#They're trying to make up for it. REALLY hard.

[asparagus-antics]

There is like NOTHING for conquest 😭 nsfw alphabet for my favorite old man? Or just any crumbs in general I'll take it

NSFW Alphabet - Conquest

Here are the headcannons for my old man! I love him so much. Sorry if these are choppy or seem rushed, I really need to get back into my groove, man😭 I had a hard time writing these. I tried to keep this as gender neutral as possible, since I wasn't sure if you wanted a specific gender! Also, to give myself a little more of a direction to go in, this is Conquest x human reader. Enjoy!

Not proofread, sorry for any grammatical errors and or spelling mistakes!

18+, minors do not interact, please! - you are responsible for your own content consumption, the media below the cut will contain nsfw themes and explicit description of sex.

Aftercare - what they're like after

Conquest might not be too adapted to how soft humans are in comparison to viltrumites, so he might need some time adjusting—a gentle nudge in the right direction from time to time. Overall, he's generally like a huge cat. If this man could purr, he would; in fact, he can manage a hum so low it actually does really sound like one! He's a cuddler. Big, rough hands grab you as soon as he's down on the bed next to you, pulling you close and inhaling your scent like like the faint smell of your sweat is the most heavenly thing to him. He's scared he might hurt your body, so little compared to him even if you are tall for the average human, but the urge to pull you close and smother you in his big arms is something akin to cuteness agression. If you ask, he'll fetch you water or a snack, maybe a heating pad or an exrta blanket. Over time, though, he'll get used to what you usually desire after a few rounds, and after cleaning you up, he'll get them without a specific request needed.

Body part - whats their favourite body part? Theirs and yours

It might sound cliche, but if you were to ask him what his favourite part of you was, he would jump at the opportunity to say everything. The soft skin he can nuzzle his face into, the limbs that try to tangle themselves around him in a hug or the hands that scratch at his skin when he's so focused on your pleasure that he gets lost in it all. Your favourite part of him would probably be your hands, though. How gently they can handle him even when there really is no need. How soft they feel all over him and how you love to hold his big, calloused palm in yours. It grounds him, calms him down when needed, and he'd die a happy man if your hands were on him while he went. His favourite part of his body? His arms. How such muscular, big sources of power that have blown through civilisations could now cradle you so gently. How easily he could pick you up and carry you where you needed to go or throwing you up into the air like a little child to hear you laugh.

Cum - anything to so with cum, really

His loads? Huge. Downright terrifying because where has this poor man been storing all of this? He prefers to come inside, liking the sense of intimacy it brings him, the idea that some piece of him will be with you at all times for a few days at least. He definitely had a breeding kink that just goes wild at the sight of you on his dick. If it's not inside you, he'll cum all over your stomach, your face if you let him. He loves seeing you streaked in something so innately his, marked by the evidence of what you do to him. If it comes time to clean up the mess, he'll lick it all up himself without a single complaint to be heard. You don't prompt him to, you're just laying there, still coming down and catching your breath when you feel that hot tongue strace over the lines painted on your stomach, up to your chest and neck.

Dirty secret - whats a dirty secret of theirs?

Secrets? Not this mans thing. He'll blurt out anything that comes to mind no matter how vulgar it is. Honestly, it gets you blushing and embarrassed most of the time because it just comes out of nowhere! He doesn't even try to make it sensual. It's just him still getting used to the fact that humans aren't as direct. It's just a remark here and there, in the middle of you and him minding your own business, cuddling, or anything that might be happening.

Experience - how experienced are they? Do they know what their doing?

Conquest has gathered lots of experience over his.. what? Five thousand years of life? He's not ever really had a partner, or maybe has, but had never really been in love—hence his lonliness. Despite that, his experiences are plenty. Tons of hookups over the years from planets he's conquered (I mean, who could resist him? Even if he's murdering their people with a smile on his face? I couldn't.). Maybe one or two other viltrumites in his earlier years, but none in the later ones, since not many are even willing or daring to get close. He knows exactly what you need, even if he unintentionally handles you a bit rougher sometimes. He's attentive and more than eager to please you. There's never a one to one ratio on orgasms, which 100% of the time works out in your favour, even if unintentional. He just loves to have his hands on you, and he gets plenty carried away sometimes.

Favourite position - self explanitory

It depends on the sex. In his desperate, rough days, he enjoys doggy a lot. It gives him plenty of curves to grab, limbs to restrain and skin to lick and bite. It allows him to reach deep, to be able to push and pull you away, and to him, it lets him move your body to a way that feels good for the both of you. On his gentle days, when he really wants to savour the moment, he prefers missionary, maybe something with you on top. In these positions, he can really admire you, watch you move and react to all the sensations he's making you feel, and be able to press his skin to yours. He enjoys the contact and intimacy of it, revels in the way you cling to him, and move against him. Your pleasure is his, and it only heightens his excitement to know and feel that you're having a great time. He lives for it. If he could see it all day every day for the rest of his life, he would.

Goofy - are they more goofy or serious in the moment? Do they make jokes?

Jokes, maybe, but he's mostly more serious during. He wants to be focused on you and your pleasure, as well as his. His intensity usually doesn't leave a lot of room for cracking jokes. On the other hand, he is a huge tease. Some days (the rougher ones), he's relentless, taunting and teasing non-stop, driving you mad with touches without getting you anywhere. He'll sneer when you whine and beg, making remarks about the fact that you have to be patient for him, taunting you for being so desperate, all the while not letting up on any of the shit he's pulling.

Hair - how are they groomed? Do the carpets match the drapes?

It's all grey. Everywhere. Obviously. He's got a nice amount of chest hair that matches the remaining ones on his head and his moustache. His forearms have a nice coating, too, that looks absolutely amazing when he rolls his sleeves up. The muscles with a dusting of grey body hair absolutely gives him some sort of greek god look that he really pulls off. The hair on his chest conects a trail down his softer stomach to his pubes, which are very much there, but he keeps them trimmed nicely. He's definitely not shaven, but he's neat and tidy. It honestly looks nice, framing him just right.

Intimacy - how intimate are they in the moment?

There's always a sense of intimacy with him, rough or gentle. Either in way he looks at you, caressing over the planes of your skin softly or the ragged breaths in your ear as he lays himself over your back, his face over your shoulder as he grunts out praises to your fucked out body, his firm hands keeping you in place and his pace showing absolutely zero signs of faltering or stopping any time soon, no matter the rounds you've already gone. His hands are so big, either very capable of grabbing at each and every part of your flesh, groaning about how good you're doing and how nice you feel around him, or how they cradle your body as he moves so slowly, cherishing you like his most prised posession, looking you deep in the eye as he commits the sight of you right to his memories, to keep this piece of you with him always.

Jack off - anything to do with masturbation

That piece of you leads him right to here, preserved for when needed, for the occasions where one of you is away. He doesn't really enjoy masturbation as much, since he rarely sees need to if he can't spill anything into you or feel your warm, soft touch or the scratches along his arms, sides and back whike he's so engrossed in the pleasure of it all. It just doesn't feel as good; his hands could never recreate the feeling of yiu around him or your hands caressing him, your mouth moving over and around him till he's all happy and sated. If he really is that messed up over the fact he can't have you, and he really can't stop thinking about it, he'll frustratedly take himself in hand and just force everything out of him over the span of fifteen minutes to an hour, depending on how desprate he is.

Kink - a kink of theirs. What are they into?

He has a huge breeding kink. Huge. Most viltrumites don't need or desire sex outside of breeding urges. They don't see the need to look for a partner who will only slow them down or make them soft outside of missions. If they do have one, though, it's on. Conwuest would do anything to keep you stuffed full of him all the time. Whether it is indeed for breeding perpouses or judt the thought of you being so full of him, he wants you to drip it when he's done with you, so to speak. Because he will indeed not let you drip it. If it's not quicky, he loves to stay buried inside you even after he's softened, letting you rest in a position that will allow it, keeping everything he's poured into you firmly there with no escape. It fills him with a sense of pride and duty, even if it is just for himself.

Location - what's their favourite place to get into it?

He mostly just prefers a bed, where he can take his sweet, sweet time with you and enjoy you thoroughly. Though, if we're being real, he would take you anywhere. In the kitchen, outside, on the floor, in the air.. the list goes way on. If it is indeed in a bed, he loves it because he can pound you silly into the soft surface, watching you bounce with the movements his heavy build is forcing on the mattress.

Motivation - what turns them on? Gets them going?

Everything. The way you walk? His dick is hard. Give him one wrong look? He'll absolutely pound the thoughts out of you. Caress his face just right? He wants to take care of you and make you cum till you go deaf and blind. He's just an absolute sucker for you, as serious about you as he ever has been and ever will be about another being. He wants you always, all the time, everywhere at once. He knows how to reign himself in of course, but when it comes time for that sweet release, he will ravenge you for just about anything that you do.

No - something they won't do / turn off.

Outside of the morally messed up shit, even if his morals are kind of messed up, absolutely nothing. Your wish is his command; this man is a freak and is proud to let you know it. You want to try something new? On it, boss. He's ready. From vanilla things to stuff that would make the devil break out a sweat, perhaps a little blush. He's all yours, opwn to experimenting snd switching things up. Positions? This man can bend you into whatever shape you want. You taking charge? Go right ahead. Even if proportions are off or you are nervous about things, he'll do his absolute best and try his hardest to make everything judt as enjoyable for you as he can. I mean, he'll enjoy it regardless.

Oral - preference in giving / receiving, skill, etc.

He doesn't mind receiving head, though with his size, it's hard for anyone to fully take him. Even half would be more than enough for the average person, so he doesn't really expect it or request it a lot. Giving, on the other hand? This man will slobber over you aaaalll day. Sucking, licking. Just nuzzling into you and nudging with his nose, he's got it. He's messy with it, but it's intense and pleasureful. He'll have you coming with his mouth plenty of times before you even get to the big event if you let him. He'll keep going till you try to tug him up or whine for him that it's too much. He loves overstimulating all your nerves till you beg him to go easier, to at least let you catch your breath. Sometimes, though, as much as he loves hearing you beg, it falls on deaf ears anyway. He blames it on his age. Yeah, right.

Pace - are they fast, slow, stamina, etc.

He varies, but boy when he switches it up from one to the other? Slow, deep, more grinding than anything turns to your hips being lifted off of whatever surface you were on an held up by him as he plummets your depths like a man on a mission. He can be relentless, so quick and hard you'll definitely not be walking straight if at all tomorrow, but at the same time, he can be so slow, sometimes barely moving yet still so intense it gets you where you want to go, less intense than usual, it's a slow and rolling sensation that lasts a while, something that you feel you'll never come down from, so opposite from the harsh, quick snap and bursts that usually take place, though even that varied in it's levels of intensity.

Quickie - their opinion on them, how often, etc

He definitely prefers to be able to take his time over anything else, so quickies aren't really his deal. When you do have them, though, they're usually in a fit of desperation. Maybe squeeze one in one last time before saying goodbye for something like a mission or trip that the other can't join on, maybe after an argument of any kind.

Risk - are they game to experiment? Do they take risks?

Conquest gives absolutely no fucks when it comes to risking a lot of things, even his life, as we've seen. It exitedls him, gives him a rush. Getting beat up with thr risk of very bad bodily injury? Bring it on. Toying with people to bring out the absolute worst in them and taunt them till they snap? Definitely his dead. Something he doesn't like to risk, though? Is you. Seeing you in any type of trouble or danger would send him mad, so he doesn't like to risk anything dangerous, even if you are the type of person who gets a thrill from it just like him. A place where you risk being seen is okay with him, of course, since there is something so exiting about that, but anything that crosses his line of danger is off limits. Somewhere public, like a bathroom stall of storage closet? Have at it! He's more than happy to oblige you if that is something you're into or would be willing to try. Despite that, he couldn't bare seeing anything bad happen to you, especially if it could be partially caused by him. So, he'll play it safe with you, make sure everything you do together is something that could easily be fixed by him if something were to happen.

Stamina - how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?

All viltrumites have great stamina, since that was insured when only the most virile of the species were allowed to reproduce. Conquests stamina is something that never seems to run out, bred and trained for long and hard battle, sex is at the least of his worries when it comes to a workout. He can take you round after round after round until you're so spent you're barely awake, and he'll barely have broken a sweat, if at all. He'll let you rest when you're clearly too tired or you ask, of course, but trust me when I say that when you wake up, he's ready to go right back at it again.

Toys - Do they own toys? Do they use them?

I don't think he'd really have any at home, but if you suggest it, maybe give him some, he's eager to try it out. On you, on himself, whatevers possible. He wants to appreciate your gift to the fullest and is more than happy to do so. Things like vibes, he'll tease you for hours on end and try and figure out every single way to make you come using them. He enjoys seeing them used on you more, but if you want to he'll let you try whatever you want on him, just content to have you paying him such close attention, to have your hands on him making him feel so good in that way just you do.

Unfair - how much do they like to tease?

As mentioned before, Conquest will tease and edge you till you're begging and in tears if you let him. He loves seeing you desperate, hearing all the noises you make for him. The way you squirm and whine for him to just let you come already is just music to his ears and plenty of strokes to his ego. Knowing that this is the way he can make you feel, no one else, just exites him more than anything. He's infuriating. The endless taunting is so frustrating, yet somehow it still manages to brighten that fire inside of you. You desire it, his hands endlessly roaming with no intention of taking you any further for a good while.

Volume - how loud are they? What sounds do they make?

He's fairly quiet in terms of noise, but he loves to talk. Taunting, teasing, praising, remarking about how good you feel, hell, he'll tell a story or to to your absolutely fucked out body after multiple rounds, all while he's still moving into you relentlessly. He does make the occasional noises, rough and fairly hushed; hell groan out his words or give a grunt here and there. He just can't possibly keep completely muted with the way you feel around him, like he's wrapped up in heaven itself. Sometimes, he muffles the noise by shoving his face to whatever skin he can reach from that angle or kissing you till you're even more out of breath, if that was possible.

Wild card - a random headcannon

He has a thing for his size. Naturally, most(all) of his partners are smaller than him, even if they're tall for whatever species they are from. If he's relieving oral from you, he likes to just see the size of him against your face. The difference gets him going, how easily he can manhandle you even if you're strong. It makes him feel strong, powerful—which he loves. It's never at the expense of you feeling useless, but the way you're so small next to him is just a huge turn-on.

X-ray - whats going on underneath them clothes?

He's big for his size, and as a man of around 7 feet or taller, that's absolutely huge. He's around the girth of an average human fist, just a bit skinnier when flacid. The length of it is definitely enough to struggle with, but you make it work together. It's got a couple of veins along the side and underside, a colour just a bit darker than his usual skintone, and it turns a more reddish colour when hard, the more desprate, the more colour. It's pretty, which is weird to say of an old, weathered conqourers uncut dick, but it's true. The dusting of nest grey hair compliments him well—he's definitely an eyeful, and his naked body in all its glory is something to blink at. The source of attraction, though? It's definitely the junk he's packing. You just physically cannot stop yourself from sneaking a peek whenever you can.

Yearning - how high is their sex drive?

All day, every day. If he has the chance, he'll keep you to himself multiple hours a day, if not the whole day. For him, of course, it's the blink of an eye. In his 5000 years, you are the brightest thing that's happened, and he just wants to keep quaking those memories and moments with you like there's no tomorrow—including plenty of orgasms and then some.

Zzz - how quickly do they fall asleep afterwards?

He doesn't sleep that quickly afterwards. Sex just seems to wake him up more. Eventually, when you're asleep, he'll likely end up just watching you, so peaceful in his bed after the romp you've had. He's smitten, and he'll just sit or lay there for hours, watching. He'll never get tired of it, but it does help him calm back down, have him settle in with you, and scoot your body to his so he can tangle you up in his strong arms. He listens to the sound of your breathing until, inevitably, he too falls asleep.

Thank you for the request, anon!! It took me a while to get to it, sorry for that. I'm still getting back into writing but if anyone has more requests, please let me know! See my pinned post for the guidelines to my writing.

-

Please support your writers! Reblogs and comments are much appreciated.

[avicinda]

If you are a non spending player (f2p) in Infinity Nikki, here is why you should care that the 5 star is 11 pieces and leading to a boycott:

Spending players, especially whales, are how YOU get to be f2p.

Because if a gacha game alienates their whales, it proceeds extremely quickly to "f2p can barely do anything at all" as the game slides faster and faster to pay to win to make up for losing their whales. Then f2p players leave. Then the game hits End of Service because no one is playing and paying for it anyway. No more Infinity Nikki for anyone. Infinity Nikki is not "too big to fail," it's big enough to withstand losing a lot of people, but the lower the revenue falls, the faster shit hits the fan for f2p.

You know why the game has been so generous with free outfits and pieces every month so far? Because that was the honeymoon period. They were trying to hook us in, and more importantly, they want happy whales who feel like they're getting their money's worth so they will keep spending.

We are now in the "fuck around and find out" phase of a gacha's lifetime, much earlier than I'd hoped. This is the part of the gacha timeframe where the devs increase monetization and things like the spending meter that I call Gacha Bullshit. This is when they test the waters and see how far they can get away with things.

11 pieces is an increase of pity by 20 pulls. No sane gacha game would do this unless they were testing the players' reaction. If you play any other gachas with a set pity, think very hard about how increasing those pities by 20 pulls would feel.

Mira Crown is a decent chunk of free pulls and diamonds for all players every month. Changing from every 14 days to once a month was the test. Conceding and changing it to twice a month is "we hear you, but we don't really want to listen, so shut up already."

If whales don't push back NOW against the increasing Gacha Bullshit, the devs start to add more, and, slowly, choke out the parts of the game that are f2p. This has happened before. This is why there's a "stupid" boycott! It's not "just" discourse.

You want your game to stay playable and fun for f2p? Then stop sneering at the very people who pay so you can play it f2p in the first place.

(This is not a defense of spending practices in predatory games, but it's the reality we live in that whales exist who want to spend money on things that make them happy.)

[ooooo-mcyt]

Obviously Scott can fight, but his survivability in the Life Series has very little to do with his actual skill in pvp and more to do with other factors, and I really wanna talk about it because I just think it's really cool how good he is at death game.

1.) Knowing how to be the last target. A combination of forming alliances, making deals, earning good will, and maybe some intimidation tactics, often end up with Scott as the last target on the list, which is how you always end up with Scott as the last green/yellow/etc getting hunted down.

2.) Observation skills. I swear this man has eyes on the back of his head. Scott is someone who always seems to be alert, and frequently in his pov he'll notice someone trying to sneak up on or past him well before I do as a viewer. Scott is exceptionally hard to catch off guard or get into a trap because he has honestly uncanny instincts for observation..

3.) The ability to bluff. I've talked about it before but Scott is really good at bluffing, at pretending not to be scared, no matter how many people he's up against, no matter how low his health or hunger is, no matter how much danger he's in. Scott knows how not to flinch, knows how to project confidence he doesn't have. And that tends to psych people out and get them to falter or back away from a fight they would have won.

4.) Being good at running. A few people brought this up on my post about how good he is at bluffing, and they're absolutely correct. Part of it is that people don't commit, but also, Scott is really good at in game movement and can absolutely maneuver his way out of a fight a lot of the time. He's good at being slippery.

5.) Knowing when to just die. Yes, Scott is good at surviving, as I highlighted above. But Scott also knows when to die. In seasons where there's a tangible benefit to getting a kill, Scott will purposefully let a teammate kill him as soon as he feels like he's a major target, maximizing his use to his team through calculated losses.

I don't know I just think it's cool how good Scott is at death game and how it very often doesn't have anything to do with pvp skills (although his pvp skills are passable and that definitely helps).

[the-offside-rule]

Isack Hadjar (VCARB) - Highlights

Requested: no

Prompt: my dream

Warnings: nope just flufffff

Monaco, 11:47 AM

Y/n sat back in the plush salon chair, the bright sunlight spilling in through the windows, glinting off the foil carefully folded into her hair. She had only just gotten started—her colorist working meticulously to weave the fine highlights she loved so much—when she caught sight of her boyfriend, Isack, sitting on the small couch across the room. Headphones in, phone in hand, he was trying so hard to look patient.

About forty minutes in, he pulled one earbud out and sat up. "Bébé, how much longer do you have?" Y/n blinked up at him through the mirror, trying not to laugh at the slight desperation in his voice. "Usually, about three hours." She said casually, shrugging. "I like the highlights really fine, so it takes longer." Isack’s jaw dropped. "Three hours?" He echoed, horrified. "You’re joking." She shook her head, a smirk tugging at her lips as she looked back to her hairdresser with the same look. "No, I'm not." He stared at her like she’d just announced she was moving to Mars. After a second, he shoved his phone into his pocket and stood up, brushing imaginary dust off his jeans. "Okay. I’m gonna go for a walk or something. I’ll come back."

Y/n laughed softly. "Yeah, babe, that’s fine. Go stretch your legs. You’ll be bored out of your mind if you stay here." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, careful to avoid the foil, and headed toward the door. Right as he pushed it open, someone bumped into him. "Oh—sorry, mate." Ollie said, straightening up with a sheepish grin. Behind him, his girlfriend Alicia smiled warmly, a small shopping bag dangling from her wrist. "Where you off to?" Ollie asked, adjusting his cap.

Isack jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "She’s getting her hair done. Apparently it’s gonna take three hours." He said dramatically, making Ollie snort. Alicia giggled and slid into the seat next to Y/n. The two girls immediately started chatting. "Mate, let’s just grab some food while we wait." Ollie suggested. "There’s no way I’m sitting in here watching hair get dyed for the next three hours." Isack brightened. "Cafe de Paris?"

"I don't care, I just need to get out of here. The bleach fumes are killing me."

The two rookies headed out into the bright Monaco sun, making their way down the bustling streets toward the famous café. As they slid into a corner table, menus in hand, Isack shook his head in disbelief. "Three hours to put stripes in your hair." He said, still outraged. Ollie burst out laughing. "You’re so dramatic. They're not stripes, they're highlights."

"You're starting to sound like her, you know." Isack muttered, picking up a fry from the basket between them. "If I’d known it was gonna take this long, I would’ve just stayed home." Ollie raised an eyebrow. "No, you wouldn’t have." Isack frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You follow Y/n around like a lost puppy." Ollie said matter-of-factly. "She could tell you she was gonna spend the whole afternoon reorganizing her sock drawer and you’d still tag along." Isack opened his mouth to argue...and then closed it again, slumping in his chair. "Yeah. Fair enough." Ollie smirked knowingly and stole a fry.

When the boys returned, they found Alicia’s hair being blown out in smooth, glossy waves and Y/n’s foils already out, her stylist adding the finishing touches. Y/n spotted Isack immediately in the mirror and smiled. She carefully stood, her new hair gleaming under the lights, and started to head toward the front desk to pay. Before she could even pull her card out, Isack stepped forward and handed his to the receptionist. Y/n gave him a stern look. "Isack."

He just winked, pocketing his wallet again. "Come on, bébé." He said, slinging an arm around her shoulder and steering her toward the door. "Let’s get you some lunch or something." Her stern look melted into a grin as she leaned into his side, the fresh scent of her hair filling the space between them. "Only if you let me pick." She teased. He laughed, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Whatever you want."

[lemotmo]

This person did not help the counter argument 🤣

Q. I do think it's super insulting for the media and many fans to basically say well we can all pretty much see where this train is heading and if you have a problem with it then you're sexist and homophobic. No. They're written as best friends, strong bonded, life long best friends, but only friends nonetheless. Oliver and Ryan skewing the acting towards the narrative they think the show should take is not the same thing as writing them with romantic undertones. I need people to be so serious right now because you all look ridiculous. They could both have other relationships if the actors stopped sabotaging their other relationships. Lou tried, he tried hard, but he got zero help from Oliver. Fox clearly wanted Taylor to be Buck's endgame, but once again they got zero help from Oliver. Ryan didn't even bother trying with anyone not named Devin so what did they expect to happen?! They could have chemistry with other people if they would allow themselves to put even half the effort into their other onscreen relationships as they do with the Buck and Eddie thing.

A. Listen, and this is me being so serious right now, your argument is non-existent. People are saying it's sexist or homophobic or biphobic or bigoted because it is. There is not a single valid argument that exists within the narrative of the Buck and Eddie storyline that supports the weakness of 'they've only ever been written as friends'. That's a non-existent, non supported by the facts argument. Chimney and Hen have only ever been written as friends. Chimney and Eddie. Chimney and Buck. Only ever written as friends. And no one ever confuses those relationships as anything else. The problem with your argument, anon is that it's disingenuous. You're not mad that they're written and acted with romantic undertones. You're mad that Oliver and Ryan just allowed their natural chemistry to be what it is without forcing 'bro code behavior' on it to make it more heteronormative. That's what really bothers you all. Just own that. If you truly believe you're valid in that belief then own it. Say it out loud. Their relationship makes you uncomfortable because you don't understand how two men, who have not publicly identified themselves as not straight, could be so comfortable being open, vulnerable, playful, and flirty with another man because you yourself would not be comfortable doing those same things with a member of the same sex. That's why people call your argument bullshit because it is.

We don't know how long Buddie was in the works before FOX ultimately stepped in and stopped it. We have no idea how long they were building towards that initial get together. So a lot of the acting choices from seasons 3 and 4 could, and in fact probably are, most likely tied to that initial relationship build up. Everyone loved that Jennifer came in and immediately declared that Maddie should be with Chimney. Jennifer and Kenny get a voice. Everyone loved it. Everyone loves that Angela and Peter get a say with what happens between Bobby and Athena. Aisha and Tracie get the same treatment with Hen and Karen. Everyone loves how they all get a voice. Why should Ryan and Oliver not get an equal voice in their onscreen endgame? Why do you believe they should have to play by a different set of rules than the rest of their cast mates? None of you all can answer that question. That's why your argument gets dismissed. It's not coming from a valid place to begin with. Lou did not try to sell the ship because he had a deep love for the ship, don't even try to make that statement. He tried to sell it because he liked the attention it brought him. Period. Any chance he got he made sure to emphasize his straightness, and he was clearly uncomfortable filming anything remotely intimate in nature. So that argument is also disingenuous.

Chemistry is tricky. It either exists or it doesn't. It's hard to fake. Yes, both Oliver and Ryan have far better chemistry with each other than they ever had with any other onscreen love interests. But they did have chemistry with a few. Oliver and Meagan had great chemistry when Taylor first showed up, it absolutely fizzled out before the end but they initially had lovely chemistry. Oliver and the actress who played Ali had nice chemistry. He even had cute chemistry with Connie in season one. He had no chemistry with Lou, no matter how hard you all try to declare otherwise. They were clearly uncomfortable with one another. Ryan had great chemistry with Devin (Shannon). He played the Ana stuff perfectly because she was supposed to lead to his initial gay awakening. He had no chemistry with Edy, their first few scenes, much like Oliver and Lou, were nice but once they paired them together it didn't work. That's okay. It doesn't mean Oliver and Ryan sabotaged anything. Do I think there's a genuine conversation to be had about how long Oliver and Ryan have been playing it a certain way, sure. But there's nothing wrong with playing up the chemistry. Their chemistry naturally exists. They don't have to put effort into it. It's the same when they do interviews. It's just what exists between the two of them and that's the real problem you all have with it. Instead of bro'ing down and over correcting, they allow it to be what it naturally is. And that makes you uncomfortable. Well that's a you problem. I would argue that Peter and Kenny have a similar kind of chemistry for that matter.

Thank you Nonny!

Well, what an utterly nonsensical question was that? Garbage filled with terrible ideas and opinions from beginning to end.

You cannot just 'force' to have chemistry with someone. Natural chemisty is one of the greatest things two actors can have. It's either there or it isn't. All the great 'will they won't they' ships had great chemistry. Some of them weren't even supposed to end up together, but the chemistry was so good they decided to change the writing for the characters and put them together.

I honestly don't think Buck and Eddie were ever planned to end up together, but because Ryan and Oliver had such great on screen chemistry the writers recognised 'lightning in a bottle' and went with it until FOX told them to stop.

Anyway, I agree with Ali.

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[coldeforprez]

Is It The Way; 2003 • 01

Elias "Stack" Moore has "loved" and lost more than his fair share of women— and rarely thinks twice about it. But He can never seem to let go of her. There's only so much a man—alive or otherwise—can take. And he's been a gentleman long enough, right?

pairing: vampire!Stack x black!OC warnings: ORIGINAL CHARACTER (I love my bb Della Mae with my whole heart and will accept no slander - ty, mgmt. ) ANGST, this fic is VERY self-indulgent, suggestive themes, swearing, implied violence, established relationship, their relationship is kinda toxic but they're just two ppl who love each other okay?!, You get edged again cause no smut till part two :3 (this is a series we gotta do some world building besties) word count: 3.9k

dear reader 💌: hey pookie! I really appreciate the support and love that yall showed the teaser for the first installment of my new series To Have and To Hold ! I have been fighting for my life trying to get this out and honestly, I'm being super picky so I decided to just throw it out there :0 ! That and I can't focus on anything because it's taking up so much space in my head. Anyway ENJOY !

This story is told in a non-linear fashion. Like memories resurfacing.

winter of 1912.

Elias looks up from his spot leaning against the brick pillar—he and Smoke running their usual pickpocketing schemes down at the train station.

Feeling a stare on him, his eyes dart around the crowded platform looking for the source. His gaze skips over her at first—then returns.

She can’t be more than 16 years old; potentially making her only 2 years his junior. Her eyes twinkle with mischief like she’d been watching the twins longer than they knew. She stands next to an older woman and two younger boys, worn suitcases at their feet. Her hand-me-down dress fluttering softly in the winter breeze.

He tilts his head, confused—he’s never seen the girl or her people around town before. Turning to his twin brother, he taps him and asks, in a low voice, “Aye’, you ever seen lil’ mama in the brown dress ‘round here befoe’?”

The elder twin looks up from where he’s counting their earnings—it won’t be enough for a satisfying meal, but it’ll keep the hunger pains away for the night.

His eyes follow Stacks’ gaze to the retreating form of the young girl and her family. He cuts his eyes at his younger brother,

“Well, since I ain’t her maker, I’m not real capable of identifying ole’ girl from the back.”

Stack curls his lip, side-eyeing him. “What you always bein’ smart for? You know what—actually, I don’t give a damn. How much money we make?”

fall of 1914. The air smelled sweet—like honey, heat and the blossoms overhead. Della was leaning back on her palms in the grass, feet bare, Elias’ hat tossed aside beside her. The magnolia tree stretched wide above them like a crown, its branches heavy with blooms, thick petals littering the ground around her.

Elias stood a few feet away, trying to toss a pebble high enough to knock down one of the blossoms—she swore she could catch it mid-air.

“You gon’ miss again,” Del teased, grinning, “and I’ma laugh just as hard as I did the last five times.” he cut his eyes at her, squinting up at the branch, tongue peeking out in concentration. “I ain’t missin’. I’m doin’ warm-up tosses lil’ girl.”

“Ohhh okay! So that’s what you gone call it?” she laughed, tipping her head back until her coils brushed the grass.

He launched another pebble;hitting the branch just right. A magnolia bloom dropped—twirling slowly towards the ground—and Del leapt up with a gleam in her eye, catching it right against her chest. “Ha!” she beamed, spinning to show him. “I was right! Told you I’d catch it.”

He looked at her for a beat too long, he thinks her cheeks should be hurting from how hard she’s grinning. Her smile wide, singular dimple showing. “You always are.” he said softly, hands slipping into his pockets.

She slowed, watching him like she wasn’t used to that tone in his voice. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he said quickly, tugging at his collar anxiously. “Just… you somethin’ else, that’s all.”

Del tucked the magnolia bloom behind her ear and shrugged, but she was smiling too big to play it cool. “I guess you ain’t too bad yourself.”

summer of 1917. The sun was dipping low, casting amber light across the magnolia tree where they always met. Della was halfway through tying her braid when Elias flopped onto the grass beside her, arms folded behind his head, like it was just another Sunday.

“You ever think ‘bout what France smell like?” he asked, watching the clouds.

She side-eyed him. “France?”

He nodded, still staring skyward. “Yeah. I heard it smell like perfume and fresh bread. Kinda place folks write poems about.”

Della squinted at him, confused. “Why you talkin’ ‘bout France?”

He sat up slower this time, like his body felt heavier than usual. His mouth opened, then closed. He looked down at his hands, rubbing at his thumb—he was stalling.

“Got my papers.” ,he grumbled

She blinked. “For what?”

“…The war, Dove. I gotta go.”

Della’s hands dropped into her lap. “No you don’t. Ain’t nobody makin’ you—”

“They are,” he cut in gently, eyes still not quite meeting hers. “Draft notice came in yesterday. I—I ain’t wanna tell you like this, I just… I couldn’t figure out how.”

She stood sharply, fists clenched. “So that’s it? i’m just ‘sposed to sit around and wonder if you makin’ it back or not?”

He stood too, but slower, as if the words had knocked the wind out of him. “It’s not like I wanna go, Del. But if I don’t show up, they gone come lookin’. Maybe even worse.”

His voice cracked just a little on that last part, and he finally met her eyes. “I ain’t gone lie and say i’m not scared,” he admitted, quietly. “But I swear to you—I’m comin’ back. I ain’t dyin’ in no field—I don’t care what I gotta do.”

She stared at him, lip trembling. “You better,” she whispered.

fall of 1932. “You think I give a fuck what you want right now?” he growled in frustration. “I ain’t lettin’ you go. Not this time. You hear me? You mine. You always been, always gone be.”

She struck him—open palm across the face, hard. His head snapped sideways. He didn’t flinch. Just turned back slow, smiling crooked, eyes glowing like wildfire. His hands tightening on her shoulders voice thick with grief and possessive need.

“You all I got left,” he breathed. “I ain’t losin’ you too. I’ll drag you with me if I have to. I swear to God, I will.”

She scoffs trying to free herself from his grip to no avail,

“No self-righteous sacrifices for me huh? No bullshit speech about keeping me safe?” she spat, eyes burning with tears. “You always pulling me towards a burning building with you, but I bet you woulda’ lost your damn life to protect her from one! Hell—Mary the one made you this way! Go spend an eternity with her ole triflin’ bloodsuckin’ ass!”

She clawed at his chest, shoved, writhed—but his hands only steadied her, held her like something precious even as he stole her breath.

“I ain’t doin’ this life without you,” he said, voice thick, almost tender. “Ain’t no world I wanna be apart of if you not in it.”

And then—Stillness.

Her body limp in his arms. Blood on his lips. The river settled.

Above them, the magnolia tree stood silent. Watching.

spring of 52’. Their magnolia was in full bloom.

Del figured if they were gonna do this, it best be at a spot that held their most precious memories. Both the good ones—and the ones that still stung.

The wind brought in a soft breeze, just enough to ruffle the edges of her white dress. Her veil fluttered around her face like a whisper.

He wore a pressed suit—bloodstain still on the cuff she couldn’t scrub out. His grin was wide, wicked, sharp fangs flashing under gold slugs.

No preacher. No piano. No guests.

Just the river hummin’ nearby, and a jar of moonshine waitin’ in the grass.

She whispered her vows into the crook of his neck. He said his with his mouth pressed to her fingertips.

“You know this don’t fix everything,” she told him with a smirk.

“Ain’t tryna fix it,” he said. “Just tryna hold onto it.”

Their old magnolia tree the only witness to their eternal union. summer of 75’. “C’mon, morning dove,” he says, smiling like it was 1951. “Let me hold you a minute.”

present day; 2003

He strolled in right at midnight, just as everything had gone quiet and the once raucous city streets were now eerily still.

She didn’t turn when the door opened. Didn’t flinch when his footsteps found her.

She’d known he would come eventually. Of course he would. Even when she didn’t want him to—he always did. The problem was that she’d never quite figured out which she preferred more: his absence or his presence.

She never had to question whether or not she still wanted him though. Hell, she spent more time than she’d like to admit reminiscing the countless ways he’d expressed his insatiable hunger for her in this almost century-old dance they’d been doing.

He doesn’t announce his presence. No smooth line. No performative charm. Doesn’t even breathe too loud.

His coat’s worn in random spots—like something time had toyed with endlessly and then tossed aside. For a quick moment, she wonders if he’s fallen on hard times since the last time he’d blessed—suffocated—her with his presence. That’s how she felt, too—every time they slipped outside each other’s orbit. Like she was just waiting breathlessly in the wings for the next act of their whirlwind—whatever it was they have.

On the exterior, she’s the picture of indifference. Takes the time to sip the drink clutched between her sharply manicured fingers. Letting the silence stretch—uncomfortable for most, but not for them.

Just as she’s worked up the nerve to acknowledge his presence—

“Del.”

A beat. The space between them has never seemed further.

“You still carryin’ the weight of the world like it belongs to you, baby.”

She breathes out a soft, humorless sound. Doesn’t smile. Refuses to turn her head to give him the satisfaction of seeing a glimpse of the mental spiral his sudden appearance has catapulted her into.

“And you still talk like a ghost that don’t know it’s dead.”

He inches closer. Slowly. Like if he moves too fast, she’ll vanish again.

“Maybe I am.”

She turns swiftly toward him—eyes sharp, expression unreadable. With a slight furrow in her brows and something cold yet vulnerable in her voice, she asks a question that likely won’t have a sufficient answer—

“Why now?”

A brief pause. His usual sly grin is noticeably missing—his mouth opens and shuts quickly, almost like he’s chewing on the words but they just don’t taste quite right. Yet he doesn’t blink when he says it:

“Ain’t know how much longer I could stay away.”

She doesn’t respond. Not right away. Just lets out a quiet chuckle and tips her glass toward him—dry, disbelieving.

“Even after all these years…” She shakes her head, almost smiling. “You still one smooth motherfucka. I’ll give ya that.”

He breaks into that infamous grin—just as intimidating as it is bright. Like he ain’t ever seen a bad day in his life. “Now you know better than anybody—I can’t contain all this pimpin’.”

She pauses mid-sip, nearly chokes. Side-eyes him, nostrils flaring, expression dry as hell. She waits a beat. Then hums a noise of indifference,

“Mmm—You dressed like a broke-ass pimp. Must be hard flyin’ with one wing, huh?”

The jab knocks him off guard. For a second, he forgets they aren’t back there—where jokes came easier, when everything felt like that rare but sweet moment when you realize you’re dreaming—and somehow, you get to keep dreaming, just to spite reality a little longer.

He smacks his lips, gaze blank, mouth cocked to the side, ignoring the subtle bite in her voice. “Aye, stop playin’ with me. You know ian ever hurtin’ for no bread. Who you think bought out half these pieces before the showcase tonight?”

That earns him her first real smile. Small. Shy. Like it slipped out before she could catch it. Like her body remembered something before her mind could lock it away. “Yeah, I know. I just wanted you to drop all that silent and mysterious shit. Came in here lookin’ like you auditionin’ for that vampire nigga movie.”

He squints. “You talkin’ ‘bout Blade?”

She nods, grinning. “Hell yea. You got this big-ass trench coat on like it ain’t 75 degrees outside.” He cuts her off with—“Aye shoutout Wesley Snipes, you know i’on fuck wit’ allat capitalism—taxes and shit.”

She shakes her head, earrings jingling softly—briefly catching his attention—before he hears her mutter under her breath, “Ole’ extra ass.”

He spins with a grin and a little flourish. “Owee—Don’t hate baby.” Smirking as he invades her space just enough to make the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“ You ain’t gotta lie to yourself—Daddy still make that pretty thang’ hum, hm?”

The echoes of his southern drawl still makes her knees feel weak. Pause. How does he even think to say shit like that?

He does kinda have a point though.

She steps back curling her lip at him in pure annoyance, rolling her eyes quickly, “Nigga, gone on somewhere.” Giving him a slow once-over, “And don’t think you slick with that ‘I ain’t know how long I could stay away’ shit.” She drops her voice into a mocking tone—deep and dramatic, face scrunched in fake sadness. “I know you,” she says, shaking her head. “You want somethin’. So gone and come out wit’ it.”

“Why you always assumin’ I got a hidden agenda or some shit?” he scoffs.

She fixes him with a stare.

He coughs, looks away, then back again—“Okay. Never mind. Ignore that.” He sighs deeply like he’s afraid she’s going to shut him down before he can pull his thoughts together.

“Been tryna love other people—swear I have.”

She purses her lips.

“Okay damn, maybe I was just fuckin’ some of ‘em—Anyway—tried humans, but you know I get a little nibbly when I’m excited—dated some vamps, kinda hard for ‘em to live up to my expectations there though,” He scratches his beard in frustration, “Shit I even went out with a witch for a minute—she was a lil freak, I’ll tell you that—still ain’t come close to nothin’ we used to—”

She briefly stares off into space dumbfounded; then turns back to cut him off before he can remind her of anything she might still want. “Hmm—if you came to update me on all the places your dick has been the last decade, you can spare me.” She rolls her eyes and mutters under her breath where he can’t hear, “Nigga goin’ on a world tour with my dick and tryna tell me all about it—fuck is he on?”

His eyes widen in realization at the implications of his words. “Hollon’, I ain’t mean it like that,” He sighs again. “What I’m tryna say is every time—every time—I start feelin’ like maybe I can build somethin’ new, your name start echoin’ in my head. Or I’d smell that stankin’ ass oil paint you used to use. Hear you narratin’ your day like somebody other than just us was around—Even started listenin’ to that white bread ass group you like so much.”

She scoffs and interrupts, “Aht Aht—not too much on Fleetwood Mac now—that might be one of the few things white folks got right.” She rolls her eyes muttering under her breath, “Surprised his ass ain’t go lookin’ for Stevie Nicks since he like witches so damn much—”

He quiets her with a blank stare. Grumbling under his breath before continuing, “Keep on rolling’ them damn eyes— hope they get stuck like that.” Clearing his throat he continues, “I kept tellin’ myself you might actually be better off without me. Maybe finally found a way to feel human again—then I heard ‘bout this place. Figured maybe you ain’t moved on neither.”

She’s suddenly busy surveying the contents of her glass—it’s been empty for the last 10 minutes.

“And that kinda fucked me up a lil’ bit, Cause if you still alone—and I’m still alone—then what the hell we been doin’ all this time, Del?”

She sighs quietly and meets his gaze with a resigned look in her eye, but before she can get the words out he interrupts,

“I ain’t come here looking for no second chances. We way past that anyway. But—you the only one who ever—survived me—Who know me better than maybe even Smoke did. And I’m not goin’ another decade wonderin’ if we could finally get it right.”

She scoffs, her eyes quickly becoming ablaze with an emotion he can only define as rage. “And that’s our problem right there—It’s all about what you want and when you’re ready to do it!”

All things considered, he’s propositioned her with worse. She’s not even sure why she’s fighting him now— aching inside to try again but too afraid to take the leap.

How much will they bleed this time around if they cut each other again?

She pauses breath catching in her throat, feeling her composure slipping. Can’t meet his eye when she opens her mouth to say, “Look, I don’t think—”

71 years and they still can’t get it right. He can feel her slipping away. She doesn’t think he’ll ever get another chance like this. He knows he won’t. She’ll make sure of it. His throat tightens—panic sets in. He’s about to be knocked out of her orbit forever.

“I’m sorry.”

He says the words like they were trying to burst from his lips. His eyes damn near projecting a short film filled with the echoes of his desperation and whispers of his guilt. It’s rushed, clumsy, boy-ish—such contrast from the way he would normally carry himself. Honestly, it’s pretty sucky as far as apologies go, especially given the tangled history the two of them share.

But somehow it works. Like most things involving the two, no reasonable explanation could be given for how two words—3 syllables—can atone for years of hurting and healing each other.

She blinks rapidly, shifting from foot to foot. She’d always considered herself the least prideful of the two. So she’s admittedly a bit irked that he gets to be the bigger person for saying what they’d always known they both desperately need to hear—

“I-I’m sorry, Elias. I’ve always let you take the blame for everything wrong in our relationship— and my life too, I guess” Her breath catches, looking down at her feet—arms instinctively wrapping around herself. Even to her own ears she sounds fragile. This might be the closest she’s been to feeling like herself since that night in 1932. “That wasn’t fair of me.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just stares at her like she’s some rare thing he isn’t sure he’s allowed to touch anymore. Then— “I could’ve fought harder. For you. For us.” His voice is low, steady. No theatrics this time. “I made peace with the blame—meant I still had somethin’ to carry around with your name on it.” He steps forward—slow, like the wrong move might undo it all. “I ain’t never wanted you to hurt like I did. But I- I didn’t know how to stop takin’ pieces of you with me every time I left.” He reaches for her—momentarily thinking twice about whether touching her will end in him being attacked ;or if she’ll submit to the current of the moment with him. Quickly coming to the conclusion that he’d be satisfied with either reaction, he finally closes the distance between them.

The feeling can only be described as that deeply seated joy you feel when coming home after a long time away. Almost like slipping back into a dream they’d been having every night for the last 71 years.

For a long moment, neither of the two spoke. Their silence saying everything they’d probably never be able to put to words—grief, guilt, passion. Their silence creating a picture that looks something like forgiveness, a bit like anger, and a lot like love. Whispers of a maybe. Promises of a forever.

Her face tucked near his neck, where she’d always felt safe she murmured a quiet, “Missed you.”

He looks down at her with a small smile, leaning in to get a taste of her lips for the first time in a decade.

She leans her head back and places two fingers over his lips with a smirk, “You know this means you lose right ?”

His arms tighten around her waist, one hand sneakily yanking her hand into his. Kissing the tips of her fingers with a smile in his voice, “Long as I lose to you, It ain’t really losin’, huh?”

He gives a crooked grin—and kisses her like no time has passed at all.

But time has passed. And it’s in the way his hand trembles just slightly when he touches her waist. In the way her breath hitches when their mouths finally meet, not rushed, not angry, but like they’re retracing old steps in a house long abandoned.

It starts slow. Mouths hovering, teasing. The tension’s all in the pause, the promise.

Then—He bites. A tiny nip at her bottom lip, soft and sharp all at once. A low, possessive growl vibrates from his chest, deep and involuntary. She tastes like something he lost in a dream. The air shifts. The room’s still, but they aren’t. The kind of stillness that only comes before a storm.

“Hey, daddy?” she whispers, lips grazing the skin just beneath his jaw—hot, deliberate.

“Yeah, Dove,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded, voice soaked in want.

She smiles—slow, wicked. Her voice a sweet purr. “Wanna play a game?”

His hands slide lower on her waist, fingers slipping just under the hem of her shirt, just enough to make her heart skip.

“Only if I get to keep you after.”

She lets out a breathy scoff, laughing into his mouth, palms pressed flat against his chest like she might push him away—but doesn’t.

“No, seriously—how do you come up with this stuff?” she says, eyes dancing, even as her body leans closer. He just grins, lips brushing hers again.

"Been rehearsin' since 88'. "

summer of ‘75.

“You were my wife, my life, my hopes and dreams.”

Marvin Gaye’s voice curls through the room low, aching, full of a wisdom neither of them dare speak aloud. The record crackles faintly, wrapping them in a velvet cocoon, safe—for now—from the world, from the past, from the slow unraveling they’ve both felt coming.

Elias hums along, off-key. Della swaying absentmindedly in her silk robe, brush in hand, paint smudged on her cheek. He watches her from the couch, journal resting open in his lap, the morning sun painting their living room a gold hue through their sheer drapery.

“You set my soul on fire, my one desire was to love you and think of you with pride.”

“C’mere,” he murmurs, standing with his arms open.

She laughs, not looking at him yet. “You ain’t even brushed your teeth.”

“C’mon, morning dove,” he says, smiling like it’s 1951 again. “Let me hold you a minute.”

“But if you ever need me, i’ll be by your side.“

She lets herself go. Not because it’s easy—but because it’s familiar. Because even with everything cracking underneath them, the shape of him still fits against her perfectly. They dance like they’ve got forever. The lyrics echo what their souls already know—a promise for what’s to come being made without words.

“Though the many happy times we had could really never outweigh the bad…” “I never loved nobody, like I loved you baby…” “Now it’s time for us to say farewell…” “Maybe we’ll meet, down the line…”

Elias presses his cheek to her temple, eyes shut. She grips the back of his shirt like she’s bracing for a fall.

Neither one says a word. But the record keeps playing. And the silence between them says everything.

@marley1773 @justhere2bhur @mea-bby @browngirldominion @kodakbesos @thickemadame @shinywrites @kindofaintrovert @mskirara @amethyst09 @kittikrusher (lol wtf) @sk1121-blog1 @jozigrrl @childishgambinaax

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[scrivenger-grimgar]

oh, i dont think i'll change the cannibalism, shen yuan is going to be resigned to some things just happening but restricting him to woods town criminals, people causing problems, but thats after they both know they're married? qi rong stops eating people specifically to impress shen yuan, and it does, but shen yuan is like "yeah criminals i usually personally execute if they causing problems so i guess you can eat them, but let me kill em first" (aka the nobleman and his guard company lol).

i feel like shen yuan has a few strict rule and the rest are flexible.

if shi wudu tries to get shen yuan to shift shi qingxuan's fate he would refuse, not only bc he its not right but bc he can't. what he does is give people hints on what to do or not do, so his epithet is actually wrong, people only think he can directly interfere with fate.

shi wudu didnt even give shen yuan a name or location, so now shen yuan is just hunting down every reverend of empty words which takes decades even with hc's help.

so unfortunately the he xuan is still a calamity, and shi qingxuan does still ascend as the wind master. but their brother's behaviour after meeting with shen yuan tells them that something is wrong, so they're a lot more quietly shrewd and suspicious, and even more so when they learn from ling wen that gods from the same family AND generation are unheard of. so at some point shi qingxuan hears about the calamity can can change fates and goes to see him to see if anything weird was up with their fate going from bad to good.

so thats how shi qingxuan learns that their brother sucks and befriends shen yuan and figures out that ming-xiong is a ghost, so then shen yuan has to be mediate between he xuan and shi qingxuan while they figure everything out.

sqx just like "yeah, you could kill my brother, but consider: we work together to lessen his influence and force him into the lower court as humiliation, then we get married and you get to mock him as much as you want while i pretend to be oblivious and make things even worse for him!"

he xuan just falls so fucking hard for her after hearing her say that. sy being their councillor like "your fiance would want you to be happy, and if qingxuan-meimei makes you happy, she would be happy too."

sy and xl have never met before so xl gets three different first impressions mostly bc he thinks that hua cheng, shi qingxuan, and ling wen are all talking about different people.

ling wen tells of the dangerous fourth calamity, green silk weaving fates, able to bind gods in nothing but spider webs and cut them limb from limb with razor-like threads, not to mention his sharp tongue and skillful wordplay.

shi qingxuan talks about qingsi-ge, and how he's an incredible immortal artisan who creates all of their best clothes and how xl should absolutely commission him for some better quality robes because they'll last so much longer and be in the exact cut and style you want!

[qing si bian yun = green; silk; to weave; fate] [qingsi = fine black hair]

and then hua cheng who just like "oh thats my dumbass named shen yuan who helps figure out wtf is happening just in general. we have book club tea parties on the fourth weekday and sometimes we paint silk fans together, but he's not important."

the fourth impression is actually meeting him, where qi rong is causing trouble and hua cheng calls shen yuan to collect his creature of a man, and he drags qi rong out by his scruff while he's shouting profanities. he is given a silk muzzle very quickly. that is quite unfortunately a reward for qi rong even when it isn't meant to be.

the fifth impression is yin yu muttering incoherently, trying to clean up the remains of a brainstorming session from three calamities trying to figure out why tf theres weird shit happening for no reason.

also: ming yi, the weirdo architect, who really didn't want to ascend handing his divinity over to he xuan so he can work construction in ghost city. ming yi may or may not be shang qinghua. shang qinghua who never read tgcf, doesn't even know what the plot is, he's just kinda there maybe.

svsss x tgcf crossover where shen yuan is so dedicated to making sure his blorbos get everything they deserve.

shen yuan dies cursing out pidw as normal but he ends up in tgcf.

the book was his meimei's favorite and they both read each others favorites so they could yell about them together. he did not expect to end up loving this danmei so much, and shi qingxuan was his queer reality check. did he figure out that he was aroace-spec from relating to xie lian? yes. does he want to talk about it? no.

when he dies cursing out pidw he SHOULD have ended up there, but there was a glitch in the system and he ended up in a little village in tgcf. he knows all the plot points and character names, but he doesn't know where or when he is in the plot and he really wants to give his blorbos everything they deserve but he is a toddler.

so he just,,, lives. he knows he wont be able to cultivate, his family can't afford to send him to a sect, and his village doesn't have much outside of the basics. so when his family caught him teaching other kids abd realized that shen yuan could read? AND write?? AND do math!!?? well...

"meng po said i didnt need any soup." becomes the first lie he tells. he is so glad he retained his resting bitch face.

they think he might ascend as some legendary civil god. shen yuan knows he wont. and he doesnt.

his days are spent teaching other children, learning from the village craftsmen, listening to the brothel jiejies play music, panicking about his blorbos, and planning.

in his teens he becomes the village's official teacher, and officially apprentices under a cloth weaver and learns to make paper and ink.

part of him tells himself that he's learning these things ti help his family, another part says its to keep his mind off the plot.

his second death is uneventful, mostly because nobody actually realizes that he's dead. his parents were old, and his elder sister already married out, so he lived alone for 5 years already. dead at 27 due to a house fire, yet his soul is already strong enough to be wrath.

he comes to the very fair assumption that its simply due to his status not as a reincarnator, but as a millenial. the sheer amount of depression and existential dread he faced as a physically disabled terminally ill millenial in the corporate hell that is the post capitalist corporate purgatory primed his being as one that simply cultivated resentment like a finely aged wine.

but he so geniunely enjoyed teaching and learning that he just. never told anyone that he was dead. it completely slipped his mind as unimportant because he knows that ghosts in this world are just humans a bit to the left, and since he is still the same person as before, is just as much of a ghost as he was before, knows that he can still teach and learn the same as before. it doesn't change anything for him.

he just picks up his ashes, apprentices himself to the village potter, makes himself a new tea set, and weaves a beatiful tapestry dedicated to the only god who can truly do no wrong, yushi huang.

he continues teaching and learning, and genuinely caring for his village, carefully, carfully making sure he does not hurt his people, making sure he does not scare them.

the way his people discover he is a ghost is not pretty, but neither is it ugly.

a nobleman was in town to rest the night with his entourage of guards. one young lady working the local brothel is harrassed by the guards, so nervous she trips and spills wine on the young master.

the nobleman, covered in wine, tipsy and enraged, grabs her and throws her to the ground, yelling at her to grovel and apologise; he does not notice the hateful gaze of shen yuan, once playing a delicate tune only moments before.

shen yuan wants to stop this, but that would definitely reveal him as more than human. the choice is taken from him as this stranger has the gall to step on one of his own students, he feels his patience snap in the stunned silence of the entertainment hall.

faster than possible for any mortal, he stands by them, holding the nobleman by the front of his stupid fancy robes, panicked babbling about that bitch having her man-whore friend doom himself to suffer both their fates. one of the guards stabs shen yuan through the chest.

there is screaming as the village's beloved teacher is run through, even as he ignores the wound and drags the nobleman from the building, the guards running after them. shen yuan takes the entire group out to the forest with only the nobleman as bait, and uses the silence if the night as a backdrop for the unrelenting slaughter of 15 people.

when he returns, he is covered in blood, carrying everything they had on them. the word has spread. their teacher is something else. but that wasn't nesicarily bad. the nobleman's rescources are stripped of identity and spread amongst the villagers. shen yuan has not harmed them, only stepping in when one of them was in harm's way. they have known him for 30 years, they know he is nothing if not kind.

so he protects them. because they have always been his family. so for centuries he does. he watches his peers as they grow old and die, caring after their children and grandchildren and great grandchildren. he is their teacher. he is their uncle. he is their ---.

there was a period of time where the town thought shen yuan took on a heveanly tribulation only to reject godhood and return to the village. shen yuan tried to tell people that wasn't true, that he never became a god or refused godhood, that he was simply trapped in a mountain for a decade, stewing in a pot of resentment and accidentally becoming a ghost king.

he doesnt even know how he did that, just that apparently yoyos are similar enough to meteorhammers that he could apply the same concepts, and also that he had enough condenced rage and nerdiness to actually figure out anime moves with qi. so what if half of the ghosts in the kiln thought he was some kind of spider demon, he has cool threads that he can use to kill you.

and actually fuck you, spiders are pretty damn cool!

it starts not long after that. the prayers. his people are praying to him, as if he's some kind of god.

thats when he realizes. he can pray to the gods. he can pray to the gods, and they will only ever know the temple it came from. and really he's spent so long worrying over not just his blorbos but also his whole village, and really what is he if not an anonymous millenial internet troll.

and so it begins.

[slasherslittlesimp]

Cursed (Avengers X Reader)

PART ONE

Dark circles rest beneath your glazed (E/C) eyes that stare blankly ahead in an unfocused daze. Your hair is greasy and unbrushed, having not been touched in quite some time. Your hands are trapped against your sides as the black leather straight jacket you're forced to wear prevents them from moving- To prevent them from tearing the muzzle from your face.

Due to your rather strong and problematic ability, your captors keep a rather tight muzzle on you at all times. It's controlled by a small handheld device that can unlock it from a distance which allows them to give you access to your ability without putting themselves in harms way. Usually they stick you in a secure room with whoever it is they need you to use your ability on before allowing your muzzle to fall off so you can do as instructed. Once the task is complete, they wait until you place the muzzle back on before retrieving you and returning you to your small room.

The muzzle is high tech not only due to the fact it can be removed remotely, but also because it can cause you immense amounts of pain should it be attempted to be removed in any other way. You learned the hard way that trying to pry it off with your hands will lead to strong volts of electricity coursing through your face, the pain damn near killing you. Since then you've been forced to wear the black straight jacket to keep you from trying again. Not that you would.

You're an extremely useful asset to them- probably the strongest that they have. While they don't particularly care about your comfort or most basic needs, they do care about keeping you alive for as long as possible. Anything that could be a risk to your life is always kept far from you almost as if they think you'd be willing to take your own pathetic life. You wouldn't, but they don't really believe that.

It's why you're almost always strapped and muzzled like a wild beast. The only times your arms and mouth are free is when they need you to do your job or when you're eating. They always send in an agent to undo the straps of your jacket to allow you minimal use of your hands- so you can eat and put your muzzle back on on your own. Once the muzzle is secure on your face once again, the same agent will come back to restrain you once again. You've spent most of your life with your arms folded up in the restricting jacket that it almost feels unnatural to move them in any other way.

You've no idea how long it's been like this, either. Since your capture, you haven't seen the outside world except for handful of times- though that was long ago. Since then not even a passing glance through a window. You've been confined to the same small section of the base only moving between two rooms that are separated by a long hallway. There's dozens of other doors along the walls of the hallway yet you've never once been through any of them. You've also never seen them be opened. It makes you wonder if there's even actually anything in those random rooms.

You're pulled back to reality when you hear voices outside of your room. Their voices are quiet and somewhat muffled but if you focus hard enough you can almost make out what it is that they are saying over the sounds of the alarm. You don't recognize the voices, but then again there's hundreds of agents in this horrendous group and you know that you haven't met more than a few.

"Are you stupid?!" One of the voices sounds almost exasperated as they hiss the words at whoever it is they're talking to.

"She can help!" The other person argues, his voice slightly louder than the others.

"Help who? Because as far as I'm concerned she's more likely to help them." You can tell that he's trying his best to convince the other person without raising his voice. He's likely trying to avoid detection since you know he probably isn't supposed to be in your section. "We wouldn't stand a chance if we released her and she decided to help them."

"We don't stand a chance regardless!" He sounds almost desperate as he practically pleads with the other man. "She's our only chance! We're screwed without her!"

There's a slight noise you can't identify before the other man responds. "Do you honestly think that the asset will help us fight after everything that has been done to her?"

"Maybe we should let her free regardless. I mean, she's a human being and yet she's treated like a damn dog. I think we should let her go with them." His voice is soft as he speaks to the point where you can barely make out what he's saying.

"We'd be killed for that. Are you really willing to throw your life away for some girl you've never even met?"

The question is met with silence, leaving you unaware of what's happening outside of your door. All you know is that apparently the base is under attack and that there's a chance that whoever it is will save you. That is unless you decide to fight against them should you be released from your restraints. If you are released, you're almost certain that you'll remain neutral, not helping either side as you hate using your powers.

The next thing you hear is a commotion outside of your room which sounds a lot like people fighting. You're unsure if the two men from before are still out there or not but if they are then they will likely lose the fight against whoever it is they're facing. If they were scared enough to consider releasing you then their opponents must be quite strong.

The fight outside your room lasts for a few minutes, the grunts and yells being the only sounds until everything suddenly goes silent. The sudden silence is disrupted by doors opening and closing as whoever remains searches through the rooms. You're unsure what they're searching for but whatever it is they're looking for must not be in any of them as they quickly move to the next room.

They grow closer and closer to your room, the sounds of the doors growing louder until they stop right outside of your room. You stare at the large metal door blocking you from whoever it is outside of your room, waiting patiently to see if they're going to open it or not. For some reason they seem to be taking longer to open it compared to all of the other doors. Is there a difference between yours and those ones? Perhaps. You've never noticed it if there is.

You can't help but to flinch slightly as the mechanical lock whirs before clicking loudly. You instinctually hold your breath, fearing that it may be one of your caretakers coming to collect you. The handle slowly turns as if taunting you before the door finally swings open allowing you to fully hear the blaring alarms.

A woman you've never seen before steps into the room, her eyes instantly landing on your figure as you sit on the edge of your bed. You stare at her with dull eyes, sending a shiver down her spine- something that she doesn't normally experience no matter what she's facing. Her brows furrow slightly as she examines you, her mind likely racing.

Her eyes trail from your messy hair to your muzzle, then down to your leather straight jacket and torn baggy pants before landing on your dirty bare feet. Her gaze then flickers quickly around your room, taking in the bare minimum that is inside the concrete cell. All there is in your room is your thin lumpy mattress which sits on a wire frame and a dirty metal toilet in the corner with a sink on the back of it.

"I've found something you might want to see." Her voice is low as she speaks, likely talking into her comms that connect her to the rest of her group. You can't hear whatever the person on the other side says but she nods before informing them of her location.

After that she takes a step further into the room, seeming slightly hesitant to get any closer to you. Despite the fact that you obviously would be unable to effectively fight her, she's still wary since she has no idea what you're capable of. It's quite obvious that you must be at least somewhat powerful if they've gone as far as to both muzzle and restrain you.

"Are you alright?" She questions as she keeps her gaze locked on you. It's a question you haven't heard in a long time- nobody here cares how you're doing. What they care about it whether or not you can do your job. Slowly, you nod, letting her know that you are fine and willing to interact.

She doesn't say anything else to you as somebody else comes down the hall, calling what you assume is her name. She shouts back, letting them know which room she's in. A few seconds later a man comes into the room, his eyes on Natasha before flickering over to you. He seems surprised, his brows raising slightly.

"We weren't informed of there being anyone other than agents and scientists here." The man murmurs as he steps forward to stand next to Natasha. "Any idea who she is?"

Natasha shakes her head as she crosses her arms over her chest. "I haven't found the servers yet to download their files. What should we do, Cap?"

"We take her with us for now. I doubt she'll be able to do anything while wearing all of that." He gestures at you as he looks over your restrictive outfit.

Natasha nods in agreement before moving forward. You try your best to keep from flinching as she gets closer, your eyes warily watching her. She watches your reaction for anything negative as she reaches forward before her small hand wraps around your bicep. You allow her to pull you to your feet, her grip tight to keep you from running. She leads you from the room as the both of you follow after the rather large male as he makes his way down the hall to check the remaining rooms.

You personally have no idea where the server room is so you can't really help them- not like you'd be able to vocally inform them anyways. You're all just blindly wandering from room to room, you watching them both skillfully take out any agents in their way before moving on. Finally, after what felt like hours of walking around, you all stumble into the server room where towers and computers fill the room with a blue glow.

"Let's see what secrets we can find today, shall we?" Natasha smirks as she steps away from your side to plug a drive into one of the towers. You know that the first thing she'll look at will be your file. You can only hope that her and the man she called Cap are better people than the ones you've spent most of your life with.

Part Two

[kesujo]

I got to ask, would OT9 SNSD sleep with men younger than them?

Hmm...

(ALSO SORRY THIS IS LATE I WANTED TO PUT SOME EFFORT INTO THIS 😭)

EDIT: added Jessica. SORRY, FORGOT TO MENTION HER :'C

Taeyeon

So Taeyeon has sorta proved that she's willing to go younger, but also, Taeyeon has 182349014810% dommy mommy energy tbh. Like...

...yeah...

That's the face she gives you before she rides you for the entire night and drains you completely dry. Ma'am. Respectfully. Or, actually, disrespectfully. To me. Please disrespect m--

I mean.

...

:)

BUT ANYWAYS, Taeyeon's a switch in my headcanon; she doesn't mind being sub, but if she learns that she's older than you, esp. if the age gap is like, >3years, then she'll use that to her full advantage. She gets off work at 12am and calls you, and despite being asleep, the special ringtone she has set for herself on your phone wakes you up, and when you pick up, groggy and barely awake, Taeyeon demands that you come over to her house, now. You try to protest, citing the time, but she just sends you one picture of two of her digits knuckle-deep inside her pussy, along with the caption, "this could be your dick right now", and you jump out of bed and are tripping over yourself to get out the door. And when you get there, Taeyeon makes sure to make it worth your while and spoil you like the good mommy she is.

😌

Sunny

So, Sunny has long expressed a disinterest in romantic relationships, but I guess that doesn't exclude sexual relationships. I feel like Sunny wouldn't care too much about age, as long as it's not like, too much...?

But someone who can look like that isn't someone who would limit herself to just older guys, I feel. I could see her sorta liking having a puppy-like guy scrambling to worship her.

Jessica

Out of all of SNSD OT9, Jessica gives off the 'rich girl' vibes the most. She also rocks that look tbf

Idk if I'm stereotyping too hard, but it also gives me the impression that Jessica also tends towards older men - also, pretty sure she's still with Tyler Kwon, who's older than her?

BUT, I feel like if the younger man sorta gives off like, mature-beyond-his-years kinda vibes, I feel like Jessica might fw that. But like, damn. Sica sorta packin, huh. That Tyler guy has it good.

Tiffany

Honestly, I feel like Tiffany wouldn't want younger guys. I feel like she's the type of woman who absolutely does not want to feel like she's taking care of her partner. HOWEVER, if it's just sexual, then...?

^Tiffany sends this over to you with a message like "feeling kinda bored ... kinda empty ... if you know what I mean ;)" ... :dumjj:*47123984172459

TIFFANY IS CHRISTIAN THOUGH. So I feel like she wouldn't really partake in casual sex that much? Maybe she'd make exceptions, but I feel like Tiffany is the type of woman who wants to be exclusive to her man and doesn't really like the idea of sleeping around, or even sleeping with someone she doesn't feel she's exclusive with, so I sorta doubt there'd be many men who can get Tiffany to make himself an exception for her.

Hyoyeon

Sweet, innocent Hyoyeon. I think the order of introverted-ness goes Sunny/Taeyeon > Hyoyeon? Honestly, I sorta initially thought Hyoyeon would be an extrovert when I learned she liked going clubbing and whatnot, but I guess that doesn't always mean they're extroverts.

I can imagine Hyoyeon not really being the type to ask for the man's age and gets right into it, while I can imagine Taeyeon/Sunny might want to know if they're older so they know if they have, like, 'permission' to act as the noona. Although, tbh, even if Taeyeon was younger than me, I'd still call her mommy.

Yuri

I feel like it's hard to tell with Yuri ... I feel like she, like Hyoyeon, might not be the type to really ask about the age, or in fact may even tell the man to not tell her his age?

Def. seems like the type to want to just get on with it. No fluff or casual conversation, just, "come on already, tear off my panties and fuck me until I can't walk tomorrow".

:dumjj:

Sooyoung

Well, Sooyoung's been in a relationship for ... how long? 12 years? And her boyfriend is older than her, soo I'd say that it's pretty clear indication that, at least, Sooyoung does seem to prefer older men. Sooyoung seems like a very dedicated, loyal type of woman, SO IF SHE WEREN'T IN A RELATIONSHIP -

Tbh, I feel like Sooyoung wouldn't really wanna deal with a younger man either LOL. But man, is that a shame because just FKING LOOK AT HER. WHAT THE FUUKCKKKK

Yoona

Getting into the maknae line of SNSD. Despite Yoona being the 2nd youngest though, recently ...

... she's been giving off mommy energy ... and I will happily bark for her if she

What?

Never mind.

Point is, she can tell me (a younger male) to do whatever she wants me to do. She commands me to bark, I ask how loud.

Also respectfully. Mom--Ma'am. 😌

Seohyun

Seohyun too ... she's the baby of SNSD and always will be, but FK is she less conservative about showing off how sexy she is recently.

And MAN am I glad she has. She probably has like a nude-colored shirt or something underneath that dress, but I can also just imagine that it's like, see-through and that she's sorta practicing some hidden voyeuristic tendencies in public, right?

No? She's too baby?

You still gonna tell me she too baby?

... man, gotta get working on that Seohyun chapter for 'The Pet of Kim Taeyeon', huh...

...

:D

But to answer the prompt, I also feel like she, like Tiffany, does not want to deal with a younger man. As she said in an interview, she has very high standards in men and desires a man that has lived as well as she has, which I think will generally exclude a lot of men younger than her. Maybe, if the younger man is exceptional, then Seohyun would perhaps make an exception? Or maybe she'd want to just let go for just one day and get railed for an entire night by a younger man with endless stamina. 🤔

[alltimecharlo]

hello hello!! i would love a fic of jealous!mack and absolutely smitten will (well thats them in every life but stay with me)

like if mack was jealous of leno?? and leno and will r so confused why mack hates leno and at the end leno says u dumbass will is in love with you and will is like theres no competition in my eyes 😍😍 HAHAHA something like that if u catch my drift hehe

oooo, certainly!!! fic under the cut :)

Mack knows he’s being stupid.

He knows it. He's self-aware enough for that much, at least. But it doesn't stop the sharp, bitter feeling from clawing up his chest every time he sees Leno throw an arm around Will’s shoulders, laughing into his ear like they’re sharing the best secret in the world.

It’s late afternoon, golden light spilling into the BC quad, and everyone’s sprawled across the grass like they’ve got nowhere better to be. Will’s in the middle of it, as always, sun lighting up his messy hair, smiling so big Mack feels winded just looking at him.

And Leno is right there.

Of course.

Mack crosses his arms tighter over his chest, standing a little apart from the group, pretending he's invested in the frisbee game going on behind them.

He isn't.

"Dude," Gabe says, wandering over with a lazy grin, "you look like you're trying to set Leno on fire with your brain."

"Shut up," Mack mutters, because he is and he hates that Gabe can tell.

Gabe snorts, clapping him on the back. "Chill, man. They're like... brothers or something. I don't think Leno even knows how to flirt."

Mack glares at him. "I'm chill."

"Yeah. Sure. The chillest," Gabe says, clearly trying not to laugh as he saunters away.

Across the grass, Leno says something that makes Will laugh, tipping his head back, exposing the long line of his throat, and Mack has to physically restrain himself from marching over there.

He’s fine. Everything’s fine.

Until Will catches his eye and beams, bright and stupidly beautiful, and waves him over.

Mack's legs move on their own.

"Mack!" Will says when he gets close enough, eyes crinkling at the corners. He’s so happy to see him that Mack forgets, for a second, that he’s supposed to be pissed. "Come sit! Leno’s telling that story about the time he almost got arrested for trying to rescue a cat from the library roof."

"It was a daring mission," Leno insists, puffing out his chest.

Will dissolves into laughter again and Mack feels his heart thump traitorously hard.

He flops down next to them, close enough that his knee brushes Will’s, and tries not to look like he’s in physical pain.

Leno grins at him, all easy and friendly. "Yo, Mack. You ever climbed a roof?"

"No," Mack says flatly.

Will nudges him with his elbow, teasing. "You don't know what you're missing."

"I’m good," Mack mutters, staring at the grass.

Will frowns a little, studying him. "You okay?"

"Fine."

Will doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it go, turning back to Leno with a shrug. They start talking about something else — a party this weekend, maybe — but Mack doesn’t really hear it. His head’s too full of static.

He's so stupid. Will's allowed to have friends. Will's allowed to be close to people. Will’s… not his.

Except —

Mack glances over and catches Will looking at him again, a small crease between his brows like he’s worried.

Later, after the sun dips low and everyone starts to scatter, Mack hangs back, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the sidewalk.

Leno claps him on the shoulder on his way past. "Good hanging, man!"

Mack grunts something noncommittal.

Will lingers. Of course he does.

"Alright," Will says, coming to stand right in front of him, hands shoved in his pockets, rocking on his heels a little. "What gives?"

Mack shrugs, suddenly wishing he was anywhere else.

Will tilts his head, studying him. "You’ve been weird all day."

Mack says nothing.

Will raises his eyebrows, waiting.

Before Mack can implode from awkwardness, Leno calls back over his shoulder, "Dude, Will's in love with you."

Mack jerks his head up, staring.

Will looks equally confused. "Huh?"

Leno rolls his eyes, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "Yeah, you dumbasses. Will’s totally gone for you."

Will flushes pink, mouth opening and closing helplessly.

Mack’s brain scrambles to catch up, heart slamming against his ribs. "Wait, what?"

Leno just throws up a hand like he's done dealing with them and wanders off.

Will turns back to him, fidgeting, cheeks burning. "I—he’s exaggerating—"

Mack, still reeling, blurts out, "You’re… into me?"

Will laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck. "Kinda hard not to be."

Mack feels like the world has tilted under his feet, like he’s seeing everything in a new, blinding light. Will—Will—looking at him like that, open and fond and terrified.

And suddenly everything, everything, makes sense

Will’s face does something dangerous then — softens, splits into this huge smile that knocks all the air out of Mack’s lungs.

"Mack," Will says, laughing a little, incredulous. He steps closer, close enough that Mack can feel the heat of him. "There’s no competition in my eyes."

Mack blinks at him, brain short-circuiting.

Will just keeps smiling, stupidly fond, and leans in, bumping their foreheads together, gentle and easy and sure.

Mack thinks he might die.

"You’re it for me," Will says, soft like a secret.

Mack breathes out a shaky laugh, dizzy with it. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Will says, grinning. "Total dumbass."

Mack’s cheeks hurt from smiling. "Takes one to know one."

Will laughs and kisses him, quick and sweet, and Mack decides he doesn’t mind being a dumbass if it means he gets to keep this forever.

♡

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Walter Marshall

Summary: Walter takes you shopping for a new bed.

Warnings: Size discrimination. Please let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Reader is short, female. No other physical descriptors used.

Previous

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

"Do we have to do this Walter?" you whine as you get out of the truck.

"If you want me to stay overnight at your place again, yes," Walter replies. "That thing you call a bed can barely support the two of us when we're just resting, let alone when we're getting frisky. And I'm too old for the floor."

"Well why can't I just get you a really big dog bed, then?" You smirk at Walter's fake glare as you scritch his chin. "Fine," you concede. "But I reserve the right to complain the whole time."

"Of course," he nods as puts his arm behind you, gently pushing you into the furniture store. "And I'm okay with you getting a couch instead, just so long as it's got better support."

"Thank you for respecting the limitations of my space," you nod.

It didn't hurt he'd also agreed to pay for half the thing since he was the main reason you were buying it. Or so you let him think. In truth, you knew you'd needed to upgrade your tiny little bed couch for a while now. It definitely wasn't doing your back any favors. You'd added pillows to try to make it cushier, but that was a temporary fix.

But going out to a store and actually buying a better option was its own kind of torture. Salespeople bugged everyone, of course, but they often took your shorter stature as reason to invade your personal space. At least when you were at work your uniform gave you a modicum of respect, a bit of a bubble for your safety. Without it, you were just another short person they could smile about looking down on. You were a target they could push into buying something you really didn't want. You weren't a shrinking violet, and happily bit back at them if they pushed too hard, but it was exhausting and shouldn't have to happen in the first place.

Walter could tell you were on edge but wasn't sure why. He chalks it up to your hesitancy surrounding change and big purchases. He's learned his lesson on trying to speak for you but he's happy to accompany you.

Once inside, you both go directly to the couches. They're more familiar for you and your sleeping habits. The fold out ones are also more sturdy for Walter's sake. There are some things you'd love to do to really test out which couch would be best for both of you, but you don't feel like getting arrested for indecency. He volunteers to scout out other areas but you hold onto his hand to keep him near.

"You're my guard dog right now," you whisper to him. He's not entirely sure what to make of it, but he nods in agreement, if not understanding.

It isn't long until you're approached by a salesman. His name tag says "Pete" and his smile is just shy of sleazy. His focus is clearly on Walter and he greets him with a smile and a handshake, barely looking at you.

"So what can I help the two of you?" Pete offers.

Walter doesn't say anything, just points to you. You smile a little at the double take Pete does but drop it immediately when he gets a little too close.

"So what are you looking for, little lady?" he asks, changing tactics.

"Some personal space," you say flatly as you glare up at him.

For a moment it looks like Pete's smelled something awful but he fixes his composure and takes a step back, almost bumping into Walter. "That's fair," he nods. "Anything else I can get for you?"

You tell Pete the dimensions and requirements you're looking for and he starts walking you towards the pricier options. When you realize what he's doing you immediately turn and start walking towards other, more reasonably priced options. It might be rude, but you've got a budget and he's going to have to respect that.

Walter sees a momentary scowl on Pete's face but keeps his own mouth shut. You're in charge here, and he's happy to see you throwing the guy off. He's definitely understanding more of your request that he be your guard dog. Especially when Pete looks at Walter like, can you help me out here? Walter gives him an unfriendly smile and gestures for Pete to follow you. You're in charge. The sooner Pete respects that, the sooner he can get a sale.

The only time Walter says anything is when you have him try out the couches with you. He gives you honest opinions as he flops down onto them, testing how they handle his weight and rough treatment. He happily steps between you and Pete whenever you need to think. Making sure Pete can't add pressure to the decision.

When you're ready to make a decision you tell Pete which one you want and in what color. He tries to upsell you on a few things and you agree to the one that actually does sound like a good idea. He retains his customer service smile as he gets the paperwork and tallies everything up but the rest of his body language indicates he's not happy. He really should be happy he got anything from you.

The paperwork gets signed and the couch will be delivered to your little apartment in a couple of weeks. You shake Pete's hand and turn to head out. Walter also shakes his hand and Pete grumbles, "I don't understand how you can be so completely whipped for a chihuahua like her."

Walter squeezes Pete's hand extra hard, making the man wince. "Not my fault you can't handle a strong, intelligent, woman with an independent streak. Though now it makes sense why you're still single."

In the cab of Walter's truck you let yourself decompress. He climbs in soon after you do and starts the engine.

"I think I'm understanding a bit more of why you didn't want to do this," he starts. "So I want to thank you, again, for being willing to do so."

"Well, you weren't wrong about the couch needing to be replaced," you confess. "I was just being really stubborn."

"Understandably stubborn," he consoles. "Lost track of how many times I wanted to smack him."

"I'm really glad you didn't. That you let me actually be in charge and didn't step in unless I asked you to. You're a good guard dog."

"Ruff," Walter playfully barks, making you smile. "So, as a thank you, I was wondering if you'd let me treat you to some Dairy Queen?"

"That depends," you tease. "How much of a bill can I run up?"

"Hmm...just don't order everything from the menu?"

"I can work with that," you smile.

Next

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @changenameno; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @kingliam2019; @kmc1989; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

A note on "Miraculous treads on very much explored territory and still fails epically".

Thomas Astruc used to work (as a crew member, not a leader, but still) on W. I. T. C. H.

Which is:

A magical girl show with team dynamics

A show that mixes episodic and serialized format

A show where two the male romantic interests have a massive role (Caleb is a main character on par with the six girls, and Matt has an epic character arc)

A show with a strong mystery element

A show with manipulative villains (sometimes with schemes reaolved within an episode! And sometimes longer), villains that turn out to be family members, sympathetic villains, loathsome villains... Great, complex villains, almost all of them

A mean girl quasi-redemption arc

A show that does all of the aforementioned elements very well. Also, better diversity despite being 10 years older.

Yet when I watch ML, I see no inspiration (despite many common motifs), no lessons learned, no indication that the lead writer ever got anything from the experience working on that show. Unless the lesson was "W. I. T. C. H. got cancelled after two seasons, so everything about the show was wrong and we should do ML differently".

(Mind you, WITCH got more plot in two seasons than ML did in five, and still wrapped up the story fairly well)

Sorry for the rant. I kinda know that the explanation for "why is ML not like that" is "ML is forced to be an episodic show against its will", but also.

ML is trying very hard to pretend that it's More Than an Episodic Show and Not Only for Kids, and really doesn't measure up with shows with seemingly similar premises.

(Post that inspired this ask)

Before we get into it, if anyone likes fun theme songs and missed the American opening to W.I.T.C.H.'s first season then I have a treat for you!!!

Top tier opening song! Other countries were robbed!

Anyway, I agree with everything you said and this ask got me curious about the writing staff. I started doing some digging and a lot of them appear to have worked on other shows that would fall with the same genres as Miraculous. Many of those shows were even episodic formula shows that reserved the serialized elements for season finals and specials (looking at you Code Lyoko!) That doesn't shock me, but it does just add to my curiosity as to what the heck is going on with Miraculous.

These aren't new comers to the industry in over their heads, they're established professionals! Why are they struggling so hard to tell a good story while working with an incredibly simple premise? Why are aren't they embracing the show's limits and making it the best it can be in its chosen category? I'd love to know the full story, but alas, I likely never will. My best guess is that commercial success has got to their heads and so they're convinced that any criticism they see can't possibly be valid. At least, that's what the head writer's twitter feed seems to suggest every time I see screen caps from it...

[ang3lzi]

Can I request headcanons of how would it be like to date Steb, Vander, Jayce, Viktor, Silco, Ekko, and poly Jayce and Viktor with gn s/o please?

⋆.˚ Arcane men x gn!reader ⋆.˚

Hii, thank you so much for requesting!! I hope you enjoy these 💗

Summary: arcane men dating headcanons

Tags: silco x reader, vander x reader, Jayce x reader, Viktor x reader

Silco

Silco is protective in a very subtle way. He doesnt show it, but he cares a lot. He would burn down the world to make sure you're okay. He would do things like sending Sevika off to follow you around to make sure you're safe.

If you were having a bad bad or stressful day, he'd sit you down on his couch and pour you a drink.

I feel like you'd be in his office a lot with him. Drinking, smoking, cuddling, all in his office.

His office would also smell like whiskey and nicotine but whatever

Silco likes to hold you in his arms when he's stressed.

Vander

Expect big, long bear hugs!! Especially when you're sleeping 😭 He'd cling onto you like life support.

He would accidentally show you off to everyone at last drop.

If Vander knew you were having a hard day, he'd have your favourite drink and meal waiting for you on the counter.

The kids would adore you and see you as a second parent. Especially Vi since she's always the one taking care of everyone else. She needs somone to look for help too.

Vander would sometimes stand behind the counter, watching you play with the kids. It melts his heart seeing how happy you make them. He had always dreamed of settling down one day and having a family.

Ekko

He loves seeing you smile. He would do the stupidest things just to hear you laugh or smile.

He would make little gadgets for you such as handmade bracelets!!

Ekko really knows how to cherish you. He had lost so many loved ones, too many actually.

He does this by holding you extra tight some nights or by remembering every little thing about you.

LOVES to take you out on rooftop dates. Sometimes you talk, sometimes you just lay there together in peace, gazing up at the twinkling stars.

If you get too cold at night he'd build a projecter so you can still see stars with him.

Steb

Steb Would always, and I mean always make sure to check up on you!

"You sleep alright?"

His love language is definitely acts of service. He's the type of guy to lend you his jacket even if he's on the verge of getting hypothermia. Even if you'd refuse multiple times.

"Dont be stupid, it's cold."

He's not very good with words but he trys.

"I'm not good at talkin' but I'm good at stayin'."

Jayce, Viktor + Poly Jayce and Viktor

Jayce

Jayce is definitely the dreamer typer. He makes sure to support your dreams, even if you think they're silly.

"That’s brilliant. You have to go for it."

Jayce loves to rest his head in your lap.

He’s constantly touching you!! He'd hold your hand under the table at long meetings, press kisses all over your face after not seeing you for a couple of hours and press his forehead against yours.

Viktor

The first thing he sees is your mind. Not your looks or body.

To Viktor, intelligence and creativity and curiosity is the most important thing in a person.

He makes sure to prioritise you over work.

He leaves little notes around his desk to remind him to take a break and come see you, he even sets timers to remind himself.

Late at night, viktor's idea of relaxing is telling you his latest theories or what he found out at work today.

Poly Jayce and viktor

You're the center of their little world.

Viktor and Jayce balance eachother out. Viktor loves listening to you and teaching you while Jayce loves holding you and making you laugh!

With this, they make you feel adored from very angle possible!!

[concretejunglefm]

hello, jester here. xoxo i had a Thot today that i thought you might appreciate, but there's no pressure to do anything with it. feel free to delete it if you want, even -- i just don't think i'll end up doing anything with it.

spent my shift at work thinking about reader with puppy!noah and puppy!folio. they try so hard to be well-behaved for you, but they *are* puppies. they can be mischievous. and sometimes it's hard to keep track of both of them, so you clip their collars together. (my first thought was a carabiner through the d-rings on the collars, but that may be an impractical length.)

good news: they're easier to keep track of. bad (better?) news: they end up getting all tangled up in each other. biting, licking, pawing. all whines and yips and soft little growls. they don't get into trouble, but you do end up with two very excited puppies on your hands. though they seem more than content to take care of themselves.. maybe you should leave them to it..

I think about these subby boys often, both playing with them and them playing together so this was an absolutely perfect thot. I hope this makes up for giving you angsty feelings 💕

CW: includes mentions of dry humping, slight cum play, voyeurism if you squint, just two collared pups being needy really.

NSFW below the cut 🔞 Minors DNI.

You see how tightly they’ve wound themselves around each other, a tangle of limbs and longing that begs to be unraveled—yet you don’t move. You simply watch, transfixed, as teeth graze skin and tongues trace paths of heat. Their bodies press together, desperate and shameless, rolling in rhythm until finally you see it; Folio pinning Noah beneath him.

That should’ve been the moment you stepped in and pulled them apart—especially since you’ve never seen them act like this before. Sure, they’ve roughhoused, play fought, but nothing like this. And honestly, you can’t even recall a time Folio ever came out on top—literally. But now, he’s straddling Noah, thighs bracketing his hips, wearing a smug grin like he’s won something. And Noah… Noah’s not protesting. The sounds slipping from his lips aren’t annoyed or demanding Folio get off, they’re needy.

You know your boys and the sounds they make, the ones they usually make just for you. But right now, it’s Noah who’s whining, desperate and needy for Folio. And Folio? He holds all the power in this moment, using it shamelessly as he presses their hips together, grinding their bulges in a tantalizingly torturous rhythm.

Even if they had noticed you were there, you doubt it would’ve made a difference, not with the way Noah’s eyes glaze over so quickly, or how Folio starts rutting against him like something feral with need. It’s messy, raw, and desperate—the kind of need they usually direct at you, clawing for just a taste of pleasure. But now, they’re seeking it from each other, and you can’t look away. You’re spellbound, watching as Folio plays with Noah, the way he submits so easily, so willingly. Especially when the smaller of the two sinks his teeth into Noah’s throat, suckling at the tender spot like he’s marking him, staking his claim the same way they’ve both felt you claim them.

Noah is completely undone by it all, the sounds spilling from him raw and almost animalistic. His hips lift, chasing friction, desperate for more, their bulges straining visibly against the fabric between them. They could touch, could undress each other if they wanted, but for a fleeting moment, they both glance your way, eyes silently pleading, as if waiting for your permission to go further. And really, who are you to deny them?

You nod, giving them the silent approval they seem to crave, but it’s not enough. So, you rise from your seat and sink to the floor beside them, kneeling. You reach out deliberately slow, as if helping them undress might somehow quell the hunger burning between them, might bring an end to their yearning for each other.

By the time you return to your seat, they haven’t wasted a second—they’re already lost in each other, too far gone for anything beyond desperate grinding. Folio’s ass fits snug against Noah’s cock, already slick with precum, while his own shaft drags across Noah’s stomach. You watch them move together in a frantic rhythm, all hands and mouths, their sounds rising and falling—muffled one moment, loud the next, depending on where their lips land.

It’s Noah who unravels first, too overwhelmed to hold back, spilling in thick, shuddering ropes beneath Folio. He twitches, hips jerking as Folio grinds down harder, like he’s trying to take it inside instead of just feeling it smear against him. But that’s all it takes and Folio’s right behind him, coming apart with a gasp, his release streaking across Noah’s chest and stomach in messy, claiming lines.

You’d think they’d stop now, that they’d finally burned off whatever need had driven them to this, but they don’t. Even with the awkward angle caused by their new clip, they keep going, and you can’t bring yourself to unclip it. Not now. You watch as Folio leans down, attempting to lick his own mess from Noah’s stomach—just enough to taste. And that taste seems to be all it takes for their mouths to find each other again, lips crashing together in a messy, eager kiss. A muffled hum escapes Noah, one of clear approval, as he deepens the kiss, clinging to Folio’s tongue like it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. And honestly, you can’t argue—they’re both utterly delectable.

[alexanderlightweight]

Happy Wednesday! Hope you're having a good week.

I'm currently doing a ton of gardening and trying to get lots of flowers to grow from seeds. So, for a prompt, something with Alec or Magnus planning gardens, maybe for each other. Or anything garden or plant related.

Thank you!

thank you! it... omg its pretty much Wednesday. fuck I feel like I can finally breathe a little. tomorrow is a crazy busy morning but ITS WEDNESDAY! hope you are having a good week!

i am so happy okay, I only just realized that. it's been super busy. its been a bit but I hope your gardening did well? and that is is doing well again this year?

i hope you enjoy this, inspired by gardening and the obsessive amount of pollen we're dealing with

<3 lumine

-

in his wake petals fall

Alec sneezes and then hurriedly stops breathing so as to not provoke another.

Several feet away Magnus has paused from where he’s lovingly tending to a very beautiful new pot of flowers.

The minor stiffening of his shoulders finally untenses the longer the silence last and finally, he goes back to what he was doing.

Alec waits a minute longer, gratefully inhales and then mentally sighs as he sneezes the very next moment.

“I knew it!.” Magnus turns with fury and his fingers have already snapped, no doubt either banishing the plant from existence or to Ragnor’s garden — which is close enough to the former that it still counts. “You are allergic!”

“I’m sensitive.” Alec counters, because he is not going to let Magnus get away with this assumption. Magnus is not taking away an entire genus of flowers simply because Alec sneezes over pollen being directly blown in his face. “You didn’t have to get rid of it.”

Magnus huffs, as if it’s conceivable to even consider keeping the plant.

As if it were the plants fault that Alec is allergic to some demonic species just by merit of his own nephilim heritage.

“And Cat is making me that potion, remember. So that it won’t be a problem much longer.” Alec’s not sure if it’s the reminder that Cat has a solution, Alec fluttering his lashes at Magnus or the fact that Alec will actually be sad about this that does it.

—-

Magnus sighs, because perhaps Alexander has made a point or two and also because his darling is pouting at him with a very sad face and as cute as it is, Magnus still hates to see it.

“Of course, darling. You’re right. I’ll simply put the rest of this batch under a ward then, shall I?”

Alexander — being brilliant as he usually is — immediately backs away and far from range so that the pollen won’t further attack him.  Therefore, Magnus won’t be forced to defend his husband with fire and then make his lovely boy sad because he destroyed the rest of the plants they bought together.

There’s no hope for the one Magnus exiled to Ragnor’s.

Done with that, Magnus is about to join Alexander when the breeze picks up as he steps out of the wardline and Alexander sneezes... while facing Magnus.

“It’s the pollen, not you.”

As sweet as that is, it really doesn’t make Magnus feel any better as he first magically purifies himself and then quickly walks to the large outdoor shower that he and Alexander designed together.

“No, I’ll only be a moment, petal.” Magnus shoos his Alexander away, letting the vines gather to keep his darling far enough away so as to not be exposed.

Alexander’s outraged expression before the ivy covers the opening is charming, but alas Magnus knows exactly how poorly Alexander responds to long term exposure.

No amount of Alexander’s tempting visage will induce him to change his mind. However there is less of a chance if Magnus can’t see his face.

Even if showering alone is rather lonely.

AN:

Magnus and the plants have a war going on. if they hurt Alec, they're out.

Alec and the plants have a secret understanding that Alec tries hard not to let Magnus know when one of the plants hurts him.

Magnus and Alec overly love each other the everything else suffers except Alec also suffers a little but that's fair because sometimes he won't let Magnus join him for decontamination showers either.

[whatisamildopinion]

thinking about Aasimar au warlock Kristen again (wow what a series of words lmao) so have some more silly thoughts about it:

- when Kristen first multiclasses Fig says "don't worry, I got you, I know a lady" and drags them both to see Zara. Zara looks at these two (Kristen, literally about to vibrate out of existence with excitement and happiness, Riz, looking like he's five seconds away from hyperventilating to death) and is like "oh this one's gonna be interesting"

- Zara Sool takes one look at this poor rogue-paladin-patron who looks like he's gonna have a mental breakdown, but deep in his heart trusts Kristen enough to dedicate his love and his time and his magic and his oath and his goddamn soul to this girl (warlock relationships are about exchange, after all, even if he doesn't know that yet. Kristen isn't the only one who's handed away her soul to safer hands with this) and says ">:) I'm gonna trick this boy into talking about his feelings." the following conversation goes pretty much like this:

Zara: look it's really safer for Kristen herself if you tell her what's going on with yourself emotionally, otherwise you might make a faulty contract, which will put her soul in danger.

passive investigation of 21 Riz: >:((( you're trying to guilt trip me

Zara: yeah, is it working????

Riz: ..............maybe

- following Zara's intervention, Riz and Kristen sit down and have a real conversation about their fears and their struggles and the things they want from their lives. Riz admits that he's scared that none of them will stay together after high school and that's why he's pushing so hard to keep them together. Kristen tells him that, yeah, she can't guarantee what will happen after high school, but that they're all prepared to work to keep their friendships, and that she in particular is gonna make sure she's always always friends with him. Kristen talks about the specific things she's been struggling with between school and her religion and they make a plan to help her and also actually talk to Jawbone and Sandra Lynn because Jesus this girl needs help. so after this conversation they make the most detailed fucking contract that has ever been (Riz's anxiety goes crazy) and they show up back to warlock class like "is this good?" and present Zara with an absolute mess of a document that is overflowing with footnotes and sticky notes and annotations and is written in this unholy mess of common-goblin-celestial-rogue cipher, but she kinda quizzes them on it, and lo and behold, they have it fucking memorized

- Riz is still pretty worried so Zara fully enlists her paramour to come down and talk him into being a little bit calmer. Zara and her paramour think this is the cutest thing ever.

- Zara tells Riz he can audit warlock class if he's still nervous about it but he's like "fuck no, if I'm taking a class I am damn well gonna get credit for it" and gets his mcat signed to do three classes. Fig-Kristen-Riz are the terrors of the warlock class but also the best students Zara has ever had. everyone both loves and hates them in there (but mostly loves. they're just too cool)

-after The Conversation, Kristen drags Riz to have another Conversation with the rest of the bad kids, and they echo all her sentiments about staying friends even if they go their separate ways after high school (except Adaine and Riz, who nail down that at least they are gonna go to college together). so even though it feels super unnatural, Riz kind of takes a breath like a whole half a year early. he stops pushing them so hard to perform academically, but the rest of them finally understand why he was doing that, and also understand the consequences of the party failing a little more. so they're all just trying their best, but more organically

- Kristen is technically borrowing from Riz's well of power, and he's not like, a full angel or anything (yet) but magic is a muscle. the more you use it, the stronger it gets. and again, warlock relationships are about exchange. so what happens is that as soon as Kristen starts using her warlock magic routinely, Riz finds that his smites are getting more powerful??? his radiant soul damage is increasing???? he suddenly has access to spell slots he shouldn't??? turns out, power borrowed is power returned, and while his power base is incredible, Kristen is a much more accomplished spellcaster than he is, so she exercises his magic more effectively than he does, and he starts getting more powerful as she gets more comfortable in her powers

-Riz can feel whenever Kristen is using her warlock powers. sometimes she'll start eldritch blasting shit for fun along with fig and five minutes later her crystal will start blowing up like "kristen what are your doing that requires eldritch blast every ten seconds" and then she has to admit that she and fig were seeing who could eldritch blast tin cans off the roof of mordred better

-Riz's wings kind of start to, for lack of a better word, calcify? like, they're still intangible, but they start sticking around even when he's not in radiant soul form. just two ghostly, intangible wings always hanging out, and they only start to really glow when he actually turns on Radiant Soul. he has a flying speed now. he's also frantically researching whether or not its possible for aasimar to start organically rising to angelhood because THIS ISN'T NORMAL, KRISTEN STOP TRYING TO GRAB THEM! (everyone else is so enamoured with his wings. he starts using them like his tail to wrap around people and even though they're intangible everyone swears up and down that they feel cooler and calmer and safer when wrapped up in a Riz wing)

-Kristen and Riz start to more or less have the same magical signature because they're sharing so much power. a side effect of this is that if Kristen is in the room, and Riz is stealthing, even casting something like Detect Evil and Good won't give him away, because his aura is so much like Kristen's and vice versa. they abuse this relentlessly to get Clues. kristen is team distraction and riz is team extraction

-at some point Adaine approaches the two of them like "hey all this stuff that's happening is totally fascinating, can I write a research paper about it?"

"sure," says Riz, "but only if you list us as co-contributors for college credit and stuff"

"well, duh," responds Adaine, and the three of them proceed to make the most detailed paper the world has ever seen about the magical and physical effects of a patron-warlock relationship between two mortals. it comes out sometime in their senior year and the magical research community loses their shit

-Kristen gets up to second level warlock in junior year, and her eldritch invocations are Eldritch Mind and Eyes of the Rune Keeper. the first time she realizes she can just read every single language her friends speak she cries. also she's sooooo scary now. she can hold two concentrations at once AND has advantage on concentration checks. terrifying.

-soooo many prospective warlock students start approaching riz and fig for warlock powers. they didn't know you could just ask normal students!!! (riz and fig are not normal students but that is beside the point.) fig thinks it is amusing. riz thinks it is stressful. kristen thinks it is fucking stupid, like, it's not like he's gonna share, no, I'm not jealous, what are you talking about? at one point it gets so frustrating for riz that he gets up on a table in the middle of the lunch period and shouts "blanket statement for everyone who is not in my party, NO I WILL NOT BE YOUR PATRON, STOP ASKING!!!" the bad kids think it's the funniest thing, but they're also being hella protective of riz and fig. everyone stop BOTHERING them, no they're NOT interested in being your patron!! the number of physical fights that they've all gotten in because of this, in order of least to most, is riz (2, on behalf of fig), kristen (3, on behalf of riz), fig (5, on behalf of riz), fabian (7, on behalf of both), gorgug (8, on behalf of both), and adaine (14, on behalf of both). after about a month everyone has mostly taken the hint

-kristen develops a terrible habit of just. hexing anyone who even remotely annoys her. you were breathing too obnoxiously in class today? blocked hexed. you said something mildly shitty about one of her friends? hexed. aelwyn took the last bagel at breakfast and she really wanted it? hexed. she's experiencing the newfound freedom of being a hater. riz is texting her like "kristen why are you hexing someone at nine in the morning" and she's like "I am experiencing little sister rage for the first time in my life, leave me alone"

-Buddy Dawn does not know what the fuck to make of Kristen's warlock multiclass. she makes him fully bluescreen. Bobby Dawn and Kipperlilly, on the other hand, are absolutely incandescent with rage. they're gonna die mad about it.

-on the other end of the spectrum, Kristen and Riz break Bucky's brain open. he speedruns the emotional crisis that Kristen had freshman year when he Divine Senses their magical connection and nearly cries because he can feel this absolutely overwhelming love. he never knew anyone else could love kristen than fiercely. nothing that full of love could ever be bad

-ooouuuuuugggghhhhh there comes a terrible scene between riz and cassandra where she is like "she believes in you more than me" and riz has to be like "maybe. but that doesn't mean she doesn't believe in you. kristen has enough faith to go around. and so do I. I'm still counting on you too." it's about sharing the most important person in your life. self-recognition through the other (bittersweet). "I see why she loves you so much" says cassandra, and for the first time riz doesn't sort of still feel the nightmare king beneath her, and for the first time she feels him as someone to exist alongside without competing with. and riz, who is kind of sort of maybe ascending to angelhood, is not really becoming an angel of cassandra's pantheon, but he's also not not becoming that

-just. augh. kristen and riz are literally so sickeningly happy as patron and warlock. absolutely attached at the hip. best friends of all time. saint kristen applebees and her own personal guardian angel. they make me ill

anyway that is all, thank you for coming to my TED talk