#and her reactions are so real and raw and powerful

[unboundprompts]

hi! i wanted to ask how could i write a scene of a band performing and make it flow smoothly? Reactions to it and inner dialogue of the leader singer while performing?

I hope that makes sense!

Thank you :)

How to Write a Band Performance

Set the Atmosphere with Sound and Sensory Details

Use sensory language to capture the energy of the music, the movement on stage, and the audience’s reaction. Think about the sounds of instruments, the lights, the thrum of bass vibrating through the floor, or how the crowd looks.

Example: The drums kicked in, a thunderous heartbeat that pulsed through the packed venue. Strings followed, filling the air with an electric charge, and the lights dimmed just enough for the crowd to lean in, hungry for the next note.

Anchor the Lead Singer’s Focus

The lead singer might catch moments in the crowd, like a fan mouthing every lyric, someone laughing, or even seeing familiar faces in the sea of people. These little connections add a human touch and make the performance feel alive.

Example: He spotted a girl in the front row, eyes closed, every word leaving her lips like a prayer. She knew each lyric by heart, maybe better than he did. That look kept him grounded—kept him singing.

Use Inner Dialogue to Show Nerves, Confidence, or Distraction

Let the lead singer’s mind wander a bit, but keep it tethered to the music. They might think of something unrelated that they suppress to stay focused, or maybe they reflect on what this song means to them, especially if it’s deeply personal or symbolic.

Example: Here we go. Breathe. Just like rehearsal. But it was never just like rehearsal. Each word brought him back to the night he wrote it—a night he barely survived. He shook off the thought. No. Tonight, it’s just for them.

Describe Body Movements and How They Connect to Emotion

Physical sensations can be as telling as dialogue. The lead singer might feel the warmth of the spotlight, the stickiness of sweat on their skin, or the way their voice feels strong, raw, or strained.

Example: He gripped the mic stand, fingers tight, and leaned forward. His voice cracked on a high note, but he let it, gave it to the crowd raw. They wanted his truth, his realness. That was all he had to give.

Show the Crowd’s Reaction

Describe reactions like a wave, where energy ebbs and flows. The crowd might sway during slower parts, roar during the chorus, or go silent in the song’s more intimate moments. This back-and-forth dance adds rhythm to the scene.

Example: As the first chorus hit, the crowd became a sea of outstretched hands, fingers clawing for a piece of the music. A roar rose, then softened as they sang with him, their voices tangling with his own, something fragile and fierce all at once.

Balance Between Action and Inner Thoughts

To keep the scene flowing, alternate between what the singer does (interacting with the mic, moving on stage) and what they think. Too much inner dialogue could slow down the scene, so give action and reaction space to keep the reader engaged.

Example: He took a step back, holding the last note, letting it resonate through the space. He stole a glance at his bandmates. They were lost in the music too, faces set, eyes closed. It felt like the old days—a secret between them, shared with everyone.

End with a Climactic Moment or a Release of Tension

End the scene with a dramatic finish, like a powerful note, a burst of applause, or even silence if it’s an emotional song. The lead singer could feel relieved, drained, or exhilarated by the end.

Example: As the last chord faded, a brief silence hung over the crowd—a pause, a heartbeat—before it shattered with applause. He closed his eyes, letting it wash over him, knowing that for now, the song was enough.

[trulyumai]

an arrow of might

—synopsis: an arrow struck through the crowd, past the display of people and aimed for your head. geta was furious.

pairing: Emperor geta / Empress! reader

—warnings: violence, talk of death, protective Geta

enjoy!

The Colosseum was alive with a frenzy of noise and movement, the sun beating down mercilessly on the sand-strewn arena. The clash of steel, the roars of beasts, and the cheers of thousands of spectators created a tempest of sensory overload. Amid this chaos, you were absorbed in the delicate task of caring for your young son, who was captivated by the spectacle unfolding before him.

Geta, seated in his position of authority, kept a vigilant eye on the arena, but his gaze frequently shifted towards you and the child. The violence below, while meant to display Rome’s might, was unsettling, and you could not shake the feeling of anxiety gnawing at your heart.

Without warning, the atmosphere shifted abruptly. The roar of the crowd intensified, shifting to panicked shouts and cries. Your pulse quickened as you saw an arrow slicing through the air, its trajectory erratic and alarming. Time seemed to slow as it arced dangerously towards you.

Instinctively, you pulled your son close, shielding him with your body. The arrow whizzed past, embedding itself with a sickening thud into the wooden frame of your chair. Your heart leapt to your throat as you glanced around in shock, the enormity of the danger sinking in.

Geta’s reaction was immediate and fierce. His eyes, usually calm and composed, now blazed with protective fury. He sprang into action, his authoritative presence cutting through the crowd with decisive urgency. Each powerful stride was driven by the primal need to protect his family. His voice, usually steady, now carried a note of raw command.

“Protect her!” Geta bellowed, his tone slicing through the chaos. His personal guards, trained for such moments, formed an impenetrable barrier around you and your son, their weapons drawn and their eyes scanning for any further threat.

The world seemed to constrict to a singular focus: Geta and the peril surrounding you. You held your son tightly, his small frame trembling against you. His wide, frightened eyes met yours, and the sight of his innocent fear only deepened your own.

Geta reached your side in a heartbeat, his face etched with a fierce blend of relief and anxiety. “Are you hurt?” he demanded, his voice strained with concern as he knelt beside you, his hands carefully examining not only your face, but the space around you.

“I’m fine,” you managed to get out, your voice shaky but resolute. “But the arrow...”

Geta’s gaze followed the path of the arrow, his expression darkening with a protective rage. “Stay down,” he instructed firmly, though his voice was gentler, coaxed with honey and warmth to your scared being. He signaled one of his guards to remove the arrow while another scanned the stands, his eyes never leaving you.

The crowd’s murmur grew to a tense, expectant silence. The sudden intrusion of danger had shifted the mood dramatically. You looked up at Geta, whose normally stern features were now a mask of fierce protectiveness. He reached out to steady you, his touch both reassuring and urgent.

“I’m.. sorry,” Geta murmured, his voice breaking slightly as he looked into your eyes. “I should have been more careful.. to think I would bring you to such a spectacl—.”

“No,” you interrupted, voice trembling with a mix of fear and gratitude. “You protected us. You kept us safe.”

Geta’s gaze softened as he regarded his son, who clung to you with wide, terrified eyes. The arrow, now removed and inspected, was a stark reminder of how fragile safety could be. The danger had been real and immediate, and its impact was palpable.

With a resolute nod, Geta turned to his guards, issuing sharp commands to heighten security and ensure the safety of everyone present. His concern for you and your son was palpable, yet so was his unwavering commitment to maintaining order.

“Are you certain you’re alright?” Geta asked again, his eyes searching yours with a depth of concern that spoke volumes.

“Yes,” you assured him, though your voice was barely more than a whisper. “I’m just shaken.”

He nodded, his face returning to its usual mask of authority, though his gaze remained tender as it rested on you. “We’ll leave as soon as the games conclude. Your safety is my foremost concern.”

The spectacle continued below, but its appeal had been tainted by the recent events. Geta’s protective presence was a comforting shield, a reminder of his dedication and love. As you held your son close, enveloped by Geta’s unwavering vigilance, a profound sense of relief and gratitude washed over you.

In the midst of chaos and danger, the strength and love of your family had proven to be the greatest shield of all.

[saphiccarma]

Hi, can you write something where Nicky gets lost in the forest and Rio and Agatha are desperately looking for him, or they find him with a witch in the forest and she's playing and showing her magic to him and it's cute? Please?

- Where Did You Go?

Relationships - Agathario x Reader

Summary - When Nicky goes missing Agatha instinctively panics. She doesn't expect to find him wth a strange witch who has unknown healing powers.

Warnings: None

A/N: Eee this was a fun little thing to help me get rid of the small writers block. Sorry it's not very long, but I hope you enjoy. Requests are still open it may just take me a minute to get to it

One minute, Nicky was right next to her, walking close as he was supposed to, and then he was gone. Panic surged through her as she noticed the absence of his small, and rather frail, form. Agatha had no idea what to do. They were in the middle of nowhere, with no town nearby, so he shouldn't be missing. Her eyes scanned the tree line, the large forces of nature surrounded her on all sides.

Nicky could be anywhere.

"Nicky?" she called, loud enough to attract his attention, but keeping her voice soft even as it broke, "Nicky."

There was no response. Agatha retraced her steps, trying not to let her panic consume her, and kept a careful eye on the tree line in case he magically appeared. Rio couldn't have- he couldn't be- No. She shook her head absently. He couldn't be gone yet.

Dirt was scuffed up as her steps became more frantic, her eyes scanning every inch of the area in front of her. All she was met with was trees that towered over and birds cawing. Desperation clawed at her as she grew more and more worried.

"Nicolas?" By now her panic had turned into something stronger, something raw and real. Her hands started glowing purple, a nervous reaction and a physical reaction to the anxiety that ran through her.

In an act of desperation, Agatha snatched a stick up off the ground, her hand clasping around the rough material. She traced a circle into the ground, adding an X through it and stood outside. The circle glowed bright green, the symbols illuminating the space that was steadily growing darker with the setting sun, before slowly fading. Rio stood in front of her, a flower twirling in her hand as she eyed the circle on the ground. Her feet scuffed it up, breaking the spell that trapped her inside and she stepped out.

"You called?" she asked, quirking a brow. The flower, a bright pink one, spun between her fingers as she took a step closer to Agatha.

She clenched her jaw and forced the words out, "I can't find Nicky."

Rio pinched the flower, one of the petals falling to the ground.

"You lost him?"

"I didn't lose him," Agatha snapped, purple flaring around her fingers. Rio eyed it with a hint of nerves, not for herself but for Agatha. The younger witch took a deep breath, reigning in her powers, and repeated her statement, "I didn't lose him."

"Hm," Rio hummed. She slid the flower into Agatha's hair, not caring for the other woman's scowl and the fury that radiated off her in waves. Taking off skipping, Rio moved through the woods, something pulling her towards Nicky.

There was always something pulling her towards him, a sense of death that kept her tethered to him. Rio never knew if it was because he was her son, or because he was meant to be dead. She didn't want to find out. The woods were getting darker the longer they went on, and Rio could hear Agatha clenching her hands impatiently as she trailed behind. As the force that was pulling her towards Nicky grew stronger, Rio felt another force of magic.

It was...soft. A soothing feeling that washed over her, calming all her worries and made it seem as if she had no responsibilities. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Agatha relax, hands falling limp at her sides and jaw unclenching.

She pressed forwards, stomping through bushes, but promptly stopping at the sight she was met with. A woman stood there; a green dress not so different from Rio's own covered her form as her hair covered her eyes. A red ball of magic swirled in her hand as she made shapes and figures with it, a small smile on her face as her tongue stuck out in concentration and she twisted her fingers. She looked so innocent. Untouched by the dangers of the world.

The magic, heat radiating from it so strongly Rio could feel it from here kept Nicky's attention. He didn't notice his mother's approaching. Flaring up in a way that could be compared to a flame, the magic wrapped around the two of them, and Nicky giggled loudly. It was a joyous sound that Rio wished she would hear more often.

But that joy was snuffed out when he coughed, hunching over and burying his face into his elbow. The other witch, with her red magic and innocent face, leaned forward and placed a hand on his back. It glowed a soft red, not like the strong color it was moments ago, and Nicky's coughing stopped. He looked at her with awe coating his face.

There was a knowing glint to her eyes as she glanced up at Rio, the smile on her face shifting from innocent to teasing. Her eyes flickered towards Nicky then back to Agatha and Rio. The woman paused in her magic making, making Nicky pout, his arms crossing.

"I am sorry," you said softly, "Your mothers are here."

The child, you think his name is Nicky, snapped his head around, his eyes locking onto Agatha's. You stood and out of the corner of your eye say Nicky's sheepish smile. He waved at his mothers.

"Hi mama, mami." He sprinted towards Death, a sight that you never thought you would see, and launched himself into her arms. Death herself laughed, burying her face in the child's hair and planting a soft kiss there. Even if she embraced him happily, you could feel the tension rolling off her in waves, unease etched into every one of her features.

"Hello my love," she said quietly, almost so softly you didn't hear it.

The other witch, one you didn't know, but you could feel the motherly presence radiating off her, eyed you suspiciously. You waved a hand in greeting, red still twirling around it as if it had a mind of its own. She eyed it like it would set the whole forest alight. It could if you wanted it to.

"Who are you?" the unknown witch asked, her voice terse and strained.

You smiled softly, "Y/N, protection witch."

"Fire," Nicky whispered softly, wiggling out of his mother's grasp and taking a hold of one of your hands, "Show them? Pleaseeeee?" He made his eyes wide, staring up at you with a puckered lip. You laughed, gently tugging your hand out of his grip and sparking a small flame to life in it.

Death eyed you oddly, her eyes transfixed on the fire while the other witch tugged her son closer, a protective arm rested on his shoulder. Wiggling your fingers with a small smirk, you put the fire out, dropping your hand to your side.

"Fire," you repeated.

"Who are you?" The unknown witch asked, and you smiled brightly. You glanced at Nicky who stood at your side, wide eyes imploring and innocent as they stared at you. But you knew he had seen so much more than he let on.

His sickness wasn't hard to notice, with the way he hunched over and even at a young age had dark bags under his eyes. Both women looked at him like he was such a fragile thing, ready to break at a moment’s notice. But most of all, you could just feel the death he gave off. Death shrouded him like a large coat. You knew that you could rid him of the death that clung to him stubbornly, cure him of whatever illness plauged him.

"Like I said, my name is Y/N. I'm a protection witch."

[hazelfoureyes]

Fuck Joke Around and Find Out (Part 2)

Part 1

Everyone say thank you to @dontfuckbutimfab for requesting this sequel with their donation! It very literally would have never happened otherwise bbs! f you enjoy this story (and can afford it) I still ask you donate and let the event organizers (like @fraugwinska ) know you did so we can keep track 💖 even 5$ is a lot, ya know?

A grey ace clueless reader thinks she finally knows what’s going on (narrator: she does not) when Alastor propositions they explore her interest by way of tormenting a stalker of his with some personal broadcasting she agrees… to help a friend, ya know?

A Piece of Cake

「Warnings/Promises:Ace Alastor x Ace AFAB reader, thigh fucking, voyeurism real or imagined, metaphors galore, not a food fetish I stg guys, grey ace, vaginal fingering, making out, smut divider」

smut begins when you see this divider

MDNI OR I STG YOULL BE LOCKED OUTTA THE HOTEL 🔐 🫵🏼🏨

You wished you’d been drinking. It’d have dampened the embarrassment of the situation. You’d never gone into those kinds of interactions with Alastor … raw. Alcohol had always been the lubricant that let you play without any guards up. 

It would be cruel and unfair to call it naïveté that you followed Alastor to his radio tower. It’d be accurate though to call you an idiot for not having noticed the shift in your friendship since the couch incident. Or realized how obvious you were being about your own concerns.

A movie night seemed cute when Charlie suggested it, but soon you and Alastor found yourself in common awkward situation. Charlie leaned into Vaggie’s side, lips bruising the curve of her ear. Husk’s hands wandered over to Angel’s thighs, thrown over his lap intimately. Niffty…Well Niffty couldn’t sit still long enough for an entire movie so she came and went with bursts of energy. 

When people paired up, even if already decidedly in pairs, it left you and Alastor in that uncomfortable position of being unlikely fifth and sixth wheels. 

So he recommended leaving, and you happily followed his lead. 

Alastor sat in his chair, small and wooden and swiveling side to side to his amusement, and you leaned against the desk of his studio. You’d never actually entered the tower before. No one had that you knew of. Taking in as much detail as you could you noticed equipment seemed more modern than you’d realized. Perhaps the 1920s wasn’t that long ago after all. 

“You turn all of this on and your voice carries across the ring?” You asked, gesturing casually with your open palm to the large metal boxes with dials and knobs and glass bulb lights. 

“It amplifies my signal, yes. Not an inch of the pride ring can hide from my broadcast.” His everpresent smile seemed a bit more smug as he said it. “Untethered to Vox’s power grid, there's nothing between me and my adoring listeners!”

You could only nod. Adoring wasn’t the word most would use, but you thought it was funny he saw it that way. 

With the room so silent, the air so still, you could hear a sigh and his clothes rustle as he leaned onto the desk with his elbows. Looking up to you from the side, his smile tugged to the left. 

“Is there a reason you’ve been avoiding my touch.”

You choked on your own saliva, eliciting a howl of laughter from Alastor. “Oh, now that’s a telling reaction! You know, normally you are very comfortable with me. I dare say you’ve rested your head on my shoulder at least twice. You’ve set your feet on my lap many times during morning readings. You never jump like the others when I come up behind you, brushing against your back. Until recently.” Alastor and his chair moved a little closer to your side, your eyes facing away and out the window. You knew it was important to hear what he was saying, but your mind was reeling trying to summon an excuse for your change. 

“Sooo, why now, when I touch you,” his elbow slid out to push into your thigh, your knees knocking together in a jerk reaction, “do you seem so skittish?”

Alastor could hear your heart pounding in your chest. The rush of blood to your neck and cheeks could be seen even in the red and hazy light of hell. 

Why?

You opened your mouth to lie, his hand coming to grip the side of the table between your thighs, “I’ll know if you’re being truthful, doll.”

Now with a very dry tongue and a small bit of sweat across your brow, you let your head hang low.

The truth then. 

“Last time,” You didn’t see Alastor’s eyes widen in excitement as you began to speak. Surely you would say something deeply uncomfortable for you and that was always a little fun for him. “I really liked kissing. It wasn’t just playing around for me, so, I thought it’d be,” this was going to sound presumptuous, “misleading to get into that situation again.”

Large red and black ears turned inward and down as his back straightened at the confession.

“I’d never kissed like that before. I always thought kissing led to touching which led to sex. An unavoidable series of events. So I avoid kissing. Well, avoided it. I didn’t think I’d get so into it.” Before then, you’d only ever mimed making out and being dramatically horny with Alastor. Maybe a mouth on your neck, or your hands in his hair, but never anything more. But it happened so naturally, the alcohol letting you get more caught in the nice sensations than in the lack of desire to do much more. If he wanted to mock the others again, in the safety of your shared disinterest, you couldn’t be sure you’d keep from reaching out for more. Once it started, it was good. 

So it was best to not start, atleast not with him. It felt like breaking an unspoken agreement between you both. A silent ‘don’t take this seriously’ between breaths. “I probably shouldn’t joke like that anymore, since for you it’s just messing around and making fun of others.”

Alastor was a little taken aback. He liked kissing very much, and getting his unsuspecting friend worked up was entertaining. And you’d seemed to be enjoying his company when you were shaking beneath him. Was that so wrong? His head cocked to the side. “Was that your first kiss then?”

“First like that. Like, with–,” you grimaced, “tongues.” His chortle cut you a little, “It felt good! All of it. But, so does listening to music and, and,” you searched the ceiling for help, “eating cake.” You frowned as soon as you had said it. Cake? But it was hard to say it without being crude. All your needs were met. Of all the avenues of feeling good, why exert the effort into anything different. 

Alastor hummed, “Shocking to hear you’d never had more than a peck.”

“Well, that stuff always leads to more.”

He tutted, “That’s a little naive of you to say. And sometimes more can be nice. If the mood strikes. If the right partner is near. With intention and a little effort…” His fingers flattened against their place on the desk, long nails coming to barely make contact with your inner thigh. You didn’t notice, to his slight annoyance, “Why do you think you solely decide how far my …” a devious look crossed his face, “playing goes? When I want to stop?”

Talks of kissing and touching always led to the assumed inevitability of sex for people, you thought. Was Alastor thinly speaking about it too? 

How far….it stuck between your ears like a stray hair in your mouth. You weren’t experienced enough to know the distance between A and B, just that kissing was where it began and full penetration was where it ended. Right? Was he….offering a short trip between the two, you wondered. 

Your silence weighed his ears down further. “Though, if the idea of me touching you like I did, or more, is something you detest, I can respect that.” You groaned, did you have to close the door on everything? Was there no grey space you could live in now and then? You hadn’t had time to think about this before the conversation was already starting around you. 

“I’m not a fan of sweets but on certain occasions I can enjoy a piece of cake. I know not everyone feels the same. I only went as far as I did because I thought we were of like minds in that aspect.” He added and you could tell by the tone he was also finishing the topic on his part. Alastor thought the safety net of your mutual disinterest in sex as a need provided could allow him to drop his walls a bit and relax more than usual. Knowing neither of you were going into the interaction expecting it to lead to sex let him enjoy things like heavy petting without concern. In truth he’d avoided comfortable touches like kissing quite a long time ago by then for the same reasons you had. His ears struggled to right themselves again under the weight of the idea he’d misunderstood. 

But he wasn’t one to show his sincere disappointment. The hand between your parted legs left and he sat back in his chair with a creak. Without meeting your desperate and confused stare, he began adjusting his bowtie and straightening his jacket. Alastor leaned back with a cross of his legs and tossed his microphone from the left hand to the right. The look in your eyes was akin to a turning sea. It was visible to him that you were struggling with articulating what you wanted. And that was almost as fun as your little quivers when he pressed you down onto his lap before. 

He wasn’t one to break another’s boundaries unjustly, but he reveled in watching someone come undone from his actions. Until you were clear in what you wanted and didn’t want, he was going to enjoy making you panic over it. 

“I like cake.” It sounded stupider outloud than it did in your head. You felt stupider when his characteristic Ha! followed. 

“Is this conversation easier for you if we discuss this in terms of food, then?”

You nodded eagerly. For the love of Lucifer, yes, please. 

A wicked grin spread from cheek to cheek as Alastor twirled his staff, “Do you have an appetite, dear?”

With another whine your head fell back now from its place hanging between your inward turned shoulders, “Not– usually, no. But we were already there, and you….” your hands came to hide your face, why did you say food?? “Made me…have a little sweet tooth. If someone puts a little piece of cake in my hands, ya know…why not, I guess. Just a couple bites even.” You were actually talking about cake at that point, but a flicker of the singular lamp on the table caught your eye and reminded you the conversation was not about desserts.

“Would you like me to test your mood? I can stop when you’re full.” Alastor bit back his own noise, the statement doing something to him he hadn’t anticipated. 

Your knees pulled up to your chest as you curled into a ball atop his desk, “But why? We just…start doing stuff? And go from there?” 

Hadn’t you fled the common area to avoid similar things?

Or had you left to just not be on display like before?

Alastor’s red eyes looked around the room, your form standing out in the otherwise dank setting. You needed a why? That was fair. He could manage that. Your reactions inspired a very gentle cruelty in him that he wanted to indulge. He could put in the effort of manufacturing a situation that let him do so. A reason to make you gasp like a fish out of water by putting you in situations that very much took you out of your element. 

“Would you like to help me with something then? I have a stalker of sorts who’d be dismayed to hear something illicit.” From your sitting fetal position you heard him stand, a small sound of a metallic click following. “I could just huff and puff into my microphone, but it’d be more effective to make him think I’m spending some quality time with a paramore.”

Tentatively, you dropped your legs. “You want to broadcast our sounds?”

“Just to him. Don’t worry.” His charm was rolling off of his tall frame, dark eyes and yellow teeth not dampening it an ounce. “What do you say? I won’t go any further than you see fit.” He saw your eyes flit around in consideration, “You’re just helping out a friend bully a creep.”

Well, when he put it like that. As soon as you let yourself meet his gaze, he turned on a switch without breaking eye contact with you and the broadcast equipment lit up with a soft green glow. 

Your body relaxed. No pressure, just letting yourself get carried away again for a bit for the sake of helping Alastor in his usual job as tormentor. That seemed normal to you. That seemed understandable. 

Humming, Alastor closed the distance between you and handed his staff over, “Hold this between your legs, will you dear?” It was cold, you could feel it through the fabric of your pants as your thighs held it in place. He waved his fingers to show they were free before setting his palms down on either side of you on the desk. “May I?” His face inched closer to yours, coming to stop with his nose a few inches from yours. He saw your complexion darken again, a rush of blood to your face. “Just a kiss between friends. A little swipe of naughty fingers through the icing.”

You’d never be able to see a cake in a normal light again. 

When his lips reached yours your eyes fluttered shut, you knew it was polite to close them. It was just as he had said; a peck. A little kiss, chaste and gentle. A second, a little firmer. A third, lips pressing into yours strong enough you had to reciprocate with a nudging of your lips into his to keep from falling back. Your shoulders relaxed. The pacing was good for you. 

Each parting made the tiniest sound. 

“A lick.” You heard his voice float from the radio on the table to your right, just beside the closed door. You noticed the lock had been turned. The click you’d heard earlier. But you couldn’t dwell on that for long,  immediately following the ring of his voice you felt his mouth open as he parted and returned with a soft tongue swiping across the seam of your lips. His head turned to let him get closer, and you followed suit in the other direction. 

Already your mind was floating aimlessly in your skull as his tongue pressed in and licked at your own shy muscle before retreating again. You braved a peek just to see him looking back at you, heavy and hooded eyes seemingly waiting for yours. His smirk could be felt against your skin for the briefest moment before his tongue was pushing against yours. 

You liked kissing. You’d be happy to do this for hours if your lips could maintain feeling long enough. 

One of his hands found your waist and slid behind your back. The action reminded you that you had arms and hands of your own. This part was easy, you’d played it before. Nails scratched down his scalp through his undercut like you’d done before. Like you’d seen others do in movies and open spaces.  Alastor’s deep moan in response shook your throat and made you whine. 

More sounds. That was the goal. With knitted brows you disengaged slightly and bit his bottom lip. You gave it a tug as you pulled away, only daring to meet his stare once you’d let go. There it was, the current of good feelings that swept you up once you actually got in the water. Quickly it took you out at the ankles and soon you found yourself floating with the rapidly moving events to whatever end they dumped you out at. First it was your mind going soft but now as you found the resolve to look directly into his eyes your entire self was atop the stream. 

You didn’t recognize the look he gave then. A flash of black, a spin of his pupils nearly missed by you. Had the room gotten darker? 

“What’s that face?” You asked quietly, the space between your lips so small. 

“Hunger.” Was the response, his hand jerking you closer to him. Your ass was now slightly off the edge. 

How dare you be so brave as to bite the overlord. How very dare you be so quick a learner. 

He watched your throat as you gulped at the reply. You’d been a hiding little ball-of-sinner just a moment ago but now you seemed so comfortable in his arms. Was that from your friendship or had you already grown accustomed to this kind of kissing, he wondered. 

His free hand gripped your face and turned it to the left, his breath soon blanketing your right neck and shoulder. Warm and wet, his tongue slid up from collarbone to jaw. The air quickly cooled the saliva left behind and made you shudder.

That was better, Alastor thought. Your little shakes pleased him. They excited him in the way he wanted now. 

Renewed kisses, his mouth hot and open leaving a trail back down your neck. When his nose brushed against the shell of your ear you remembered Vaggie’s shy smile when Charlie kissed her there. You knew how she felt now, able to decipher that soft expression it gave her. It tickled but a little bit of electricity sparked down from your belly button to your center.

Any ideas of softness were banished when his body made contact with yours. For a moment, the microphone staff slid between your legs before his right hand caught it and pulled it free. In it’s place his own hips slotted between your knees and pressed into your core. You drew in a quick breath as you felt his erection settle against you. 

He rolled his hips and huffed a breathy laugh at your body jumping from the friction. This felt like fucking, you thought. Surely. 

Another move into you, the pressure of his cock even through so many layers was taking away your breath. The blood pounding in your ears was partly nerves for every unknown second coming but largely from the rush of his scent. You’d turned your head forward again and looked down to see where you were connected now. Unlike the kisses, he wasn’t pulling away. His hair tickled your cheek as he began to nip and suck at the skin just above your collarbone. He smelled like peat moss and sea salt. And… and… you took a deep breath in through your nose; a faint scent of magnolia.

Odd, there were no magnolia trees in hell.

“Smelling me? That’s … new.” His grin widened against your body, your little sniff paired with the heat roiling up from your chest making him snicker. Your body reacted so honestly and with so little shame. 

He made you choke on your retort by sliding your ass further off the desk, your tailbone taking the brunt of your weight. His left hand supported you as he held you tighter against him.

“I think you’re being too quiet. He’s not hearing you well…,” Alastor pressed his lips into your ear as he said it. From head to center Alastor was monopolizing your senses. The staff was momentarily set down beside you, your eyes following it.

You noticed as it clinked on the table that none of the needles seemed to turn or move on the various gadgets supposedly broadcasting your interaction. But you did hear a faint noise from the radio. 

“Ah,” you hadn’t meant to say it out loud, as it was just a sound of clarity hitting you. He wasn’t broadcasting anything to anyone. It was looping through his personal radio.

Your head whipped back to him, your nose hitting his as he leaned down. His left hand was on the button of your jeans.

“A taste?” A question that was nearly more breath than words as Alastor said it.

You looked from him to his hand and back up.

“For your stalker?” You asked.

He grinned and you were sure he knew. With a rise of his brows he seemed to answer positively. 

Every point of contact was a new place you found yourself unraveling. Another?

You nodded, biting your lip as he popped the button open and wedged his hand between your panties and your skin.

Before you could focus on the fact you hadn’t expected him to go straight to skin on skin you were shimmying your hips and leaning back on a palm to give better access. 

Hot fingers slid roughly against your folds before one pressed forward and swiped up. For the briefest moment he dipped into you. Your body jerked forward at the intrusion.

The exploratory finger returned and pressed in. Concerns of balance flew away as your hands shot to his shoulders and gripped. You needed some nonverbal way to express how you felt. There was already so much humming in your veins that couldn’t be communicated any other way. You expected the obvious, an in and out motion. But instead he crooked his finger and pressed against something that gave a little to the pressure. Your breath hitched, it wasn’t fast or hard but the repeated action had an exponential reaction. The pleasure was building upon itself. 

And then he stopped.

Alastor was watching you pant and stare nearly unblinkingly at his arm and despite the growing fog of his arousal he stopped.

When the repeated stroking of your spongy g-spot ended the growing pleasure faded away. You wanted it back. 

Despite your dry lips you stretched your spine and kissed him, immediately licking at his lips for permission to enter. Kissing started it, kissing could revive it.

Tongues pressed together, slipping over each other as your kisses became sloppy. Kissing wasn’t sexual in nature, nor could you call the relatively gross sounding concept inherently romantic. Yet, with your nails digging into his coat and hips grinding down onto his hand, the feeling of his tongue behind your teeth was making you clench around his finger for more.

He gave as your pussy was begging, the petting deep within you starting again. With a gasp your kiss broke, your forehead coming to rest on his cheek as you honed in on the feeling of Alastor moving between your legs.

With a shrug of his shoulders he began slinking off his coat. Hurriedly you helped, not knowing what that meant but trusting it would lead to more of the same. You pulled the coat down both shoulders and only after one arm was free did it dawn on you both he’d have to remove his hand from your pants to fully take off the coat.

Alastor sighed through his nose at the sensation of his erection straining against his pants. Your upset sounds at the loss of his hand didn’t help the twitching. Reluctantly, he completely removed himself from your body.

He dropped the coat back on the chair and returned to your open arms, up and waiting for him. 

You both moved together, mouths reconnected as he crashed back into you. His hand was rushed, panties folding and catching at first on his nails before he managed to get past the barrier and return to your heat. 

Alastor’s mouth opened to swallow your first moan. His eyes downcast and focused on your lips.

“Don’t waste your pretty voice.” He whispered, bringing the microphone back to rest against your cheek as a second finger pushed into you. 

You felt full, but it didn’t hurt. The stretch at your entrance was uncomfortable but only sharpened the pleasure. 

His mouth returned to your neck when you let your head fall back. Eyes closed you could feel the rest of your body melt away. You existed only where his body met yours.

The microphone against your face was cool to the touch and grounded you a little back to your surroundings. 

“You,” you choked out, “you said he was your stalker. Your noises—,” you tore one of your hands from his shoulders and reached down between you both. “He’d want those.”  Your hand slid down the impression of his cock and held softly onto the round flesh at the base. “Husk did this to Angel once —- it seems so low but…” Alastor’s face was hidden by his bangs but when you gently squeezed and rubbed at his balls and the base of his cock his shoulders trembled. “Does it feel good?” When he lifted his head to kiss you again you moved the microphone to his mouth, “Tell him.”

Your boldness affected you both but in different ways. You avoided direct eye contact and Alastor hissed against a moan. He had been hoping to see you as overwhelmed and meek as before, but this turn of attitude was making equally strong waves through his resolve. How far could he take it? How far would your comfort allow it?

When your fingers slowly crept up his length his hiss filtered through static before an airy moan popped over the speaker of the radio.

His fingers quickened their sweet assault against your g-spot as your own hand began what was becoming a mock jerking off.

Every second seemed to loosen Alastor’s snarky facade. His smile was wavering as he cut into his bottom lip with the force of his sharpened teeth pressing into them. Groans and sighs littered the space between you both as neither of you could worry any longer about hiding how good your hands felt on each other.

Alastor tested the waters of his next step, fingers pulling out and spreading the slick from your dripping entrance. From hole to clit his hand moved with ease.

“Now, a bite?” His head pushed the microphone you gripped onto for dear life with one hand out of his way. “Just….” He took a moment to slow his breathing, your hand stilling to help, “a little more. I promise to not… I won’t be a glutton.”

You didn’t know what a bite meant, and he watched your wide eyes search his face for understanding.

“Just a nibble.” His chest heaved as he waited. 

The weight on the first word comforted you. That precious understanding of what was in jest was translating into what was too far. 

You nodded, the slight fear of the unknown in your eyes endearing you to him. Most fear he gave was something short lived, as was its bearer. But watching you trust him to guide you through that dark new place despite being scared of the uncharted territory stirred something in his chest. 

He could just eat you up. If you’d let him. 

“Take off all of this, and turn around.”

He pulled away, gesturing at your pants and panties. When you hesitated he grinned, the lamp going dark with a snap of his glistening fingers. Just the soft green glow of the assumedly unnecessary equipment and the red light of Pentagram City lit you now. 

You stood and began to lower your pants, “Niffty isn’t lurking somewhere is she?”

Alastor only laughed, the dim yellow backlight of the radio wavering with the frequency.

Naked from the waist down, you felt your arousal quickly waning. This was more than anyone outside of a doctor’s office had seen of you. But the extinguished lamplight helped.

“Oh! Yeah,” you’d forgotten the second half of his request. Turning around you stood stock still as you listened to his pants rustle behind you. Soon the heat of his body was against yours again. You tried to measure his size by the feel of it pressed into your ass and lower back. The height difference was making it difficult but you knew he was more than you’d seen in the few videos Angel shared of his work.

“Bend over and put your hands on the table.”

Just a nibble. was your internal mantra as you did as you were told.

“Cross your legs at the knee.”

That wasn’t … that was new. It was all new but that was truly unexpected. He stepped back, the skin cooling from the sudden loss.

You could hear the wet sounds of something happening behind you before feeling the heat floating off his body again despite him not quite touching you. But he was close, and it had your heart stuttering in your chest.

A bite. 

His cock slid between your thighs, swollen head catching on your clitoral head as he bottomed out. His balls were firm against the back of your legs as he stilled.  His breath shuddered above you. 

The staff had been forgotten, leaning against the desk to your side. 

It finally dawned on you that you were the cake in this meal, and you were fine with it as he began to thrust. Every pass was constant slippery contact with your clit, his head passing over twice for an added jolt each time.

This was a bite, you had to wonder how it’d feel if you let him devour you. The idea was becoming more and more agreeable with every slap of his body into yours. 

His own leaking precum mixed with what you assumed to be spit and made him glide with ease. There was that mounting feeling again, the build up of pressure. The table wasn’t cutting it anymore, flat palms didn’t let you expend the wild bouts of energy bouncing beneath the skin.

You reached tentatively for the staff and pulled it in front of you, perpendicular to your embarrassing position. Both hands around the long black handle, you tightened.

Alastor seemed determined to run every centimeter of his length between your thighs, pulling his cock out entirely before popping it back in.

His grunts were still soft, nothing bestial about it despite how much like animals you felt you acted. 

When your arms gave up and you let your cheek rest against the table, the new angle changed Alastor’s position.

A yelp, not of pain but excited shock, burst out of your open mouth as his head caught on your entrance before slipping back out.

You hadn’t wanted to go further than whatever this was, but every time his thick head threatened to fully penetrate you wished it’d just force its way in. 

Closing your mouth to keep from drooling onto his precious desk, you found your sounds didn’t stop. His grunts and groans accented with your own high pitched noises quickly filled the once silent room.

Tighter and tighter your core twisted. You wanted to ask him to go faster, and as if he was already in your mind a hard thrust knocked your head into a piece of equipment. The obscene sound of his balls smacking into the backs of your thighs grew in intensity as his pace changed. Alastor’s rutting was shortened now, a staccato as he kept his shaft buried against your lower lips. He only moved enough to keep his head entering and exiting the other side.

The hands on your hips had gone largely unnoticed until then, but the pain of his nails now digging into you opened your mind to the other sensations.

The ache in your thighs, the pins and needles in your feet, the dull ache in your head where you hit the metal. 

The stinging of raw skin being hit again and again with every return of his hips.

You didn’t jump when Alastor’s head came to rest atop of yours, his ragged breaths huffed into your cheeks and his typically pin straight hair curling with sweat as it stuck to your face.

The rhythm slowed, and you felt his cock twitching against you before you noticed the warmth spreading with each strong spurt. Strategy or luck, you fleetingly considered, Alastor came mostly into your folds than on the desk. 

It wasn’t luck though. He fought the instinct to cum deep, as in this case it’d just dirty his work station. And it’d be wasteful, as he felt sure he’d been successful in arousing your hunger.

You let your hips go slack, him slipping out from your thighs, before his firm hands pulled you up again.

“Full?” His tone was laced with mockery as his lips mouthed it into your ear.

When his hips began to move again and spread his seed like lube you could only keen for more.

“Needy.” He whispered as he focused his movements to bully your clit.

“That’s-,” you ground out, “How are you so good at this?” The question came out rushed and lacking distinction between the words. Deja Vu. 

He tutted, “I’m also a skilled pianist, but I don’t often find the desire to play. Should I speak of this in terms of musical instruments now or can we call an ace an ace?”

A wanton moan tumbled out of you. “S’not the expression. Spades.”

“What’s that now?” He dealt a particularly harsh thrust and slowed to a stop.

Shaking your head no, you tried to squeeze your thighs tighter.

When he didn’t move, you shook your hips a little. 

It was desperate, and Alastor loved it.

“Let’s call an ace an ace, fine, please —,” it ached, somewhere deep in your guts there was a frustrating desire for something. 

“Say it plainly.”

“I want more. I want you to keep going. Keep moving.”

“See, was that so hard?” He practically sang it.

Alastor waited for you to wet your lips to reply before beginning again, knocking the breath out of your lungs. If he remembered correctly, a steady pace always did the trick. With his own annoying fog of arousal lifted it was easy to focus on you. When he hit an angle that made you spasm and twist your hands around his microphone staff, he held you still in place and fucked your thighs with even speed.

You found your breaths shortening with each escalation of tension, each notch bringing you closer and closer to something you were uncomfortably in need of. You’d do or say nearly anything in that moment to reach that peak but you’d dissect that vulnerability later. 

A restrained scream let him know you were almost there, to not let up.

And then you tensed, body shaking from toes to shoulders, your legs twisted and he felt the squeeze as your own base instincts made you rock back onto his cock.

The wave hit, but as you kept your slow grinding you found aftershocks spiking through your body. From that same aching place in you there now we're hills of overwhelming pleasure spreading out until it bounced off your fingertips and echoed across your nerves. 

Only when you felt your muscles whining over the (just moments ago) deafening orgasm did you stop and let your body once again fall slack onto the table. Your lower half slid down until your knees found the floor and your head rested against the edge of the desk.

The room was silent beyond your pants, his soft chuckle, and the low static of an empty station playing on the radio.

After several moments to collect yourselves, Alastor broke the quiet, “What did you call it? A sweet tooth?”

You turned to sit on your ass and look up at him. He leaned down and offered both his hands to help you up.

Your legs were wobbly, so you clung to his forearm. “Yeah.”

“I’ll have to remember that.” You watched as he leaned over and turned off the broadcasting equipment, casting the room in relative darkness. When he offered you your pants and panties, kindly retrieving them from the floor for you, you chuckled softly.

“Still pretending your machines were doing anything?” Your panties stuck to your skin, making you grimace. The entire thing was pleasurable, that was a fact you couldn’t argue. But now that you were clear from the siren call of touch, you felt entirely disconnected from the experience. The mental image of being bent over the table with your pants at your ankles was mortifying and the fact you would have agreed to anything he asked if it meant he kept fucking you in whatever way that could have be called… cake was better, maybe. Easier. Less messy even if you ate it with your hands. 

Though if he asked, and if the friendly and playful kisses got carried away again… You noticed Alastor was staring at you in the dark, ears straight into the air as faint red light bounced off of them. 

“Who's pretending? Assuming he was home, Vox heard the whole thing from his stupid little AM/FM radio by his bed.” The glow of his eyes brightened.

You dropped your pants. “Vox?” Alastor hummed in reply. “The stalker was Vox? Of the Vees?” you slumped into his chair, hands sliding down your cheeks and pulling your skin with it so the pink of your bottom eyelids peaked out, “I thought you were joking.”

“Joking? I never joke, you should have figured that out by now.” He patted your head and picked up his staff, “Though…it was funny, wasn’t it?”

The embarrassment and shock quickly faded as your body gave up on the more difficult feelings, already too tired to carry them, and your only reply with a slightly unhinged laugh. 

“I knew I could make you laugh.”

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖  ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx

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, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

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, @a-case-of-attachment, @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk   , @bontensbabygirl  @smoky000

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@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Do you have any tips on how characters react after a heat in the moment first kiss?

Hey there! I'm so glad you reached out about depicting characters' reactions after an unexpected first kiss. This is such an important and tricky moment to get right in any romance story.

I don't talk enough about romance, so I've very excited to write a blog post about this, especially since in almost all my writing projects I utilize a romantic subplot.

Understanding the Emotional Impact

First things first, it's important to recognize just how powerful and transformative that first kiss can be for your characters, even if it's spur-of-the-moment or unplanned. A kiss like that has the power to shift the entire dynamic between two people, unlocking a whole new level of vulnerability, intimacy, and emotional intensity.

Think about it - your characters have probably been building up tension, attraction, and unspoken feelings for each other over time. And then, in one electric moment, all of that comes bubbling to the surface. Suddenly, everything changes. The world seems to slow down, and all that matters is the connection between them.

Whether your characters have been pining for this moment or it takes them completely by surprise, that first touch of their lips is guaranteed to trigger a whirlwind of emotions. Excitement, nervousness, relief, uncertainty - it's a veritable emotional rollercoaster.

And of course, the way each character responds will depend on their individual personality, past experiences, and overall mindset. A shy, cautious character might be utterly flustered and overwhelmed. A bold, adventurous one might be thrilled and eager for more. And someone with trust issues or a painful romantic history might panic and pull away.

The key is to really get inside your characters' heads and hearts, understanding how this monumental moment resonates with them on a deep level. That's what's going to make their reactions feel raw, authentic, and achingly real for your readers.

Crafting Nuanced Reactions

(The examples I use are very cliche, and personally not my writing style, but they're simply for your reference to get a rough idea of what I'm trying to indicate)

Okay, now that we've established the emotional gravity of that first kiss, let's dive into some specific techniques for portraying your characters' reactions. Here are a few ideas:

Focus on the sensations. When a character experiences something as intense as an unexpected first kiss, their physical responses are going to be heightened. Capture the racing heartbeat, the trembling hands, the tingling skin - all those little visceral details that make the moment palpable.

For example (Very cliche but, just for reference): "Her lips were soft and warm against his, sending a shiver down his spine. His heart pounded in his ears, fingers trembling as he cupped her cheek, hardly daring to breathe."

Showcase their inner turmoil. Don't just describe what's happening externally - give us a window into your character's jumbled thoughts and feelings. Are they overjoyed? Confused? Terrified? Let us see the full emotional spectrum unfolding.

Like this: "Panic rose in her chest as his lips met hers, every nerve ending firing at once. What was happening? This couldn't be real - it had to be some kind of dream. But the way her skin tingled, the way her stomach fluttered, told her this was very much reality."

Use body language and subtle reactions. Characters don't always have to respond with grand, over-the-top gestures. Sometimes the most meaningful reactions come through in the little, unconscious movements - a shy glance, a gentle touch, a subtle smile.

For instance: "For a long moment, they simply stared at each other, frozen. Then, slowly, a smile tugged at the corners of her lips, eyes sparkling with a mix of wonder and delight."

Lean into the awkwardness. First kisses, even magical ones, can also be a little clumsy and uncertain. Embrace that sense of fumbling vulnerability - it makes the moment all the more endearing and relatable.

Something like: "Their noses bumped as they leaned in, hearts racing. He hesitated, suddenly unsure, but then her hand slid around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Their lips met in a tentative, exploratory kiss that sent tingles down his spine."

Contrast reactions between characters. If you have two characters with very different personalities or perspectives, lean into that contrast to create compelling dramatic tension. How might a guarded, cynical character react compared to an optimistic romantic?

For example: "She froze, eyes wide with shock. This was the last thing she'd expected - to be kissed by her best friend, of all people. Panic fluttered in her chest, desperate to pull away. But then she saw the vulnerability in his gaze, the slight tremble in his hands, and her heart melted. Slowly, hesitantly, she kissed him back."

The key is to get creative, have fun, and be able to let your characters' unique voices and perspectives shine through.

Additional Resources

And of course, don't hesitate to reach out if you have any other questions! I'm always happy to chat more about anything writing related.

--Rin T.

[maskedauthor]

𝐅𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭- 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐬 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

GIF BY @Romanreigns

Female reader X Roman Reigns

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Roman sat anxiously before his interview, knowing the recent changes in his personal and professional life would be hard to avoid. With Paul Heyman by his side, he focused on the press conference’s main topic, Raw’s move to Netflix. That was until a question about Y/N brought back emotions he had been trying to suppress. Meanwhile, Y/N wrestled with lingering feelings and professional uncertainty after seeing Roman’s reaction to the press conference questions go viral. When their boss pressured them for a decision on their storyline, Y/N reached out to Roman, leading to an overdue conversation about their future—both in and out of the ring.

AN: First real writing after being on a long hiatus, but hi.

Roman anxiously waited at the panelboard. All of the questions that the interviewers could ask ran through his mind like a car in a high-speed chase. He almost never was nervous, but he knew this interview was different. After 1 year, Roman and you had called it quits on your relationship; it was clearly reflected at work. Fans noticed that the storyline the two of you shared had died down and there was almost no mention of your name, but Roman knew what was best for business. So, the two of you did not confirm or deny the ending of your relationship. Roman had to pretend like everything was okay, but because the break-up was fairly recent, he requested some space in the workplace.

In an instant, the interview started and it felt like all of Romans thoughts crashed into each other. With his mind jumbled everywhere, the feeling of anxiety and excitement ran through Roman’s veins, creating a paralyzing cocktail of emotions. Paul Heyman, who sat beside Roman, leaned over, whispering in Romans ear, “Don’t worry. Any mention of Y/N, just sit back and let me take over.” Roman nodded in agreement.

The questions started and Roman seemed to ease into the momentum. Afterall, this whole press conference was about bringing Raw to Netflix. So, he decided to focus on that.

40-minutes in and there was no sign of your name. A wave of relief covered Roman. As he settled into his seat, a lady came up to the microphone and flashed him a smile before proposing her question, “Now that Raw’s fate has been determined and its new home is on Netflix, will there be a revival in you and Y/N on the show? Fans are impatiently waiting.”

The question sent Romans heart to his stomach. He gulped, a blank look on his face before he looked over at Paul. Like always, Paul was able to flawlessly redirect this question to solely focusing on Roman. With finesse, he stated, “Ah, what a compelling question! But you see, Roman Reigns isn’t just a moment in time—he’s a constantly evolving force, the biggest attraction in sports entertainment today. As for what the future holds? Well, much like Raw’s groundbreaking move to Netflix, the WWE Universe will just have to stay tuned… because anything can happen.” With that, Paul flashed a knowing grin, effectively leaving the door open without confirming, or denying, a thing.

Roman desperately wanted to thank Paul, but had to stay in character. Paul saw the anxiety brewing in Roman again. So, he decided to end the interviews early.

“And with that, ladies and gentlemen, you have been graced with the presence of greatness. The Tribal Chief has given you his time, his insight, and his undeniable star power. But as they say in show business—always leave them wanting more. So, on behalf of Roman Reigns and the entire WWE, we thank you… and we’ll see you when the next chapter begins. Good night” Paul flashed a final smirk, gesturing toward Roman, standing up, and leading the way out— the room was left buzzing with speculation and excitement.

The next day, you kept seeing clips of Roman answering the lady’s question. Well, more like his reaction to it. The clip kept playing through your mind on a loop. It started making you question yourself. Do you cave and call Roman? Do you give the fans what they want? The confusion began to overwhelm you. The breakup wasn’t bad, but it still left you wondering what-if. What-if Roman knew what he wanted? What if you knew what you wanted? You’d still have him– the communication was the worst between you two. The constant stream of what-if’s were streaming through your mind, leaving you unable to navigate your own feelings. Just then, your phone rings.

You pick up your phone, looking down at the caller ID to see it be none other than Paul Levesque. You sighed before picking up the phone call. In a cheery tone, you spoke, “Hello? How are you?” You smiled, even though you knew he could not see you through the phone. It was the boss, there was no way you could let him in on the inner-turmoil you were facing.

“Hey, Y/N. I hate to call about this, but I know you had to see the press conference last night. Firstly, I’d just like to ask how you're doing.” His tone was calm, almost too calm.

“I am doing good, thank you. I did get to see the press conference last night. Everyone did an amazing job leaving the anticipation building for our Netflix debut.” You responded, trying to avoid the obvious.

“They did. I can’t wait to see everyone excel. I don’t want to bring this up, but being that you and Roman have one of our biggest storylines, I need to ask. Have you and him decided on what you’re going to do with this storyline? The fans are dying to know and I honestly wanted to give you two the time to discuss before we got right back into it– given everything that happened.” He finally spit it out. The thing everyone has been wanting to know– including yourself.

“Honestly, Paul, I don’t have an answer for you right now. I know, I am sorry. I need to talk to Roman to see if we could even go back to being cordial before resuming the storyline.” You hesitated on an answer, but decided honesty was the best way to go.

“Y/N, we do not have that much time. Please, let me know by the end of the week what we are doing. We can’t keep acting like you and Roman have forgotten about each other. The fans are already speculating and we don’t need anything being leaked to the press. Decide and let me know.” He ended the call firmly, almost leaving you to wonder if he was mad at you. The thought of Roman and you not knowing what you both wanted made you feel discombobulated; if you both didn’t know what you wanted during the relationship, how would you two decide how to carry on?

Without even putting the phone down, you swallowed your pride and called Roman. “It is for the business,” you told yourself. The phone rang twice before a familiar voice answered with a, “Hello?”

Two rings was all it took to hear his voice again? You’d think he’d be busier– too busy for you, at least. You cut off your own thoughts in an effort to respond before leaving him high and dry, “Roman, I am sorry to call you so randomly…” You said, which was odd because you used to be with him all the time… “is there anyway we could discuss our storyline?” You asked.

“Of course, Y/N. Meet at my hotel in an hour?” Your real name rolling off of his tongue felt so foreign; it was something you hadn’t heard in a long time. Part of you debated meeting him at his hotel, but the other part of you needed and desperately wanted to see him.

After an hour, you found yourself at Romans hotel room. You could hear him shuffling around inside the room, but your heartbeat started overpowering any sounds. You brought your hand to his door, deciding on whether or not you should even knock. You told yourself again, “this is for the business.”

You knocked before anxiously waiting o Roman to open the door. The door finally swung open after what felt like forever, revealing his tall frame in the doorway. He smiled, you naturally responded back by smiling. He gestured for you to come in and you did. For a couple of seconds, you could feel the awkwardness, but you settled once you sat on his bed.

“Did you get the call too?” He broke the silence, a light chuckle escaping past his lips.

“Yeah. We need to figure out what we are going to do. I don’t want to ruin what we have going on at work, but I don’t know.” You responded, words pouring out of your mouth without you expecting them to.

He nodded before sitting beside you. “You're right. I mean, the fans love us, but I don’t know. Do we call it quits on everything we worked so hard for? I mean, your title reign came from this. My feud with Seth reignited because of this.” he spoke.

“I know,” You cut him off. “But what happens if we keep doing this? I mean, with us…” You didn’t want to bring the past back up, but it was a constant thought in your mind.

“I mean, we were friends before this, right? If you feel uncomfortable carrying on the storyline, then we won’t, but I think we could both agree that the success we have gained from us being together has brought us places we didn’t see ourselves before. I never would have thought I’d get to be in the ring with Seth again. You never thought you’d win the women's championship so fast, but here we are.” He said, nothing but truth coming from his mouth. Although you always knew your potential, the romance that yu and Roman shared with the WWE universe helped you and him both reach new places fast.

So, with that in mind, you agreed…

PART 2 SOON.

[pinknipszz]

short continuation of shogun!ryomen sukuna

numb is the feeling that courses through your limbs. a norimono so lavish, evident in its golden grooves and gilded glamour, is held proudly on the shoulders of six samurai whose faces remain hidden under their leather jingasa. although you do not expect it from anyone affiliated with the shogunate, much less armored men with more arrogance in their hearts than alcohol, they are kind enough to spare an ounce of privacy as you regard your parents for the last time.

you try to memorize the warmth of your mother’s arms as she weeps. “we’re sorry, we’re sorry,” a trembling hand cards through your hair. you neither comfort nor condemn her, but hold her tightly instead. when you tilt your head up, there are rivers rolling down her raw cheeks, collecting under her chin before spilling onto your kimono. you don’t know which of the stains are hers or yours. “we wouldn’t have done it if we had known— would’ve never sent you in the first place.”

your father only watches with hands curled into fists, tight-lipped and teary-eyed, but he doesn’t cry. whether he’s upset over losing his only daughter to a tyrant, or being cheated out of a potential bargain, something dances on the tip of his tongue but remains behind his teeth. “don’t say that mama,” you whisper ruefully when a samurai approaches to collect you. “don’t cry for me anymore.” but her sobs never cease, not even when you cross the horizon and your father takes his turn to hold her. 

the wedding itself is nothing significant. no ceremony, no banquet, no nothing. the only evidence of that day is a painting of you and your now-husband, wearing embroidered garbs and solemn faces, hanging high in the foyer as an example of incarnated divinity for servants and samurai alike. you lost count of how many months it's been there. whenever you cross the space, you can’t help but pause and crane up, your eyes drifting towards painted ones. the woman in the painting always stares back with disinterest.

but when you pick apart the layers in her concealed expression, you count the fear. the ire. the anguish. you recall the shogun’s only words to you that day: “did your mother cry when you left?” you think the artist must share the same twisted humour as him to have painted your reaction to such a tasteless question. when you feel your throat tighten around a broken sob, your gaze shifts to the shogun, who still radiates insurmountable power even in artistic expression. you count the tattoos on his flesh.

“don’t tell me you’re bored of it already,” a sudden voice chuckles beside you, pulling you out of your stupor. there’s a beat of silence before you stiffly turn to meet the real eyes of your husband, whose sanguine pools swirl deep with malicious intrigue. the shogun lazily tilts his head back, eyes narrowing in amusement at how your expression hardens. “i was under the impression that women like art, otherwise i wouldn’t have commissioned the artist.” you fight the urge to spit on his face.

“it’s fine,” you snap fiercely, fists clenching at your side. you don’t care if this man fought beasts with his bare hands and whispered war in the hearts of men. he stole you from your home, forced you to marry him, commissioned a painting about it, and to rub salt in the wound, displayed said painting in the foyer for the entire estate to gossip about. and while he’s off exploiting the country for his sick pleasure, you wander the halls like a ghost for people to gawk at, as if you aren’t capable of handling domestic affairs on your own.

surprisingly, the shogun does not speak of your outburst, his silence only allowing you to recollect your bearings. when you do, you desperately search those eyes for anything other than apathy. maybe a hint of sadness, or regret, or even pity. but there’s nothing. defeated, your gaze drops to the floor in a silent surrender. another battle conquered. as you wait for some sort of reprimand, or a strike to confirm rumors of his savagery, you briefly think that the shogun will celebrate this in your shared chambers later, but nothing comes.

only, your eyes widen marginally when ghostly fingertips brush against your right cheek. you watch a thumb run across the soft flesh several times, before gathering it between a finger and pinching. the sharp pain makes you yelp and swat his hand away, but the shogun merely chuckles. once he relents his ministrations, he pulls strand of your hair and twirls it around his finger. “you could’ve just told me you didn’t like it.”

(masterlist)

taglist: @yoontaedotin , @baku2345

[dyingswanpavlova]

HEAR ME OUT, what if he grow tired to her giving him a cold shoulder?

I write this, maybe it will a little in the next chapter, even if it doesn't help i just write it and would love if you read it (sorry if I'm annoying you 💗!)

______________________________

An apology from him would be unexpected—but not impossible. It depends on who he truly is beneath the cruelty. If he does apologize, it won’t be in words. Not at first. It will be in small actions. Soft touches, lingering glances, the hesitation in his grip. The way he stands at your doorway, watching, waiting. Maybe he'll leave something by your bedside—a meal, a book, something that shows he's thinking of you.

But an apology? A real, spoken one? That would mean admitting he was wrong. That he hurt you more than he intended. That his actions—cutting your hair, locking you away, treating you like nothing—were not only cruel but unjustified. And he’s not ready for that. Not yet. But maybe, just maybe, if he truly believes there’s a life growing inside you—something his—it might break him just enough to try.

Would you forgive him? If no. Then he doesn’t deserve forgiveness. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But that won’t stop him from trying—in his own twisted, selfish way.

The next morning, when you wake, the blister of pills is still on your nightstand. Unmoved. Unbothered. An accusation in its own right. You stare at it, trying to remember if you even dreamed the way his hand had hovered over you last night, the way his lips had brushed your stomach. It feels surreal. Unbelievable. But the weight in your chest is real. So is the silence.

He doesn’t speak to you at breakfast. Doesn’t so much as look at you when he places your plate down, but you feel the shift. Something in him has changed—tightened, restrained. He’s watching you without watching you. And you know. He knows.

But still—no apology. Not in words. Not in his touch. Just that damn blister of pills, untouched. A silent accusation. A silent claim. His girl, huh?

The silence between you is a living thing. Heavy. Suffocating. Unyielding. You don’t speak to him. You don’t look at him. Not once. Not when he sets your food down. Not when he lingers in the doorway. Not when his presence looms over you like a storm, waiting—just waiting—for you to break first.

But you won’t. You can’t. So you keep your eyes on your plate, on your hands, on anything but him. And it drives him mad.

At first, he plays along. He acts like it doesn’t matter, like he doesn’t notice, like your cold indifference doesn’t cut deeper than all the screams, all the fights, all the desperate pleas that have come before.

But the days pass, and still—you won’t speak. You won’t look. You won’t acknowledge him. It starts small. A tension in his jaw. The clench of his fists. The way he lingers in rooms he has no reason to be in, as if expecting you to finally give in.

But you don’t. And then it escalates.

Your books go missing. Your blanket disappears. The meals he used to bring you become smaller, emptier. Punishments, in their own way. He wants a reaction. A word. A glance. Something.

But you won’t give it to him. And it kills him.

You feel it in the way he watches you at night, standing in the empty doorway that used to hold a door. You hear it in the way he sighs when he thinks you’re asleep, frustrated, exhausted, desperate.

And then, one night, he snaps.

You hear the crash before you see it—his plate, shattered against the kitchen wall. His voice is sharp, raw, furious.

"Enough."

You freeze. You don’t turn. Don’t flinch. But your fingers curl into your palms.

He breathes heavily behind you, a shaky, uneven inhale that betrays more than he wants it to. Then, softer, almost pleading—

"Say something."

But you don’t.

And that’s when you realize—

This is the only power you have left.

This is BREATHTAKING.

I'm about to upload Part 13 and it was totally inspired by this masterpiece, everyone. 🤍

(HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL) 🎁🤍

[desmon1995]

After Dark: The Park, Power, and Abuse

Alright, let’s talk about The Warriors Album—specifically The Park at Night, which I’d argue is one of the most gut-wrenching songs in the entire album. If Sick of Running was a blazing, victorious high, then The Park at Night is its dark reprise, dragging the characters and us into a chilling, sobering low.

We just left off Sick of Running on a triumphant note. Ajax, fresh off advice from the Hurricanes, finally rallies the girls to fight back against the Furies, who’ve been pushing them to the brink. It’s this powerful, adrenaline-fueled moment that feels almost like a win. But just as we’re feeling that rush, The Park at Night drops us straight into a scene that feels like someone cut the lights in an alley.

The tone shifts immediately, with Mexican indie artist Elain’s haunting sample—“Folks go missin' in the park at night”—whispering through the track, setting an eerie, predatory vibe. It’s as if the girls are being watched, hunted, and in this fog of tension, we meet Barnes.

Barnes is played by James Rainer, the original Ajax from the 1979 Warriors film, and here’s where the casting choice really lands. The original Ajax was a vicious character, driven by toxic masculinity and a hunger for power. He’s homophobic, sexist, and would rather use strength to bully than find any real connection. Barnes inherits all of these traits. If you’ve never seen the original, you’d just think he’s a sleazy cop. But for those in the know, there’s a dark irony in Rainer’s casting, like Barnes is a shadow of his former self, or maybe an Ajax in a system that empowers his worst traits.

The timing couldn’t be worse. The Warriors have been through a nightmarish journey already, chased, ambushed, and betrayed by gangs across the city. They’ve likely lost Cleon, their leader, and with it, a sense of safety. So, when Barnes sees Ajax and reduces her to a “sex worker,” it’s not just creepy—it’s an abuse of power, this cop using his authority to exploit vulnerability. It’s heartbreaking.

And let’s talk about Ajax’s reaction. She’s not about to let this pervert slide. After everything she and her friends have endured, Ajax snaps and unleashes all her pent-up fury. This moment is raw and heartbreaking because it’s not just about Barnes; it’s about every man and gang that’s used and abused her and her friends. But Barnes, clutching his badge like a shield, retaliates by arresting her—not because she did anything illegal, but because he can. In this moment, Barnes embodies a brutal reality: men in power often get away with preying on those they deem “lesser.”

And, honestly, the symbolism here is haunting. Barnes calls in backup to hunt down the rest of the Warriors, making these taunting catcalls, even echoing the sound of a police siren. It’s both a literal threat and a grim commentary on how those in power dehumanize and hunt down anyone who doesn’t “belong.” It’s unsettling, especially when you consider that Ajax is a young woman—likely a teenager—which makes Barnes’ actions even creepier. He’s not just harassing her; he’s flaunting that no one will stop him.

As pointed out by @Genzwriter on The Warriors Album Reddit, this scene is a searing critique of how sex workers are brutalized by cops who see them as disposable. Barnes doesn’t see Ajax as a person or even a gang member; he sees a powerless girl he can intimidate. And Ajax? She’s rightfully enraged, and she’s finally done being quiet. But, of course, her fight back is met with punishment, as Barnes flexes his badge and power to silence her.

What’s amazing, though, is that Ajax gets the final word. Despite being overwhelmed, she declares herself a Warrior—a small act of defiance, but one that ripples out to inspire Fox later on in Reunion Square.

The Park at Night is a brilliant example of Lin-Manuel Miranda and Eisa Davis bringing their unique strengths together. Lin, with his deep love and understanding of The Warriors, uses the original Ajax’s character to reinforce this nightmarish descent for the group. It’s a painful homage, but one that works. And then Eisa’s contribution adds a whole new layer—the way she infuses this number with an authentic, powerful female perspective that wouldn’t have hit the same if this story was solely told by a man.

And then there’s the bleak reality of Barnes. He isn’t punished. There’s no justice served, no moment of reckoning. He walks away unscathed, and that’s so infuriating. The album doesn’t fault Ajax for her choice to lash out—she did what any of us would do after being pushed to the edge. But the reality remains: cops like Barnes are empowered to hurt the vulnerable without consequence, a message that lands painfully close to home.

The Park at Night is dark, relentless, and all the more powerful for it. It doesn’t pull punches, and it doesn’t offer easy answers. Instead, it shows us the breaking point for Ajax and her friends, and while it’s a bitter scene, it’s one of the album’s strongest. This song hits hard because it shows that sometimes, no matter how hard you fight, the system will do everything in its power to break you down.

[icrypop]

Yam sbg gang + parents with a reader that enjoys being in the phantom realm because they like killing the phantoms, I can just imagine reader being a duel machete wielding ninja, that slices through phantoms like their butter, the only thing you hear from reader is crazed laughing as phantom body parts drop and roll on the ground, but then in the real world reader is just like hella chill like I mean cool kid chill, they don't talk to much but not too little and their just constantly tired no matter what before and during the plot.

Sorry if this long, ur like my sbg content supplier

<3

Yandere SBG Gang + Parents Reactions to Phantom-Slaying Reader:

Ashlynn, Taylor, Tyler, Aiden, Logan, Ben +Parents

⚠️Warning: Yandere tendencies, violence, slight disturbance.

Okay sooo this was a cool ass idea and I like to think about Aiden and how he was when he was a crazy murder machine lmao

I'm sorry that requests are coming out so slow...I always start writing the beginning of every request and then slowly work on everything all at once and then put it out all at once....So I Apologize-

Anywayyy, enjoy!!

-Writer Icy♡

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ashlynn:

-Phantom Realm Reaction: Ashlynn is both impressed and a little scared of the reader’s sheer efficiency and wildness in the Phantom Realm. She’s fiercely protective of them, but seeing the reader tear through phantoms like a seasoned warrior makes her both awe-struck and desperate to keep up.

-Real World Reaction: In the real world, Ashlynn is always worried about the reader’s exhaustion, constantly asking if they’re okay or if they need rest. Despite her concerns, she loves the reader’s chill and laid-back vibe, often seeking their company just to relax in silence.

- Yandere Tendencies: Ashlynn is obsessed with keeping the reader safe, despite knowing how capable they are. She admires their skill in the Phantom Realm but wants to protect them in the real world where she feels more in control.

---

Tyler:

-Phantom Realm Reaction: Tyler is more amused than angry/nervous whenever he gets to watch the reader in action. Their crazed laughter, the way they slice through phantoms with wild abandon—Tyler feeds off their chao and it only strengthens his obsession with them. He’s mesmerized by their raw power and skill.

- Real World Reaction: In the real world, Tyler is always trying to relax the reader, constantly dragging them into quieter areas to "Make them rest.” He’s also extremely protective and possessive, especially when others notice how cool and calm the reader is. To Tyler, their chill attitude is part of what makes them so irresistible.

-Yandere Tendencies: Tyler thrives on the thrill of the Phantom Realm, often wanting to fight alongside the reader, but also to make sure they don't get hurt He’s fiercely possessive, seeing the reader as his equal and his partner in chaos, but in the real world, he becomes overprotective, feeling the need to guard them when they’re vulnerable or tired.

---

Taylor:

- Phantom Realm Reaction: Taylor is terrified yet captivated by the reader’s bloodlust in the Phantom Realm. She clings to them, desperate to feel protected by their strength. Her yandere tendencies spike whenever she witnesses their raw power, making her obsessive desire to be by their side more intense.

-Real World Reaction: In the real world, Taylor’s concern is more about making sure the reader doesn’t push themselves too hard. She likes the reader’s calm, tired demeanor because it makes them seem more approachable and less dangerous—but she’s always there to hover and “help” them even when they don’t need it.

-Yandere Tendencies: Taylor is clingy and desperate to keep the reader close, both in and out of the Phantom Realm. While she’s terrified of their ruthless side, it also fuels her obsession, making her want to protect them in the real world where they seem more vulnerable and “normal.”

---

Aiden:

Phantom Realm Reaction: Aiden is both excited and a little hyped up by the reader’s behavior in the Phantom Realm. While he loves the thrill of battle, seeing the reader go full ninja-mode on the phantoms both impresses and excites him. He’s always nearby, ready to jump in if needed, though he knows they don’t need him.

- Real World Reaction: Aiden loves the reader’s laid-back attitude in the real world. He often tries to make them laugh or engage in light-hearted activities to keep their energy up. At the same time, he becomes incredibly protective when they’re visibly tired, making sure no one else disturbs them.

-Yandere Tendencies: Aiden’s yandere tendencies surface when he sees the reader tired and vulnerable in the real world. He wants to be the one to care for them and bring some light into their life, but he also gets jealous when others take notice of their cool demeanor.

---

Ben:

Phantom Realm Reaction: Ben watches the reader with quiet admiration in the Phantom Realm. He’s fascinated by their efficiency and ruthless skill but also unnerved by their crazed laughter. He’s more calculating, always observing the reader’s actions closely, and his obsession grows with every phantom they take down.

- Real World Reaction: Ben is more concerned with understanding why the reader is crazed like they are in the Phantom Realm. He likes their calm, almost distant personality, as it gives him more control in their interactions. He’ll often stay close by, not saying much, but always watching over them like a silent guardian.

- Yandere Tendencies: Ben’s yandere tendencies revolve around his need for control. He prefers the reader’s quiet, tired demeanor in the real world because it makes them seem more manageable. However, he is secretly obsessed with the power they display in the Phantom Realm and wants to ensure no one else can share that connection with them.

---

Logan:

- Phantom Realm Reaction: Logan is silently in awe of the reader’s prowess in the Phantom Realm. He watches them with quiet fascination as they cut down phantoms, their crazed laughter both disturbing and impressive. Logan sees their strength as something to admire, though it fuels his desire to shield them when they’re not in battle.

- Real World Reaction: In the real world, Logan often tries to get the reader to rest, offering quiet moments together where they can simply chill. He enjoys their calm and tired demeanor, finding it soothing to be around someone who isn’t constantly demanding his energy.

- Yandere Tendencies: Logan's protectiveness manifests more in the real world, where he worries about the reader’s fatigue. He craves the idea of being their rock, the one they can rely on when they’re tired, and his obsession grows from wanting to be the one who takes care of them when they’re not in “warrior mode.”

---

Parents’ Reactions:

- Ashlynn’s parents: Ashlynn’s parents respect the reader’s strength in the Phantom Realm, seeing them as a warrior. In the real world, they keep a close eye on them, often pulling them aside to make sure they’re okay, especially since Ashlynn is so obsessed with them. The dad focusing on helping them with any fighting they want to practice while the mom checks on them and their health.

- Twins Dad: The twin’s dad is more fearful of the reader’s behavior in the Phantom Realm. He constantly expresses concern and tries to dissuade them from returning to such a dangerous place. In the real world, he’s more at ease with their laid-back attitude, preferring this side of the reader.

- Aiden’s + Bens 'parents': Their dad silently admires the reader’s abilities in the Phantom Realm, though he finds their love for killing phantoms disturbing. In the real world, he tries to help Aiden care for the reader, often offering advice or support to ensure they’re well-rested.

Their mom is more focused on keeping the reader safe. She is deeply concerned about the risks the reader takes in the Phantom Realm and prefer the calm, chill version of them in the real world. She will try to encourage healthier ways of dealing with their exhaustion.

Logan’s Parents: Logan’s parents are wary of the reader, seeing their Phantom Realm behavior as too extreme. In the real world, they notice Logan’s obsession with them and try to subtly distance him from the reader, fearing their influence on him.

---

The reader gripped their machetes tightly, their body moving with precision and speed as they tore through the wave of phantoms like a machine. Each strike was calculated, yet the crazed grin on their face and the eerie laughter that bubbled from their lips showed a side of them that no one in the real world ever saw. Phantom limbs scattered across the ground as their laughter echoed through the dark, twisted landscape.

"Another one down," they muttered, breathless but exhilarated.

Back in the real world, the reader slumped against the wall of the school, their eyes heavy with exhaustion. Aiden sat beside them, handing them a bottle of water.

"You really should take it easy in there," Aiden said softly, watching as the reader took a slow sip, their eyes half-lidded with fatigue.

"Too fun," they replied with a small smirk, though their voice was quiet, almost bored.

[artsyannierose]

POPPY FINALLY FANGIRLING LIKE I ALWAYS WANTED HER TO

NO CAUSE THE NEW SCENE COMPLETELY BROKE ME INTO PIECES I DIDN’T UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH I MISSED THEIR RELATIONSHIP KWABDJDFGSDSWRSFDYVJBKJKHTTDGCHBJBJ

im calm

i think

can I first talk about this small conversation in particular

I dunno about you guys but the voice acting just feels so…REAL

Like, raw

like an actual conversation between to people rather than two actors

There’s so much emotion, and that goes for other scenes I’ve seen too, like Viva’s introduction, I’m a big fan of the voice overs this movie

OK BUT BRANCH’S FACE WHEN POPPY CALLS HIS NAME IM MELTING

HE LOOKS SO HAPPY TO HEAR HER MY BABY 🥹🥹

literally went from 😒 to 🥰

THEN WENT BACK TO 😑 AFTER HEARING HER SUGGESTION LMAO

I’m crying at how he immediately jumped to the idea that Poppy was against him and did a double take like “wait what”

AND POPPY KNOWS HOW TO GET HER TO DO WHAT SHE WANTS ITS ACTUALLY SO FUNNY

AND HE HAS NO POWER TO SAY NO TO HER PLEEEAAASSEEEE THEY’RE SUCH BF AND GF

“Alright, fiNE”

😭😭💀💀

AND LOOK AT HER FACE SHE KNOWS HER POWER OVER HIM LMAO

im not going to elaborate on the song bc I’m too Broppy-hyper but DARN DID I FEEL ELATED WHEN BRANCH STARTED SINGING

I LOVE HIM GETTING THE SPOTLIGHT FINALLYYYYYY

ily Justin Timberlake

literally my reaction was worse than poppy’s💀

ANOTHER THING I WANNA MENTION

HELLO POPPY SIMPING OVER BRANCH IS SOOOOOO LONG OVERDUE

I NEED MORE OF THIS THIS MOVIE BETTER DELIVER

POPPY PINING OVER BRANCHHHHHH

And honestly the way she sang along and mouthed lyrics was so cute omg 😭😭

I

FRICKING

STAN

SUPPORTIVE GF

She’s so goofy

The way she yanks out that camera and COMPLETELY DITCHING HER QUEEN STATUS

NUH-UH SHE IS A HARDCORE BROZONE FANGIRL AND I AM HERE FOR IT

They’re so perfect for each other bro the king of pop w/ the literal royal queen of pop

the way she pulls out her camera tho

…

y’all I just

just

🫠

THIS SIR

IS THE STATUS THIS KING DESERVES

THANK YOU DREAMWORKS

MAKE POPPY FEEL LUCKY TO HAVE HIM (I mean THIH did that well but sTiLL)

New obsession unlocked:

FLIRTY POPPY >>>

I’m so ill for them goshhhh

TBH I WASNT AS EXCITED AS THIS MOVIE AS I WAS TWT AND THIH BUT NOW I AMMMMM

BBBBRRRRROOOPPPPPPYYYYYYYYY HERE I COMEEEEEEEE

im sorry I’ll shut up and let you move on with your day

[stormandforge]

Raw reactions to X-Force #5

Yup, someone dies.

MASSIVE spoilers (and controversial opinions) below.

It's Nori. There'd been so much foreshadowing in the comic - and so much fan discussion about the upcoming character death - that I had started believing it wouldn't be her. But no, it was always going to be her. When you consider the way she joined the team, her post-Krakoa trauma, her selflessness and her relationship with Forge, it makes complete sense.

That death scene goes hard. We actually see her burned-up corpse, we hear her farewell words - oof, my heart. Rest in power, little blue-haired hero.

This said, everyone attacking Geoff Thorne over Nori's death needs to calm down. I would understand this amount of upset if he'd done her dirty, but he really hasn't. He's consistently written her with respect, gave her as much spotlight as he could in a team book, and gave her a heroic death. Stories kill characters, people. That's just the way it is.

Also: Nori's coming back, maybe even in this run. We just don't know yet. And don't give me nonsense about the resurrection protocols being gone - mutants came back from the dead before Krakoa, they will continue to do so.

"Forge always has a plan." YES. Nothing to do with his power; he's just always up to something. That's Forge 101. Fuck me, it's so good to have a writer who understands him. And because Thorne has done his homework, I believe what we're witnessing is a typical Forge plan: something that he believes will benefit the greater good, but that is also misguided and full of hubris and will repeatedly backfire in his face.

Forge can be cold, but this is subzero. He loves Nori, he wouldn't act that way if he was fully himself. Something's going on. Someone needs to shake him real hard - beat him to a pulp, really - and realign his neurons. The two most qualified people to do that are showing up in the next issue, so I'm thinking this is what will happen.

Why does he take her gauntlets? It can't just be for the sake of getting his tech back. As i said he's not that cold, and also he can probably make those again in his sleep.

FORGE ALMOST KILLED AN ALT VERSION OF STORM IN COLD BLOOD. The man is not well, I'm telling you.

There's a theme of Forge hurting the women he cares about in this issue. Trust Sage to see the pattern and get the hell out before anything can happen- the hurting or the caring.

OK, now he's levitating with a big shiny triangle around his body. That's magic, isn't it? For a second I started thinking the Analog must be magic after all, but then I remembered Sage loves staring into it too, so it can't be. Mmm...still processing.

Thorne understands Forge's power better than any writer I've seen (yup that includes Claremont), and I appreciate that he mentions his need for materials to build anything. It should be obvious, but most writers have him make things out of thin air. There's only so much he can fit in that utility belt.

So many people, so many things! Poor Marcus To.

Marcus To is still doing excellent though. Do I need to tell you that Forge is hot? I think I've been clear on that already, but let me reiterate: FORGE IS HOT.

"Slippery as ice": oh, that made me hap-py. Such an evocative, accurate way of describing Sage.

No, Forge's power doesn't let him see what will happen. But you know whose power can see every eventuality? Sage's. This was highlighted in the very first issue, and Forge repeats the exact same words from this moment in this issue. THERE'S SOMETHING TO THAT.

I continue to dig the dynamic between Forge and Sage, curses and all. The little cerebral push and pull they have going on is very interesting.

Also continue to adore Tessa herself. The way she challenges Forge at every opportunity, the way she always asks the right questions *chef's kiss*. Everyone obviously wants to murder Forge on that last page, but I love that she's the one who tells him to go fuck himself, even though she's been the person closest to him on the team. She's my girl. I'm this close to opening a side blog entirely devoted to her awesomeness. (I see what Geoff Thorne means when he says she tries to steal the show. She does!)

OK, so, there's no way Forge has a team anymore at this point, so I assume the next issue will be a downtime one. I imagine he'll go home, have an existential crisis featuring his two exes (as you do) and then get back on the road. Or something? Also, the next issue has a Sage variant cover, which could imply she plays an important part in it. One can only hope. If it's the issue of Forge getting his ass kicked by awesome women, she should take part.

[l0stfoster]

Hi same anon who asked abt paul (i love him so bad) what are the reactions from the others the first time paul (or marcia/cherry for that matter) gets jumped like, real bad .

Paul Anon (that's what I'm dubbing you now get fucked /silly) the beloved OKAY SO! Giving you some deets on their first jumping & how their closest friends (or in Cherry & Paul's case {Marcia's if you're a Marbit fan} how their partners react) Cherry:

- For Cherry (and Marcia) the initial reaction the gang has is absolute anger and fury. The fact that the girls were attacked just for merely being in/around the presence of the gang and or part of the population that holds power is so infuriating. They're girls, so they're not roughed up as bad as greasers usually are on account of general 60's shit, but it's still not great. - Cherry's is arguably worse between her and Marcia's on account of a psychological impact; she's got rope burns around her wrists due to them being tied to stunt her power and her hair was cut practically up to her ears- both to prevent any magic usage and just for raw humiliation. She's also bruised and beaten a good bit; god knows fights are horrendous. I wouldn't be surprised if they ripped her earrings out, as Bev's the one who leads their jumpings. - Ace loses her absolute fucking SHIT. The only thing restraining her from going nuclear and burning down soc territory in her rage is both the risk of prison and to an extent doing something that drastic would get innocent people hurt. That would make her no better than the socs. It sure as hell doesn't stop her from going wild on the ones she can find, probably gets herself a few nights in the slammer for it. - Recovery is rough all over. They get her a neater haircut but she's shaken for obvious reasons, it probably takes a while before she has the guts to walk around her side of the tracks again.

Marcia:

- Marcia's lack of power means that she's less of a target, but if she gets the sight of her, it's a rougher fight. She can't defend herself all too well, but her jumping is more on the physical aspect as they beat her pretty bad too. Lots of bruises and cuts and her earrings are ripped out too. She probably has a better chance of fighting back because she wasn't automatically restrained, but 1v4 (or more) doesn't go well. - The most impactful thing for her that happens during it is that they destroy the feather she was gifted by Two-Bit. That's quite literally one of the most cherished things she owns, as she values how Two's been willing to interact with her after she'd watched his jumping without trying to stop it. Bev burns it beyond salvaging and Marcia's absolutely destroyed. She could handle the beating, can overcome being sore and pained for days, but having the thing that resembled the trust she'd fought so hard to earn back was devastating. - Two was probably THE most pissed off of the entire gang for Marcia's jumping, not only at how she was hurt but the feather being destroyed is such a blow to him as a Harpy. If he weren't afraid of Bev under the risk of having his wings fucked with again, he'd hunt her down and give her a taste of her own medicine. Cherry and Ace are also super pissed, 'cause the girls gotta stick together, but they don't really match the fury that is a pissy harpy; especially since harpies gang together— Two could've easily had every other greaser harpy on his side if he prompted it. - Recover is obviously just as rough, I wouldn't be surprised if Marcia starts rooming with someone on the east side out of fear of returning to the west side; especially since it's fully known now by other socs that she's powerless despite her association.

Paul:

- Paul is, to put it simply, almost beaten into an early grave. Not only did he previously have the most notoriety of the socs— which made him hanging with greasers a complete slap to the face— but he is also cursed. Another really prominent reason behind his jumping is pretty simple; he’s gay. Society will look at Cherry and Marcia and the socs will go easier on them because they’re girls, but Paul? Paul’s a man, a guy who turned his back on the high society in favor of these pests. - His jumping Is rough all over. They're taunting him throughout, snarking about his sexuality, poking fun at how he can't even fend them off with his magic because not only is he weak, but he's a cursed who can't even do that right. They fuck him up bad; busted ribs, broken nose, and his arms are likely dislocated from them pulling him around hard to tie his hands together so he couldn't use his magic. He's got cuts and bruises galore. I'd go as far enough to say they probably broke an arm or something. I like to imagine they ripped his letterman jacket away from him because he didn't deserve something their kind wore when he was with those freaks now. Honestly, the only reason they stopped was because they couldn't see he was still breathing from the angle they were at, though they killed him, and booked it 💀. If they hadn't, though, they probably would've gone until he did stop. - The only reason he's found is because his familiar trails back to the house and grabs the attention of whoever’s there to get them to come with her, since Paul’s completely knocked out. It’s most likely Soda who finds him since he is arguably the one she likes most of the gang and she’ll gravitate towards him. He’ll follow easily too, since he likes her. It’s very similar to finding Johnny, practically that all over again - Darry is obviously the most pissed, probably the same level of anger he felt after his brother's jumpings and Two’s own. The same people who used to be on Paul’s side of things turning a switch so fast over what? A bit of magic and the fact that he likes dudes? Anger doesn’t even describe it in a way— the fae are territorial, and as far as he’s aware, Paul’s a part of that. He's out for blood; but Paul won't spill names so he's got no specific target. That sure as hell won't stop him from finding out, though. He's just got to behave enough to keep his brothers in his care. - The rest of the gang is a whole mixed bag. Dally doesn’t like Paul but his general response is “It’s deserved but only if I were the one doing it”, so take that as you will. Pony’s petty like Dally but since Darry cares he helps out with patching him up. The rest come to the conclusion that pretty boy here probably needs some watching eyes so he’s stuck with them for a bit. He does NOT know how to respond to it. Pretty much the idea for them is that only they're allowed to fuck with Paul, not the socs. - Paul probably has the easiest (mental) recovery for a few good reasons. It's certainly not his first fight/jumping, and it's not his first time being hurt that badly. There's a reason he's gravitated toward his mom despite her efforts to shove him away.

[adamnablelittledevil]

What did you think about that moment in chapter 24?! I'm dying to know!

(The part that starts "I looked down on Lestat, who was unchanged...")

Hey! I'm sorry I couldn't answer it immediately and you had to wait, but I wanted to give this a proper answer with all my thoughts, so I hope this was worthwile and and makes up for it. 😉🙃 Anyway, here we go… I already knew what was going to happen, so, I was counting the pages to finally get to the chapter. And when I did, man, it did not disappoint.

Obviously, that wasn't romantic, but it was such a meaningful, intimate, delicate and tender moment that it felt even more powerful to me. Yes, part of the reason Armand went there was to get answers and try to quiet the anguish in his heart, but most of it was genuinely love. Which is why he returns, approaches, touches and shows Lestat affection again, even after drinking his blood. And it speaks volumes how Armand had all the reasons to keep a safe distance and yet he didn't flinch or even hesitate. And not only he approached Lestat, but also touched him, multiple times, and kept getting bolder and bolder with those gestures and 'pushing his luck'. Whether Armand was willing to take the risk of Lestat having a negative/defensive reaction or knew he would allow it by mere instinct, this is a proof of how deep their bond goes and how far they have come in their relationship. And from Lestat's side as well, because Armand was the only person he gave his consent to get near at the time and that was a huge thing. It was overall a really big and turning point in their relationship. And it's one of my favorite Lesmand/The Vampire Armand/The Vampire Chronicles moments as a whole.

And as if it isn't enough that it's such a monumental event on its own, it's so poetic too. The fact it happens in a chapel, they are both silent, Armand's tear falls on Lestat's cheek… It's all about the aesthetics, the body language, facial expressions etc. The imagery is so delicate and beautiful. The wording is stunning as well. Specially for this line:

"I tried to keep my heart absolutely pure of pride and pure of anything but love. It was not differentiated or defined, this love, but only love […]"

This has become one of my favorite quotes ever, maybe even my ultimate favorite from The Vampire Chronicles. I absolutely love the idea of a love that can't be classified, nor separated in different boxes, but instead defies all definitions and simply transcends. And when she wanted to, Anne Rice knew how to execute the concept brilliantly on her books. She even knew how to elevate and still manage to make it better almost two decades later. When she went on Facebook to further elaborate on it from Lestat's point of view, it just made my heart ache in the best way. I mean, the screenshot below speaks for itself.

Plus, if the show does that in the future, in any shape or form, it would be incredible. I'm such a sucker for scenes that are more complicated and primarily rely on the talent/chemistry of the performers and the actors need to work twice, three times as hard to execute them. Silent, scenes where the actors don't touch, phonecalls where they can't look at or feed off of each other in any way… I like to call them 'raw scenes' and they're usually my favorite on any show/movie I watch, including Interview With the Vampire. I can see it being a mix of Aragorn taking care of Eowyn after she was wounded

and Lizzy and Mr. Darcy dancing,

filmed and edited in a way that makes the people around them disappear for a moment and slowly reappear at the end, just like the way Armand described how the situation felt here:

"There was no chapel then for me, or outraged sighs or reverential cries. I heard nothing, and yet knew what was all around. I knew it as if the substantial place was but a phantasm, for what was real was his blood."

I'm personally obsessed with that trick and find it so sophisticated and mind-blowing that it frustrates me how it's barely used? So, I always appreciate it whenever I see it. And I also just know that Assad would be phenomenal at that, because he's already been doing that kind of acting for two whole seasons now. I can see him being soft, gentle and even somewhat tragic and I just know the affection and pain in his eyes would kill me in the best possible way. I could even see it becoming part of my top 5 moments on the series, maybe even my number #1. Right now my favorite clips are the 1x01 church sequence, the 2x08 loustat reunion and armandiel's last scene on 2x05. However, considering how much I love this moment and pretty much all things lesmand, they can easily become just as big of an obsession, possibly even bigger in future seasons (they already are my #1 on the books). I mean, the scene they have alone already makes my heart skip several beats because the chemistry was magnetic and irresistible,

that eye contact was *INTENSE* and I felt the sparks all the way over here. Felt like I was witnessing something that I shouldn't lol, but I was happy to invade their privacy because it was simply mesmerizing.

Anywaaaay… Hopefully, that will happen on the show someday, even if the context and circumstances of it may differ. Still, regardless if they do a version of it or not, that will remain a wonderful part of the book and that gladly I will never move on from.

[ivanttakethis]

End of Round 6 - Tov’s Log

Vermillion vs. Aurien - ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR

————————————————————

Solei had been the sun to Aurien’s moon for as long as Tov could remember.

Their light illuminated every fiber of Aurien’s being. She shined because they shined.

But after Solei disappeared, after Aurien’s daylight gave way to endless night, she let the darkness swallow her whole too.

She was never quite the same.

Even the way she sang was different.

It was haunting.

To the audience, it probably sounded beautiful.

But Tov knew the ghost behind Aurien’s voice was real.

Vermillion sounded haunted too, though in a slightly different way.

His ever present charm had melted away, raw emotion flooding his voice as he sang.

Tov knew right away that this round would be close. Aurien would have to give everything and then some to avoid a repeat of Round 3.

She couldn’t watch another friend die.

She couldn’t.

But Vermillion was Aurien’s friend too, right? Tov didn’t know if Aurien would ever betray a friend in the way that was necessary to win.

She ground her teeth.

The song finished, and the scoreboard totaled the points.

Vermillion 54. Aurien 46.

Her heart thudded once, hard enough to bruise. She stopped breathing altogether.

The moon would crash to the planet’s surface, and the tide would rise wild to meet it.

Tov thought of Solei. For the first time since they disappeared, she hoped they were dead.

If only so Aurien could reunite with them sooner.

“Vermillion Win” was projected in big letters on the scoreboard.

Then the screen went black.

“What the—”

A gun fired.

An emergency alarm started blaring.

Then the audio cut out too.

No! Aurien!

Something fast and sharp shot through Tov’s system, seizing her still weakened heart in its brutal grasp.

It wasn’t adrenaline, she knew that chemical reaction well.

No, this was something different. This was something worse.

Cassio, her mind screamed, I need to call Cassio now.

Tov fumbled for the phone and punched in her guardian’s number with a bit more force than necessary.

She held her breath as the line rang.

As soon as Cassio picked, Tov was assaulted by the panicked cacophony in the background.

Aliens were screaming, guards were shouting orders that fell of deaf ears, and that damn alarm was still wailing too loud to think.

“Tov?”

“Cassio.” Tov never thought she’d be relieved to hear their voice. “The broadcast lost the video feed and then there was a gunshot. Is everything alright?”

“Alright” definitely wasn’t the right word to describe the lead up to Aurien’s execution, but she couldn’t think of anything else.

“Everything’s gone to shit.” They hissed. “Someone cut the power to the whole complex and triggered the emergency alarms. There’s a stampede of aliens trying to get out of here and I’m currently stuck in the middle of it. We’re all trying to get to the backstage tunnels now.”

Tov’s mind was spinning. Was there an attack on Alien Stage? If so, what — or who — were they after? The judges? The audience? The contestants?

Himei and Tallis were still there.

What if something happened to them?

What if something already had?

She would have no idea until the lights came back on and someone sorted through the carnage.

Tov’s medical band beeped.

“This place is swarming with AREPH agents.” Cassio muttered, yanking Tov out of her spiraling thoughts.

AREPH. The Agency for the Recovery of Escaped Pet Humans.

Tov remembered a few AREPH agents showing up at Anakt Garden the morning after Solei disappeared.

The agent who interviewed her wore a silver badge with the agency’s seal. She could still recall what it looked like; how it gleamed when it caught the light.

Tov frowned.

Why would AREPH agents be there?

“Oh fuck—” Cassio’s voice shook.

“What? What is it Cassio?”

Their tone turned grave, “Tov, I need you to listen to me very carefully. I’m only going to say this once, and then I’m going to hang up.”

“What’s going on—”

“JUST LISTEN TO ME TOV!!”

Tov recoiled from the receiver. Cassio had never so much as raised their voice at her before. Her medical band beeped again.

They took a deep breath to compose themselves, then spoke in a very deliberate and deathly even voice, “Lock the doors. Turn off all of the lights in the house. Draw the blinds.” They instructed. “Don’t make any noise. Don’t pick up the phone. And don’t answer the door for anyone. Stay put until I get back.”

Tov finally had a name for the emotion that had a vice grip on her heart.

Fear.

She’d felt it so infrequently in her life that it was hard to identify amidst the chaos. But she felt it now.

Strong. Overwhelming. Terrifying.

A chill ran down her spine. Ice surged through her veins. She couldn’t move.

“Why?” Tov could barely get the words out. “Why do I have to do all of this?”

Cassio took pity on her.

“It’s about Solei. They’re here.”

And the line went dead.

————————————————————

Round 6, amirite?? <- (is definitely failing to cope)

Shit got real this round. Lots of chaos. Lots of blood. Lots of thoughts and feelings. Honestly I’m still processing most of it.

It’s a good thing Tov stayed home for this round too because the ensuing panic probably would’ve given her a heart attack (not joking btw).

If you’re wondering how Cassio knew it was Solei at the competition, they passed by a monitor backstage that had the emergency message from this post flashing on it and recognized Solei’s ID number.

They tell Tov to act like she’s not home because AREPH agents could come looking for her since she is thought to be withholding information about Solei’s Anakt Garden escape.

Aurien belongs to @aurienneirua and Solei belongs to @solei-eclipse.

Himei, Tallis, and the Agency for the Recovery of Escaped Pet Humans (AREPH) belong to @lookatmysillies!

[imexperiencinggrowthgetoverit]

My Reaction To “The Edge Of Sleep” Show

Spoilers below obviously

ep 1

so was Dave like unknowingly being prepared for this tragedy??? that’s my first thought about what’s happening

ep 2

I actually understand Katie’s view cuz she just believes Dave has disrespected her wishes. I’m glad once he’s there she reacts somewhat well considering

ep 3

this brings up the question if life is worth it even with extreme pain each second. it’s a good question to start discussion about from both those experiencing the pain and those caring for them. primarily the former talking to those around them about their feelings on it.

ah so perhaps I was correct about my ep 1 theory ha

ep 4

I’m so glad Dave talked to Katie finally. I’m also glad someone finally talked to Ruth. Their reactions are all understandable and I really appreciate that.

This concept is so cool and the execution is so well done. God I’m so glad to be watching this now. I’m checking out the podcast after this for sure. Never had the attention span for it before, but I’m hooked now.

Did Mark do Larry and sing by the way? I swear I’m hearing him everywhere lol. It’s so cool seeing his name in the introduction credits. Also the way we slowly understand more of them as we watch is 10/10

ep 5

Trying to figure out if the whale or elephant is good is hard cuz it seems obvious but what if it isnt?

Oh no they crash though…. right? Damn I’m so hyped to know what’s up.

oh my god the choice to make it like falling asleep as a viewer was so good Holy crap

it’s a hard thing to exert energy to stay awake but not so much you lose any energy to stay awake… as someone with insomnia this is a battle I am too intimately aware of

I’m so glad this is the cast. It’s so well picked for each role cuz they’re killing it.

NOOOO NOT THE POOR WORDING

ep 6

woah new intro.

is he dreaming awake now too? oh no.

Holy hyuck Matteo is going through it.

oh no there’s concerning sh info I really hope nobody uses it hyuck.

two hours. yall got this.

Holy thwip water landing okay so not a crash technically??

HEAD BETWEEN KNEES MFS WHAT ARE YOU DOING (ik theyre out of it but ahhhhh)

Holy crap they survived Holy crap all of them

we love abandoned islands lol

oh no hallucinations.

I just realized is the elephant wearing a red dress? its too bright to be a monk-inspired robe right?

I wonder if this is all one island or if its shots mixed together to look like one.

These people are so strong Holy crap. Handling literal torture

it is a red dress!!

oooooo love raw power let’s hyucking go.

Would Katie really want that?

it’s interesting that the elephant needs him…. the fact it can’t just take control… hmm

they made it!!!!

what?

okay much more sense context wise now with so many survivors.

Safet okay. Interesting the name has safe in it. Sounds like prophet too.

This is suuuuch cult thwip.

lol are they real like bro its the actual whales

oh lord. war? more torture sigh.

he’s not gonna take “all as it should be” well

that room has got to be hot as hell tf

so much fire is not safe yall

oh hell no what the hyuck

OH NO KATIE NO

post series

I want to see what’s next so bad omg yes.

Podcast time!!!