too many documents open. Someone rein me in please.

Favourite character to write: Last year I said Gojō, but writing Getō in chapters 11 and 12 was very difficult and all the more rewarding because of it. Honourable mention to Megumi in In His Shadow and Balance, because I adored writing from his POV in those fics.

Favourite line/passage I wrote this year: Chapter 11 specifically is my magnum opus. For now, at least. If I'm honest, I think every single chapter is brilliant from here on out. Wish me luck!

It was an A minor chord on a rainy afternoon. A chromatic flourish, tumbling over black and white at the top of the piano. A second suspended like magic in the air, waiting for resolution to the third. But also, thunder booming and bellowing its way across the city. The day’s first birdsong, before the heavens found their forgotten yellows. The hiss of the Pacific Ocean kissing Suguru’s feet, stretching out into infinity before him. Blue was the autumn wind’s mournful howl ushering in the death of the year. The hopeful chime of icicles fracturing in winter’s thaw. The pensive pitter-patter of a spring shower on Suguru’s umbrella. The summer chorus crying its jubilant love song to cloudless skies. Most of all, it was Satoru and his blue, blue eyes.

Once again, thank you to everyone who supported my work in 2024, whether in my comment section, in the replies and reblogs here on Tumblr, or even in our private DMs. It's all the motivation I need to continue when I'm feeling unwanted in this fandom; I cannot tell you how much I appreciate the love you've shown for my writing over the last 12 months.

I'm going to make a post about my writing process soon, so if you have any specific questions you'd like me to answer, leave them in the replies! For now, here's to many more wonderful words in 2025!

P.S. This exercise is for my own record keeping, so I just used a collaged together template I made last year. Feel free to use it for your own AO3 wrapped if you like!

#ao3 wrapped #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #gojo satoru #geto suguru #fushiguro megumi #satosugu #sugusato #stsg #sgst #呪術廻戦 #glo's writing #fushiglow

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darligvane · 5 months ago

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Gage headcanons

I have these all written down in a google doc (plus way more) so I figured I might as well throw some here now that I'm getting more comfortable using tumblr lol. I'm very open to discussion about these! I might post more in the future if someone finds it interesting.

CW for: Minor mentions of addiction and some general trauma stuff. Nothing too bad I don't think but don't hold me to that.

A lot of these mention The Harvester by the way, sorry. Lore makes my brain itch.

● While he is a part of a minority of raiders who can actually read and write‐ (as evidenced by him leaving messages to Colter on his terminal) -he is dyslexic. It takes him a while to write things out coherently, and reading anything more than a few short sentences is often frustrating.

● ^ because of this, he prefers / genuinely enjoys comic books. They're light on reading and he can usually tell whats going on even without dialogue. He had a small collection of comic books back when he lived with The Harvester, and still gets kind of pissed he never got those back.

• Regarding comics, his least favorite character is the Silver Shroud. He just pisses him off.

● His eyepatch being so large is actually functional! (Somewhat) I like to think he lost his eye by getting shot in the face with a plasma round, which corroded and destroyed a large area of skin around his eye and down his cheek. So the large metal plating on his eyepatch covers the large scar.

● He actually lost his eye when he first joined The Harvesters gang when he was younger. One of Harvests gang members pulled the trigger on him when he initially approached them, thinking he had ill intentions. It sucked- but hey, at least they let him in.

● He made his own cage armor and designed it particularly around his needs rather than protection. He uses the cage to hold tools, parts, a rag, etc. while he works on things like Colters power armor or other mechanical things he fiddled with. Definitely doesn't make him very bulletproof, but following the boss around keeps him away from most combat situations anyway.

● Colter had a tendency to use Gages armor like a big handle to drag him around a lot, which he didn't particularly enjoy.

● His favorite colour is yellow, which is why his cage armor is the colour it is. He painted it himself :')

● Has the most horrific trust issues in all of mankind. (Thanks for betraying him Harvest, he will absolutely not recover from that.) He won't eat anything he doesn't see prepared himself, won't set down his drink unless he's alone, he can't sleep around other people, etc. When Colter dies and the new Overboss takes over, he doesn't even tell them where he sleeps until he trusts them entirely. He'll just dissappear at night unless you call out for him.

● These trust issues leak into his behaviors during relationships also. Down to the more simple things. He prefers to hug his partner from behind or be big spoon, he prepares food for them both, takes the night guard when camping, etc. Anything that puts him in the more advantageous position, even if its subconscious.

● The Harvester haunts him. He still sees and hears him in the shadows or corners after however many years its been. Has nightmares of him coming back and finally finishing the job, killing him. Feels the cold metal of a scythe against his throat when it isn't there... its endless. Even something as common as the sounds of distant gunfire make him paranoid, since it reminds him of the betrayal. Absolutely ruined him.

● Has tattoos inspired by / centered around The Harvesters. Covers them with his armor though. Hes got some trauma to unpack man, idk. (Should I do a tattoo tour for him?)

● One of the reasons he hates chems is from a previous addiction. He doesn't like to talk about it, but he made a few of his worst life decisions on chems and it just put a bad taste in his mouth. He'd prefer it if his Overboss / partner was in a rational state of mind, thank you.

● He is surprisingly good with animals for the most part. Particularly cats. Does the old man / dad thing where he says he doesn't like them or calls them mean names while secretly petting them or letting them hop in his lap when he's alone.

● Not usually a big fan of the more "exotic" wasteland animals though. Totally got jumpy one day and shot a Pack molerat on accident.

Thats probably enough for now. I'm happy to answer questions or expand on these more if asked, and I'll probably share more in the future. (Maybe some 18+ ones too? We'll see.)

#he is all i think about #i need a bumper sticker of him on my car #headcanons #fallout 4 #fallout #nuka world #porter gage #fallout 4 gage #the harvester #fallout 4 the harvester

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wannabegwenstacy · 2 years ago

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Eden's Favorite Yunho Tumblr Fics

updated: 08/07/2023

Main A/N: check out the full ateez fic recs masterlist for some of the other members. warning i'm a baby atiny so its not super full yet and i currently have only some members posts created currently. will be updating with more fic recs periodically. :)

⇣Below cut⇣

dance for you (series) by @santheestallion

Genre: yunho x fem reader, dancer!au, rivals to lovers, smut, angst

Word count: 25k + 15k + 22.2k

Warnings: cheating (not yunho), slow burn, curse words, drug (weed) and alcohol usage, thigh riding, explicit sex scenes, hate sex, oral (male and female receiving), semi public sex, name calling, yeah i think that’s about it, brief mention of blood.

Summary: moving to a new city and auditioning for one of the most competitive dance troupes isn't easy, but when you meet the charismatic and talented dancer jeong yunho, your world gets a lot more interesting. (full summary can be found here)

until the moon and stars fall by @cyberpxnk

Pairing: yunho x chubby!reader

Genre: nonidol! au, comfort/hurt, fluff, established relationship

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings/Tags: chubby!reader, no gendered terms for reader, a lil self indulgent, cussing, body/fat shaming, mentions of body image, bullying, minor kissing, maybe a lil cliche but bear w/ me

Summary: your bad day at work takes a turn for the worse but despite it all, jeong yunho never fails to be there for you.

Panini by @smileysuh

Pairing: Mingi & Yunhoe x afab!Reader

Rating: 18+ explicit

AUs/Tags: covid au, best friends to lovers, frat/uni au, etc.

Word count: 11.8k

Warnings: Covid, depressed/anxious Mingi, size kink, choking, sir kink, bdsm protocols, dumbification, sensory deprivation (hand over eyes), oral, dry humping, nipple kink/boob sucking, switch Mingi, hard/semi soft Dom Yunho, Dirty talk, some degradation in a good way, unprotected sex, Yunho has a sir kink, threesome, etc…

Summary: With covid stretching on for what feels like forever, and Mingi’s mood in rapid decline, you move into the two-bedroom apartment with your two best friends, where seemingly constant tinder notifications on everyone’s phones remind you constantly of how horribly single you all are

summer nights by @honeyhotteoks

Pairings: yunho x reader

Genre: college non idol au; suggestive, smut, fluff, comedy

Word count: 8.5K

Note: 18+ content, minors DNI. // this fic is just pure self indulgence, but i'm kind of liking the cheeky college au yunho vibes, you can blame the new wonderwall photos

Warnings: best friend!yunho, fem!reader, quarantine and talk of early covid times, sexual frustration, big dick!yunho, oral (m receiving), fingering, semi rough sex, use of toys, light overstimulation, basically reader is pent up and struggling to get off and hot bestie yunho helps out. please let me know if I missed any.

Summary: he's your best friend and roommate, but during the heat of summer and the confinement of quarantine, you just can't seem to help yourselves.

12 - j.yunho + lovemaking/against a wall (18+) by @hongism

Pairing: j.yunho x fem!reader

Rating: 18+ dni if minor

Tags: language, explicit smut, unprotected sex, impregnation kink, soft sex <3, praise, possessive undertones, slight size kink, slight manhandling, teasing, yn calls yunho a bitch but it’s in a cute way <3

Word count: 2.1k

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fic recs #ateez smut #ateez fluff #yunho fic recs #yunho x reader #yunho fluff #yunho smut #yunho

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mrs-snape5984 · 9 months ago

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“I'll meet you on a day that never ends. I'll greet you in a way that heaven meant…”

“I hope you don't break my heart of stone. I don't wanna scream out loud and wake up on my own…” (“Idler’s Dream” by Oasis)

Considering, that I don’t see any way out of the misery, which my life has become since this cruel and inexorable disease ME/CFS has robbed me from being myself, I’ve started to commission some of my beloved artists of Snapedom with a special project of mine. I explained to them, that I’m slowly fading away from my life as well as from other people’s lives. It started two years ago, when this sickness got me into her relentless grip, forcing me to let go of the life, I’ve known before. Losing more and more of my abilities and strengths with each passing day, I’m finding myself in an unstoppable spiral of torments.

Nowadays, I’m not capable of leaving my room and most of the times even my bed anymore. Day in, day out I’m surrounded by darkness, silence and solitude. Participating in social activities, in milestones of my children or even in longer conversations with friends isn’t possible for me anymore. My presence has lost its meaning and purpose.

Whereas my phone didn’t stand still in the beginning of my disease, when friends and colleagues were worried about me…it’s getting more silent now. People are starting to forget about me…and yes, I can absolutely understand them. It must be frustrating to send messages or attempt to call me without getting a proper reply. My former boss told me some weeks ago, that people are feeling speechless about my situation, so it’s easier for them to forget about me…letting me become a faint memory in the back of their heads. This is exactly, what I meant, when I said, that I’m fading away…and it’s okay. I can’t be mad about it. I understand.

It’s also happening here on tumblr…and yet, here are still some kind people, who seem to notice my silence. I was astonished to hear, that my friend @capysnapeart, whom I commissioned for this beautiful artwork of Severus and my highly self-inserted OC Jules, searched me in a sweet post on their blog, after not hearing from me for several days. I was even more dumbfounded, when I realised, that other lovely people of Snapedom had also noticed my absence from my online life. This was very unexpected, but - indeed - touching and heartwarming to me. Thank you for not forgetting about me.

The project, which I’ve commissioned @capysnapeart and some other artists for, should show the different stages of the life, I’m expecting to have after my final breath, which doesn’t seem to be so far away anymore. I’ve set myself a limit…a certain point of no return, at which I won’t be able to accept and endure my pain and my suffering anymore. Well…let’s just leave it like that.

In my imagination, I will be able to choose, how my afterlife will look like. I will be with Severus, the character, I’ve been clinging on for the past 21 years, already. I imagine, that we will meet at the age of 11 years and from then on, we will spend the rest of our lives together...growing old together. It may sound strange and pathetic, but this is all, that I'm wishing for. I want to come home to him...

I asked Capy to draw Severus and Jules as a middle-aged couple…sitting on a bench in front of their little cottage at the sea. I’d love to see them being happy together…finally living the life, they’ve always wanted to live…the life, they’ve deserved to have! They’re cuddling on this wooden bench…feeling like home in themselves.

Capy, my dear friend, I’m beyond grateful for your understanding of my wish for this mesmerising artwork. You’ve managed to capture the peace and the silence of this scenery so perfectly, that it made me shed countless tears of longing. A longing for this fantasy to become true one day, when I will let go of my existence, eventually. Thank you for your talent, your kindness and your acceptance of my ideas. Feel hugged! 🫂🥹

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

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onemustalwaysbecarefulofbooks · 2 years ago

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Why I Dislike Rhysand, Part 1: Not a Martyr Like You Think

So. . this rant has been a long time coming. I finally came to the conclusion that it would be too much to include all in one post. There are so many different things I feel the need to touch on and include that I decided I’m going to be breaking it up. Enjoy Part 1.

I also feel the need to start off by saying that I’ve been an SJM reader for nearly ten years now. I remember when ACOTAR first came out. I remember reading ACOMAF upon its release and nearly being blown over by my intense disgust and dislike for how a story was handled. ACOMAF was released in 2016, so I’ve been holding on to a lot of this for the better part of seven years. I don’t know how many of you were a part of the ACOTAR or SJM community here on Tumblr back in those days but let me tell you. . .it was something else. The fevered Rhysand obsession and worship was WILD. The fans were CUT THROAT and had no mercy. If you even HINTED at the fact that you felt like Rhys was not All That, they came for you and they came hard. I have never been one to engage in ridiculous arguments with strangers on the internet so I kept most of my feelings to myself. It’s giving me immense satisfaction and validation to see so many people begin to express things that are so like minded with how I feel. Keep fighting the good fight!

SO! We’re going to dive deep with this and go back to before the series chronologically even started.

A huge part of why I so strongly dislike Rhysand is that I find it very hard to sympathize with him regarding his time UTM.

Yes, you read that correctly.

Now, I realize that that sentence alone is enough to cause a lot of people to click away from this in disgust immediately. I challenge those people to keep reading and to hear me out. I try and make it a point to back everything I have to say with canon facts and logical sense. One of the fatal (or perhaps not so fatal) flaws I have as a reader is that 99% of the time, I am not able to just let things go and absorb them at face value for the sake of an entertaining story. You can sell me just about anything and I’ll be able to find some enjoyment in it. . .if it makes sense. If something exists in a scenario that is contradictory or just plain illogical, I tend to fixate on it and not be able to let it go (I call this the Ravenclaw in me). Sometimes I almost resent that I’m like this because I feel like it prevents me from just having a good time with literature, but for better or worse, this is the kind of reader I am.

Unfortunately, the ACOTAR series, specifically many things that have to do with Rhys and the Inner Circle, are riddled with things like this. Now, it’s no secret to any SJM reader that Sarah J Maas is OBSESSED with Rhys and the Inner Circle. Like. . .OBSESSED. I’ve truly never seen anything like it from an author. She so plainly and clearly holds these characters on pedestals and believes them to be the best of the best. She also so plainly and clearly works very hard to try and get the readers to feel the same way. This is why I say that SJM is one of the most confusing and frustrating authors I’ve ever read about. She clearly feels this way and wants US to feel this way. So you’d think, if that was her end goal, that she would simply just write characters who really ARE the best of the best and deserve to be on pedestals. Easy, right? She has total control over the actions, thoughts, and words of these characters, every other character, the plot, the narrative, the direction of the entire story. So just. . .write them as being perfect saintly beings, as you so clearly view them as?? You have the power to do this?

But here’s where the confusing and frustrating part comes in: She doesn’t.

Instead of giving us these characters who truly ARE as virtuous and amazing and wonderful as she thinks they are, she instead gives us characters who do horrific, selfish, and highly questionable things across the span of the series and then gaslights her readers by continuing to hold these characters on pedestals and laud them as being The Best In Every Way. . .while their atrocious deeds are sitting RIGHT THERE on the page being completely ignored in every way. It’s one of the most unaware and bizarre things I’ve ever witnessed from an author and honestly, from a group of readers. The amount of people who just blindly accept anything SJM says as Gospel is wild to me. I really don’t understand how people just swallow this stuff and can’t see it for what it is. Open your mind to just an ounce of critical thinking and I really do believe you’ll begin to see things in a new way.

So. . .my point in all that being: SJM clearly wanted us to have a ton of sympathy for Rhys from his ordeal with Amarantha and his time UTM. The scene is set perfectly! Valiant and selfless Rhysand volunteers himself to play Amarantha’s whore in order to keep her attention from the city and the people Rhys loves so much. He lives for 50 years having to “service” a psychotic evil woman who actively tries to bring destruction to his entire country. Horrible, right??? Unthinkable. What he went through!!! What he had to do!!! No one has a selfless heart like he does!!!!

The only problem is. . .this entire scenario has a million holes in it. Let’s explore some of them.

So, when Amarantha returns to Prythian, Rhys heads to her little party without any backup from the IC. He plans to kill Amarantha himself but of course, she tricks all the High Lords and captures their power before this can happen.

Sidenote: This is another thing I can’t stand about Rhysand’s power: We are told over and over and over that he is THE MOST powerful High Lord not just of the seven current High Lords, but in all of Prythian’s HISTORY. In the High Lord’s meeting during ACOWAR (top contender for my least favorite scene of the entire series), Feyre says:

The others, who had been watching with disdain and amusement and boredom, now turned to my mate. Now possessed a shadow of fear in their eyes as they realized who and what, exactly, sat amongst them.

Brethren, and yet not. Tamlin was a High Lord, as powerful as any of them.

Except for the ones at my side. Rhys was as different from them as humans were to Fae.

Okay, first of all:

Second of all. . .once again, we are faced with SJM’s convenient Whatever-I-Need-To-Happen-Will-Happen story telling. She claims that Rhys is as different from all the other High Lords as humans are to fae. And despite this, he still gets tricked and overtaken by Amarantha, the exact same as all the rest of them. His powers were ripped away by that spell just the same as all the others. Being the so-called “Most Powerful High Lord in Prythian’s History” didn’t mean anything in that situation. He’s the mOSt POwerfUL HiGH LOrd iN HiSTORy, but was able to be totally overtaken by Amarantha just like everyone else. Looks like that title really should have gone to HER!

Anyway. . .as Rhys feels his powers being ripped away, we are told that in desperation, he “threw the shield around Velaris”, binding it to my friends so that they had to remain or risk that protection collapsing and used the last dregs to tell them mind to mind what was happening and to stay away”.

What a noble sacrifice right??

INCONSISTENCY ALERT: There were ALREADY spells and protections hiding Velaris and there had been for years!!!!!!

The first time I read Rhys’s explanation of this, I was super confused. SJM tells it like he was the one who created Velaris’s shield and protection right there in this moment. That this act was the only thing that kept it hidden and safe from Amarantha. But like. . .this is not the case!!!!

Don’t believe me??

“Did you even think for one moment,” I said, my voice like gravel, “to extend that luck to anywhere else? Anyone else?”

“Other cities,” he said calmly, “are known to the world. Velaris has remained secret beyond the borders of these lands for millenia. Amarantha did not touch it because she did not know it existed. None of her beasts did. No one in the other courts knows of its existence, either.”

“How?”

“Spells and wards and my ruthless, ruthless ancestors, who were willing to do anything to preserve a piece of goodness in our wretched world.”

(ACOMAF, page 144)

The Velaris Wiki page states:

To preserve it, an ancient High Lord kept Velaris a secret, and so did his descendants. There are many spells on the city itself—laid by him, and his heirs, that make those who trade here unable to say anything about the city and possess the skill to convincingly lie in order to keep the origin of their goods and ships, hidden from the rest of the world. Rumor has it that an ancient High Lord doused his blood upon the stones and river to keep that spell eternal.

And then in ACOMAF, we get:

“I used the remainder of my power to shield them all from sight and sound. I had only enough for one city--one place. I chose the one that had been hidden from history already. I chose, and now must live with the consequences of knowing there were more left outside who suffered. But for those here. . .anyone flying or traveling near Velaris would see nothing but barren rock, and if they tried to walk through it, they’d find themselves suddenly deciding otherwise. And because my powers were focused on shielding them all, Feyre, I had very little to use against Amarantha.”

So, which is it?? Did your ancestors shield and protect Velaris or did you??

Do you see the contradictory writing here?

Again, in ACOMAF:

“You are safe here, and safe anywhere in this city, for that matter. Velaris’s walls are well protected and have not been breached in 5,000 years.”

According to what Sarah J Maas herself has written, the city of Velaris already had extensive wards and protection on it for millennia. The city had been a safe haven from the rest of the world and a complete secret for 5,000 years. So I was very confused as to why it was being made out to be that Rhys made this Grand Ultimate Sacrifice to shield the city and its inhabitants from Amarantha, when this was already the case before this. She wouldn't have touched it because she didn’t know about it. . .words from Rhys’s own mouth!!!!

I’m sure in Sarah’s mind, she just needed to make a way for the IC to not come after Rhys and try and help him, so this is what she came up with. Regardless. . .Velaris already had protection on it that did not rely on Cassian, Azriel, Mor, and Amren. You’re saying that with the last shreds of his power, Rhysand undid centuries old ancient blood protection of his ancestors, created an entirely NEW foolproof protection plan, and bound it to the Inner Circle??

I’d also like to point out that Kallias, High Lord of Winter, did essentially the same thing with Viviane and the Winter Court.

And in those last moments, when his power was ripped from him by that spell. . .Kallias had flung out the remnants to warn her. To tell Viviane he loved her. And then he begged her to protect their people.

So she had.

As Mor and my friends had protected Velaris, Viviane had veiled and guarded the small city under her watch, offering safe harbor to those who made it.

(ACOWAR, pages 410-411)

These situations are exact parallels of each other. Kallias and Rhysand couldn’t protect their entire courts, but they were able to throw shields and protections around the one city where their loved ones were. The Winter Court was ravaged by Amarantha’s troops, we know this from the story. But evidently, this one city where Viviane was remained protected. And in this situation, I have infinitely more respect for Kallias than I do for Rhysand.

Rhysand claimed he became Amarantha’s whore in order to keep enemies from looking too closely at who he really was and who he loved. He serviced her in bed and committed atrocious deeds in her name for 50 years. All this, he claimed, to protect Velaris and his loved ones.

So please explain to me how Kallias was able to do the same thing. . .WITHOUT doing Amarantha’s dirty work.

As I said, I know fully well that the Winter Court in general was not spared by Amarantha. We all read about the children who had their minds wiped (conveniently by some OTHER daemati who we never learn about or hear about ever again). It sounds like Amarantha tried her hardest to destroy the Court in general. But remember. . .the Night Court is not exclusively Velaris. If you look at the map of Prythian, the Night Court is huge! It’s the largest of all the Courts. We have no idea what happened to the rest of the Night Court that was outside of Velaris’s protection. Since it’s such a big deal that Velaris is such a whole, untouched city, I’m willing to go out on a limb and say that it probably wasn’t spared any more than the rest of Prythian was. So it stands to reason that both the Night Court and the Winter Court had one city that remained protected while the rest of their Court was destroyed.

Even further than that. . .it is specifically stated that Viviane offered shelter and protection to anyone who made it to that protected city where she was. Kallias begged her to protect their people and she did. It was a city of safe haven for any refugees who could make it there. (Viviane was Prythian’s first High Lady and that’s the tea).

Rhysand KNEW what was happening all throughout Prythian during this time. . .he helped partake in it!!! Did he think to offer the same protection for innocent refugees in Velaris during this time??

We all know the answer.

I’m not saying that Rhys was obligated to do this. In a horrible situation like that, I’m sure many people would enter survival mode and adapt an “every man for himself” mindset. It’s an extremely Slytherin move to make, and I don’t really mean that in a bad way. But at the end of the day, Rhysand prioritized his friend group over every innocent citizen of Prythian.

Kallias and Viviane didn’t do that.

Again, I don’t entirely blame Rhysand for this!! I think a lot of people would have made the same decision!! But just. . .don’t ask me to act like Rhys’s decision was some grand ultimate sacrifice that was more than any other High Lord made. It’s not. SJM, if you want Rhys to be my fave, why are you putting characters in here like K and V who do the more noble and honorable thing??

Kallias didn’t have mind powers where he was able to erase the knowledge of Viviane from every one UTM who knew about her as Rhys did with the Inner Circle. There weren’t already extensive, centuries-old shields and protection guarding the city that she was in. And despite this, he STILL asked her to protect their people, and she kept the city open for refugees who could make it there. AND he remained true to his cause and didn’t do Amarantha’s dirty work for her to “keep people from looking too closely”.

And yet Feyre and everyone else tell us constantly that “no one sacrificed as much” as Rhys. Yeah, no. My respect for Kallias and Viviane is 10000000x greater than Rhysand. Sorry, not sorry.

And this leads me to my next point.

One of the biggest issues I have with Rhys’s time UTM in general, is that his actions are treated by the narrative and the other characters as the MOST sacrificial out of all the High Lords.

As I’ve expressed above, I do not buy this for one second. And I actually find it pretty insulting on behalf of all the other High Lords!!

Rhysand’s choices and actions were entirely self-serving. He did nothing to fight against Amarantha or protect citizens of Prythian in general. It was entirely about his city and his friends. Again, I’m not saying I condemn him for this! It was a horrible situation and this was what he chose to do. People do crazy things for the people they love. But that’s my point. . .it was a CHOICE. He CHOSE to “service” Amarantha. He CHOSE to do her dirty work and commit atrocious deeds in her name. And every choice he made protected no one but the people who were important to HIM. So I’m just not really sure how/why I’m expected to feel the greatest amount of sympathy for HIM, over the other High Lords, many of whom stayed in open rebellion and never aided Amarantha. How easy would it have been for any of the other High Lords to attempt the same thing he did, and pretend to sympathize with Amarantha? Maybe not “servicing” her as Rhys did, but pretending to deflect to her side, doing dirty work for her, in order to attempt to spare their Courts and THEIR loved ones??? Did anyone else do this??? NO.

Rhys says he bows for no one but that isn’t true. He bowed for Amarantha. The other High Lords did not.

The High Lords of Summer, Day, and Winter lost their lives by refusing to submit to Amarantha. (ACOTAR, page 284).

And I’m supposed to have the greatest amount of sympathy for Rhysand??

People talk about how horrible it was for Rhys during those 50 years Under the Mountain. I’m not here to say his life was pleasant. But what I AM here to say is that in comparison to what the other High Lords’ lives were like. . .I find it hard to have MORE sympathy for him than the others.

“If that was what she wanted, then that was what she would get. I made her beg, and scream, and used my lingering powers to make it so good for her that she wanted more. Craved more.”

“For fifty years--whenever I was inside her, I’d think about killing her. She had no idea. None. Because I was so good at my job that she thought I enjoyed it too. So she began to trust me--more than the others. Especially when I proved what I could do to her enemies.”

Rhys is “so good at his job” of killing Amarantha’s enemies (and one assumes that Amarantha’s enemies are, you know, PEOPLE FIGHTING FOR PRYTHIAN AND AGAINST HER OPPRESSION) and so thorough in their sexual acts, that Amarantha begins to trust him. He is allowed certain freedoms that no one else has. He is not trapped for 50 straight years Under the Mountain. In ACOTAR alone, we see him visit the Spring Court three different times. Do you think any of those other High Lords saw daylight even once during those 50 years??

He is clearly allowed to move about as he wants to Under the Mountain. He visits Feyre in her cell several times, seemingly without Amarantha knowing. She is a prisoner of Amarantha, but he’s allowed to do whatever he wants to and with her.

Essentially. . .Rhys lived as a member of Amarantha’s court UTM. He served as her fuck buddy and one of her main attack dogs. To our knowledge he wasn’t tortured, starved, or forced to watch, powerless, as someone or something he loved was dangled over him. High Lords were losing their lives living in open rebellion against Amarantha, while Rhys lived with a level of security that no one else had. I am NOT saying that servicing Amarantha was pleasant for him, obviously it wasn’t. But at the end of the day. . .this was a choice he made. Everyone makes choices and has consequences of those choices. Rhys chose to serve Amarantha in bed and was given a position of power and security that no one else had. The other High Lords chose to openly oppose and resist her and subsequently had to suffer and live in terror with none of the freedom or choices Rhys was given. I honestly fail to see how Rhys’s decision was more valiant than all the rest.

Again, this is NOT me trying to say that Rhys did not suffer at all UTM. I completely acknowledge that he suffered his own type of torment. I just get very sick and tired of him being treated as if he is the Greatest, Most Suffering, and Only Martyr in all of Prythian.

I often say that Sarah writes all of these characters and this entire story in a way that elevates and favors Rhysand, even if in doing so she has people saying and doing things that make absolutely no logical sense. Everything that happens after UTM is a prime example of this.

The fact that the other Courts and High Lords are so quick to trust Rhysand and work so closely with him after the events of UTM is downright ridiculous and makes absolutely no sense. All of them have EVERY reason to be extremely mistrustful, if not openly hostile to him, after what they witnessed for 50 years. I myself do not understand most of his actions during ACOTAR. Let’s dive into all of THAT.

I made a post separately on this, but I’ll still comment on it here. Rhys claims that he “thought” about killing Amarantha the entire time he worked for her. However, he claims:

“I couldn’t use my powers to harm her, and she had shielded herself against physical attacks”.

There’s nothing I hate more than contrived convenient story-telling. To me, this is on the same level as Feyre not being able to have a C-section in ACOSF. We need it to be true, so we’re just going to say it’s true. . .no matter how little sense it makes in this context.

Rhys says that he, the most powerful High Lord ever born, had his power ripped away by Amarantha. On page 520 of ACOMAF he says, “Within a few seconds, my power belonged wholly to Amarantha”.

But does it??? Let’s take a look at all the things Rhys is able to do with his power during his time under Amarantha, without her knowledge or consent:

Uses it to enhance the sexual experience between him and Amarantha, making her beg and scream, and crave him (ACOMAF, page 520)

Broke into the minds of the three fae who cornered Feyre on Calanmai, reshaped their lives, their histories, and then made them confess to Amarantha that they were rebels (ACOMAF, page 523)

“Against my violation, my body straightened, every muscle going taut, my bones straining. Magic, but deeper than that. Power that seized everything inside me and took control: even my blood flowed where he willed it.” (ACOTAR, page 239)

“I couldn’t move. An invisible, talon-tipped hand scraped against my mind. And I knew--one push, one swipe of those mental claws, and who I was would cease to exist.” (ACOTAR, page 239)

Broke into Clare Beddor’s mind when she was captured and took away her pain, told her to scream when she was expected to, then finally slipped into her mind and ended her life (ACOMAF, page 524)

Visits Feyre in her cell UTM and heals her shattered arm completely (where was this power to save her from a C-Section???)

Mentally controls and commands the guards to stay out of Feyre’s cell and not touch her. “If you do, you’re to take your own daggers and gut yourselves. Understood?” Dazed, numb nods, then they blinked and straightened. I hid my trembling. Glamour, mind control--whatever it was he had done, it worked. They beckoned--but didn’t dare touch me. (ACOTAR, page 344)

Enters Feyre’s mind to influence and help her during her second task

Convenient storytelling at its finest. He may not have total control over the full extent of his power, but it is abundantly clear that he definitely has control of some of it! And yet we’re told that Rhys is completely unable to do anything to harm or kill Amarantha, because she holds all his power!! It belonged “wholly to her” as he said! But he’s able to do all of this stuff without her knowledge???

Forget killing her with his power!!! Lysandra killed Arobynn Hamel by slitting his throat in the middle of the night! I’m sorry, I do not find it believable that the Most Powerful High Lord in Prythian’s HISTORY was completely unable to find a way to end this bitch’s life in 50 years, ESPECIALLY when it’s explicitly stated that she allows him certain freedoms and he does things without her knowledge. I just don’t!!!!

So if I’M thinking that. . .what do you think the rest of the people UTM were thinking??? Can you see how they might be very suspicious of him??

In addition to this. . .his actions regarding Tamlin, and eventually Feyre, make zero logical sense in the context of their situation. Let’s take a look at THAT mess.

So Rhysand is suffering in this horrible awful torment, having to play Amarantha’s whore and do evil things for her. He hates every minute of it, he grows to hate himself, he claims.

And in this giant mess, there is only ONE road to freedom for not just him, but for everyone. And that’s Tamlin.

“Then she cursed Tamlin. And my other great enemy became the one loophole that might free us all.”

Rhys knows about the curse. He knows the stipulations and what Tamlin must accomplish. He knows that doing so will free them all.

Wouldn't you then think that he would do everything in his power to attempt to aid and assist Tamlin during the course of those 50 years?????

I know he hates Tamlin by that point anyway, due to the rivalry between their families. But, my God. . .would that really matter at this point?? If me and my entire country were stuck in the position Prythian was in, I don’t really think I’d give a shit who our freedom depended on. It could be my greatest mortal enemy and I’m pretty sure I’d still be like Okay Buddy, let’s do this. I wouldn't say I’d LIKE it. But I’d use whoever I could to get me and everyone else out of that situation.

If Rhysand, the Inner Circle, Velaris, and every other High Fae in Prythian’s lives and futures depended on Tamlin getting a human girl to fall in love with him, I would think Rhysand would be doing whatever he possibly could to further this along and make it happen. Don’t try and say that he couldn’t do it because Amarantha would find out. Rhys WAS able to keep secrets from her and do things she didn’t know about (see my big list up there! ^^) Don’t try and say that he wouldn't risk dropping his Bad Guy Mask because it would make people look “too closely” at him and possibly target Velaris and the IC (I would have a million comebacks to that. As I’ve already said, there were ALREADY extensive shields and protections guarding Velaris and had been for years. Rhys had wiped the knowledge of the IC from the minds of everyone who knew about them. And wouldn't the safer, better option for the IC be that the curse was broken??? So if he really wanted to protect them, this was the #1 thing he should be doing!!!!)

When it became clear to us all in ACOMAF that Rhys was not in fact, really a bad guy, the very first thing I immediately wondered was, “If this were the case, why was he not trying to HELP Tamlin all those years???” If that was their one loophole and their one shot at freedom and ending the nightmare they were in, why on EARTH did Rhys spend 50 years bullying, manipulating, and tormenting the ONE PERSON who had a shot at freeing them??!?!?!?

Rhys tells Feyre in Chapter 54 of ACOMAF:

“I didn’t know. That you were with Tamlin. That you were staying at the Spring Court. Amarantha sent me that day after the Summer Solstice because I’d been so successful on Calanmai. I was prepared to mock him, maybe pick a fight.”

Again, do not tell me that Rhys was a slave to Amarantha so there wasn’t anything he could do. That is NONSENSE. After Calanmai he crafts an entire fabricated story to tell her and brings people he’s mind manipulated into validating what he’s saying.

Instead of offering Tamlin support, or at the very least, leaving him alone, he chooses to terrorize him and his people. He leaves severed heads on the manor house grounds, taunts Tamlin about the curse, and taunts Lucien about his mother and his dead lover. Listen to what he says to Tamlin and Lucien, before he knows Feyre is there:

“What a pity that you must endure the brunt of it, Tamlin--and an even greater pity that you’re so resigned to your fate. You might be stubborn, but this is pathetic.”

“Little Lucien. You certainly gave them something to talk about when you switched to Spring. Such a sad thing, to see your lovely mother in perpetual mourning over losing you.”

“She’s already preparing for you. Given your current state, I think I can safely report that you’ve already been broken and will reconsider her offer.”

This is flat out disgusting behavior. This is the man you want me to have sympathy for, to view as the “better man”. Tamlin and Lucien were even greater victims at this point than Rhys was himself. They were running out of time after desperately fighting a losing battle, with the entire weight of Prythian on their shoulders. Rhys’s actions do not make sense. He is digging his own grave by behaving this way. If he wanted himself and everyone to be free so badly, I’m really not sure why he’s going out of his way to mock Tamlin, make his life difficult, and taunt him about not breaking the curse.

But things don’t stop there! They get even MORE illogical when Feyre enters the picture!!

So once Rhys discovers Feyre’s presence, he immediately picks up on the emotional connection between her and Tamlin. In this situation, I would expect his first reaction to be glee. He didn’t know who Feyre was at that point, other than a girl he’d been dreaming about (and he later reveals that he first believed these dreams meant that she would be the one to save them all). Did anyone really expect Tamlin to break that curse?? Did anyone really expect him to find a human girl with hate in her heart for the Fae and have her fall in love with him?? I don’t think for a minute Amarantha actually believed there was even the slightest chance of this happening, just like she didn’t really believe Feyre had any chance of winning all three of her trials. It’s a mind game, nothing more. But here Tamlin is, on the very brink of meeting the very specific standards set by Amarantha.

But what does Rhys do? Amp up the dramatics to scare Tamlin into sending Feyre back across the wall, therefore ensuring that the curse will never be broken.

His reasoning, he tells us in ACOMAF, is:

“I made Tamlin beg--as Amarantha had made me beg, to show him how powerless he was to save you. And I prayed my performance was enough to get him to send you away. Back to the human realm, away from Amarantha. Because she was going to find you. If you broke that curse, she was going to find you and kill you.”

Um. . .if Feyre breaks the curse, that means that Tamlin gets his powers back. If Tamlin gets his powers back, Amarantha is dead. If Tamlin didn’t do it, certainly one of the other High Lords would have. If you’ll recall, Feyre DOES break the curse and when that happens, Amarantha is dead in literally seconds. Her power isn’t brute strength, it’s trickery. She is no match for Tamlin whatsoever. She literally backs away in fear and pleads for her life. It’s not even a close competition!!! She doesn’t get a single scratch on him!

Now, I will fully admit. . .this was also something I always found kind of dumb on Tamlin’s part as well. It’s seen as this grand act of love that he sends her away and puts her safety before all of Prythian’s but I’ve always been like. . .dude. You were literally A DAY away from getting out of this thing. Tamlin, as a High Lord with his full power returned, really couldn’t shield and protect Feyre in the time it would take him to kill Amarantha? Yes, he wouldn't be able to properly protect her under their current circumstances without any of his real power, but that was the whole point of the curse. . .if Feyre told Tamlin she loved him and meant it, his power would be returned. The way in which he would be able to protect her would not be the same. You’d think at the point they were at, both Tamlin AND Rhysand would be bouncing around like the singing candlestick and clock from Beauty and the Beast trying to woo a confession out of Feyre. Kallias was able to shield Viviane for 50 years while his Court was under direct attack, I have to believe Tamlin could shield Feyre for the very short time it would take him, or any other High Lord, to end Amarantha.

Rhys later says:

“If there was a shot of freeing us from Amarantha, you were it. I thought. . .I thought the Cauldron had been sending me these dreams to tell me that you would be the one to save us. Save my people.”

So. . .if this were the case, wouldn't it make more sense to just get a happy little “I love you” out of her before the 50 years were up? Tamlin and the High Lord’s powers would return and Amarantha would be “bloody ribbons”, as SJM likes to say, in seconds. Which is exactly what happened. All the struggle and strife of her trials UTM totally avoided!!

What I’m essentially trying to say here is that most of Rhys’s actions during this time were in direct contradiction to what he claimed he really wanted. If Tamlin was Prythian’s only shot at freedom for all those years, you’d think he would be trying to secretly aid him in some way, or at the very least, not go out of his way to torment him. If Feyre was in Tamlin’s house, clearly in love with him, and the Curse was expiring in one day, you’d think he’d go back to Amarantha and be like “Nope, sorry, nothing to report” and pray the two of them would get it together for the sake of Prythian.

Essentially, what I’m trying to say here is that I struggle to have a ton of sympathy for Rhys during this time because I feel as if the explanations that are given for his behavior and actions are flimsy and don’t hold up against most arguments. He felt as if he HAD to become Amarantha’s lover and lapdog in order to keep her from figuring things out about his friends and trying to hurt them. . .who were concealed in a city that hadn’t been breached for 5,000 years and the knowledge of them had been wiped from every person who knew them UTM. He “couldn’t” kill or hurt Amarantha because his power belonged “wholly” to her. . .but he was able to use his powers in ways that worked against her without her knowledge or consent about tons of other things. He was so tormented and miserable in his time UTM that he. . .mocked and tormented the one person who had a shot at freeing them all. When he saw that Tamlin was right on the brink of actually breaking the curse he. . .manipulated him into ensuring that it would never be broken. All the while being surrounded by other leaders who did not have the luxury of shielding their loved ones in an anciently protected city, who worked to help all innocent citizens of Prythian, and who were losing their lives over their refusal to submit to an evil tyrant. I have a vastly larger degree of sympathy and respect for these other High Lords than I do with Rhysand. I find Rhys to be either very self-serving, or doing things that seem to directly contradict what he claims he wants. I do not blame any of the High Lords for being wary and mistrustful of him after UTM--it makes perfect sense that they would (but that’s a topic for another section of this rant!). This is a prime example of SJM self-sacrificing through her writing. I can guarantee you I wouldn't feel as strongly about this as I do after hearing it beaten into my head over and over what a noble, selfless, honorable hero Rhys was during this time. I’m sorry, it doesn’t add up to me. Too many holes, too many contradictions. Which, unfortunately, is pretty standard fare when it comes to Rhys.

Remember, this was only Part 1!! Part 2--Why Rhys is actually a terrible High Lord--coming soon!

#acotar critical #sjm critical #anti rhysand #tamlin #kallias #viviane #amarantha

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sunbearsophia · 10 months ago

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Sorry again for how few and far in-between my Tumblr posts are, guys! I'll try and be more frequent with them!

It hit me a while back that for all I talk about my Next-Gen on Twitter, I hardly ever talk about my fan kids here on Tumblr! So, I decided to throw together a ref sheet for my main girl, Emmy, to get started on that and introduce her to y'all!

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Her full name is Emilia Luna-Ophelia Barrabas-Darling, but almost everyone calls her Emmy for short. She was named after her late grandmother on Eduardo's side, although Laurel was actually the one who suggested it when she was born. (Eduardo absolutely cried when she suggested it, not that he wasn't already sobbing lol.) Her middle names were each chosen by one of her parents. (Luna for Eduardo, Ophelia for Laurel bc her mummy's a Shakespeare geek and we love her for it aaaaa.)

Probably 21 in the reference, definitely college-aged!

Working in retail currently to pay the bills, but saving up to attend art school when she gets the chance, wants to work as a background artist in animation.

Is generally a really friendly and outgoing person, extremely open with her personality, interests and affection, much like her mom. KNOWN for her hugs that could throw out someone's back, just generally really kind and chill, basically a big ol' puppy lady. She's also pretty stubborn and abrasive, however, and does have a temper on her, however. Aside from just generally getting grumpy when she's tired, exhausted or frustrated, she is just as willing to throw some HANDS when someone's pissed er off, just like her old man.

A pretty artsy-fartsy kinda gal, but not so much a snob about art, more like she'll happily ramble about art techniques and history when the subject is brought up. Also has a love for dancing, sports and Shakespeare.

Is extremely close with her family, she adores her Mummy Laurel and is a MASSIVE Daddy's Girl for Eduardo, she never misses the chance to see and spend time with them, and always wants to make them proud. (Her dad was her inspiration to start drawing when she was little, and always thinks of Eduardo and Laurel both as her heroes.) Also loves her little brother Leonardo, and is very protective of him, mess with him you mess with HER. >:(

Also loves her Uncle Mark and Uncle Jon with all her heart, they basically were third and fourth parents to her ever since she was a baby and she knows she can always go to them for anything. Very close to her other uncles, too, but out of all of them, she's closest to Jon and Mark. Also loves her Grandmado, and misses her terribly as an adult.

Has ADHD and dyslexia, so she often uses word processors and audio books to help with the latter and tends to plan and schedule her days in advance and stick heavily with routines to avoid losing focus with the former. Still has her struggles but knows she's supported and loved by those around her and is too stubborn to let them win.

Loves avocados, just like her dad. It was one of her first words, and to this day, her and her dad have a designated day all for eating avocados all throughout. (HC BY THE AWESOME @tamaraskabr ITS SO WHOLESOME I LOVE IT QwQ) Other than that, she loves basically anything mint chocolate, she's a simple woman lol.

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All the tidbits I've got for now! Plan to follow up the post with some sketches of her other outfits I've worked on! For now, hope this gives some insight on who she is so I can share more art of her on here with context!

she's my goober daughter and i love her sm lol

#eddsworld #eddsworld fanart #eddsworld fankids #eddsworld nextgen #eddsworld eduardo #eddsworld laurel #eduarel #eduardo x laurel #next generation #next gen oc #fan kid

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sleepytiredkatt · 2 days ago

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introductions

a fitting name for this excerpt from my first official fanfic :) obligatory "never done this before so be nice" <3

frank castle x female!oc

summary: it's been a few weeks since Ruby's moved into her new apartment and while she's seen her neighbor around a few times, she hasn't known his name until now.

word count: 1.1k // no warnings!!

(photo in header by user kwistowee, the rest is by me)

this is my first ever tumblr post as well, so until i learn to format everything for this platform, you can find the story so far on ao3, here :)

Ruby jolted awake to a sharp, slow beeping. It definitely wasn't her alarm, and it was far away, but it was loud. For a moment, she stayed in bed, hoping it would stop on its own. But the noise was insistent, and after a frustrated groan, she got out of bed. She grabbed her hoodie from off the floor and pulled it over her shirt and shorts, shuffling through her apartment, sounds growing louder as she neared the front door.

Opening it a crack, she peeked into the dim hallway. The culprit was obvious—the smoke alarm near the ceiling blinked angrily as it screamed every few seconds. Her neighbor's door opened, and out stepped the man she often caught glimpses of.

He was barefoot and wearing a dark T-shirt and black sweatpants, his expression one of mild annoyance as he glanced up at the alarm. He didn't seem fazed by her presence, his attention focused on the noise.

Ruby hesitated before stepping into the hallway. "Does this happen often?"

He glanced at her, his eyes sharp but unreadable. "No," he said simply, before looking back up at the alarm. "Must be something wrong with it."

"Do you need to call someone to fix it?" she asked.

"Not at this hour." His tone was matter-of-fact. "You got an umbrella?"

Ruby blinked at the unexpected question. "Uh, yeah, hang on."

She ducked back into her apartment, returning a moment later with a black umbrella. She stepped back into the hallway to give it to him.

He gave a short nod of thanks. Without hesitation, he extended it upward and smacked the tip into the smoke alarm. The device wobbled, emitting one last shrill beep before falling silent.

Ruby's eyebrows raised as a piece of plastic fell to the floor. "Well, that's one way to fix it."

He handed the umbrella back to her. "Thanks for the help."

"Anything to get that noise to stop," she responded.

Before he went inside, he paused and looked back at her. "Pete."

Ruby tilted her head slightly. "Hm?"

"I'm Pete," he clarified, holding out a hand.

She hesitated, then took it. His grip was firm, his hand warm despite the chill in the hallway. "Ruby," she said.

He gave a slight nod, his hand lingering a second longer before he let go. Without another word, he stepped back into his apartment, shutting the door behind him.

Ruby stared at the closed door for a moment, then turned and returned to her own apartment, shutting the door behind her. As she sat the umbrella down in the coat closet, she mulled the interaction over in her head.

It was nice to have to have been officially introduced to him. She had lived here for about three weeks now, and aside from the people she had to introduce herself to at work, Pete was the first person she had met since moving to New York. The apartment leasing process was all done completely online, so she never met her landlord. She didn't go anywhere to meet new people. She didn't care to meet new people.

Ruby wasn't looking to make friends, but there was also something reassuring about having a friendly face nearby. Even if he didn't have such a literally friendly face, Pete had been nothing but helpful since their first encounter. It reminded her of the conversation with the old lady in the laundry room, who had warned her that Pete was odd. Ruby had found herself being thankful that she had Pete nearby.

She had had a few interactions with other neighbors, but had yet to be introduced to any of them, besides Pete. Well, Pete and Mrs. Fernandez. But Mrs. Fernandez hadn't asked for Ruby's name, or even given her a chance to speak.

One day Ruby had stepped out of her apartment with a trash bag in hand, and was turned around towards her door, locking it behind her when a bag of trash was thrown at her feet.

She turned around to see an older lady in a leopard print jacket retreating back towards the end of the hall very quickly, and was about to call out when the lady yelled over her shoulder in a very strong Long Island accent.

"I've got an online meeting starting in one minute sweetie, no time to take out the trash-- thanks darling, lovely meeting you, I'm Mrs. Fernandez!"

She almost didn't catch the last few words, as Mrs. Fernandez had said them as she was quickly closing the door on the stunned figure of Ruby, who now had double the trash to take out.

When she went to pick up the bag, the sides of the white bag strained, and she could tell it was about to rip open. She was surprised it hadn't done so when the lady had thrown it so carelessly at her feet. She thought about the way the bag touched her legs as it had hit the ground. The unspoken expectation and demand of her time. If there was one thing about Ruby, it was that she did react well to demands. She quickly decided that she wasn't fond of Mrs. Fernandez. She also quickly decided that this was not her problem.

Setting her own bag of trash down on her doormat, Ruby cautiously carried Mrs. Fernandez's overfilled bag back to the door she had just disappeared behind. She gently placed it down on the doormat that said "it's always happy hour here," careful not to let it make any sound as she leaned it against the door.

She quietly backed away from the bag, smiling softly at her work. She turned to face the elevator as she passed her apartment and picked up her own trash in one smooth motion.

The smile dropped from her face and she stopped in her tracks when she saw a figure at the end of the hallway, leaning against the wall next to the exit to the stairwell. She could see a smirk pulling at his usual frown.

Her neighbor.

"I never liked her either," he said, pushing off the wall and approaching her, hand outstretched.

She realized he was asking for her to give him her bag of trash.

She held the bag out behind her, out of his reach, face neutral.

He looked at her in disbelief for a moment before chuckling lightly, "you not gonna let me take your trash out for you?"

Ruby shook her head, face shifting to one of resolution as she continued to withhold the bag from him.

"There's a cat out there, I have treats for him," she said, patting her black hoodie pocket.

He slowly nodded his head in growing understanding, then replied, "Ah I see." He dropped his hand.

"I'm on a mission," she continued seriously, walking past him and towards the elevators. "Not a trash run."

Had the elevator door not been so loud when it slid open, Ruby would've been able to hear the amused scoff he made as he watched her step inside, turning to face him with determination on her face.

"A mission, huh?"

She nodded at him as the door slid shut, her face breaking into a small smile right before it closed completely.

#the punisher #frank castle #frank castle x female character #frank castle fluff #pete castiglione

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