#am i being unreasonable getting upset over this

[lazylittledragon]

well root my toot my man I wasn’t intending to be mean

didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or nothin, just informing you of something true. you’re very skilled, you’ve got a wonderful idea of depth and how to portray a character physically and designing clothes and body language, but u can’t grow if they’ve all got the same face, my man.

I hope you have a good day, and I’ll have you know I’m getting plenty of love. no need to be stabby abt anythin

i'm still trying to find where i ASKED you.

[slutdge]

Not to get deep here or anything but i really think i dont want to have a relationship with my sister anymore and ive been reflecting on that a lot. like sure she didnt abuse me or really do anything to directly traumatize me, but she voted against me having human rights because im queer, as well as voting for a party that wants to harm first nations people despite both of us being first nations i just.... i dont think i can forgive her for that. weve had laughs and good times together but i find myself unable to forgive her for her politics. i wouldn't tolerate bigotry from anyone else, i shouldnt tolerate it from someone just cause theyre family.

[avpd-henrytownshend]

i mentioned this on my main but i am actually so tired of constantly defending myself against my family. they are never on my side no matter what. i lost a job recently and i was upset, and the first thing a family member asks me is “Well what did you expect when you called off for your birthday before the holiday weekend?” i was like. what so i should have worked during my birthday? and they were like “Well I’ve had to work during MY birthdays before sooo.” like ???? and during the trial and error interviews I’ve had in the past when one fell through the first thing they’d ask me was “What did you do?” like i had some fucking scheme like it’s only ever my fault when these things happen. i get that sometimes it IS my fault when I lose out on an opportunity but why is that the very first assumption?

[seoulmatez]

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝒲𝒜𝒩𝒟𝐸𝑅𝐼𝒩𝒢 𝐸𝒴𝐸𝒮 — attractive things they do

info ⭑  includes: itoshi rin, shidou ryusei, oliver aiku, mikage reo, michael kaiser, yukimiya kenyu ﾉ suggestive bordering nsfw (minors do not interact) ﾉ all character written 19+  

₊˚ପ⊹ RIN guides you by your waist. when you’re playing around and purposely blocking his path, his arms stretch out to take a hold of you before effortlessly reversing your positions with the click of his tongue and an easy, lazy smirk. it’s also one of the few physical actions he’ll display in public, preferring it over holding hands or slinging an arm around your shoulders. he can see you this way, keep you in his sights. when you’re not paying any mind to your surroundings and nearly walk into traffic, he pulls you into him and gives you a squeeze, leaning down to whisper “be careful” against your skin. you jump at his touch and the feel of his breath tickling your ear, cheeks burning with the reminder of where his hands were roaming and exploring the night before.

₊˚ପ⊹ SHIDOU walks around the apartment in sweatpants that hang incredibly low on his hips. your focus shifts from the pot of water you’re waiting to boil to ryusei as he pads into the kitchen after finishing his shower. beads of water drip from his hair onto his bare chest and roll down his tanned skin until they reach his v-line. you don’t realize the water on the stove has come to a boil until shidou clears his throat, jerking his head at the stove. “you’re staring real hard, pretty,” he drawls with a lazy grin. it only takes a few strides for him to close the gap between the two of you. his hands grip the counter on either side of you, trapping you in place as fuchsia eyes filled with mischief stare down at your figure. “something more you wanna see?”

₊˚ପ⊹ OLIVER intently stares at your lips whenever you’re talking. to be fair, each conversation starts with his eyes on yours but they always happen to drift down to your mouth. he takes in their natural pout and the subtle shine that your chapstick leaves behind on them. eventually, his mind begins to wander. he thinks about how soft they would feel sucking hickeys onto the pulse of his neck and across his collarbone or wrapped around the head of his—"are you even listening?“ you ask with crossed arms, the corners of your lips turnings down in a frown. "of course i am,” he tells you, finally dragging his gaze up to your eyes. “i just hear you better this way, that’s all.”

₊˚ପ⊹ REO puts his hands over yours every time you reach for your wallet to pay. he can feel the way your fingers wriggle beneath his palm, but he ignores the movement, intertwining his fingers with yours while he pulls out his card and hands it to the cashier. he’s got more money to his name than he knows what to do with, so it only makes sense for him to spoil you. he might smile and breathe out a laugh when you slap his shoulder and frown, sulking about how you feel bad for spending all his money, but he hears you. if you really feel like paying him back, he can think of a couple of ways you could do so—some that are better suited taking place in the bedroom.

₊˚ପ⊹ KAISER tilts your chin up with his finger whenever you refuse to look at him. it shouldn’t surprise you, seeing him offer fans smiles and hugs, but you can’t help but think about it when the two of you are taking your leave. “are you seriously mad?” he asks from beside you, and it wouldn’t have upset you if he didn’t laugh like it was unreasonable. you scoff and roll your eyes but before you’re able to make it any closer to the door, you’re being tugged back. all too suddenly, kaiser is in front of you, his hooked finger angling your head up and forcing you to meet his azure gaze. “you know i only have eyes for you, right?” he murmurs, like his words are meant for you and you alone. he’ll show you that his statement holds true when you get home.

₊˚ପ⊹ YUKIMIYA uses the bottom of his shirt to wipe away his sweat. on the occasion that you accompany him to a weekend practice or individual workout, you tend to look out for it. after the intense training when he’s cooling down, you watch attentively as he drags the hem of his shirt across his upper lip to collect the beads of perspiration. the motion leaves his abdomen exposed, putting the defined lines of his abs and the trail of dark hair peeking out from his shorts on display. your staring isn’t as discreet as you think it is but yukimiya doesn’t mind it. even after he catches you gawking, he keeps his shirt pulled up so as to not interrupt your view. when finally do look up at him, he’s peering at you over his glasses, tongue running along his lower lip.

hey! it's manon :3 ! thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎

[gb-patch]

GB Patch Games: Response About Sensitivity Reader

[Some of you might not have heard of this happening, but I wanted to address it across the board]

Hey everyone,

I want to make a post about the screenshots of comments from one of our sensitivity readers. The situation is that neither me or Rose want people to feel uncomfortable with Our Life: Now & Forever, but Rose hasn’t done anything terribly wrong and isn’t going to be punished.

The comment about OL MCs wasn’t meant to be genuine hatred towards all male players/MCs of OL. Rose wrote a reply about it-

"Hi everyone! This is Rose, I want to address the male MC comment since it was taken wildly out of context and without the lengthy discussion that was after it. I don't hate male MCs, in fact far from it, male MCs are integral to the story in OL:NF as female and trans MCs are. I think the relationship they could potentially have with Qiu could be a great asset in my opinion as they figure out their gender alongside the MC. The discussion itself was about how I noticed players were sticking to heteronormative norms by shipping Tamarack with a man purely out of societal norms than it was genuine thought into the characters and how I personally wished there was more sapphic relationships with Tamarack or just Tamarack with trans characters as a sapphic trans person myself. I didn't mean to offend anyone by it as no one but my friends who understood what I legitimately meant behind my message and it definitely wasn't meant to be seen seriously. I am sorry regardless to anyone I have offended and I love your male MCs regardless."

And most of the comments were about me. I’ve seen screenshots of the full conversations and they’re not as harsh as the cropped snippets made them out to be. It was longer discussions about not including Derek in any base game Moments for no good reason and not having any plus-sized love interests in OL1 because I was afraid players wouldn’t accept it. That’s not a lie, it’s what I decided for the game I created, and it is ridiculous of me. I’m the one who should be feeling embarrassed over how OL1 will forever be that way, not the people who remember that I did that. I’m not perfect and Rose actually cares more about the players than making me feel like I am flawless.

I also don’t want to tone police an employee venting about their boss in private, on their own time. Both the OL games deal with personal, important topics. This is sensitive work, and it can bring up frustrations. Sometimes people do use harsh words among friends, but they wouldn’t ever say it to a person seriously and directly.

I understand if you wouldn’t want to see anyone speak badly of a dev you like, but I promise it’s not a point of contention between me and Rose. I don’t feel mistreated in anyway. Rose genuinely cares about the Our Life series, and that’s why they get fed up with me over certain parts of the game.

Rose has never been unkind or unreasonable to me when working on the project, and their advice is detailed and well-explained. They do care about the game and want it to avoid having content that upsets people because of my own ignorance/shortcomings.

This being shared publicly from a private server is targeting Rose and seems to be a continuation of things that have happened before this. I don’t want this to continue happening. If you do still have concerns over the one comment about the community, you can let me know. But again, I don’t want people being mistrustful of Rose on my behalf for comments about me in conversations with missing context.

Do not send angry messages to Rose about any of this. We’ll do our best so that OL2 will be better than I was before. Thank you to everyone who reads this and participates in the community!

[mistiell]

If you’re doing requests and it’s not too much trouble what about Astarion and getting patched up and taken care of by mc

Here you go babes <33 (Also, if he's a little out of character, I apoligize, I really did try my best lol) WC: 1k

---

“Ow! Gods, could you at least try to be gentle?” Astarion hisses at the sting of the salve you’ve concocted, startling you into jerking the cloth you’re using away.

You huff and drop your hands into your lap, brows furrowed in very clear annoyance, “I am trying. If you’d stop squirming, it wouldn’t hurt so much.”

“Well, if it didn’t hurt so much, I wouldn’t be squirming, would I?” He quips. You roll your eyes.

Taking his wrist ever so gently, you turn it so you can see the gash on his forearm, fingers deft and kind even despite his whining. He’s being difficult; unreasonable. You’d be justified in being cruel with him.

You’re careful not to press so hard as you swipe the cloth over the jagged edge of his wound, blood seeping into the fabric and staining the off-white linen a dark crimson. Mouth quirked down, your face is drawn tight with a frustration he’s never seen on you before.

He hates it.

The fabric catches with a jolt of pain and he flinches more than he would normally, startling you away again.

You tut at him, stern, “Astarion.”

Sighing, he returns his arm to you wordlessly and glances away with a small, “Sorry.”

“You should have been more careful.” You chastise as you press the cloth against his wound; firm, but not harsh. Never harsh.

He scoffs, rolls his eyes, “So you're saying this is my fault.”

He wasn’t being serious, but it seems you take it as such. Your nose scrunches, and for a split second, you look properly upset with him. He’s expecting you to snap at him, maybe shout and finally leave him to tend to his wounds alone as he usually would.

You don’t. Instead, you take a breath and sigh, looking rather disappointed.

“You know that’s not what I meant. Contrary to what you may believe, I do actually care about you and your wellbeing.” Your voice is void of any sort of humour as you look back at his arm. Swapping the soiled cloth for a smaller, cleaner one, you fold it in half and press it to his arm, not sparing him a glance as you instruct him, “Hold this.”

He does as you’ve asked, and a stifling silence engulfs his tent. As you rifle through some healing supplies, he tries to come up with a way to get you talking again.

“Why-,” His voice doesn’t come out right and he clears his throat to fix it. It comes out wrong anyway, “Why are you helping me? This wouldn’t have been the first time I’ve dressed a wound on my own, you know.”

“That doesn’t mean you should have to.” You reply as you begin securing the cloth to his arm with bandages, “No one deserves to suffer alone.”

The sentiment makes his stomach twist. “No one?” He huffs a wry puff of laughter, “Not even someone like Cazador?”

Your face contorts in abhorrence, “I meant good people don’t deserve to suffer alone. That bastard deserves every bit of suffering he has coming to him.”

He barely even registers the second part of what you’ve said, too busy reeling from the first.

Good people don’t deserve to suffer alone.

Good people.

“You... think I’m good?” He asks far too softly.

Finally looking back up at him, you look utterly confused as you nod, “Of course I do.”

He opens his mouth only to find he’s seemingly lost his voice. His gaze flits over just about every inch of your face, searching for any sign that you’re lying; a glance away, a twitch of your mouth. Anything.

He doesn’t find one. His heart sinks and sings simultaneously and suddenly, he can barely breathe.

“Why?” He murmurs. Part of him thinks he’s not equipped to cope with your answer.

There’s a moment where you just... look at him. He’d say staring, but he doesn’t think that’s quite what this is. What you’re doing would be better described as seeing him; all of him. His heart, his soul. Everything.

“Good people can do bad things and still be good, Astarion. And being good doesn’t always mean being a saint.” Your voice is kind; tender. Maybe a little joking towards the end. He guesses you’ve seen the apprehension on his face when your hands slide down his arm to cradle his own. Dipping to catch his gaze, your own is suddenly serious; unwavering, “What happened to you, the things you did. None of that was your fault. You told me what Cazador did to you when you disobeyed him. I’d be just as terrible to deem you a monster for going along with it knowing what would have happened to you if you didn’t.”

Your words strike him like a hard blow to the chest. Perhaps he’s not all that concerned with being a good person, but he’s never truly wanted to be evil, either.

Eyes stinging, he lets out a shaky breath through his nose as he cups the nape of your neck to guide your forehead to his lips. He lingers there for a moment before he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in tight, mumbling against your hairline, “Thank you.”

Snaking your arms around his waist, you squeeze him just as fiercely, “Of course, my love.”

The laugh that escapes him comes out too watery for his liking, but he finds he doesn’t mind quite as much when its only you around to hear, “‘My love’? Isn’t that my line?”

You snort, and he feels you smile against his collar, “Perhaps.” “You do know that reusing material that isn’t yours is in poor taste, don’t you, darling?”

“Hush.” You pull back smiling, shaking your head as you ask in faux exasperation, “Now, will you please let me finish bandaging this?”

He follows your gaze to his arm and huffs dramatically, “I suppose.” “Oh, you suppose, do you?” You sass as you take hold of his wrist again, careful not to wrap the bandages too tight, “Do you also suppose you’ll sit still for me this time?”

“I do.” He grins.

And he does.

[adventuringblind]

Defensive Maneuvers

Max Verstappen x Leclerc!reader

Genre: fluffy with a pinch of angst

Request: yes! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Requests are open for Max, Charles, Oscar, and lando. Don't hesitate to send me ideas!

Summary: The normally soft-spoken leclerc sister becomes the out spoken girl her family knows. What triggers this change? Max Verstappen and his ridiculous father.

Warnings: Jos being Jos, mentions of verbal abuse, mention of physical abuse if you squint, *best Daniel Riccardo voice* nooooot prooooofreaaaad

Notes: written in third person . I am neither the youngest nor have brothers, so I tried my best to get an accurate relationship depiction. Ironically, I'm the oldest with sisters.

Masterlist

The Leclerc sister is known by her brothers as the baby of the family. Even Arthur, who is only older by mere minutes, holds it over her head that she is the youngest.

The constant teasing from her siblings made her learn how to use her quick wit. Verbal comebacks becoming her specialty at a young age. Because of her ability to be polite in public, no one suspects what she is truly capable of.

Her brothers tease her regardless but she lets them. Her sharp tongue making them regret not holding theirs.

Pierre had made this mistake once. Mainly under the influence of Charles convincing him to say something at her expense. The verbal lashing he received in response had him apologizing profusely. Charles doubling over in laughter as her practically lectured his friend. Needless to say, Pierre has yet to make this mistake again.

Charles was by far her favorite sibling. Lorenzo had a habit of bossing her around and Arthur shared a room with her. She loved all her brothers, but felt the most connected to Charles. She followed him around like a lost puppy some days. Ready to cheer him on at every Karting race.

This was where she first encountered Max.

After the race, she went to go congratulate Charles for a race well done. He was third but all the Leclerc’s were proud nonetheless. On the way over to him, she saw Max. He was at majority of the races Charles was at. The two had never talked formally, but they were aware of the others existence.

Something about the situation she was witnessing didn’t felt right. Max was standing with his dad, his knuckles turning white from gripping his second place trophy so tightly.

As she walked by, she almost fell over at hearing how his father was treating him. The slander leaving his mouth over his son placing second almost made her tear up. She was only nine at the time, but even she knew whatever was happening was wrong.

So she steeled herself, took a deep breath, and entered into the conversation. She walked up and tapped Max’s shoulder. He jumped at the feeling, not having seen you coming.

“Hello Max, Charles is busy with family but wanted to congratulate you.” She smiled warmly at the Dutch boy. Obviously taken off guard.

Jos turned to her, also not knowing how to handle this. “Not much to congratulate,” he sneered. The young Leclerc narrows her eyes at him. Not realizing how brash the older man is.

“What do you mean, Mr. Verstappen? There is plenty to congratulate.” She questions back, her tone mildly snarky. Obviously having no intention of backing down. The older man didn’t even bothering responding to her. He turns on his heels and walks away. Yelling back to Max “I’ll be in the car.”

Max looks between the girl who he’d never spoken too and his father. Unsure of what he should do in this situation. Thankfully the girl notices this. “Sorry for stepping in. He sounded unreasonably upset.” She apologized with a huff.

“Thanks actually- for what you did.” Max stutters out. No one had ever taken the time to defend him.it was an unusual feeling. He knows he can’t stay long though. “I should go. I’ll see you around- I guess.” Then he runs off. Waving as he goes.

She had told her mother about it. The older woman explaining what was probably happening at home. It made her sad for the Dutch boy. Having to hear that it happens more often then just races.

This was only the first encounter with Max. The Leclerc sister made it a point to find Max after every race and praise for a job well done. Much to his fathers dismay. She knew she couldn’t stop what was happening, but maybe her words would help ease some of the hurt.

The girls mother occasionally helped out with her quest. Walking with her daughter to find the Dutch and congratulate him.

It became a routine. One that Max was starting to enjoy. The seeking out now being reciprocated. The two even finding time to converse about things aside from racing.

Max’s father had started to become increasingly more annoyed at this fact. Pulling Max away from you. Spitting vulgar words at a child that wasn’t even his own.

Pascals had made a note that if she was directly insulting to Mr. Verstappen, it might make things harder for Max. She still made her snarky remarks and threw insults at the older man, but only loud enough to make Max chuckle.

Her brothers eventually caught on. Charles and Arthur saying nice things to Max in passing. Charles was more strained, but was trying nonetheless.

The brothers began teasing her relentlessly as they grew up. Her fondness for Max only growing. Her quick tongue seemed to falter when they brought up Max. She held a soft spot for him, as he did for her.

When Max and Charles were in formula 2, she was incredibly proud of both of them. She divided her time equally between the two boys. Still always making sure to sing Max’s praises loud enough for everyone to hear.

Originally she though Max’s father would cool down and maybe start to see how talented he is, but she was mistaken. The older man somehow seemed to get more competitive.

It was increasingly easier to talk to each other now since the two both have phones. She comforted over video calls as he ranted about something stupid his father said to him. He listens to her talk about her fathers battle with illness. The two became inseparable. Being the reason for each others smiles on most occasions.

Then formula 1 came. Charles driving for Ferrari and Max for Redbull. The youngest Leclerc baskets in both boy finally making it. Years of hard work paying off.

Max no longer lived at home. Having moved to an apartment in Monaco. This meaning the two could spend more time together. The, now young woman, takes pride in that fact she convinced him to move closer to her.

She’d become more outspoken recently. Opening defending both her brothers and Max. Most people knew not to say anything if she was within earshot.

The year is now 2021 and Max and Lewis are both fighting hard for the championship title. Max was visible upset at the end the race. Second place wasn’t enough if Lewis is going to keep winning.

The young woman immediately trying to find him after the podium celebration. She had seen the look in his fathers eyes and is now frantically trying to beat him to Max. Charles and Arthur found her in a frenzy. Confused because she is usually calm, her sarcastic remarks and opinions given so level that you’d think it was rehearsed.

“I need to find Max.” She explained, panting from running around the paddock. They decided three sets of eyes would be better then one and split off in different direction.

She was so caught up in her search for Max that she hadn’t noticed her phone buzzing in her pocket.

A text from Charles reading: In the back of the Redbull garage. It doesn’t look good.

She took off running spotting snarled waiting for her outside. She could hear the commotion from Jos.

“I was going to try and break it up but they won’t let me in.” Charles gestures to the wall of Redbull engineers. She however, wasn’t going to let them stop her from getting to Max. She shoved her way through with determination and surprising strength. Immediately settling herself between the two Dutch men.

Jos had turned his anger towards her now. His finger getting dangerously close to her face. “You are part of the problem.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “The only problem currently is you.”

“My son has been distracted because of you. His hopes for a title this year not getting any better because of you.” He spits. She can feel his breath on her face.

“Personally, I think Max is a good racer because he wants to be. Not because of you or me helping or distracting.” She lets a smirk form on her lips. “Your just angry because your finally running out of things to berate him about. Hard to be angry when Max is better then you.”

Jos’ face had turned red. She could feel Max’s anxiety increasing from behind her.

Then everything happened in slow motion. She hadn’t noticed Jos’ hand raised above her. Charles moved faster then anyone. Shoving Jos to the side, his hand not getting to connect with anything but the nearest wall.

He was raging now. Thrashing like a child who didn’t get their way. Pierre and Charles who had somehow managed their way inside kept a firm grip on him as Christian ran to get security.

The Youngest Leclerc. The one who spent her days defending Max in secret, keeping the haters at bay never letting Max go a day without know he is loved. Finally she turned around and stared deeply into his eyes. Blue irises glasses over from tears he’d been holding back.

She embraces him warmly. His face buried into the crook of her neck. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.” She apologized softly.

Max pulled away and gives her a confused look. “On the contrary, I think you were right on time.”

Security had come and grabbed Jos to escort him out of the paddock. Charles and Pierre now finding then tension between the two heating up. The two boys giggling. “I swear if you two don’t kiss or something I will no play nice with Max.” Charles laughed.

She didn’t care about the teasing. Just taking time to comfort Max. The two still conjoined in a loose hold.

Max leans his forehead against hers. “You know I’ve loved you for awhile right?” He smiles.

“You would be stupid to not.” She remarks. Max shaking his head at the remark. “But I have to agree with Charles on this one.”

Max doesn’t hesitate any longer. Placing his lips on hers. Pulling her as close to him as he can. He then pulls away, his lips still close to hers and voice barely a whisper.

“Thank you, for protecting me all these years.”

[glitter-stained]

Transmasc Jason Todd who never had his period before dying because malnutrition+ generally being a late bloomer, getting his period somewhen in Lost Days/UTRH, getting really intense PMS and assuming it's Pit Rage because nobody told him pms was a thing so he's like "ah yes the violent mood swings, fatigue and feeling like any slight frustration will get me unreasonably upset and might send me over the edge. Probably a sign that I am cursed by the waters of evil and that I came back wrong."

[buuniebaby]

ALL MINE. 🎀

includes: drunk sex (pre-negotiated), daddy kink, jealous possessive hamzah 💗💗💗

wc: 2.5k

here’s your porn.. i am sooo tired but literally first thing in the morning (my alarm is literally set to 5am) im finishing up some hcs and latina reader. 💗

thank you guys for all the support on my fics and being patient with me - it means a lot ! 💖

physical touch has always been your love language.

you’re a relatively clingy person in general, but your affection is doubled when you’re around your boyfriend. it’s always one of your hands somewhere - hip, thigh, arms, or even other places. he reciprocates it, being attached to you by the hip 24/7.

it only gets worse when you’re drunk.

hamzah’s in his car, grasping the wheel with an angry pressure, trying to keep his composure. it’s late - way too late to to be picking you up from the bar. he’s not necessarily upset at you for having fun, and he’s never one to control whether you go to parties or not, drink or not drink, but something about you being intoxicated with so many people around irritates him a bit.

he watches as you, your best friend, and a guy he doesn’t happen to recognize walk out of the door. whoever this guy is, he’s a little too touchy with you for hamzah’s liking. it’s like he’s trying to grope you but doesn’t want to be weird, but it’s still weird anyways.

he decides he’s been pushed a little too far off the edge when he slams his car in park and exits it.

you’re smiling up at him, head lulling back a bit. you’re fucked up, and he can tell. he watches as you droop back into the guy behind you, his walking pace speeding up.

he yells a loud, “baby?” trying to send some sort of signal to the man to show that you’re his. the moment he gets close enough to you to make contact with you, a big hand is yanking you by the wrist into his arms.

you immediately slouch into hamzah’s body, who picks you up over his shoulder and carries you back to the car. his grip is tight, as if someone was trying to steal you from his arms.

“hamzaahhhh,” you groan out, recognizing his possessive touch.

the car ride back is quiet - a mix of your boyfriend’s anger and your drunken sleepiness. it’s not that he’s angry at you; you’re not the problem here. it’s whoever he was, the man touching what belongs to hamzah.

“who was that?” he mumbles, speaking firmly under his breath.

“this guy who my friend.. she was trying to hook up with.. I think.” you mutter, remembering what you’re about to say as you speak it.

“you sure he’s into her? seemed more touchy around you.” he continues, keeping his eyes strictly in front of him.

“ew- don’t say that.” you drag as you speak, drunkenness prominent in your voice. you hear hamzah let out a chuckle under his breath. it calms him a little - he knows you’re better then that. it doesn’t end his irritation, but it makes him feel at least a little bit better.

“you’re mine, by the way.” hamzah says, hand creeping up to your thigh, the other still on the wheel. “don’t forget that.”

it’s still hurting hamzah by the time you get home. he’s aware that he may be being unreasonable, given that you’ve admitted you don’t have any attraction for whoever that was. but it’s the way you sway your hips drunkenly as you walk, thighs showing out of your tiny little dress - a sight he wants to hide away from the world, something that should belong to him. just the thought of anyone else being attracted to you makes him feel like his throat is closing up with anxiety.

as you’re turning the corner to go to your shared room, you force yourself to take a step back, doing a double take. you look at hamzah’s puzzled expression, trying to decipher whether what you’re seeing is real or you’re just drunk.

“you’re mad.” you state, looking at him straight in the eyes. you’re asking a question, but the way it comes out is firm. your brain is a little scrambled.

“m’not-“ he mumbles, stopping himself. “not at you.” he continues as he follows you into your bedroom.

you fall back-first onto the bed, closing your eyes and absentmindedly fidgeting with your fingers as you speak. “something happen?”

he scoffs a bit. you’re what happened.

“i guess you’re just.. really fucking hot. and other people know that, and it’s just like..” he rambles, pausing to think.

“like?” you tilt your head.

“like, i want you all to myself.” he says under his breath, sitting himself next to you on the bed. his comment makes you jolt up, sitting to face him.

you watch as he eyes you down from above. all you do is pout your lips, looking back at him with furrowed brows. you’re not getting it.

“you have me.” you say, firmly, scooting just a tiny bit closer to him. a hand trails to your thigh.

he lets out a deep sigh as he gathers his thoughts. you see his brain computing, like gears turning telling him what to say.

“i’m not saying you’re the problem.” he starts. “i know you’re loyal. i trust you.” you feel his hand move from your thigh to your hand, holding it gently, then giving it a squeeze. it’s a nice affirmation, but you still don’t understand what he’s getting at.

“just want you to be safe- don’t want anyone to hurt you. don’t want you just, trusting any guy at the bar when you’re messed up like this.” he says, rubbing his finger up and down your wrist. you lean your head on his shoulder, processing his words.

“yeah,” you sigh, closing your eyes on his shoulder. you can still feel his stare down at you, even if you can’t see it. “you’re right.”

that’s hamzah’s closure, his key to calm down and cuddle you in bed; rest his mind.

until he hears a quiet, “what if i want to get hurt? like, destroyed.”

“what?” he asks, peace interrupted. he’s turning to you, completely lost. you pout, and suddenly your hand has snuck out of his, now creeping over his sweatpants.

“especially by you.” you smile. now he understands where this is going. he shudders as you softly palm him over his pants. it’s not enough to get him going, but he can feel himself starting to get hard. “want you to use me like im your toy- because I’m yours, hamzah.”

and fuck, does that turn him on. you know exactly how to excite him, even when drunk. you’re pushing all the right buttons, making the possessiveness in him really start to come out.

his hand comes down on yours, bringing your movements to a stop. he breathes heavy for a second, but speaks firmly once his breath is caught. “you’re drunk, baby- i don’t know if you should-“

you interrupt him, coming in cold. “you don’t remember?”

he tilts his head back at you. “remember.. what?”

“i told you, when i was sober.. said you could do anything to me if i was drunk. said that for a reason, y’know.” you recall, giving him a big, eyes-dazed, woozy smile.

it comes back to him all then, and fuck, you’re right. he had completely forgotten about the whole conversation you two had, where you had given him permission to fuck you, even if you were intoxicated.

it’s a mix of that and the imagery in his mind from your prior words that causes him to mutter out a strangled “fuck it,” pulling your body on top of his. you can’t help but let out a squeal-like giggle: you’re finally getting what you’ve wanted.

he’s kneading at your hips before he can even pull you into a kiss. it’s messy when your lips press against his, sloppy kisses leaving spit around his lips.

his hand trails down to the bottom of your dress, pulling it over your ass. he pulls away from the kiss, wanting to see what’s down there, only to be met with a sight that fuels his possessiveness.

“wearing a slutty thong like this out?” he mutters, spanking you hard. “what if someone saw, baby? you know that pretty pussy is just for me.” he continues, rubbing over the same area he just spanked.

“m’sorry-“ you whine, but you’re cut off by your own voice, gasping as he rips your thong literally in half, pulling them off of you.

“it’s okay baby.” he smirks, holding the ripped panties in his hand. “you know that I’m the only guy who gets to see all of you.”

“also, ill buy you a new one.” he whispers, planting a quick kiss on your cheek. next thing you know he’s pulling your dress over your chest.

“no bra either baby?” he says, shaking his head, and suddenly another hand is coming down on your ass. “bad fucking slut.”

you grind your hips into him, apologizing with your body. you whimper out a helpless, “m’sorry, im sorry daddy-“

hamzah pulls back a little at that, pausing.

“what’d you just say?” he says, making sure what he just heard was real.

you continue to frantically apologize, a string of “m’sorry, im yours, i didn’t mean it,” until finally, you say that word.

“i’m sorry, daddy.”

that’s all it takes to get a rise out of hamzah. he’s slamming you down on the bed, crawling on top of you. his hips grind down on your naked body, dick still enclosed by his sweatpants, the friction sending shocks to your clit.

“my fucking slut,” he groans, “showing off her body to the whole fucking world.” his hips slam into yours hard, still fully clothed.

“you need me to mark you up? need everyone to know that you belong to me?” he angrily barks out at you, only making you wetter.

“please- wanna show you off daddy- bruise me.” is all you have to say for hamzah to start biting at your neck. he doesn’t stop at just a few hickeys, no, your throat is covered in bitemarks. he continues down to your collarbone, biting, suckling, nibbling - anything to claim your body as his.

he pulls away, admiring the redness all over your upper half. you’re like an art piece, painted with the red-hot passion coming from his body. you’re his muse.

a hand wraps itself around your throat, putting you in a chokehold. hamzah uses his grip to yank you out of your laying position. from there, he picks you up, pushing you down to the floor. you get on your knees, as if it’s an instinct.

“my pretty girl’s face, my fucking throat.” you hear him mindlessly mumble, untying and pulling down his sweatpants. you can see how hard he is through his boxers, cock nearly peeking out through the waistband. you feel your mouth water as he pulls it out, desperate for it to be inside you.

he slaps the head against your lips, once, twice, before you’re opening up for him. he goes slow at first, letting you dance your tongue around the tip, taking your time.

but hamzah is impatient.

it’s why he’s grabbing at the back of your head, forcing you down to the base. you squeal when your nose makes contact with the thick layer of hair against his skin, balls slapping against your chin. he holds your head there for a second, then lets you pull off for air.

you drunkenly smile up at him, spit slicked around your mouth. he slaps his cock against your face, making you squint your eyes. he laughs at how fucked-out you are, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“such a fucking slut.” he chuckles, deep and under his breath. “only for my cock.”

you smile up back at him stupidly, mouth still covered in slick. “only for your cock,” you repeat after him.

“mhmm? want it inside you?” he teases. what he doesn’t expect is your immediate reaction, excitedly jumping up off your knees and into his lap. you wrap your arms around his neck, bare chest pressed to his shirt.

“please, fuck- need your cock in me sooo bad daddy. want you to fucking use me, so bad, make a mess out of me.” you ramble, giggling as you speak. he grinds his hips up into yours as you relay your fantasies to him, turned on by how desperate you are for his cock, and his only.

“yeah? want it that bad, baby?” he says in a sing-song voice, teasing you. he grips his cock in his hand, touching your bare pussy with just the tip, but he makes sure not to slide it in. you nod, desperately, shaky pleads rapidly exiting your mouth.

“gotta do something for me first. that okay, baby?” he asks, and you’re nodding rapidly.

“mhm? what is it?” you ask back, eager for his cock.

“can you repeat after me, baby?” he softly asks, receiving another nod from you.

“im hamzah’s slut, and all of my holes belong to him.”

you don’t hesitate.

“im hamzah’s slut, all my holes belong to him, my pussy is yours- fuck!” you scream when his cock enters you. he doesn’t hesitate or slow for you to get used to the stretch. he’s claiming every inch of your pussy, going as deep as he can inside of you.

“fucking made for my cock.” he says, snapping his hips up into you at a cruel pace. “taking it so well.”

you can already feel yourself getting close. his dick prods up against that spot every thrust, and his words only make it feel better. you shudder at each brush against your sweet spot, thighs shaking softly against him.

hamzah only increases the pace, thrusting into you with vigor. it’s a brutal assault on your cunt, but god does it feel good. his hand brushes through his curls while the other pins you down to the mattress.

he feels you clench around him, and suddenly his thrusts switch from fast and eager to slow but deep. he follows you as you orgasm around him, planting his cum deep inside you.

he pulls out with a grunt, catching his breath while he admires your body. again - you’re his work of art. he watches as a trickle of cum leaks out of you, and he pushes it back in with his finger.

he’s claimed you.

you’re his.

he pulls himself out of his trance when your body moves out of its position. he remembers how drunk you are again, watching you as you reach to tuck yourself in under the covers. he places a kiss in your cheek before he gets in bed next to you, tucking the two of you in together.

it’s peaceful, domestic- it’s satisfying to him, the way he knows that you won’t get this with any other guy. even when you’re drunk, you still don’t protest his possessiveness. it makes him feel warm inside.

as much as you’re his, he’s yours.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for kicking my boyfriend out because he keeps using my toothbrush?

🪥 (to find later)

I (25)F share an apartment with my boyfriend (23)M. my boyfriend is the crazy environmentalist type (he insists on only buying secondhand clothes, he times both of our showers and gets mad if I go over the limit, he only takes the bus or rides his bike even though it takes SO much longer and his parents offered to buy him a car and they can totally afford it. I’ve tried to convince him to tone it all done multiple times but he refuses to budge and I just put up with it because other than that he’s a pretty good guy and we have a lot of mutual friends). Recently he’s decided that toothbrushes- of all things- are super unsustainable and he wants to share one. I think this is disgusting and I’ve told him that, but he keeps using mine. On top of that he brushes his teeth really hard and it ruins the bristles which means I have to go buy more toothbrushes which upsets him even more. I even bought him some fancy “sustainable” bamboo toothbrushes in an attempt to compromise but he wont touch them. A couple nights ago I went to go brush my teeth after a having a really long day and I found MY toothbrush super frayed and lying on the gross counter even though we have one of those toothbrush holders on the mirror. I’m ashamed to admit that I completely lost it and starting yelling about how that this was the last straw and I was tired of his “environmentalist bullshit” and that I wanted him out of the apartment immediately. Long story short he packed up most of his stuff and left to go stay with his parents (which I find super satisfying because he’s mentioned multiple times how he thinks its embarrassing that his 19 year old brother still lives at home). I blocked him on everything and then yesterday he came to the door banging and yelling about “wanting his lizard back” (which he apparently forgot when he left). For context: It was his lizard when we moved in but I’ve ended up doing all the work (cleaning the cage, feeding it, replacing broken heat lamps, etc) because he always claims he’s “too busy” to do it. So I told him I’m keeping the lizard because I know he’ll take terrible care of it anyways.

I was talking to one of our mutual friends afterwards (who apparently talked to him first) and she thinks that I’m being unreasonable. So, am I the asshole?

[olderthannetfic]

Hi, Ah weird question? So the default of fandoms usually is 'ship and let ship' right? Meaning even if you hate a ship you'll not harass the person, right? Now I'm asking this as someone who always headcanon and ship characters as queer. Here is this situation that I'm in right now: apparently a friend of mine who also agrees with 'SALS', found out another friend of theirs(A) used a mod to romance a queer character in a not queer way, you know what I mean? So then my friend called A queerphobic, they then fought and they are not talking right now. My friend came to me and told me about this, apparently expecting me to be as angry as them(I'm also queer/pan btw) and well I wasn't? Because why should I care what they ship or better say, how A chooses to romance characters. I suggested to my friend to talk to A about it and well, this made them more angry? I mean yeah it's awful when someone denies a character being queer in canon. But as far as I know A is not doing that? Now they are angry with me too although we still talk.....Am I in the wrong here? What should I do?

--

Using mods to make every NPC player-sexual is perfectly fine.

I get that it can be upsetting to see people "taking away" your few queer characters, but they're not actually taking them away. That friend is being unreasonable.

I'm not sure the default actually is SALS these days, but it ought to be.

Your friend may come back around to this once they calm down... or they may continue to be upset and think that being upset is a sign that something is morally wrong and not just a personal reaction.

I would avoid the topic with them for now. If they insist on talking about it, you can compare it to letting people ship ships you find gross. It's fine to keep finding them gross! But you shouldn't dump or attack friends over that.

This is, in general, a very touchy subject for a lot of queer people. Bob & Rose got a massive amount of hate despite reportedly being based on some real experiences. One Exception happens even IRL and even to people who thought they were gay... but it feels like talking about it gives ammo to shitheads who think they're going to be your one exception or that we should send teens to conversion camp.

So I get why people freak out about this, but... well... they need to chill when it comes to some friend smashing the barbie dolls together the wrong way.

[crumblinggothicarchitecture]

I was so impressed with your toe-to-toe comment on the French philosophy anon. So happy to have found you, omg! I heard Taylor called her ttpd set as the "female rage musical." I take it she knows the impact of the song Labour by Paris Paloma which has been dubbed as the female rage anthem. So naturally, here is the 34 year old culture vulture, can't-have-any-ideas-of-her-own that is Taylor Swift hopping there wanting to get the attention away from it when that song is quite phenomenal. One song compared to her 31 diss tracks that's nothing to me, at least, but the excessive sentimentality of an infantile woman in her 30s. It's gross the confessions she's put on that album. And even her own fans are comparing her to Olivia Rodrigo. That's she's copying everything about her - song, outfits, the "female rage" theme just to mock her. Somehow, Swift thinks it would do her a world of good. People are catching on to her antics which are absolutely disgusting, btw. I'm hoping one day you write about all these completely ridiculous gross things she's done using her own lyrics. You know what I mean? I hope someone write about her nasty lyrics and that it completely destroys her.

Thank you ha, I'm glad you found something meaningful in that post. I will not lie, that Anon actually hurt my feelings for a second (I got over it by writing my response), but I was upset at being so misunderstood. I'm not out here levying unreasonable criticism at Taylor Swift. All will be based on reality, or interpretation of her own lyrics.  I’m defs out to get her though- in the most legitimate way possible- and maybe someday I will publish for real on her. I have a couple of criticisms that I will not be putting on my blog- because I want to say it on a bigger platform. : )  

I do see a lot of harmful things in her music that I have been resisting the urge to write about for YEARS! Even back in 2009, listening to "Love Story" I remember thinking to myself, oh this is nothing like what Shakespeare meant and it's also a weird appeal to the patriarchy through the "I talked to your Dad/ Go Pick out a white dress." It's so clear that she's just reduplicating mainstream attitudes on romantic relationships by using Christian Conservative social standards of needing the father's permission to ask the girl's hand in marriage. She obviously wanted to attract the Christian- Conservative fan- base with that song, and that's exactly what happened. Her marketing is tied to the phrases she places inside her songs in a way that is extremely calculating. She, Afterall, learned from the best at attracting mainstream, Christian, conservative fans, Toby Keith (hate that fascist, white nationalist freak). (WHoops, that was mean- oh well, he’s dead anyway). (and if he wanted me to be nice- he shouldn't have been a fascist).  

It's so obvious, and I really figured everyone else was also aware of the ways in which Swift interpolates patriarchal standards in her music. I have many more examples- I could write a whole essay on it.  

Apparently, everyone thought she was a feminist? Bro, she became a "feminist" if only to evade criticism and capitalize on mainstream pop-feminist trends. She's not a real feminist. Her use of “feminism” to evade critique ties directly into her other marketing strategy of telling the world “I’m so innocent and young” all the time. 

Also, her co-opting of the phrase Female Rage has made me angry, exceptionally angry. I saw that she's trying to trademark the phrase. I am incensed. I will post about it soon. 

I wish Swift would stop co-opting legitimate terms and pulling only the most shallow- self-centered conception of the term out to use in her mediocre music. She’s like if Pinterest was a person- and I’m tired of it.  

Paris Paloma’s “Labour” is amazing, because guess what- it actually speaks about the experience of women under patriarchal standards in a way that respects the seriousness of the topic. I absolutely believe that Swift saw how viral that song went and decided she needed to cash in on that too.  

And she is totally copying Olivia Rodrigo. Can you imagine being 34 and trying to act 20? I would die of embarrassment. But it's so obvious that it's getting weird.

I have much more to say on this topic- sincerely I could write a book on the conceptual point of “Female Rage” in media. I have thousands of examples, and I’ve been studying this stuff for years. I will, however, ramble on no longer. Thank you for your kind words- and I hope you enjoy my upcoming writings.

[simmyfrobby]

Being a bitch about the leafs getting a dewey is immature. Sadposting and making little edits about how awful Toronto is? Fuck off. Just because your team cant make the playoffs dont blame the teams that can. We will love him on the leafs. Get over yourself.

okay so i normally delete these kinda asks without bothering w a reply because i honestly think they’re kind of tiresome & because i know you’re just being a fan and if i can forgive wild fans for being unreasonable about their team i then i can forgive leafs fans for it too. 

with that said: braindead take.

just. stupid. so stupid, in fact, that i will write a reply because i think it genuinely might make me feel a little better. 

okay so lets start right at the end. WHY should i get over the fact that a player i like is no longer on my team. why should it matter that you’ll love him. my team was sold of in little bits to teams i either don’t care about or actively root against. 

that?? sucks?? 

i care about my team. i want my team to win. i want my favourite players to stay on my team and when they don’t that’s upsetting. this is not a revolutionary concept.

also the way it all played out was kinda shitty. i knew we would likely lose duhaime, but after losing pat i thought we would maybe get to keep dewar. and when the deadline passed i thought we were ok. hell, even connor thought he was safe. and that he would get to stay with his friends. and then it turns out we lost him at the last second. and that’s fucking gutting. 

“we will love him in toronto” ok. even if that is true, my favourite toy was taken away and given to some other kid. i don’t care whether or not they’re happy to have him. i didn’t want to give him away. were you happy for the canes when bunting went there instead of coming back to the leafs??? no because that’s not how this works. i don’t want good things for the leafs i want good things for my team. i don’t want other teams to win i want my team to win

and that’s allowed.

encouraged even.

“sadposting and making little edits” ok this is fair and accurate and i might make it my blog title if you don’t mind. it is funny to me that you interpret that poem as being about how much the leafs suck and not about?? how being traded suddenly?? and your best friend being traded away?? sucks??? poems are funny things and don’t say anything definitively, so you are allowed to interpret it however you like, but i haven’t gotten any angry avs fans in my inbox yelling about my "duhaime sadposts"?

but ok! directors note & something worth keeping in the back of your mind when interacting w this edit and also all other dewar edits: 

This is not!!! About you!!! 

i am not trying to hurt your feelings!! i do not care about your team!! for the love of god please just unfollow my blog.

also. and this is pedantic but i want to say it because its been bothering me. you don’t get “A Dewey”, you get Connor Dewar. the deweys were a matched set and without duhaime on the same team what does that even matter. you don’t get “dewey 2” you get Connor Dewar. congrats! that's great! he’s wonderful. please treat him nice etc etc.

being a bitch about the leafs is immature and i will do a better job of tagging my anti-leafs posts from now on. ill even tag all of my dewey poems as anti leafs if they're this upsetting to you.

one final thing: the wild not making the playoffs is very much the fault of other teams and i absolutely could blame other teams for it. theyre better and they beat us and now we might not make the playoffs. again: that's how this works. i get your point though, its not the leafs´ fault the wild have been miserable this season but i reserve the right to dislike them either way :)

congrats on the cute little guy. i will miss him very much. and again: PLEASE unfollow.

[13as07]

Spitting Image #5

(Gaara Sabaku)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to o3_kurisutarogubo]

Requested by: Myself

Word Count: 3,599

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Gets heated toward the end :)

———————————————————————

     It feels like there are millions of eyes on me as I cut up Yoshiki's fruit to have with his breakfast. The three chefs of the kitchen along with my handmaid - Gou - all look at me like I've grown a second head. I've grown used to the looks over the past week. Apparently, no one in the palace ever does anything for themselves, besides me, I guess.

     "Darling?" Gaara calls again, pulling another annoyed sigh from me. "My darling, please acknowledge me."

"What is it that you need?" I grumble, continuing to chop up the fruit. Things were going well between us. Gaara was succeeding at giving me space and every night this week he has crawled into my bed to cuddle for a while... then this morning when he came to greet Yosh he asked me what season I'd like to have the wedding. Talk about knocking us back to square one.

"I wish to apologize."

     "What?" I asked, snapping my head towards him in a bit of disbelief.

     "I have been reading about relationships. It seems that my constant conversation about marriage is making you feel trapped, that is not what I'm trying to do. So, I would like to apologize."

     "Uh - okay?" I mutter, quickly blinking at the ginger standing next to me.

     "I am sorry for making you feel trapped. I would like you to know that you are free to come and go as you wish. You are free to do as you wish..."

     "But?" I ask, Gaara's gaping mouth and his flickery eyes giving away to the add-on he's struggling with.

     "But, my darling, with me being the Kazekage and us being... there are dangers to Yoshiki and you all over the Great Nations, including our nation and... I don't want you upset but I would like a guard to join you when you go out if Shinki and me are not coming along with you. I'm sorr - "

     "That's understandable," I cut him off, swiping the cut fruit off the cutting board and plumping it into a bowl. "I don't know anything about the village so even if a threat did rise I wouldn't have any chance, so that's not an unreasonable request."

     "Oh," he whispers, slowly blinking at me as the gears in his head shift. "I am glad that we agree."

     "Me too."

     Gaara stays put, the two of us watching as Yosh eats his scrambled egg and diced fruit. "Gaara?" I call after a couple of minutes.

     "My darling?"

     "I should apologize too," I murmur, turning my focus towards him.

     "What do you have to apologize for, my dear?"

     "I'm sorry I tried to hit you last week. I shouldn't take my anger out on you in the first place and I really shouldn't take it out on you like that. I'm sorry for making things difficult for you too. I wish I was ready to get married but... I'm just not there yet."

     "It's alright, darling. When you are ready, I will be here waiting," Gaara mutters, face scrunched up as his hand slowly moves forward. It lands on top of my head, softly patting me as his face unscrunches. "I would like to take you on a date tonight. I would also like to buy you a new outfit for our date but Shinki thinks you'll just buy it for yourself, so I already did. If you do not like it, I shall return it and find you something else."

     With that, Gaara kisses the top of Yoshiki's head before turning on his heels and disappearing from the kitchen.

     My eyes flicker back to our son who's having the time of his life squishing his egg into the plate of his high chair. "Yosh," I call, his head picking up and a huge smile crossing his face once he realizes I'm the one who called him. "Papa is going to take me on a date tonight. What do you think of that?"

     "Baabaa," his voice rings out, trying to say 'papa' like his older brother does.

     "Yes, Papa. Who am I? Am I mama?"

     "Baabaa," he repeats, smashing his fork into his dismembered egg.

     I smile at my boy, enjoying the sweet moment we're sharing. Gaara's talk of the future might terrify me but I can't wait to see the man our son will grow into.

———————————

     The yukata got me is beautiful and probably worth a pretty penny. Gou is tucked behind me, pinning the white material stamped with red flowers to my body. "Gou?"

"Yes, my last?"

"How much do you think my yukata cost?"

"I think Lord Fifth paid eighty-two hundred yen for it, I'm not sure though," she mumbles around the pins in her mouth.

"Oh," I mutter, looking over the outfit in the body mirror again. Gou has dolled me up and, my hair done with a matching pin through my locks. "Where's Gaara taking me?"

"I am not allowed to tell you, my lady. Direct orders from the Kazekage."

"Has Kankuro shown up yet?"

"Yes, my lady. Please stop worrying about Yoshiki and Shinki. They will be safe and cared for while you're out."

     "I can't do that," I mumble to myself, shifting when Gou accidentally likes me with a pin. I'd rather Kankuro watch the boys than anyone else in the village, but I'm still not too fond of the idea. I know Kankuro even less than I know Temari, and I was overly anxious about leaving my son with her.

     "What can't you do, my darling?" Gaara's voice rings out before his hands settle on my hips. They flutter a bit like he can't decide whether it's a good idea to be touching me or not.

     "Calm down," I mutter, settling my hands on top of his, keeping them in place. My eyes scan over his image in the mirror, taking in the matching yukata he's wearing.

     "Why can't you calm down?" Gaara asks, eyes flickering between us in the mirror and the wall of my bedroom.

     "I'm just nervous about leaving the boys home with your brother."

     "Do not take up your mind with worries. Kankuro would do anything for his nephews," he murmurs, trying a squeeze to my hips. When I don't tell him to stop, he squeezes me again... and again. "You look very nice, my dear. Are you ready to go?"

     "As ready as I'll ever be," I murmur, slowly pulling away from his touch. His face scrunches from my movements, what I think is sadness covering his face. "Where are you taking me?"

     "Tonight is the first day of the Prickly Pear harvest. A festival goes on every night of the harvest. We are going there, and then we will watch the stars as we wait for the fireworks."

     "Prickly pear?" I ask, a giggle slipping out. What a weird name for a crop.

     "Yes. They are pears that grow on a cactus. They have the same spikes as a cactus does, hence prickly pear."

      I hum in amusement, making my way out of the room with Gaara in tow. "I've never had a prickly pear."

     "We shall get you a prickly pear then," he mumbles, making me laugh again. 'Prickly pear' is a weird thing to hear Gaara say. "Come here, my dear. You are too far away from me," he grumbles, stepping forward quicker before his arm wraps around mine. "You need to stay close so you do not get hurt or lost during the festival."

     "Is that the only reason?" I tease, tightening my arm around his as I shift closer to his side.

     His eyes flicker to me before settling on our looped arms. "... yes," he whispers, head back on straight as he leads me down the hallway. "Perhaps not," he adds on, cheeks coated in a pale pink.

———————————

Gaara's eyes are locked on me as I enjoy the Prickly Pear Icy he bought me. It's not as exciting as I thought it would be. It tastes like a musk melon. "Do you like your treat?"

"It's good," I mumble around the popsicle. "I like the meat stuff on the stick you got me more though."

"Would you like more? We can go back to the booth," he rambles, head spinning as he looks for the meat-on-a-stick booth we were at a few moments ago.

"No, I'm good," I tell him, using the arm still looped through his to pull him closer. The attempt to calm Gaara works, he - mostly - settles down again. His eyes are still as sharp as a hawk, scanning the festivalgoers for any possible threats. "So, I don't know about you sandfolk, but in the Leaf, there's usual games and such to play too. Do you guys have that here?"

"Of course, what kind of festival would it be if we did not have games?" He grumbles, eyes flickering around the people that shift out of the way as we walk. "Is there a game you have in mind?"

"I don't remember what it's called, but you have these paper paddles and you try to catch a fish with them. If you win you get to take the fish home."

     "Kingyo Suku."

     "What?"

     "The game you are speaking of, it's called Kingyo Suku," Gaara explains before he lets out a soft sigh. "One moment dear," he groans, tugging me in front of him before his hands settle on my hips. The man-handling and added weight to my hips make my chest - and a little more than that - flutter. "Hello Matsuri," He greets the person bee-lining for us.

     "My lord," the girl greets back, bowing her head quickly before straightening up again. "And...?"

     "This is... she's my... this is consort Kazekage," Gaara finally pushes out, stumbling over his words a bit.

     The girl's eyes widen a bit, her smile wavering as she focuses on her village leader. "I didn't know you were married, Lord Fifth."

     "I'm... not," he mutters, using his hold on me to pull me against him. "She is... what is it that I can help you with, Matsuri?"

     "Oh! The word around the village is that you have a second son now," the girl's eyes flutter to me once the sentence is out, her jaw locking a bit before she turns back towards Gaara. "I was hoping to meet him."

     "I do, yes. He is not here with us. I am hoping to introduce him to the village on the last night of the festival. I wouldn't want to take the light away from the village farmers today, and I still need to talk to his mother about her thoughts on it," He answers, his hands jumping up to my arms when he says the word 'mother'. "Soon enough my son will be officially announced, as will his mother, so do not worry."

     "Oh great," the lady says, eyes stuck on me now. "What a... joy for the village. A new prince and our Kazekage has picked his consort."

     "It is quite the joy, yes. Now please excuse us, I promised my consort a festival game." With that, the woman bows again and Gaara quickly shifts us away from her. "My apologies, darling," he mutters once we're out of her earshot, sliding his arm back around mine.

     "What's a consort?" I ask, letting my eyes trail over the lanterns strung around the booths as I replay the interaction we just had. The girl was jealous of me, right? That's what that whole thing was, right? Or am I just reading into it? I think I'm reading into the situation too much.

     "It is the royal title of the monarch's... partner. Usually a wife, but you have made it clear you are not ready for that, so you shall be introduced to the village as my consort instead of my wife." Gaara nods his head in agreement with himself, another one of his ticks that I don't quite understand.

     "What's the deal with the girl that was talking to you?"

     "She was one of my students."

     "I think your student has a crush on you."

     He falls still, eyes sharp and locked on me. "Does that upset you? Do I need to fix it? How would I go about fixing an issue such as this?" Gaara races out, his sight more intense the longer he talks. "I do not wish for Matsuri to have a crush on me, I wish for you to have a crush on me. My darling - "

     I jump up a bit, plopping a kiss on his cheek before falling flat on my feet again, cutting off the panicked Kage. "Stop worrying, Gaara. I do have a crush on you and I don't care that Matsuri does. I was just curious."

     "Oh," he whispers, blinking in his slow 'I'm trying to figure this out' way. "That is good news."

     "Yes, it is," I mutter, curling my arms around his tighter, gluing us closer together. It's not a lie, I do like Gaara. He's grown on me over the past couple of months. He just has a tad of separation anxiety, terrible communication skills - as do I - and a small fear of abandonment, all of which we can work through. All of which scares me.

———————————

     My eyes are turned towards the sky, enjoying the colorful explosions decorating it. Gaara and I are laid out on a sand dune a ways out from the village. He laid out a blanket underneath us to attempt to keep the sand off of us. Sand has a mind of its own so, of course, it's not working, but the attempt is sweet.

     "Gaara?"

     "Dear?"

     "Do they have the fireworks every night of the festival or just tonight?"

     "Every night."

     Slowly I slide my hand across the blanket, in search of his hand. When my fingers bump into his, Gaara stiffens. Despite his reaction, I carefully intertwine our fingers together, his body relaxing once our hands are tied together. "Gaara?"

     "My darling?"

     "Do you think we can watch the fireworks again tomorrow?"

     "Whatever you wish for I will make happen."

     "You could have just said yes," I respond, stifling a laugh that threatens to spill out.

     Our words fall silent, only the sound of the popping fireworks filling the space between us. The sky continues to be temporally decorated, bright reds, blues, yellows, and everything in between coating the sky.

     Once the last sparkle of light falls from the sky, I turn my head towards Gaara, preparing to ask if he's ready to leave. When my sights settle on him, his eyes are already locked on me. I'm thankful for the darkness that hides the embarrassment crawling across my face. How long has he been looking at me? Why must he always be looking at me so tensely?

     "My darling?" I let a hum out, letting Gaara know I'm paying attention to whatever he's going to say. "I... wish to cuddle in bed with you tonight."

"You usually do, Gaar. That's fine by me."

"No, not like that. I... do not wish to leave. I want..." His head turns away from me, focusing on the stars stamped into the black backdrop of the night.

I turn my head too, enjoying the clear skies of the open desert. "Do you want to sleep in the same bed? Is that what you're trying to ask?"

"... yes. If you do not want me to, I will not. I know you said you do not want to share a room."

I turn on my side, our connected hands stabbing into me because of the position. "Gaara?" I call, rubbing my free hand over his chest.

My view of his eyes is cut off as he blinks repeatedly, his chest jumping quickly, and his body going tense again. I move forward more, our noses bumping because of how close to his face I am. "My darling dear?" He breathes out, the words shaky as he scans my face.

The combination of my nicknames makes me smile, my tongue poking out to run over my bottom lip as the thought of kissing Gaara crosses my mind. "Ya, you can sleep in my bed tonight," I murmur, more than kissing slowly starting to fill my mind.

"I can?"

"Yes, if you want to. Do you want to?"

Gaara's head nods quickly, his nose switching from bumping into mine to bumping into my cheek because of his movements. His eyes are blown out as they look at me, a nice difference from the usual slit shape they hold. "Please?"

I let out a strained sigh because of the single word, the thoughts of marriage and another baby not seeming so scary anymore. This is how I got pregnant the first time. Well, not exactly, same feelings and thoughts as that night though. "Okay," I whisper back, starting to pull away so I can stand up.

     The arm pressed under me jumps up, landing on my back and gently pushing me back into please. "Darling?"

     "Gaara?" I ask back, our eyes locked, his slightly twitching like he's not sure what to do.

     "Just sleeping, yes?"

     "Just sleeping," I echo, the smallest part of sanity pushing through the tension of the moment.

     "Can I at least have a kiss? It is customary to have a goodnight kiss at the end of a date, yes?"

     "Ya," I breathe out, Gaara's hand present on my back softly pushing me closer to his face.

     "Then I would like a kiss... then we can go home," he mutters, his lips brushing mine as he speaks, his chest bouncing with anxiety. "And just sleep."

     "And just sleep," I repeat, more for my benefit than his. If I say it enough maybe I'll believe.

     The hand on my back slowly snakes up my body, ending its slithering on the back of my neck. Gaara's touch is soft and slow as he closes the lack of distance between us.

     His lips are rough, bruised, and scabbed over. They taste like chamomile tea; apple-ly with a hint of honey. His hand gets rougher, pushing me against him more as he deepens our kiss. Gaara's tongue pokes out, teasing my lips apart. I give in, parting my lips a bit. His tongue slips in, toying with mine for a moment before he slowly pulls away from me. "Just... just sleep," he mutters, eyes hazy as he looks up at me.

     "Just sleep," I repeat for the third time tonight, slowly pulling our bodies apart.

———————————

     “This is not just sleep,” Gaara murmurs against my neck, his hands eagerly shoving the sleeves of my yukata down my shoulders, the material of it balling at my elbows. His lips travel down my neck, making quick work across my newly exposed skin.

“No, this is not just sleep,” I echo, my hands gripping the front of his clothing.

“We’re supposed to just sleep,” he continues to whisper, hands sliding across the door of the Hokage palace in search of the keyhole. “We should just sleep,” he adds, the sound of the key sliding into the lock filling the empty night air.

“Ya, we should… should just… sleep,” I whisper, tugging Gaara with me as the door swings open.

“Yes, of course. I have a busy day tomorrow,” he mumbles, the two of us stumbling down the hallway. His hands crawl across my body, tugging at my clothes, toying with the hems of it like he wants to slide his fingers under neither but isn’t sure whether he should or not. Our feet stumble just as much as Gaara’s hands, slowly moving us further down the hallway.

“I’m sure you do,” I scramble out, my hands falling to the front of my clothing, tugging on it to part the material covering my chest. “I… I’ll be up early for the boys, so… so we should go to sleep.”

“It would be better than fucking the hallway,” a deep voice rings out, cutting apart the tension growing between Gaara and me.

“Kankuro!” Gaara calls, his hands falling on top of mine, gripping them as he snaps my clothes shut again, effectively covering my bra. “How were the boys?” He grumbles, carefully fastening my yukata back in place.

“They were good, not as good as your night seems to be going,” Gaara’s younger brother chuckles out, finding his cock-blocking funny. “Yoshiki is fast asleep in his nursery, I just checked on him like five minutes ago. Shinki is asleep in his room, just checked on him too.”

“Thank you. Please see yourself out,” Gaara groans, his hands tightening and loosening around the material of my clothes.

More chuckles fall from the older man as he walks down the hallway, the sound of the door opening and clicking closed as he leaves.

“We… we should not just sleep,” Gaara mumbles, slowly tugging apart the front of my yukata again. His eyes scan my face as he does so, watching for my reaction.

“Oh ya? What should we do instead?”

Gaara’s mouth snaps open a few times, his answer stuck in his throat as his eyes jump from my face to my chest. “I should… should fulfill your… bedroom needs. Like last time I got to sleep in your bed. I would like… please?”

God damn it, at this rate, Gaara’s going to get his wish of having another kid before Yoshiki is four. “Whatever you wish for I will make happen,” I tease, repeating his words from earlier.

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[crowhunterzz]

i know it’s been said on here plenty of times but i genuinely get so upset when i see people continuously perpetuate the whole “Gehrman’s a creep and the Doll is a sex object theory” when there’s an actually direct in-game evidence showing that none of that is true. and yk what despite the posts abt this that already exist i am, in fact, gonna make one of my own.

Okay so first off, The Voiceline. You know the one.

Yeah this line got interpreted by a portion of the fandom as weird, especially because of the tone it’s said in. However, there are two pieces of context that immediately show what he meant by this.

The first, is that you DO use the Doll. She provides a service for you by taking your blood echoes and turning them into your strength (the level up system).

Aside from this, the ability to talk to her, and the option of giving her an item, there is nothing else you can do with her, and nothing else the game even implies you can do with her. She does not even have any truly “romantic” dialogue. She mentions that she loves you, but that she does because she was created to do so.

She loves all the hunters because her purpose is to care for them, and in her words, embolden their sickly spirits.

The second piece of context is in Gehrman’s dialogue just before he says the line about the Doll.

He is telling you that anything you find in the workshop is a tool you can use to strengthen yourself and make the hunt easier. He is referring to the Doll as a tool, because she is one of the few the workshop has not lost. He’s not sexualizing her, he’s talking about her like she is a tool, and something to be used, not seen as a person.

Is it a good thing? No, but considering he resents her for not being what he created her to be (or by another interpretation, coming to life when he never intended her to), it’s not unreasonable to assume that over time he would just categorize her as a thing instead of a person.

The second piece of evidence towards this god awful theory is the Doll’s white blood. Honestly I cannot believe people genuinely take this as being semen, because not only is there a canon reason for creatures to have pale blood, but also it’s just disgusting.

You need a minimum of one insight to see the Doll during the game, she was given life by the Moon Presence following Gehrman’s placement in the Hunter’s Dream, and she bleeds pale blood. She’s kin. (Yes I am aware the game does not consider her kin in regards to whether or not she can be dealt damage based gems that alter your attacks vs kin, but you’re not supposed to be fighting her anyway, and it’s not like you need a bonus to kill her in the first place).

And finally, to address the other big point, the item descriptions that appear on Maria’s Hunter Garb and the Doll’s Set.

I would like to address first, the obvious, that Maria’s garb says directly she was “unaware of his curious mania” (however you interpret that), but the point is she was unaware, he clearly in life, never made advances on her (which is something I’ve seen a few people state is ‘implied’???).

The second, and this one is a bit in the subtext, is that the Doll seems to not have any idea that Gehrman ever had any positive feelings towards her at all, she expresses a love for the hunter in a way that reflects someone who was never shown love in any capacity (likely due to the circumstances surrounding her achieving sentience), so its reasonable to assume as well that she was entirely unaware of the ‘curious mania’ as well.

Additionally I would point out that while referencing Gehrman’s mania once more, the Doll’s description also directly states that she was once loved and cared for, something that changed after she gained sentience. She likely served as a memorial for Maria, considering there is no canon evidence Maria herself actually has a grave.

The grave that provides the Old Hunter Bone may be hers, but the item description refers to the hunter it came from as “he.” This could be due to it being placed there prior to the decision to give Maria the quickening skill in her boss fight, or it could be that Maria did not have a proper grave for whatever reason, and thus the Doll was needed, which could then relate the obsession to an obsession with Gehrman keeping a memory of her, as there is nothing else he seems to have of her.

Everything here aside I would like to also point out that the Doll is quite literally, a doll. There is nothing that would even suggest she would be capable of any sort of sexual relationship.

Especially because even before the Dream, the Doll did have a specific purpose. She seems to be modeled after Victorian mourning dolls, which were items used to help families/loved ones process grief, typically of children, by having something to remind them of the deceased that did not itself look deceased. If you consider the grave in the Abandoned Old Workshop to be Maria’s and know that that’s also where the Doll is in the waking world, then that’s probably what she’s for. Or as stated before, the grave may NOT be hers, and the Doll itself IS her grave.

Another thing I didn’t point out but will, for a moment get into, is the Doll’s clothing being feminized. A lot of people take this as Gehrman being a misogynist and sexualizing her in a more feminine way as if he himself was not training Maria (and likely other women) to be hunters during his life. He encouraged the less feminine life she lived as a hunter!

That point always confuses me, especially knowing that one of the last things Maria likely said to Gehrman was what she said after the massacre at the Fishing Hamlet where she threw away her weapon and renounced the hunt, choosing to retire (and potentially become a caretaker for the Church’s patients, judging by her role in the Hunter’s Nightmare). Like OF COURSE he dressed her like that, she expressed that she no longer wanted to be a hunter so he made her the opposite. The only reason she is dressed the way she is in the Hunter’s Nightmare is because that is how Kos is depicting her, not because it’s her conscious choice.

The point of this is, Gehrman is one of my all time favorite characters alongside Maria and the Doll, and while yes, I am well aware he isn’t perfect, it’s still frustrating to see him get so mischaracterized by a fandom who insists they love lore so much, and care about the tiny details. You can dislike Gehrman or think he does shitty things and that’s fine, but creating a story where he’s a creep just to prove you care about Maria and the Doll is weird. And it’s weirdER that people argue IN FAVOR of the theory as if it MUST be true, because honestly why would anyone even want it to be???

This post also was specifically done without consideration for whatever type of relationship Gehrman and Maria had according to canon or any interpretations. Essentially I’m not necessarily saying any of this has anything to do with whether or not you ship them, I personally don’t, but I know some people do, and I feel like on either side you can still be critical of this Doll theory, as it is entirely baseless.

(In case anyone is interested, the images and references used for this were from the Bloodborne wiki, specifically this one.)

[666writingcafe]

An Unintentional Trap

Thirteen

I'm tired of listening to Solomon's whining. I want him out of my cave once and for all, and hopefully fetching MC and taking them to him will be enough for him to leave.

If that was the only reason for my trip, I would have just teleported to and from the castle. It's a lot quicker than walking. But I want some time alone with the human disguised as a demon.

During my little venture through MC's soul, I saw a rather alarming amount of demonic energy, more than any type of facade should have. Usually, humans with that much energy either end up evil or dead. Either way, their souls end up really dark. No sparkle at all.

And yet MC's soul remains blindingly white. Some of that could be explained by the angelic influence over it, but in my experience, the two cancel each other out, resulting in a dull, clear-looking soul.

I just want to know what makes the human tick. Perhaps that can explain why their soul is so...odd.

~~~

"I'm still a bit upset at Solomon," MC tells me. "Obviously, not enough to decline your invitation, but I'm probably not going to be rushing into his arms or anything like that."

"Understandable," I respond, making them sigh.

"Am I being unreasonable, Thirteen?"

"No, not at all. He did something incredibly stupid, and you're allowed to be frustrated by his lack of judgement." A slight test. Will they take the bait and trash-talk Solomon?

"I know. It's just..." They trail off.

"Just what?" Another sigh from MC.

"He was worried about me. I mean, I launched myself at a demon twice my size and sent the two of us sliding across the colosseum floor. The fact that I only walked away with a couple of scratches and bruises is a fucking miracle."

Huh. A human that's humble enough to acknowledge another person's emotions? And admit when they act too rashly for their own good?

"Why did you do it, then?"

"It was the only way I could knock Beel out. You saw the pictures, right?" I nod. He caused a lot of damage near the Demon Lord's castle. "He was starting to attack his brothers, Diavolo, and Barbatos when we got there. I had to stop him before he hurt any of them, because with the way he was going at them, their injuries would have been a lot worse than mine."

"So, you sacrificed your safety in order to protect theirs." MC softly smiles.

"That's not the first time that's happened. In fact, I've done it enough to get told off for it."

"I can imagine. Doing that sort of thing tends to shorten one's lifespan, making them die sooner than originally intended." I pause. "Those type of people tend to annoy me." MC's smile grows a bit wider, as if they know something I don't.

Wait.

Have I chewed them out for it in their timeline?

I can't think about that right now. We've arrived at my cave, and the energy feels off. Looking over at MC tells me that I'm not the only one feeling uneasy.

I pull out my dagger.

"Stay behind me," I whisper to MC, who quietly nods. We carefully make our way to the Fountain of Knowledge with no incidents.

Solomon is right where I left him, sitting on the edge of the fountain. And yet his presence does nothing to calm me down.

In fact, seeing him makes me that much more anxious.

Which is strange. I've felt a lot of things when it comes to the sorcerer, but never afraid.

"It's not him," MC murmurs. Solomon and I make eye contact, and I immediately get nauseous.

They're right. This isn't Solomon.

"Where is he?" I ask. The shapeshifter smiles eerily.

"Some place out of the way," it answers. "I wanted to talk to MC in private."

"Yeah, not happening, buddy. I don't trust you as far as I can throw you." An unknown entity that knows MC's actual name can't possibly be up to any good.

"Putting words in other people's mouths isn't polite."

"I never claimed to be polite." This guy is pissing me off.

"Aren't you tired of being told what to think?" He's directed the question at MC. "I don't wish to hurt you. I want you to be happy."

"I've already told you, I'm not interested," they tell the shapeshifter, causing him to chuckle.

"It's cute that you think you still have a choice. You're already on my path. The more you resist, the rougher your journey will be. I'm just offering to make things easy for you."

I may not know the context of his words, but I can tell that they're upsetting MC.

"Alright, that's enough," I interject. "Get out of my cave." The shapeshifter remains still. "Now."

He sighs.

"I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, but it appears I don't have a choice." He waves a hand, and suddenly MC collapses onto the ground.

"What have you done?!" He shrugs.

"I thought reapers were supposed to remain neutral."

"Answer the fucking question!"

"I simply put them in a deep sleep. When they come to their senses, they'll wake up."

Solomon is going to kill me.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch