#and all the dialogue is so wooden and awful like :

[themyscirah]

Not Tom King diagnosing the problem with his own run in issue #2

[mischievousmoony]

hi, ok i have another idea for a fic which again totally up to you to write!! but i had an idea with dad!james and r where their kid is like equally obsessed with their mum as james is with r and one day james decides to prank their kid by saying something bad about the r while their kid is present and the baby just goes off. i feel like you would do an amazing job with this! feel free to ignore too. have a perfectly splendid day!!

-🪷

"the baby just goes off" painted a hilarious picture of an infant yelling at his dad in my mind lmao. ty for the request this warmed my heart to write + special thanks to @moonpascal for chatting a little about kids, gave me the reassurance & inspiration i needed

𝚋𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚜

⟢ dad!james potter x fem!reader ⊹ 1.1k ⟢ warnings/tags: fluff, dad/husband!james, mom/wife!reader, no use of y/n, no name for the son, idk how to write a child's dialogue tbh son's supposed to sound 4 years old

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

James gladly goes out of his way to mention to anyone who will listen that his little one is unmistakably a Mummy's boy. From family to friends to the poor souls who bag his groceries, James will talk the ear off of anyone he can.

He finds it to be the most endearing thing in the world— the way that your son is as obsessed with you as James is. Always staying close and clinging to you, touching affection radiating from every hug and smile.

Today, as he watches his son run back and forth across the carpet, handing his mother block after block just to see her face light up after each gift, his awe and admiration are insurmountable.

Last night, James surprised you with a pair of earrings that you have been wishing for. When your face lit up upon receiving the little leatherette box, so did your son's. He didn't quite understand why you were so excited about some cube, but since then he's been trying to replicate your excitement with presents of his own.

"Oh my! Another one! Thank you, buddy," you beam, you're gratefulness and delight unwavering as he hands you the sixth block.

Your son giggles, bouncing in his spot as you inspect each side of the little wooden toy, telling him how much you adore the blue penguin painted on one of its faces.

That's another thing that touches James' heart: the tender nurture and care that you bestow upon your son with such unwavering devotion and warmth. It has James convinced that you must be the best mum in the entire world.

He might just melt at the sight of you now, kneeling happily in front of a growing pile of blocks as your son scurries back and forth, adding to your collection. James sits cross-legged to your right, resting his elbow on his knee and laying his head in his hand, watching the two he loves most in the world with hearts in his eyes.

You gasp, as if surprised when handed block number seven. "Oh, this is my favorite one yet. How did you know I love zebras?" you ask, your thumb tracing over the red acrylic paint on the side of the block.

By the time you have twelve, nearly half of his collection, you say, "I have a lot of blocks here, buddy, do you want to give some to Daddy?"

"No!" your son protests immediately, running off to his toy box for the thirteenth time.

You and James both chuckle, exchanging amused glances. Finding your son's reaction hilarious, James’s mischievous side has him dreaming up new ways to push his buttons. Your son thinks the world of you, and James is curious to see what the little guy will do if he claims otherwise.

"Well, what am I gonna do with all of this? Should I..."

You leave your son in suspense for a moment, and his hands hover over his toy box as looks at you, hanging onto your every word in anticipation.

"...build a castle!?"

“Yeah!” your son cheers, scooping three more blocks into his arms, thrilled to supply the bricks for your castle.

James nudges you, a sign of his upcoming playfulness. “You sure about that, bud? Mummy is absolutely rotten at building castles.”

Halfway across the carpet, your son stops in his tracks, glaring at his father as he tries to keep his blocks from falling out of his arms.

Stifling a laugh, you press your fingertips to your lips. By now, you’re used to James’ bursts of mischief, and you’re more than happy to sit back and let them play out. Unless you’re an active participant, of course.

You muster up a scandalized gasp as he reaches for your mountain of presents, claiming three blocks in one hand.

“No!” your little one complains, rushing to drop his three in your lap to replace the ones that James stole, “those are Mummy’s!”

“You sure Mummy deserves all these blocks?” James asks, starting to stack them into a tower, “You watch, I’ll build a castle that’ll make her’s look like rubbish.”

Your son hastily makes his way over to his dad, both arms extended as he collides with the tower and sends the blocks flying. "Stop it," he says as he scoops up the nearest block and runs it back over to you, shouting, "Mummy's castles are the best!"

He climbs into your lap, clutching onto the toy tightly as one of your arms wraps around him, and you feel your heart start to melt as you rub soothing circles into his back. You look over your son's head, your eyes sparkling with affection as you meet your husband's tender gaze.

Not having the heart to mess with him for very long, James concedes, "You're right, I'm not being very nice, am I?"

"Nuh-uh!" your son replies, shaking his head with exaggeratedly vigor, the curls he gets from his dad bouncing about.

"What can I do to make it up to her?" James asks, turning the ordeal into a subtle lesson as he dramatically feigns sorrow and despair over his actions.

"'Pologize," your son commands, his head swiveling to look at James expectantly over his shoulder.

James puts on his most sheepish, apologetic smile, looking from his son to you. "I'm very sorry. He's right, your castles are the best. Can you forgive me, love?"

"Aw, of course I forgive you," you say warmly, your amusement manifesting as a wide smile. You lean back so you can get a good view of your son's face when you tell him, "You know, I bet what Daddy really wants is to build a castle with us. I love your presents, bud, but we don't want to leave Daddy out do we?"

He looks down at the block in his little hand. "No," he replies shyly.

"So why don't you ask him to build a castle with us?" You give him a pat on the back before releasing him from your arms. "Go on," you coax.

He steps closer to James, holding the block close to his chest. "We can all build a castle," he offers.

"Yeah?" James' face lights up, and it's not for show. Genuine joy takes over his features as he ruffles your son's hair, responding, "I'd love nothing more, little man."

"But you have to be nice to Mummy!" he demands, his little voice firm and earnest as he looks up at James with wide, serious eyes.

"I promise, I will be on my best behavior," James assures him, his voice sincere as he gives a playful salute. That's enough for your son, because he finally awards James with his very first block, which he accepts with pride.

"Good!" your son cheers, already moving on to the pile of blocks to start stacking them as he proclaims, "Mummy is the best, and we have to show it!"

Your lips part as you suck in a breath, a quiet gasp. Receiving your son's affection never fails to make your heart swell.

You don't feel James' eyes on you, but he's watching— admiring, more like, as he takes in the way that you soften at your son's sweet words. A smitten smile plays at his lips as he agrees, "She is the best, isn't she?"

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[writefightandflightclub]

Blorbo thought of the day #1

More: Steven Grant x GN! reader

Author’s note: Wanted to start doing a “Blorbo thought of the day” thing. Idea is that I will share a snippet of one of the many blorbo scenarios which pop into my head on the daily, but which I don’t have time to develop into a full fic. Sometimes it will be smut, sometimes fluff, sometimes angst, sometimes… a surprise? And I don’t mean literally every day, but whenever I can! This one turned into more of a smutty blurb, but I intend for others to be much shorter snippets, bits of dialogue, headcanons etc..

Who better to start with than Steven?

Steven is a gentle lover; until he isn’t. (In which you gag on Steven’s cock and it sends him FERAL.)

NSFW/18+ Minors interacting will be blocked.

Steven Grant is a gentle lover.

Until he isn’t.

You are on your knees for him as he stands in front of you. Hadn’t even managed to strip off his work clothes yet before you were stripping them for him. Undoing his belt, and peeling away his trousers and boxers. Pushing his back up against the thick wooden beam of his attic room and taking him eagerly into your mouth.

He’s soft. Careful. Always. Let’s you take the lead.

Tonight is no exception.

Steven rests his hand gingerly on the crown of your head as you suck him - nothing but a gentle, reassuring weight. His long eyelashes flutter as he flits his gaze over you; the angel -divine being- making him feel so good.

You didn’t care who came through the door, you’d said. Whether it was him or Marc or Jake - you were getting down on your knees. Had been thinking about it all day.

But you’d told him, when he walked through the door, that you’d been glad it was him.

He’s still not used to this. To being wanted. To how good your mouth feels wrapped around him. Being buried in you.

Steven is a gentle lover. Makes a point of it. Never wants to hurt you. Push you. Take anything you don’t want to give. Has never even considered getting rough with you.

But tonight, he can’t help but think about what it would be like… just to take a little more.

Maybe because he’s had a stressful day at the museum. Maybe because he’s been thinking about coming home to you all day too and relieving his frustrations.

Whatever the reason, Steven can’t help but think about it; because he knows that the others are rougher with you, sometimes. That they don’t treat you like you’re about to break - like he does.

What were the words he’d heard?

Jake: soft dom. Marc: service top. Him: vanilla, submissive.

And so, he can’t help but think about it, because if they’d arrived tonight instead of him, wouldn’t this all be different?

The thought of that, combined with the feel of your velvet lips and the welcoming, warm wet cave of your mouth makes Steven so hard he can see stars blur the edge of his vision. Makes him grow over eager as you work your pretty mouth on him, bucking his hips and driving his length enthusiastically home, deeper into the cave of you. His hand gripping the back of your head just a little tighter than usual in his desperation to come undone.

He didn’t mean to. Didn’t mean to translate this desire from out of his head into the real world. You didn’t expect it.

It takes you a little by surprise.

Enough, to make you gag on Steven’s cock, just for a second; until you are surging off of him, eyelashes wet as you blink away the instant, spiking surge of tears.

Steven means to say something. He really does. Feels awful. Means to say “sorry, love, I’m so sorry”.

To soothe you. To do something.

But he… doesn’t.

Because…. Fuck.

He liked it.

A lot.

To his great relief, you seem unphased too, your lips curling up into a little smile before you curl them once again around his girth.

You continue: still gentle, still soft. Still in control. Setting your own pace.

Except this time Steven is inwardly going feral.

The thought of you gagging on him again. The thought of you surging off of him because he’s too big. The noises you made. The feeling of your throat convulsing around his cock. Even the tears in your eyes and the thought that you want him so much you’ll try so valiantly to take him all.

He’s panting. It’s awoken something in him. He’s throwing his head back against the beam. Eyes are screwing shut. His teeth are biting into his lower lip. His fingers are curling into your hair and - oh God. It feels divinely good but he wants…

Oh God.

He wants to push you down on him until you heave with the swell of him and he’s resisting the urge and you’re sucking him so deep and he can’t take it because he wants -needs to- bury himself even deeper.

Needs more and he’s aching for it.

“-Steven,” you purr, looking up at him, lips plumped and glistening with spit and god. “If you don’t want to make me gag on you again, you can always just ask. I can tell you liked it.”

He opens his eyes. Looks down at you on your knees. His mouth dropped open in surprise, and his legs nervy and trembling. A wracked, disbelieving moan spools from his chest, his cock almost bursting at the thought of it. Of making you choke on him. “W-would you d-do that for me, love?”

Your eyes glint with mischief. With want. “Steven.” You kiss the swollen head of his cock, swirling your tongue around the contours of him until he twitches, nearly spilling himself right then. “I’d do anything for you.”

He releases a shaky breath.

Steven is a gentle lover; until he isn’t.

Until he fists his hand in your hair and drives you down on his shaft, losing all composure as he hears you, feels you, sees you gagging on his size, your hands pressed calmly to his bared thighs as he holds you there and you let him.

And, as he does you fold the flat of your tongue around him. Let him take you, fill you, fuck into the circle of you, your throat resisting; gagging on him.

Steven can’t take it.

Didn’t know he would like this. Never would have guessed.

But within moments, he is emitting a ragged moan. He is pulsing his hot release down your throat. Giving you everything, as you eagerly take it. Swallow him down, until he’s drained; empty. Your hands smoothing up and down his shuddering thighs. Your tongue cleaning every last drop of mess from him. Humming against his softening shaft.

“Was that good, baby?”

He thinks he might black out. Can’t speak.

Can’t speak; until he can. “Love. C-Can we do it again?”

Your mouth curls into a smile; before you wrap it all the way around him.

When it comes to you, Steven can never get enough. He always want more.

At the same time though, you’re more than enough for him.

You’re everything, and he’s so happy he was the one to walk through the door.

[charmwasjess]

Stupid sexy the Acolyte why I am still watching you

Ugh, because it unfortunately rules, that's why. I don't know. On one hand, I still have all of my concerns about the portrayal of the Jedi Order and my absolute exhaustion with the plotline of "oooh, but wHaT iF the Jedi bAd?!" while offhandedly massacring interesting cool Jedi who are voluntarily and honorably living out their convictions as empty plot fodder. I am so tired. But I also keep genuinely finding things to like about the show.

I really like the big chunky boxy lightsaber designs. They remind me of my first car: one of those perfectly square Volvo station wagons. I think the prequel Jedi lightsaber designs tend to be a little industrial/ utilitarian, whereas Dooku's generation (in the few example we have, I'm thinking of his, Sifo-Dyas's, and Jocasta's, because those are the ones I've looked at too many times) can be a little fussy and overdesigned. It's cool to see how generations of Jedi riff on popular designs for their era.

The size makes for a big impact when characters do things such as hold the emitter against the head of another character, or as in last night, bring it up to someone's throat, because damn, that thing is a clunker. It looks so dangerous.

Master Sol. Master Sol. Master Sol. I'm not sure I have ever seen a live action role where the actor has more uniquely and specifically captured what I love about the Jedi in one character.

The scene where he goes down to reset the transmitter and has his little micro-breakdown after the "team is dead" bit. What an powerful moment. The amount of acting he did with absolutely no dialogue, no one else in the scene to bounce off of, just a quiet moment of grief, rage, and loss. I've read both criticism and rebuttals of Jedi acting - oh, they're wooden, no, they're accurately playing a person with a lifetime worth of trained emotional control - and this was such an incredible example of portraying a person with a lifetime of emotional control training realistically experiencing an excruciating, heartbreaking loss. You see him lose control, open himself up to the Force/self soothe, and regain it. All just with a sequence of facial expressions. Honestly, if I get absolutely nothing else out of the show and hate where they go with this, it will have been worth watching for that alone. It's that important to me.

And just - Sol. :') When he gives Not-Osha a big HUG? I'm such a sucker for Jedi onscreen hugs. Man, his inevitable death is gonna blow.

Aww, and speaking of death, confirmation that the Osha and Jecki vibes were really there. Just kill me. And I kind of love how Qimir phrases it, this idea that the Jedi she loves will never love her back the way that she wants them to, but also the twisty subtext there. Maybe this is me giving the show too much credit, but I got a lot of Sith-version of love "to love is to possess a person" vibes in the way he talked about that?

BUt ohhhhh nooooo ewww stupid sexy Qimir trying to s-seduce (?) Osha by being all sexy and funny and likeable and weirdly kind and not like a classic Sith. Pffffh. Yeah, he's going after the other twin now. Completely and totally expected. Oh, good. And now he's taking off his stupid shirt and his beautiful body is there in this dumb stupid scene. He loves to show off his awful muscles and handsome dumb face, as if anybody is interested in that. Presumably his dark side dong is out. Who would care about that? Not me, a scholar.

Whatever, who even cares about this show. CLEARLY I DO NOT

[winged-self-indulgence]

hhhhhhhh can you tell I'm not used to doing bratty reader-inserts?

“I don’t have to listen to you! For all I know, you’re just some imaginary monster inside my head. You can’t tell me what to do!”

Surely famous last words were supposed to be far more eloquent than those. In your defense, you hadn’t meant it completely. You were just taunting the demon, trying to rile them up a bit. After all, it wasn’t fair that they were eons old and could order you around whenever they felt like it. Wasn’t turnabout supposed to be fair play?

Apparently, Z didn’t think so. The moment the words left your lips you felt the atmosphere change. Your heart lurched, feeling as though you had just accidentally missed a step on a staircase. Like you had selected the wrong dialogue option in an RPG and caused the cheerful background music to stop. Past your racing thoughts, you could see Z just staring at you; chin still resting on the heel of their fisted left hand. Smile as wide and razored as ever. Eyes the same fiery-hued gleam.

The tail though. Their tail had stopped moving.

You pressed your lips together and debated retracting your words, until the demon spoke. “I thought we’d moved past all that already,” Z commented lazily. “I know human memory is short, but I didn’t think you were that much of a scatterbrain, Dove. Come here and let me remind you.”

The urge to apologize fizzled and died. With a huff you folded your arms across your chest and stuck your chin out stubbornly. “Well, who knows. Maybe I’m just very creative and dreamed you all up to entertain me,” you replied with airiness you didn’t quite feel. “You’re doing a terrible job, by the way.”

Z’s golden eyes lit up behind their curtain of hair. “Aw, I’d love to be part of your dreams, sweetheart,” he replied, a feral grin hooking one side of his lips higher than the other, exposing canines that were noticeably longer and sharper than the rest of his already sharklike jaws.

“I’m serious!” You scowled, annoyed that he seemed to be toying with you. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever seen you outside this…wherever this is.”

You gestured around to indicate the bar. The bar where no one ever seemed to take notice of you or Z. Where you’d never ordered nor paid for your own drinks, and yet they always appeared in front of you without fail. The bar whose name you always forgot the following morning when you woke up in your own bed with no memory of how you got home in the first place.

“Then come closer, and let me refresh your memory, Dove,” Z cooed, holding out a hand across the table, palm up expectantly.

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. You puffed out your cheeks and glared. “Uh, didn’t you hear me? I said no.”

Z blinked, finally reacting to your insolent attitude. He chuckled low and tilted his head to the side as if to question if you were really defying him. The motion sent his thick hair cascading to the side, a wave of soft brown falling to reveal one ruby-red eye. In an instant, the hand that had been resting placidly on the tabletop darted faster than a snake, locking tight around your wrist like a hunter’s trap.

“You clearly don’t remember who’s in charge right now, sweetheart,” they said, dragging you over the table with ease. “Don’t be a brat unless you’re ready for the consequences, doll. I said come here.”

With a tug, Z had you yanked onto the table, your upper body pressed flat against the cool wooden surface while your legs remained partly kneeling on your seat for balance. You squirmed, unable to push yourself upright with one of your hands trapped in theirs.

"I'll do whatever I want," you scoffed and tried to yank yourself free, but Z’s fingers were like iron manacles. Trying to use your other hand as leverage only got it trapped too, joining it’s sibling in Z’s grip. "You're all talk, Mr. Big Bad Demon Royalty!"

Z’s free hand grasped your chin, forcing you to look at him. He smiled and leaned down, angling your head so that his smoky breath brushed over your lips. “You really enjoy testing my patience, don’t you, Dove? I think I’ve spoiled you too much. Guess I’ll have to teach you a lesson you won’t forget.”

For a moment your breath hitched, caught between an exciting frisson of terror, and then bemused curiosity when Z didn’t immediately move. Then you felt it. Something warm, smooth, yet oddly shaped coiled around one ankle and then another. You wrenched your neck around and gaped at the shadowy black tendrils coiling around your limbs, dragging them apart with barely any effort despite your instinctive rebellion. The shifting darkness pooled below you, a black hole beneath your feet from which rose a writhing mass of twisting, twining, variously shaped appendages. All different, but all sharing Z’s distinct colouring: obsidian black fading to blood red.

Several of them squirmed beneath the fabric of your jeans, sliding into your underwear to tease. Two vanished up your shirt, the tips splitting apart to latch onto your nipples and suck. One curled up to your face, dripping a thick, sticky white liquid that stained your lips and tongue when it forced its way into your mouth.

All the while Z watched you with all the fanged pleasure of someone watching their favourite TV show. Grinning while you gagged on the tendril stuffing your throat barely inches from them, both of your hands still trapped in one of his.

“Oh my,” Z taunted. “Whatever happened to all that bravado, Dove? Be grateful I’m taking it so easy on you. You’re going to come as many times as I want, baby. And by the end, I expect a heartfelt apology, or you won’t like what happens next.”

[preet-01]

I just finished rewatching Game of Thrones season 6 and this idea of an angsty maxiel fic came to be. So this is based on season 6 episode 10, more specifically Loras' trial with dialogue straight from the show without the explosive end

Max is amongst the first to arrive to the Great Sept of Baelor with his betrothed by his side – her hand resting gently on his arm, no more and no less than propriety dictates – and two kingsguard follow behind them with a hand on their respective swords. The very few nobles already at the Sept part to allow Max and his betrothed to reach the slightly elevated platform his father is on. 

“Good morrow,” he greets as is expected of him. The response and the conversation that follows between his father and betrothed is lost to him as his gaze is fixed on where followers of the High Sparrow make their final preparations. 

There are seven simple chairs with one placed at each point of the seven-pointed star. No chair is grander than the other, but all are made of a rough wood that most furniture for the poorest of smallfolk is made. On each chair sits an elderly man in a rough-spun sack, for there is no better word for the long tunic-like clothing the followers of the High Sparrow wear. The High Sparrow indistinguishable from the men he chose to stand as judicators for this trial. 

It would be easy to fight those seven men. One wouldn’t even need to be Kingsguard or a renowned knight to fight those men and win. If it weren’t for the Faith Militant – the most fanatical of the High Sparrow’s followers and men. In long, gray, rough-spun robes with chains crisscrossing around their torsos and the seven-pointed star carved into their foreheads, the Faith Militant are merciless. Just a few weeks ago, their brutality had turned the streets of King’s Landing red with spilled wine and blood. 

The fanaticism could have been snuffed out quietly and quickly, as his uncle had suggested – recalling how awful things had turned out centuries ago when they first rose up against the crown. But his father had not listened. Instead, he had armed them and given them legitimacy as only the King could. 

The Sept of Baelor is quick to fill with nobles and smallfolk alike – all of them curious to see the trial and its outcome. It is not every day that a noble, a scion of one of the great houses, is so publicly tried for something everyone had known but turned a blind eye to because that’s just how things were. 

Nobles with secrets to keep and protect are present only so they could find ways to safeguard themselves against this new religious fanaticism. In the before times, carefully planned donations had allowed them to do as they pleased with Septons and Septas turning a blind eye. The smallfolk clamor to witness the trial so they may see a rich man brought to their level, to see that finery and wealth will not protect the nobles. 

It’s madness and asking for trouble. 

Had his father not learned anything from the histories he so harshly burned into Max’s mind? Every time it was brought to attention that nobles and royalty bled just the same as the smallfolk, it ended badly for the nobles and royalty. The smallfolk outnumbered them by thousands if not millions – not even dragons had been safe from the smallfolk once they realized that dragons were not gods but flesh and blood just like any other animal. 

The pounding of a wooden staff by the High Sparrow brings Max’s attention back to the matter at hand. 

There is to be a trial. And at the center of it is Ser Daniel Ricciardo. 

Across the Sept stands House Ricciardo – all of them united as they await the future of their house. Once their strongest allies, Max doubts they will be staying in King’s Landing long once the trial is over nor will they lend their support to House Verstappen in the ongoing war now that the heir to their great house is on trial by fanatics legitimized by the King. It is a troublesome prospect to think about as the Ricciardos fielded most of the men in the crown’s army and were the ones to provide food for the kingdom. 

The brotherhood of the Faith Militant drag Daniel to the center and Max barely recognizes the man. 

Fine silks are replaced by rough-spun robes and chains. The never-ending bright smile has ceased to exist. The curls Max loved to weave his hands through are shorn to the root. Cuts and bruises litter Daniel’s face as he curls into himself. The once proud knight is reduced to a shade of himself as he keeps his eyes on the floor, averting any interaction he may have with the people present to witness the trial. 

“Ser Daniel Ricciardo,” the High Sparrow says as the brothers force Daniel onto his knees in the center of the seven-pointed star. “Are you prepared to stand trial and profess your guilt or innocence before the Seven?” he inquires. 

“There'll be no need for a trial,” Daniel replies. His voice is rough and weak, breaking with every word he says. The crowd around Max murmured amongst themselves as they’d all come to witness a trial. “I confess before the Seven and freely admit to my crimes,” Daniel continues as the whispers and murmurs grow louder. 

“I would spend the rest of my life here with just you,” Max whispered pressing kisses along Daniel’s bare chest. 

“To which crimes will you be confessing?” the High Sparrow questions, gazing down at Daniel’s broken figure. 

“All of them. I lay with other men,” Daniel says, his body betraying him as his eyes fall to where Max stands for only a few seconds before turning back to the High Sparrow, “including the traitor Nico Rosberg.” Max’s breath hitches, he does not know if he wants Daniel to name him as one of the men he’d slept with so they may suffer together or if he fears what may happen should Daniel name him. Nico Rosberg is long dead, slain by a ghost or woman – the tales vary and are most likely fictionalized with each passing moment – he will not suffer for any of this like Daniel will, nor is it unknown that Nico Rosberg had once lain with the Ricciardo heir. 

“We could always run away. They are not so strict against who you love in the Free Cities,” Daniel said when Max’s betrothal was announced. Sooner than later, Max would marry the Lannister girl and sire perfect, golden-haired babes to rule after him. 

“I perjured myself before the gods. I am guilty of depravity... dishonesty, profligacy, and arrogance,” Daniel continues to say, the hurt evident as he stops after saying depravity. Nothing about what they had done was deprave, it was beautiful and something to be cherished, but the Faith of the Seven did not see it as such. The beauty of their love was considered to be wrong and immoral. A crime that could be tried in front of all and give the Faith Militant leave to cut cocks if they so chose to do so. 

“I see that now. I humble myself before the Seven and accept whatever punishment the gods deem just,” Daniel finally says as tears stain his cheeks. 

Max clenches his fists, digging his nails into his palms until it stings to keep himself from moving from his place between his father and betrothed. 

As the Crown Prince, Max was forced to sit for the inquisition. Everything had gone well enough, there were not many questions and things could be explained away. Michelle had defended her brother and Max’s name was never once brought up. It had gone well until it hadn’t. 

A no-name knight from years ago was brought to the inquisition. A no-name knight who Daniel hadn’t seen in years since he’d committed himself to Max had given credence to the accusations by mentioning a birthmark on Daniel’s upper thigh – a birthmark Max himself had marked with kisses. 

“The gods' judgment is fierce, but also fair,” the High Sparrow says loudly so his voice echoes in the Sept. “The Warrior punishes those who believe themselves beyond the reach of justice. But the Mother shows her mercy to those who kneel before her,” he states. 

Still kneeling, Daniel says, “I take full responsibility for my many sins and unburden myself of my desires. My only remaining wish is to devote my life to the Seven. May I be a living example of their grace for others to witness.” Daniel replies as the crowd gasps. 

“You understand fully what this means?”

“I do,” Daniel agrees. “I will abandon the Ricciardo name and all that goes with it. I will renounce my lordship and my claims on Highgarden. I will never marry and I will never father any children,” he says. It is unheard of for heirs to renounce their claims and vow to never marry or father children. Even the heirs who preferred the company of men kept their positions and married as was expected. 

“Brother Daniel... I ask you to dedicate your life to the seven gods. Will you fight to defend your faith against heretics and apostates?” 

“I will,” Daniel says. 

“The gods are just and Brother Daniel has seen the error in his ways. Now he will repent and serve the Faith,” the High Septon says as the brothers of the Faith Militant mutilate Daniel. 

Daniel’s screams echo in the Sept of Baelor as they carve the seven-pointed star on his forehead. 

He should have run away with Daniel when they had the chance. Forsaken his station as heir to the Iron Throne and took Daniel far, far away from the people who saw their love as immoral. He should have protected Daniel like Daniel protects him now. Max’s father may not love him, but he knows that if Max was at the other end of the sodomy accusations, his father would have quelled the Faith Militant and gotten rid of the High Sparrow. Daniel knew it just as well as Max did, but yet, Daniel hadn’t spoken his name once, protecting him even to his own detriment. 

Once Daniel is taken away, not even given a moment with his family, the crowds disperse with his father at the head of it all. 

“Michelle-” he begins when it is just him and Daniel’s sister standing in the Great Sept of Baelor. The floor between them was stained with drops of Daniel’s blood and tears. 

“Do not,” she cuts him off, hatred in her tear-filled eyes. Her father, the Lord of Highgarden, had ushered away his crying wife, but Michelle had remained in her place. “We all warned Daniel to not get in bed with a Verstappen, but he didn’t listen because he was in love.” 

“I will-” 

“Do you know what they did to him?” she questions with a sob. “My baby brother, the strongest man I know? Do you know how they beat him, tortured him, broke him until he was begging for it to end?” Holding back sobs, Michelle’s glare is cutting. Where Daniel was renowned for his smiles and chivalry, Michelle was renowned for cutting looks and sharp words. “I begged him to say your name, to accuse you of using your position as Prince to bed him, to do anything but accept this. But my brother has a kind heart and still loves you despite what your father caused through his patronage and legitimization of these zealots.” 

“I will confess and make them change this,” Max states. His confession of committing the same acts as Daniel will surely change this and force them to let Daniel return to his family. 

“You are the Prince and my brother the man who dared to love you. You are not so naive to think your father would not hide your confession and make Daniel suffer for it,” Michelle says with a harsh laugh. “Go, your grace, marry your pretty Lannister bride and hope that her family provides the Crown with men and food because the Reach will not,” she says, “I have a brother I need to say goodbye to.” 

Michelle leaves him alone in the Sept. By the end of the day, every single member of House Ricciardo and the Reach is gone from the city. Soldiers march home under the pretense of preparing for the upcoming winter and cutting the rebels off from the south. 

“Your grace, a note for you,” a page says handing him a tiny piece of parchment. 

I am yours until my dying breath and even after. 

As his family’s banners disappear from the horizon, Daniel ends his pain, the empty vial slipping from his hand and breaking into tiny shards of glass. 

[mrylin]

Can I PLEASE request Wednesday with a Siren reader :)

deadly beautiful (wednesday addams/reader)

this was so short i know, if you want to request a second part please feel free to do it

summary: wednesday hated mermaids with her being, but maybe you could be the - only - exception.

warnings: this time there's nothing but a awful dialogue

"If you look harder you can kill all the fish with just your eyes,"

Wednesday didn't bother on turning around, just glancing to the side out of the corner of her eye. "It will make my job of picking the bombs easier." She said, listening as you climbed out of the water and sat beside her on the old wooden bridge.

That lake was lonely, surrounded by trees. No one from Jericho ventured so deep into the forest, always being afraid of what might be there. For a while you called them cowards since nothing has appeared, just normal critters. But since the hyde, you are happy not to see them there.

Wednesday was paying attention to you and how you looked ahead with a lost look. She was staring at you as if any minute you were going to pull her by the arm and drown her in the waters. "Why are you here?"

"Is that important to you?"

You laughed. "Touche."

Silence fell between you two, but unlike the types she had with other people, this one was different. Comfortable, she would say. You didn't force her to talk and you always asked small questions, knowing that if you forced her she would close down even more and maybe continue to hate you for the rest of her days in that city.

You knew how to make her open up and she hates it.

"You know, I was going to invite you to the rave'n but I don't think a girl like you goes to such boring parties without a drop of blood." You spoke distractedly.

Wednesday finally turned, not completely, just a little. She was looking at you like this was a joke and like you were completely stupid. You didn't know if it was because you even considered calling her or because it's you. Well you hoped it was the first option. "You thought right for the first time,"

Unaffected, you waved your hand dismissively. "Oh, and here I thought I had a chance to take the deadly beautiful Wednesday Addams out for dancing." You made a face.

For a few seconds she just sat in silence, looking for the lake. Then, just as suddenly, she stood up and placed her hands on the strap of her purse, standing beside you and looking down at you. "I'll meet you there at seven," And then she left, leaving you there, watching her with a small smile and bright eyes.

Wednesday Addams really was something else and you loved her for it.

well i'm traveling and maybe i'm not on my phone much so things might turn out slower than expected (it all depends on my imagination/time) but i'll try to write more today :)

[garoujo]

・✶ ｡ﾟhanma would show the world you’re his if he had to.

♱ warnings — f!reader, exhibitionism, vouyerism, fingering, edging, possessiveness.

♱ note — i kinda h8 the shuji’s dialogue in this but it’s just kinda rotting in my drafts n i can’t think of anything else so T^T

“squeezing real tight.. does my babydoll like putting on a show?” hanma drawls, his voice low and raspy as the pads of his fingers circle your clit through your already embarrassingly wet panties.

but his dark eyes are locked on the subordinate he’d put in charge of guarding you, the same one who’s been a little too friendly with you recently, a little too familiar and obviously not realising you belong to him. so now he’s here — meeting up with you for lunch, and you’re feeling your boyfriend press down on your clit harder when he notices him staring back.

“shuji, not right now!” you hiss, trying to close your thighs around him but you feel his free hand on your skin, sin pulling your legs apart before he turns to shoot you a more handsome smirk despite the seething jealousy lacing his features.

you hear hanma groan under his breath when he pulls your panties to the side, turning his gaze back to the younger man who’s currently trying his best to ignore the scene infront of him. “oh, but you’re so fucking wet, doll. you like this, huh? such a dirty girl.” he drawls in your ear, his tone a smooth whisper but it’s still laced with a teasing lilt.

“s-shuji“ your hands grip the edge of the wooden table when you feel him slip his index finger into your flexing cunt, hearing him hiss when he’s not met with much resistance and you suck your bottom lip between your teeth in an attempt to stifle your moan.

your eyes are unfocused but you can almost sense the smug, cruel look on your boyfriends face when he pushes another finger in to join the first, angling them against the sweet spot inside of you that has your thighs twitching and a pleasurable heat building in your stomach.

“aw, look. i bet that fucker wishes he was the one your pretty thighs were spreading for. but this pussy ‘s all mine, right? nobody else gets to touch my sweet girl.” hanma hisses, pushing his fingers deeper into you, languidly pumping them in and out of your sloppy heat as his thumb rubs hard circles into your clit and you’re almost embarrassed at how wet you are.

“i’m yours, shuji.” you gasp, breathlessly and you feel him place an open mouthed kiss against your jawline as he watches the subordinate swallow rough in the doorway, having a front row seat to the show when he speeds up his ministrations on your cunt.

“that’s fucking right, doll.” hanma growls, emphasising his words with a few particularly sharp thrusts against the spongy spot inside you, feeling you tighten and clench around his finger as he exhales shakily.

“aw, you gonna cum, babydoll? i hope you weren’t gonna hold back on me.. or else.” he coos and you can only shake your head wordlessly, one of your hands reaching to grab at the skin of his thigh next to you when your cunt pulses around his digits, sucking them back in everytime he drags them out.

“too bad, only i get to see that pretty face you make when you cum.” hanma groans and you let a needy whimper slip out when you feel his fingers pull out of you, your walls continuing to clench around nothing as you blink up at him all wet-eyed.

“that’s mean, shuji!” you babble, so cute and pouty.

his eyes are sharp and dark when they meet yours, watching him hold up his fingers, shiny with your slick before he pops them between his lips, lewdly slurping them clean and you’re so focused on him you don’t notice the subordinate slip away flustered out of the quiet cafe you both frequented.

but before the haze can clear from your mind you feel your boyfriend stand tall from beside you, dragging you out of your seat towards the bathrooms with another smug smirk on his lips followed by a wink.

“thought you liked me mean, doll. can show me how you look around my cock this time.”

© 2022 garoujo. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[maximumwobblerbanditdonut]

Had you played TV cliché bingo while watching The Couple Next Door, I do believe sparks would have been flying from your dabber. I’m almost in awe that so many were crammed in before the first ad break alone. Barely seven minutes in, Becka (Jessica De Gouw) and Danny (Sam Heughan) were pulling each other’s clothes off and having sex at their living room window, curtains open, in a way that no married couple whose small child has just left the room ever do. Except in TV La-La land.

It was a bonus, though, for Alan the Pervert (Hugh Dennis), who has a telescope trained on their house and dark circles under his eyes that suggest he does a lot of squinting while hunched over his computer (and I don’t mean at Wordle).

I suppose at least this drama owns its clichés. What am I saying? It revels in them. It opened with the classic taster of horror to come, Eleanor Tomlinson as Evie running in what we shall call TV’s “sexy terrified” way. That is, frightened but looking hot, hot, hot in a short silk nightie as she ran barefoot through a forest. We then flipped back in time to Evie and Pete (Alfred Enoch) happily arriving at their new suburban idyll to start their family, which was a sort of sunny Wisteria Lane and not at all like the Leeds I remember from when I lived there.

It told us everything was too smug to be true by having laughing children playing with water guns, lawns being mowed, cars being washed. Uh-oh. We know that can’t last. And it didn’t. Evie miscarried her baby (conceived with a donor because Pete has “puny sperm”) by minute 16. I have a terrible feeling that the koi carp in the garden are some sort of “swimmers” metaphor.

Sometimes the dialogue was so stilted, I wondered if it was a spoof. “You guys will get through this,” Danny said to Pete, who should really have responded by asking if he was a chatbot. It soon transpired that Danny and Becka were swingers (it’s based on a Dutch series called, yes, The Swingers) and they promptly had “that couple we met in Marbella” round for some wife swapping as Pete watched from his window. Has anyone in this street ever considered closing a blind? And, actually, aren’t they “the couple opposite”, not “next door”?

There’s a dull subplot about Danny being a dodgy copper, which ties in to a dull investigation that local journalist Pete wants to look into, but his editor wants him to cover the opening of a new city library. A new library? Pull the other one. The UK has closed about 800 of them in the past decade.

At least Evie cheered up when she got Danny’s powerful beast between her legs. Oh, I mean his motorbike, though it’s obvious it won’t be long before the other beast comes into play. I feared we might get to the end of the episode without it committing the top TV cliché on the bingo card, namely spontaneous sex on a kitchen worktop. But, no. Evie and Pete gave us a full house by doing exactly that — and during a storm for added cheesiness.

These couples are as wooden as Dutch clogs, but I am enjoying Dennis’s greasy performance as the disgusting stalker who pretends to like yoga so he can be near Becka. I must warn you that later in the series it’s traumatic to see the man who played the nice dad in Outnumbered masturbating. I must also warn you that episode two contains some of the worst cringey couple dancing you are likely to witness in your lifetime. I think the moral of this silly but entertainingly corny tale is going to be: “Don’t shag the neighbours.”

thetimes.co.uk

Carol Midgley joined The Times in 1996 and is a former Feature Writer of the Year winner. Find her column in Times 2 each Wednesday and her TV reviews on Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays.

————————————————————————

Indeed I saw all the reviews after the streaming view, including all episodes. The Times’ review concretes many things about The Couple Next Door 💁‍♀️

[trouble-clef]

Maybe i'm just too old now, but i cannot get myself to actually like this PJO show. Here's why. Feel free to disagree, these are just my thoughts.

The dialogue is not doing it for me. I know much of it is ripped straight from the book's pages, but while I love to read it, watching someone perform it just...it feels wooden.

While I love moments of all the characters, the only actor that's consistently selling it for me is Aryan Simhadri (Grover). Charlie Bushnell as Luke is a close second when he's not expositing the hell out of things. Walker and Leah are both just...really wooden and one note for me. They're kids, I know. I feel like they could really grow into these roles, but right now...yeesh. It's not awful, just not compelling. I was crazy excited for Leah Jeffries in particular, too!

Nothing about this show feels grand or epic. The minotaur fight was pretty underwhelming. There have been 3 fights: Fury, minotaur, Medusa. Percy defeated the Fury accidentally in about 20 seconds. Medusa walked around threateningly for 3 minutes before getting beheaded (although I did love the massive basement cave of statues! That made her seem a bit scary, actually). Minotaur was. Fine. The kids sit on a bus, run away from a Fury that doesn't actually seem to be chasing them (they look like they're taking a leisurely hike and we never actually see them running away), and after a not-fight, behead Medusa and then petrify Alecto (we see this from afar, for some reason? I know it's meant to represent Annabeth watching, but nothing about the shot communicates anything about how she might feel about what she's seeing).

I know they only have the 8 episodes but if any show deserves that old 22-26 episode run it's this one. Despite how fast paced the books are, we still get time to sit with the characters. There are 9 and a half chapters out of this 22 chapter book where we get to know Percy and the rest of the characters before embarking on this epic, death defying adventure with them. I don't feel like I know the show's Percy at all. He's boring. What makes show Percy a character? Who is he? The answer can be different from the book but it can't be nothing. Same with Annabeth. It's implied that she's this whip smart talented strategist and the most experienced camper, but I'm shown pretty much none of that. I, as a fan, know that Annabeth was using Percy as bait in capture the flag, but I feel like someone new to the franchise wouldn't get that.

The show spoon feeds everything to the viewer. In the books, Medusa is a mystery for a bit. They figure it out slowly. They almost get caught in her trap. Here, oh! It's Medusa, but be careful because Alecto is outside! I've not actually seen why Alecto is so dangerous. Percy accidentally stabbed Dodds the first time, so she was barely a threat then (compared to the books where it was an actual fight). The Furies have attacked maybe once and one of them got blown up in a way that basically registered as an accident. Alecto doesn't get a chance to show she's a threat before Medusa shows up to save them. Save them from the Fury we didn't get to see chasing them.

The show is Unfunny. Not just not funny, Unfunny. The books were filled with humor, and the tone of Percy's inner dialogue was often comedic in the less serious parts. Grover is really carrying the humor of the show on his back. (The Dionysus dad scene was funny, though, but I'm letting out a chuckle every like...hour at most here).

Now, about future things to come/being set up:

-Percy is supposed to be a good fighter generally, but he also draws power from water specifically. This is important when he fights Ares on the beach (which we know is coming and I'm praying will be epic). This is established during the capture the flag fight in the books but not here. We have seen approximately 0 fights since that point and if the show keeps going, we won't see any, so when will this get established?

-Luke is supposed to be disarmingly awesome in the book so as to make the betrayal all the more shocking. Again, where those first 9 chapters come in. I don't think we've seen enough of him to make it hurt like it should. (Again, really like Charlie as Luke, just we aren't seeing enough of him)

-so...Gabe is goofy now. Which on the one hand I really like, but on the other it doesn't feel like he'll deserve the petrification at the end. He's not terrible and abusive, just lazy and a little irritating. (Nice touch making him the prophecy though, made me chuckle)

Things i like so this isn't a total Debbie Downer:

-peter johnson

-"he knows your name." "Does he, though?"

-"can you please tell them to put the hot peppers on my sandwich"

-Dionysus the "i'm totally your dad" wine god

-not even seeing a hint of non-exiled Olympians until the end of episode 3 (makes them feel like the distant immortal beings that they are)

-Lin Manuel Miranda jumpscare

-Blackjack!

-camp halfblood. Looks awesome, appropriately massive and epic.

-wheelchair user camp counselor (love me some disability rep)

-grover is an adorable delight

-medusa is Soooooooo pretty

[writergeekrhw]

I love Elementary as a Holmes adaptation, but I have to ask about the copaganda. Not so much the overall presence/depiction of the NYPD as the generally benevolent venue for Joan and Sherlock to solve crime, but rather the occasional ep that veered off into wtf-level acts of police mouthpiecing: for example, the ep where Joan and Marcus flip the eff out after discovering that Marcus' girlfriend works in Internal Affairs. I'm curious whether stuff like that came directly out of perspectives native to the writers' room, or if it was more dictated from external sources as a cost-of-doing-business requirement. Similar to, "Microsoft will give your production money AS LONG AS you show your characters using Microsoft products to positive ends", was there a "you can depict the NYPD and call it by name AS LONG AS you include such-and-such lines of dialogue/story about how Police Are Great And Admirable And Beyond Reproach"?

(I get that you may not be able to or want to answer this question, but I caught the ep with Marcus' girlfriend yesterday and it's just so...vehement, in some really fucked up ways. I can't not ask, even if you don't answer. Thank you for keeping your askbox open!)

ON COPAGANDA

Great questions without an easy answer. Personally, I'm usually very cautious about outright copaganda, though I have a very close friend who joined the CHP and rose pretty high in the ranks, and I respect the hell out of him and what he did. That said, I think police are people and run the gamut from great to awful, like anyone. Worth noting, my buddy comes from a cop family, his older brother is a cop, and I know someone from a citizen group who basically said his brother was NOT a good cop at all. The opposite.

I've mostly had pretty good experiences with police, but when I was young, I was pulled over for driving while poor. I had a weapon in the car (a wooden club). Things got very tense. And I'm pretty sure that if I weren't so damn pale, that night might have gone way worse.

My friends who don't share my skin tone have, generally speaking, a much worse time with the police. I once gave a friend of mine shit for keeping his dealer tags on his car long past when he got his plates. His response: "It's another way to prove I own this car without having to reach into my glove compartment." My response: "Oh. Sorry. I'm an idiot."

So if you want to see what I think of the police... well, I wrote Bell and Gregson as good cops. I also wrote "End of Watch" and created Gina Cortes. I think, on the balance, ELEMENTARY showed good cops and bad, including shitheals like Captain Dwyer and outright villains like Frank DaSilva.

As for Shauna, in my opinion, Bell reflects the rank-and-file dislike for IA, and the fact that he blows up their relationship over it is supposed to be a huge mistake. Shauna is ultimately a good person, and Bell's prejudice costs him what could've been a wonderful relationship.

And yet... Gregson and Bell are heroes. Pretty much straight up. Sherlock and Joan work for the police, more often than not. And this is portrayed as a good thing. We had NYPD consultants on the show, and though they were mostly very helpful with making the cop stuff realistic, and I liked them a lot, they weren't super thrilled when we did stories about bad cops. I can't ever remember steering away from those stories because of their feedback, but... yeah.

On the balance, I'd say while ELEMENTARY did have our share of copaganda, we did try to create a more nuanced portrayal of police that most network procedurals.

I totally get it if you think differently.

And thanks for watching!

[agerefanfics]

[Disclaimer: This is an SFW Agere story! Please don’t be weird about it OR confuse it with k1nk!] ~~~

“Ugh. That Damned override.”

Chip held onto his chest, the light blinking red as he stumbled his way to his desk. Nearly collapsing onto his desk, he angrily threw a chair before throwing himself onto the desk. He hated this. Hated this job, hated this god damn override. He hated everything about this, and for once he wished he’d just fall into a fetal position and forget everything about this life he was forced to live in, and yet he just couldn’t.

"I wish I never worked for this company in the first place!"

He slammed his fists on the desk, his emotional state bubbling like a hot engine. He nearly lost himself as he continued his dialogue, explaining how he never wants these toons to tell his only “Brother” Spruce the truth, due to the constant fear of losing the only person that truly cared about him.

"You should leave as soon as possible."

"I don't want you to be here when that monster comes back."

Most of the toons turned their backs and left the room, except for one. The toon in question was a beaver, with a green coat and hazel eyes. The toon slowly approached the cog, being weary of what would happen if they stepped even closer.

“Go.”

Was all that chip said as he held the urge to break down, albeit very poorly. His body quivered and shook as his fingers dug into the wooden desk. Instead of the toon backing away and leaving him alone, the toon only approached Chip cautiously. The toon jumped on a chair and climbed up onto the desk, getting a better look of the chainsaw.

Chip looked up at the toon, an almost grimaced look on his face.

“Are you deaf? I said go-”

The toon placed a hand on his head, their eyes told of an emotion Chip had never seen before. Sympathy. This toon felt sorry for him, and it showed as their hand moved down to cup the side of his face. Finally the toon spoke.

“You poor thing.”

Chip fell into shock, utterly baffled by the toon’s words. How could a toon feel anything for a cog?

He couldn’t answer that question himself.

“Don’t pity me, Toon.”

He spoke, his head looking down as he pleaded to himself to collapse and find a moment of safety. The toon, still cupping the side of chip’s face, sat on their knees and gently wrapped their arms around his head, the side of their face snuggling into the hat.

“I’m so sorry you have to go through this. If I had known this was what would happen, I would've never..”

The toon paused.

“I wouldn’t have started the fight in the first place.”

That finally broke him. Just that one apology broke his mentality. His fingers relaxed as he collapsed to his knees, tears welling up in his eyes as he sniveled. The toon release themselves from the embrace, hopping off the desk and gently holding Chip’s hand. The toon took notice of how big his hand was, as their own hand was small compared to his.

Chip simply cried, sniffling in between choked sobs. In this very moment, he felt small and helpless.

He so badly wished Spruce was here. Just to be able to hug him would simply take his worries away. Instead, he had this toon beside him, the toon gently petting his hand as a way to comfort him.

“It’s okay, it’ll all be okay.”

Chip looked at the toon miserably, his other hand rubbing one of his eyes to wipe the tears away. He hiccuped through his sniveling as he choked out his words.

“I just wan my bubba..”

He uttered out, his tears still dripping down from his eyes. The toon quickly took notice of how chip said those words, He spoke as if he was simply a child that was scared. The toon gently hugged the giant cog, all while rubbing his back in a circular motion.

“I’m here, Revvington. I’m right here.”

Chip gently hugged the toon back, his choked sobs shaking his whole body. Minutes passed, and Chip was slowly calming down from his crying tangent. He began to feel sleepy, which wasn’t out of ordinary since he just had a crying fit minutes ago.

“Aw, is someone sleepy?”

The toon asked.

Chip rubbed one of his eyes, quietly groaning to himself. He looked at the toon, a soft and tired expression on his face.

“Mmh, no..”

He responded, yawning in the process. The toon smiled, before (with difficulty) helped the cog up on his feet. The toon gently held his hand, gently pulling him along to the big doors on the side of the wall.

“Alright big fella, let’s get you into some more comfy clothes and get you to bed.”

Chip mumbled something under his breath, but the toon couldn’t tell what exactly it was. Making it into the hallway and near the door that literally had the suit’s manager name on it, they both enter the room, leading the cog over to the bed and setting him down. The toon let go of the cog’s hand, heading over to a drawer and opening of the shelves. Rummaging around, they pick out a flannel bodysuit, with buttons on the bottom so the outfit fits in place. The toon turned around to approach the chainsaw, pajamas in hand.

“How’s this outfit, big fella? You like it?”

Chip looked at the outfit, simply nodding his head.

~~

Once the outfit was fitted onto the cog, the toon clicked the buttons in, knowing that the pajamas fit perfectly. Chip sat up, looking at his outfit and giggled tiredly.

“Wan Woo’chuck..”

The toon’s ears perked up for a moment, turning to the cog’s sleepy face.

“Who’s Woodchuck?”

The toon asked, puzzled until the cog in question pointed to a red teddy bear that sat on the floor. The toon made an audible ‘oh’ as they approached and picked up the bear. Returning to the cog, the toon handed the bear to the cog, to which the cog happily snuggled. Helping the cog lay down comfortably in bed, the toon gently covered the chainsaw with a blanket. Chip yawns once more, the blades on his apparatus revving ever so slightly.

“Alright buddy, time to go night-night ok?”

Chip mumbled.

“Otay..”

With no other words, chip’s eyes fluttered close, the cog slowly dozing off. The toon placed a hand on the side of Chip’s face, before retracting and making their way to the bedroom door.

Before he could turn the doorknob, he heard something that he wasn’t expecting.

“Goo’night bubba…”

Chip mumbled out.

The toon smiled, turning the doorknob and exiting out the door. Before closing the door, the toon quietly responded.

“Goodnight, Lil Buddy.”

Chip finally dozed off, his mind wandering off into dreamland.

~~

When chip woke up, he awoke to a daze and state of confusion. Rubbing his eyes and eventually his head, he took notice of the teddy bear that laid on the floor near his bed. Before he could question his very beloved teddy bear, he quickly took notice of the pajamas he wore. He quietly gasped. He didn’t remember wearing this. Looking around, he sat himself up on his bed, pondering what had happened yesterday. It didn’t take long before he saw a letter on his table.

Picking up the letter, he read what contained in the letter.

‘Dear Revvington, if you’re reading this, you might be confused about what happened. You were having a bad day and I decided to help you out, so I hope you don’t mind that I took care of you. I promise you that you’re not a freak for coping like this, I can only imagine what you go through every day. I hope you had a nice nap, you looked like you needed it. Signed, Chuck.’

Chip sighed, crumpling up the letter and throwing it in the bin. He got dressed in his suit before exiting his room, ready to get back to work. Whoever this ‘Chuck’ was (hoping it wasn’t a toon), he did appreciate the help. He couldn’t help but smile (if he could) at the thought of meeting this mysterious figure one day, as bizarre as it may seem.

In the end, it was back to work. He could take a break another time.

[old-people-like-avatar]

Netflix Avatar the Last Airbender -- S1E1: Aang Review [spoilers]

I just finished watching the first episode of Netflix's Avatar the Last Airbender. I have not read anyone else's reviews, so this is just my take. SPOILERS AHEAD.

Overall, somewhat surprisingly, I had a pretty positive reaction. I enjoyed some parts, really disliked other parts, but overall, pretty positive start.

THE GOODS

Sokka: I'll just come out and say I really enjoyed Ian Ousley's Sokka performance this episode: the way he was looking after Katara and the village, his bravery in fighting Zuko to protect Aang. The line delivery. He more than anyone else conveyed character through action (as opposed to character through clunky dialogue).

The bending/action: It all looked great! No complaints here.

Gran Gran saying the intro lines: Long ago the four nations lived in harmony! Then everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked! I was absolutely delighted at how they wove the cartoon intro lines organically into Gran Gran recounting of the 100 year war to Aang.

THE I-APPRECIATED-WHAT-THEY-WERE-DOING-BUT-NOT-SURE-THEY-PULLED-IT-OFF

Southern Air Temple: I really appreciated that this show tried to show us how alive and peaceful the air temple felt as they prepared for the comet festival before the Fire Nation burned everything to the ground. I loved seeing the room with the Yangchen statue. I loved the concept of starting off the show with Aang in his home. But I needed to see more of Aang really living in his home, of Aang having fun and being carefree, of Aang being Aang -- not just Aang floating down to the ground. The audience didn't really get to see the essence of who Aang is other than "the avatar" and "don't want the responsibility." They achieved some of what they were going for, but it could have been so much more.

THE BADS

Aang/Katara lacking connection: Sokka had a strong episode, but I did not feel much connection, if any, between Aang and Katara. I don't mean romantic connection. I mean any connection at all. We needed to see them interact more meaningfully before the Fire Nation attacked. Something felt missing (though ironically, I felt a connection between Aang and Sokka).

Terrible, clunky dialogue: They really need to learn to write better dialogue. (Didn't they learn from the movie?) Some of the lines -- even the ones meant to be emotional, like Gyatso's "I am your friend" -- came off so wooden. And not because of the acting. The Gyatso actor did an admirable job selling the lines he was given. But the problem so far is there's a little too much telling, too little showing. We needed more Gyatso airbending banana cakes or playing games with Aang, not Aang exposition-dialoguing to Appa about how he loves to eat banana cakes. And somehow, even when they showed, they still told! Why? For example, the episode did a fantastic job showing how Sokka was burdened with the responsibility of defending the village. Katara did not need to say, "I know how much responsibility this has been on you" or whatever that awful line was. Iroh's lines so far haven't really "hit" for me yet.

THE UNKNOWN

The kid actors: So far, I like all of the child actors, especially Ian Ousley's Sokka. Gordon Cormier also did a good job conveying Aang's lightness and humor. ("Sky bison!") I'm not sure yet about Katara and Zuko. Overall, I like what i see so far. But right now, I think the problem is more with the dialogue they've been given and less with the acting. But we shall see how things develop.

THE CONFUSING

Aang can fly without a glider...?

Why was Roku replaced with Kyoshi in the intro?

Onto the next one!

[curtvilescomic]

Madame Web - spoiler-free

So, today me and my Son went to see Madame Web

and both of us knew more than half of the Internet hates thus. And being comics nerd I was baffled. " So this old blind woman who is paralyzed in comics is played by...young ablebodied seeing Dakota Johnson?"

But let's give it a chance.

It began slow and boring and the dialogue is awful and sticking there the main bad guy? In my youth I watched loads of italowesterns and Hong Kong kung fu movies that were dubbed better. It is not a little off, it is on another continent altogether.

And like the trailer showed he looks

I know It's like Craigslist Amazon (not-quite-spiderperson) or wish suit that will not get litigated because Sony has the rights. They are not going to sue themselves.

There are huge HUGE plotholes. And most effects got a call from early 2000s. You know the drunken ex call.

The money they saved was put in I guess rights to play Toxic by Britney Spears.

It really has these flaws.

And I loved it.

No sarcasm or irony. Really. I smiled. The comics nerd in me had joyous laughter. See I do not care if you like the sixties Adam West Batman or Monica Vitti Modesty Blaise. Those are travesties An insult to comics and their creators. I see nothing good in them. And I am wysiwyg, my personality does Not change between real life and internet. Somehow with all those immense faults the movie won me over.

I turned to my Son, who loved it too. Also as confused by this.

It will flop. They will talk about superhero oversaturation etc but I honestly want to see it again. I do not want to see Morbius ever again, that started better than expected but decided to piss everything and then some away. Yet even that shitstorm is lightyears ahead of aforementioned Batman & Modesty Blaise " films". This is by same writers as Morbius. Wild.

Most will hate it.

And some will say, sure you are aging toxic cishet man who just drooled over all the girls in this. Again you can think what you want, me don't mix movies and porn I don't give a shit what your sexuality is most movies but bait there, unnecessary nudity and cheesecake / abs for no reason except for the bait.

That said besides mainly wooden Dakota Johnson highlights were Sydney Sweeney.

And I very much enjoyed Adam Scott's performance. Chef's Kiss.

Really not for everyone. But I enjoyed it. And I will buy the Bluray

[pikachu78109]

I watched The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (2005) and it’s bad, however it’s the kind of bad where I found myself laughing at how it tries so unbelievably hard to be, I don’t know, different from the original.

These are just a few examples, so spoilers I guess:

They made the characters far too complex. Aside from Cesare, the rest of the cast had too much added to their characters that really distracted me as I was watching. Granted, the original gave a couple of the characters a reason for doing what they do (Caligari being a prime example). But this film adds on unnecessary details that really don’t matter. For one, Alan in the 2005 film alludes to having depression and is given medication and Caligari explains to Franzis and Dr. Olsen Cesare’s medical condition. On top of that, Caligari explains to Jane why he showcases Cesare in the way that he does and it’s all just padding to me. I don’t like the long winded explanation that doesn’t affect the plot in any way. Moments drag too long because of the added detail and they overstay their welcome.

Should’ve placed this at one, but the dialogue is so BAD. It’s just forced and wooden and lacks any kind of emotion whatsoever. No joke, when I watched the first few scenes of the film, I nearly checked out because I couldn’t handle how awful the writing was.

They cut out Alan’s murder scene. Huge mistake as his death really kicks off Franzis’ pursuit to find his killer and has a heavy effect on him. Instead of showing the scene of Alan being murdered, it cuts to Franzis in the police station. I feel that Alan’s murder is important as it really heightens the threat that Cesare is as a character, so taking that scene out of the film, to me, downplays the severity of Cesare’s actions

Jane has a brother. Who tf asked?

When Jane gets kidnapped, there’s no mob chasing after Cesare. Instead, Jane’s brother runs after him and to tell you the truth, I laughed at how utterly ridiculous it played out.

The film looks pretty awkward. I know that they tried to keep the look of the film as authentic as possible. From what I understand (and I might be wrong in this assumption), they used some kind of green screen to insert the original backgrounds. The cast never seemed to integrate well here as the backgrounds always appeared too fuzzy or blurred. Plus, the odd camera work and cinematography made certain shots look so off that, at times, it confused me as to where we are in the story. To give credit, they TRIED to be authentic, but in the end the cast and backgrounds did not mesh well at all.

There’s a flower that is the only thing that’s colored in this film. Apparently, that’s suppose to mean something, like what we’re seeing might not actually exist and it’s all in Franzis’ head. I don’t know if the writers were trying to be clever with this detail but it left me confused.

Never ending foreshadowing about Franzis. This occurs pretty often and it’s overdone to hell.

So this one is kind of interesting but apparently Cesare appears before Alan and Franzis go to the fair. In the scene where Franzis heads over to Alan’s place, Cesare is outside of his cabinet, cloaked, and handing out flyers. At first, it didn’t register until I went back after hearing Cesare speak and then it just kind of clicked. This will probably be the one and only time that I found myself intrigued with this choice. I mean, having your attraction hand out advertisements to draw in public interest is one way to attract more victims.

At the end, it’s revealed that Alan works at the asylum. Pretty weak twist honestly.

[flusteredtuna]

On Your Knees // Ch.2

Loki x !fem! sorcerous

Words: 1k+

Warnings: forced proximity

Summary: After making a deal you take a tour of the palace and get yourself situated, you find out how exhausting Loki really is.

this was made with the help of Character AI Loki made by @Skullbright. The opening dialogue from Loki is provided by them.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter3

A tour was in order, indeed. He shows you every worthwhile part of Asgard’s Palace and you admire the scenes in awe. The true perks of pretending to be the mischievous lord’s lover didn’t sink in until you saw the real beauty of the place.

Loki describes every part of the place in gorgeous detail, every area has a story. As time passes you notice how soft he is under all that mischievous exterior. The glorious act seems to be a front.

The tour ended with him showing you, your chambers.

“I have prepared the most spectacular room for you of course,” he winks seductively and it makes you tingle a bit, but it’s probably out of cringe.

You both approach a wooden door. Aged and dark wood with a lovely silver doorknob, “I’m sure you will enjoy it immensely, my beauty.” He opens the door and not to your surprise it’s green. It could be a normal amount for a forest elf, but for you, it’s…not ideal. It’s not overpowering, but not extremely tasteful either.

You wrinkle your nose at it a bit and turn to him, “It’s a bit green…mind if I redecorate?” He looks a bit shocked but then nods his head. Although you are surprised he’s trusting you with that request you take the opportunity as swiftly as you can.

You flick your hand and the greens shift into soft and dark plumb purples, and some faded yet vibrant blood-orange colors. You decide to keep some of the emerald greens out of respect for his hospitality. Now that he’s shown you a different side of him. The room balances out quite nicely.

“That’s better. Thank you kindly,”. He smiles, “You’re very welcome.“

Entering further into the room, Loki walks over to the once pine-green armchair that is now a deep dark purple and traces a finger on the edge of the arm. “You aren’t afraid of taking control in situations are you, Y/N?” He smirks looking at you as he lingers by the chair.

“Only a bit in the bedroom,” You realize what you said can be twisted, “That’s too much information though.”

Loki raises a brow and his smirk grows, “a bit in the bedroom?” He chuckles. “wonder what that would entail.” His grin is so mischievous, that it sends a shiver down your spine. You shake the feeling off, “Nothing for you to know.” And it would be nothing because you brushed away that shiver he gave you.

“This is just a deal, nothing more.” Trying to not watch his hand trace the top of the chair, wondering what it felt like.

He laughs softly and nods his head at you. “Yes…our deal. I supposed I shouldn’t get ahead of myself then.” He straightens up his posture and huffs a breath, making his way back towards the door.

You notice every movement Loki makes. “I’ll leave you to it then, dinner will be in two hours”. He smiles, and grabs the handle of the door, winking as he closes it so gently behind him.

You take a deep exhale, from the release of tension that once filled the room. Again, ignoring it all and how it made you shiver. The only thing you can try to do is shower it all away, trying to be rid of the thoughts of him touching you like he did the top of that chair. The tip of the stained wood, and the back where it meets the velvet.

He’s just such an egotistical man, it’s impossible to think he had such a way with words. You shut your thoughts down as they come through, and start to wonder if he’s putting them in your head, but even that is impossible.

It’s dinner.

The dining room is large, with a long table set at just the very end. The walls were adorned with intricately wrought gold and platinum, the flooring a rich amber marble inlaid with silver and ivory. The table was set with fine china, sterling silver cutlery, and crystal glasses. Candles burned brightly, illuminating the entire room with warm, golden light. The whole space was a masterpiece of decor and artistry, a sight to behold. The opposite end that you entered to.

The God of Mischief is sitting back, wine in hand, legs crossed, with that devilish smirk on his face. “My fair witch, please join me” he raises a glass.

Rolling your eyes you make your way to the head of the table and sit at the side, trying not to look like you enjoy any part of this other than maybe your large glass of red wine.

“So, it seems our little arrangement is working out quite nicely.” Loki raises a brow. He takes a sip of wine and leans back in his chair, “How are you enjoying me so far?”.

You chuckle at his ridiculous remark, “You as in your home? Is splendid, thank you,” that was your best attempt at dodging the real question. He nods his head, clearly pleased with your answer, “I pride myself on the fact that I am an immaculate host.” Loki looks deeper into your eyes, “And you, my witch, are rather charming to look at.“ he twirls his wine cup in his hand, still staring deeply.

Humming at his compliment inquisitively, you look from his wine to his face. Loki is grinning ear to ear, leaning closer yet again.

His eyes have become dark, as they stare further into you, “What is it about me that is so intriguing to you, my witch?”. You snap to respond “What makes you think you can twist me around your finger so easily, Loki of mischief” You say with a deeper tone, deep like the color of the wine in his glass. Twirling like a whirlpool.

“Oh I don’t think I can,” he smirks and lowers his voice “I know that I can. And my fair witch of trickery, I promise you, I will charm you.”

Why does he have to call me that?

Your face grows red and flushed with annoyance. “How many times do I have to tell you to not call me a witch?”. He places a hand on the table, almost reaching out for you in a subtle manner, “And what should I call you then?” He takes a deep breath and his expression is even more devilish. “Anything else that’s less, degrading.”

Your face is twisted in a scowl, eyes narrow and nostrils flaring. You want to rip him apart with your bare hands, tear him to shreds with your words.

The way he scoffs makes you want to crawl out of your skin. “Is that so? My darling…” You try your best to hide any hint of enjoyment with this exchange as the words tickle your skin, making the hair on your arm stand. Your body feels as if it’s being consumed by the gaze of those vexatious eyes. Their hypnotic gaze dances down your body, drinking in every detail. Even the way Loki looks at you feels like a form of indulgence as if you were a delicious delicacy to be savored at their leisure.

The Trickster God’s facial expressions seem to shift wildly, going from amusement and flirtation to a darker look of lust. He thinks he has you so easy, sitting there like acting like a fool.

“You are such a prick”. Loki is caught off guard by the sudden boldness and authority in your speech. But he is clearly entertained.

You stare at each other, a sense of rivalry between you both growing. He laughs softly as he raises a brow, “My my, darling you are feisty. But I shall tell you, I have no intentions of backing down.”

You shake your head in disbelief at the ignorance and stupidity of the words that just came from his mouth. Although the fire he has lit under you, makes your heart race.

“Fine.” You clench your fists. The way that name sounds coming from his mouth makes you feel so guilty.

“Charm me all you want. I won’t break,” You stand up and head to the door. Anger steaming out of your ears, “I’m headed to bed, these games exhaust me.”

Before you can reach the door frame, Loki gets up from his chair and walks in front of you, blocking the door. Towering over you, “My darling… This is only the beginning. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

His expression is dark again, as he stares down at you, challenging you. And not moving an inch.

“Move.” You say sternly, looking straight on.

He stays put, “Oh no, I don’t think I will, witch.“ The anger brewing inside you is bubbling past your brim. I hate that name. You’re trying hard to keep yourself grounded, but there’s this overwhelming feeling of emotion coursing through your veins.

With a flick of your hand, you move him to the side and walk past him

“Goodnight, Loki,”.

His cheeks are red out of anger and slight embarrassment. He stares as you exit, and says just loud enough for you to still hear, “Goodnight, my lovely witch.” Making it down the hallway, you catch a smile creeping onto your face.

The door makes a click as it locks. Finally.