#and i get by well enough knowing that obviously people will not know especially when not told that things went wrong

[cathnospam]

Content Warning: College MHA AU, Oral (F! Receiving), Bakugo being Bakugo, Reassurance, SoftDom!Bakugo

You cried during sex and it freaked Bakugo out…

“B-bab—-y/n?!” The soft concerned look on his face in contrast on what he was just doing between your thighs was almost enough to make you break into a chuckle.

Not knowing what personal space is he cupped your chubby tear stained cheeks with his warm sweaty palm and rubbed the wetness away the best he could, “Why didn’t you use the safe word?!”

You blink, you could feel your high slowly wearing off if it wasn’t for his knee rubbing up against your clit. He didn’t even realize he was so close. “Huh?”

“Did I hurt you? Why —why didn’t—“

The tears just flowed naturally from your face, this was your first time with him and this new feeling of passion left you overwhelmed, his kissed, his curious touches, the groans and pants coming from you both as you rolled around in the messed up sheets of his bed.

His mouth was just as curious and intense as his hands, and in Bakugo fashion he gave it his all, looking up over the valley of your pretty breast to take notes of your reactions; to watch your face change when his tongue flicks in a new area, his lips practically made out with your lower ones which drew out a slurry “Katsuki~” and whine, which turned him on so much he kept doing so until he slid his thick muscle inside you, his ego inflated in ways he didn’t think could hearing you whine and moan for him, he grew confident, shaking his head back and fourth, in circles softly groaning while the slick mixture of his drool and your arousal. His forearm holding down your thighs to get a wider view of your his pretty pussy.

Who knew he was such a messy eater.

But he stopped, you started crying.

The blonde would first hurt himself before he ever hurts you, especially after giving him the chance to share such an intimate moment . He panicked.

“Katsuki, it’s okay.” You cut off his stammers, his voice was already cracking, you tend to forget how sensitive he really is under that hard exterior. You rose your back up on the headboard and pulled him down, his arms changing you in on the side of you, “I wasn’t in pain. It was the opposite.”

“How, dumbass you fucking—“

“Shut up.” You try to keep a deadpanned face, but the scent of your pussy on his breath made you subtly bite your lip, it was hot. “Well first off you were overstimulating me. Secondly, sometimes we can instinctively cry when something feels good or overwhelming, kinda like when you see people cry during weddings. They’re…happy tears.”

His face was pouted, small beads of sweats trickling down his forehead, and cheeks so warm and squishy you pinch ‘em to get a reaction out of him, “Tch….i knew that.”

“….I was really making you feel good?”

You smile, landing a slow kiss on his slightly thinner ones and tugging his fattier lower lip, you nod, “You made me feel really good. So good I cried. It’s a compliment.”

Bakugo ponded for a few seconds,finally relaxing his body to let you hold him for a moment, your heart beats laid in sync with each other, enjoying the quiet ambiance of his dorm , naked and comfortable.

“Do you still wanna keep going or wanna try again later?”

“Only…only if you want to—-I mean I do obviously, but I don’t wanna make it weird.”

“You couldn’t make it weird if you tried I wanna keep going….i was close.” You fake pouted at him, a crack of the smile came from Bakugo, he sighed in fake annoyance rising up,

“Then lay back,” He says as he pulls you by your thighs so you can lie flat on your back, “his time don’t cover your mouth when I eat you, okay? ….You sound hot.”

“We won’t hear the end of it in class tomorrow…”

“I don’t give a fuck.” His last words were muffed by his lips pressing against your sticky gooey pussy.

[luveline]

𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

six | chapter list

Finding out you’re a princess isn’t half as intimidating as suddenly acquiring a full-time bodyguard. Especially when that bodyguard is disarmingly handsome, charming, and can’t seem to stop flirting with you. 

bodyguard!james, fem!reader, implied chubby!reader, shy!reader, princess diaries au, all characters in their 20s or older, star-crossed lovers/ forbidden romance, slowburn, background wolfstar

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“Why aren’t you hitting me?” James asks. 

The safety mat under your feet does little to assuage your fears. James Potter is perhaps the last person on earth you’d expect to hurt you, and yet you can’t shake the image of him deflecting your punch and sending you reeling. 

With his lovely curls slicked away from his face, his nice mouth, the curve of it where he’s smiling encouragingly, you don’t really want to hit him. 

“I can’t,” you say. 

“Yes, you can. One day you might have to, and I need to know you can do it without breaking your own hand.” The no nonsense tone he’d tended to sport when you first met barely three weeks ago is seemingly gone, replaced by a friendly, almost cavalier tone. Like this is fun. “It won’t hurt you much, I swear. And you should get your revenge. I hit you pretty hard.” 

“You didn’t hit me,” you say. “The door did.” 

“It was my fault.” He smiles, readjusting his stance with feet planted firmly against the mat. 

“James…” 

“Just hit me,” he says. 

You tense your fist around your thumb and hit him square in the chest. It’s not a punch by any means, a weak landing of your knuckles that doesn’t move him. Still, you’re surprised with yourself, checking his face for a sign that you’d done any damage. 

“There are so many people who’d love to punch me,” he laughs, nodding to your hand, “you can do better than that, if only to do what they couldn’t.” 

“I don’t want to hit you, James.” 

“I know, you have to. Come on, it’s easier than you think. You bring your first back to your shoulder and you move into it, okay? Use your weight to do the work. You’ll never hurt anyone if you don’t.” 

“I’d rather not, though.” 

“I know that, too, but you might need to. God forbid you be in a situation where I’m not there to protect you,” —here he does something strange with his eyebrows you’ve yet to encounter, sending a straight shot of butterflies through you, their wings fluttering in the soft part of your throat— “but you don’t have to be defenceless if I’m not. Give me a good swing and I’ll make sure Marlene has that pear ice cream at dinner tonight.” 

“Marlene would make it if I asked,” you say unsurely.

“But if you hit me, I’ll ask for you.” 

“You can be very manipulative.”

“Sometimes. Alright, hit me. Or I’ll tackle you again. You didn’t like that last time.” 

Obviously you hadn’t enjoyed being tackled, because James hadn’t hurt you, he’d simply overpowered you. In one sense, it had been panicky to realise you were at someone’s mercy. James had grabbed you simply behind the back with your chests pressed together and hooked his calf behind your legs, taking them from under you, and following you to the ground. You didn’t like it because he didn’t hurt you, he’d pressed his weight into yours with an arm tight across your chest, just under your throat, and you could smell his hair. Smell almond or jojoba or– or something warm. 

It isn’t that you have feelings for James. You don’t know him well enough. But having someone like James pressing down on you was impossible to ignore, consciously and subliminally.

You really don’t want to do this, drawing your arm back, tightening your first two fingers. James’ eyes widen, his lips falling open as you hit him hard enough to bruise a half inch from his heart. He stumbles and you follow, before flinching back hard, tucking shameful arms to your chest. 

“Sorry!” you burst. “Fuck, sorry! I thought you were ready!” 

“I was ready.” James grins widely. “Awesome. Do that again, yeah? Let’s have one on the cheek this time.” 

“I am not punching you in the face.” 

“You could always aim somewhere softer. The point is to incapacitate me. Hitting me in the chest won’t do that.” He rubs a hand into his shirt, the dark compression material barely moving. “You might have bruised me, though. I’m a good teacher.” 

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you say. 

James deliberates. He tips his head back, showing you the rather nice point of his chin and his neck. A beauty mark sits nestled atop his Adam's apple. 

“Alright. Sorry. No more hitting. Maybe we’ll give the offensive a break for a while and go back to defence again in a few days?” he suggests. 

You relax. 

You’re wearing clothes you’re not used to, a compression shirt like James’, a pair of dark trousers of a similar material with loose ends. Sirius had done some online shopping with you, not worrying as your elbows brushed. He pointed at things and you’d given weak yesses or resolute nos. The total had climbed and climbed, and Sirius had taken your choking for self-preservation. “Not to worry,” he’d said, grinning, “the royal coffers will pay for this lot.” 

It doesn’t feel real. Endless money with no limit nor reason. He’d opened Curry’s swiftly after and asked you what laptop you wanted for uni. He’d attempted to goad you into two. 

It’s alien. All of it, even James across from you where he’s sitting now to put his trainers back on. He doesn’t feel anymore real than the day you met, this handsome, tall boy tasked with keeping you safe. You’ve never been someone’s number one priority. 

“Come and put your shoes on, lovely.” 

You’re not sure how to cope with that, either. He and Sirius both seem quick to coddle when you’re distracted, and you’re distracted often. You shrug away your thoughts, relaxing your tight shoulders as you cross the empty gym to sit next to him. Your trainers are new, too, a sporty pair that cost more money than your last three pairs combined. 

“It’s nice to have new things,” you confess, “but odd.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I… I’ve been wearing the same pair of converse for two years. I had one pair of proper shoes, and one bag. One purse. And I didn’t mind it, just… just, it makes you feel sick sometimes when you want stuff. It’s embarrassing.”

If James is surprised at your sudden admission, he doesn’t show it. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of in wanting things,” he says, hands braced on his knees, “but I can guess why you might’ve felt like that. We try not to think about the things we want because that can make not having it worse.” 

What couldn’t you have? you think, searching his expression for a hint. 

“I’m glad it’s nice,” he furthers, tapping his heel against yours. “They look good. Are they comfortable?” 

“They feel like I’m wearing socks half the time.” 

James nods appreciatively. “Well, get them on. We’ll nip into the pharmacist before we go home, do you have your sunglasses?” 

“It’s too grey outside for sunglasses, we look ridiculous.” 

“You look like the front page of every newspaper. Ever. In the entire western world. Here, put your hoodie on.” 

You and James leave the gym with a wave to the women at the front desk and begin down the street. James hates the city obviously, wrinkling his nose at the grey cobbled streets and all of its sooty puddles. He walks from place to place rigid as a tentpole, swerving in front of you the second that someone looks at you too long. You wonder if this is what having a boyfriend is like. James is constantly making sure you’re safe, that you’re on the right side of the pavement, that you’re warm and fed and smiling. But you don’t suppose a boyfriend gets paid to spend time with you, nor do they spend nights on the lumpy sofa in the living room when they’re too tired to drive home at the end of a long shift. 

You think without wanting to of James climbing into bed with you, a split second of his warm arm over your back, and shake it away as he pulls you into the pharmacy. 

“Can you look at something else?” you ask, turning to him as you pull off your silly sunglasses. 

James raises his eyebrows. “Whatever for?” 

“I need stuff.” 

“I know you need stuff. You asked me if we could come here. Which, by the way, you don’t need to do. You’re supposed to boss me around.” 

You look over a shelf of shampoos and deodorants and begin reading their labels. James took you shopping the day after you got back, but you’d been stuck in your old ways and what you didn’t skimp on, you forgot. You eye a large bottle of shampoo that brags deep moisture for your hair type and take it from the shelf, then the matching conditioner, and then its hair mask. Your shoulders curl forward, worried James will think you greedy or sad or something in between, but he just says, “Pass them here, Princess.” 

“It’s fine, I can–”

“I’ll have them. I’ll go get a basket.”

He scoops everything into big hands and walks back to the pharmacy’s entrance. 

It’s a big pharmacy, modern, with white walls and bright fluorescent lights behind shelves. You catch yourself in a mirror next to a stand of cosmetics and wince. You look odd in these sporty clothes. Your nose is shiny. 

You wipe your face with your sleeve and stare at the cosmetics with no clue what to get. Should’ve asked Sirius to come. Or better yet, someone who regularly wears makeup. Only thing is, you don’t really know anybody who does. 

“You don’t have to rush,” James says, joining you at the makeup section, such a long walk from the shampoos. “Did you sprint down here?” 

You’d speed-walked past the sexual health aisle actually, but James doesn’t need to be privy to that information. “You don’t want to be here all day.” 

“I want to be exactly where you are. If that’s looking at lip gloss, then so be it.” 

You smile, a little shy, a little rueful, and turn your attention back to the lip glosses in question. There’s browns and pinks, blush-rose red and moodier cherries. “I don’t…” 

“That one,” James says, poking a barrel with confidence, “would suit you. And this one, too. You’ll look lovely.”

You don’t know what to say. The colours he’s chosen get added to your basket without comment, after you’ve wrestled it out of his unwilling hands. You spend a few minutes spready tester shades of concealer against the back of your hand, where James again recommends the one that matches your skin tone best. He leans behind you, and he does his job, sweeping the aisles and giving the shop a long up and down every once in a while, but for the most part he acts like he’s there to be there. 

You get to the bit of the pharmacy you’d come for initially, the shorter but well-stocked supplement and vitamin aisle. Realistically, you aren’t going to take ten different vitamins a day, and with Marlene’s cooking it isn’t as though you need them, but there are things you’ve always craved. Biotin and collagen, for healthier hair and nails. Multi-nutrient sachets for every day, the good stuff, and so expensive your eyes initially skip over them. 

Your hand hesitates in front of a box and James makes a warm humming noise. 

“They look promising.”

“I’ve never had them before.”

“I have a killer magnesium deficiency,” James says. “I usually take the magnesium and zinc, but that throws my copper out of whack.” 

You can’t tell if he’s messing with you. You smile at him, not quite stickily but getting there, your cheeks appled with it. “Not your copper.” 

“It’s not funny, Princess. It makes me want to sleep all day.” 

“Not funny,” you agree, grabbing the box of sachets and placing them atop the new electric toothbrush you’d fancied. You feel gluttonous and weird with it, because you don’t suppose you really need one, but James had only said That’s a nice colour. 

“James,” you say, meandering with him toward the tills, “you didn’t need anything, did you?” 

He grins at you like you’ve said something different. “I have everything I need, don’t worry.” 

“You sure?” 

His eyes seem lighter, then. Amber flecks in the browned honey of his irises. “Promise.” 

He tries to get you to visit the perfume counter, but the basket is getting heavy and you’ve spent enough as it is. Not even a tenth, a hundredth, a thousandth of what you have now at your disposal, but so much more than you ever would’ve before. 

The lady at the till eyes James behind you. She beams when James opens his wallet and passes you the card you were given by Sirius for expenses, and laughs when you refuse to take it. “I have mine,” you say, “this is all for me, I can pay.” 

“Technically it’s your upkeep,” James argues. 

“James.” You pass the cashier your card as James frowns. 

“I wish my boyfriend offered so quickly,” the cashier says. 

You go hot all over, but before you can tell her James isn’t your boyfriend, he’s laughing and taking the handles of your heavy pink carrier, pulling it toward him as the cashier sorts your receipt. “I shouldn’t have tried, really.” 

“It’s the thought that counts.” She hands you your receipt. “You should to let him pay, chick, especially if he’s offering.” 

“Maybe next time,” you appease. 

You’re still flushed when you and James break outside again, the cold a blessed relief. James lets your pink bag rest in the crook of his arm, while the other hovers behind you, looking around the street unhurried. “Anywhere else you want to go, chick?” he asks. 

You laugh. “She was nice.” 

“Very motherly.” 

“I want to go home, I think. Did you need anything else?” 

“I do all my shopping when I’m not working.” 

“When aren’t you working?” you ask genuinely. “You spend more than half the day at my flat, and when you leave– if you leave, it’s night time.” You give him a sideways glance. “I have nothing else to do today.” 

James contemplates this. “I– I’ve been meaning to get Sirius a gift. It’s his birthday next week, did you know?” 

“No! When?” 

“The third.” 

“What does he like?” 

James beckons toward a neon signed music shop. “He loves music. Music and the macabre, you know, like, horror movies. And he reads, despite what he might have you believe.” 

You fall into step. “Alright. You’ll have to tell me what to buy.” 

Again, he gives you a look like you’ve said something different, like you’ve said something lovely. 

“I can do that,” James says. “I won’t steer you wrong.”

—

Later that evening, after another tentative hour in the car with James’ patient coaching, you return home to shower. It’s luxurious and strenuous simultaneously. The new hair mask is fragrant and silky between your fingers, leaving the bathroom thick with its smell, the warm air clouding the windows. You hurry between the bathroom and your bedroom in a bath sheet and pretend you don’t notice James’ head tipping in your direction. 

“Everything alright?” he calls to your bedroom door. 

You spy on him through the gap. “I’m fine. Sorry I took so long.” 

“Remus has asked if he can come early and have dinner with us.” 

“He doesn’t need to ask!” you call, closing the door soundly. 

It will be nice to have Remus for dinner. He doesn’t have to tell you what fork to use here, you only have one kind, but he explains the heritage or main flavours of each dish and doesn’t make you feel embarrassed when you don’t know the Genovian Marlene uses. Honestly, you hadn’t even realised Genovia had a language, a hodge podge, Remus says, of Italian and French. And Remus has a steady voice that feels evidence of his more humble background —he’s like you, you’ve found out, working class and humbly brought up. He attended their boarding school on a scholarship of academic prowess, and served as a prefect for all seven years. 

“How exhausting,” you’d said. 

“With those two? You wouldn’t believe it.” 

His disdain was feigned, mostly. It’s why you’re excited to have him for dinner. When the boys are together, they end up telling you stories about their hijinks at school, and you get to peek into the window of their lives, see their fondness for one another in praises and shoulder squeezes and their ridiculous nicknames. 

You haven’t managed to ask about them yet. They slip out every once in a while, and in multiple variations. Moony, Moons, Moon and Pads, Pad, Padfoot. Remus’ you’ve deduced from a story they told, how Remus could be oh so moody when he wasn’t very well, like a wolf, a werewolf. Isn’t that clever for a gang of twelve year olds? Lupin, the wolf boy. You have a feeling it didn’t start out as a particularly kind nickname, but it morphed into a loving moniker later on. Sirius’ nickname, however, you’ve no chance at working out. Padfoot? 

And Prongs? You assume James had a nasty run in with a fork. 

You dress in soft, new clothes. Prongs, you think, doesn’t suit him at all. The James you know is only ever prickly when you’re at risk. He doesn’t flinch when you panic, never hardens. He has a soft hand for your back whenever you need a pat. 

Your socks slide on the living room tiles as you make your way in. James is clicking away on his phone, a dark business phone with many, many buttons. It’s dwarfed by his hand. He swears under his breath. 

“Everything okay?” you ask softly. 

James looks up and his gaze snags on you, his head tilted to his phone and his eyes steadfast where they look you over. “Fine. Nice shower?” 

You’re rich now. Every shower is nice, the boiler turned to a high six, hot water neverending. 

“It was good. Where’s Sirius?” 

“I’m actually not sure.” 

“Isn’t that your job?” 

“No. And if it were I wouldn’t know anyways.” He turns back to his phone. “He’s a slippery one, Pads,” he murmurs, “I couldn’t really keep track of him if I tried.” 

You feel as though you’ve caught him at a bad time. Restless, you turn away from him and head for your small kitchen, unsurprised to find Marlene still cooking and the continued remodelling of your kitchen. Old countertops find themselves housing new oiled cutting boards. Your grody cooker seems small beneath a HexClad Dutch oven, where oil bubbles and spits lightly, dough cuts set on a baking sheet beside it. 

“Hi, Marlene. What are you making?” you ask curiously. 

She grins at you from over her shoulder. “Apple cider doughnuts. I’ve made cinnamon sugar, do you mind it?” 

“What’s the thermometer?” you ask. 

She laughs at you lightly. She’s used to you dodging questions. “Just making sure I don’t set your house alight. At home I can do this by eye, but it’s finicky with your oven. She’s temperamental.” 

“Sorry.” 

Marlene waves a hand. “You want to try?” 

“I’ll just be in your way.” 

“No, you won’t. Frying doughnuts is fun, here. I’ve put each of them on a bit of greaseproof paper. They slide right off.” 

Marlene doesn’t usually take no for an answer. She’s not bossy, but decisive. You’re hesitant at first of the boiling oil and the greaseproof paper doesn’t cooperate when you try it, but eventually you’ve freed a crispy bit of paper from the dough, watching patiently as Marlene turns the doughnuts. She tells you about the dark colour you’re searching for, “I’ve put apples in the dough, see, so they’ll come to a brilliant dark colour without burning. We’ll have them with ice cream or whatever you like.” 

”James told you I wanted it?” you ask shyly. 

“James didn’t mention you at all, he just begged a bit for it. He can be quite pathetic when he needs to be.”  

“I resent that!” James calls. 

Sirius and Remus arrive in their usual pair, Remus tall and light to Sirius’ tighter darkness. Remus wears glasses today, black thin frames perched atop a scar on his nose. Sirius is being himself, poking at them and reminding Remus that just because he is an insufferable swat doesn’t mean he has to look like one. 

“You’re worse than insufferable,” Remus says. When he sees you, he brightens. “Ah, Princess. James hasn’t injured you, that’s brilliant.” 

“And you clearly haven’t killed him in a motor vehicular disaster,” Sirius says cheerfully. “Praise be.” 

“We’re both fine,” you say. 

“Were you worried about us?” James asks. 

“I wasn’t worried about you, James,” Remus says with a smirk. 

You eat as you have every day for the week since you’ve been home: around the coffee table, five plates and drinks rearing to get knocked over and ruin it all. Your knees press into Remus’ on the left and Marlene’s on the right. James sits across from you now that Frank’s shown up for his night shift, digging in with vigour, beaming around his fork as Sirius gives him a good nudge. So many people in your crammed flat. It doesn’t seem real. Half the time, they’re just here to keep you company. 

Paid to keep me company, you think, biting your tongue as you do. This isn’t… real. 

Something taps you under the table. James’ hand, you find, long fingers pressing soft into your kneecap. You quickly lift your head again to find him frowning at you mildly. Okay? he mouths. 

“Bit my tongue,” you say. 

“Ouch,” Remus says. 

James pokes his lip with his tongue. “Be careful,” he says eventually. 

You ignore whatever it is he’s not saying and pick at your food instead. For dinner, Marlene has made a traditional Genovian pasta dish heavy with red pesto and steak. It isn’t what you’re expecting, used to the paler whites and greens of the last week's worth of dinner. James couldn’t be enjoying it more, and Sirius has pledged his undying love to Marlene three or four times since you sat down. 

“Jesus, I barely miss Genovia when you cook like this,” he says. “I will happily serve my country.” 

“Unlike before, when you were here unhappily,” Remus teased. 

Sirius looks you dead in the eye. “Princess, I would follow you anywhere. Marlene is an added bonus.” 

“I– I really wish you guys wouldn’t call me that.” 

Sirius looks gently chastened. “Sorry, sorry. It’s muscle memory at this point. If I called Princess Julianna by anything but her title, she would’ve had me drawn and quartered in the royal courtyards, is all.” 

“And the rest,” James snorts. 

“I try not to address her at all,” Remus says to himself. 

Everyone laughs. You join in a second later, wondering about your unknown cousin. “She was rather spoiled, wasn’t she?” you ask. 

“You’d think she’d tone it down some. Her royal status is rather tenuous, you know.” 

James gives Sirius a look. Careful, it says. 

“What do you mean?” you ask. 

“Well, she’s a royal by marriage, not blood. We explained that, didn’t we?” 

James had said it was complicated. You’d been too startled about your own royal status to inspect it any further. “She’s not a Renaldi?” you ask. 

As it’s explained, your uncle (uncle! who is indeed royal by blood, and the eldest son) forwent the throne when it became clear he wouldn’t be allowed to marry a divorced lover otherwise (reminiscent of certain British scandals). Said divorced lover already had a daughter, a young Julianna. And so your uncle remained a prince but not a king, and Julianna became a princess, to the ire of half the country. 

Traditions have changed in time, but Julianna still lacks Renaldi blood. 

“It drives her mad,” James says. He’s leaning back against the armchair now, dinner finished, a big glass of apple cider in his hands. 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” you say. “Sorry, I sound horrible, just. She wasn’t super friendly.” 

“It would’ve been better for everyone if she was,” Sirius says. 

You wait for him to continue. Marlene prompts him, “You think so?” 

“Well, yes, I suppose. Anything is better than a country ruled by Baron Riddle. Evil, loathsome man. He thinks that nobody knows he’s had a nose job, you know.” 

“Who’s Baron Riddle?” you ask. 

A hush falls around the table. You look down at your plate, eyes on the red shine of pesto and olive oil where it’s grown cold on your plate. A hunk of soft bread is discarded beside it. You poke at it with your nail until crumbs flake away, lips parted, not sure what to say. “Is he–?”

“He’s a bad man, Y/N,” Sirius says. His voice has turned soft but not thin. “He’s prejudiced and cruel. If nobody of Renaldi blood takes the throne when your grandmother steps down, he’ll rule Genovia. And he’ll run it into the ground.” 

James isn’t looking at you when you drag your head up. He downs the last of his cider and stands up, murmuring about clearing the table as he carries his and Sirius’ plate to the kitchen. 

“I didn’t know,” you say. Well, you’d known someone would ascend to the throne if you didn’t. But you didn’t know about Riddle. A guilty heat builds in your throat. “I had no idea.” 

“James asked us not to tell you,” Remus says pointedly. 

“She has a right to know,” Sirius says. They glare at each other, but the heat in Sirius’ voice doesn’t rescind. “What? She does. She’s a grown up.” 

You shake your head. “Thank you, um, for telling me. I’ll just take these out, should I?” You gesture to the plates and stand up quickly. You can’t escape the feeling that Sirius is very angry with you, and you don’t want to face it, so you escape the room instead. 

James’ shoulders are tense in the kitchen. He scrapes his plate clean into the food recycling bin, offering his hand without looking for your own. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. 

“Of course.” 

Silence blossoms like an achy bruise. 

“James–”

“Thank you for having me for dinner, but I really should be going now. I promised my mum an overdue call.” 

He’s angry. 

You cringe away from him. “Okay. Yeah, no problem.” 

“Okay. Stay safe while I’m gone, yes? Remember your panic button.” 

Your hand inches up to the opposite wrist, where your tennis bracelet of sapphires sits tightly. You’d forgotten all about the panic button embedded in disguise under one of the gemstones. 

He smiles at you briefly, and in a minute or two he’s gone. Sirius goes out after him, leaving you and Remus and Marlene to the heap of dishes, a bad taste lingering on your tongue that has nothing to do with dinner. 

[hyog-blog]

Fangs of Fortune (ep. 06 - ep. 07)

Uh, not Li Lun, out of all people, making everyone finally question why Zhu Yan actually killed Yichen's brother and all those people years ago. We know he lost control over his malicious energy, but why didn't anyone ask him why it happened? Come on, people, you seem to be so smart))

Well, Wen Xiao seems to be accepting enough to not care about what our gorgeous Demon Lord has done in the past, which is quite refreshing. Ambiguous, morally grey characters need more unconditional love (especially when they're, uh, 34,000 years old? XD). But he doesn't even seem to be so 'grey' at this point - he's doing too many good things right now.

The whole thing with being a 'vessel for malicious energy' is quite intriguing. Was he born like that? Can he actually stop 'the cycle of rebirth'? Why did he 'lose control' after so many years of cultivation? I'm also trying to figure out the timeline - the killings must have happened after he dropped Wen Xiao off at what seemed to be the gates to the demon-hunting bureau. But she wasn't staying there when that stuff happened? Did his demonic self come back there just to wreak havoc or for some other reason? Was Li Lun involved? Mmmm, the plot is deliciously mysterious, I will have to wait to get those answers.

Also, I can't even be angry with Li Lun at this point, although he's playing the bad guy now - the poor baby was so visibly hurt when Zhu Yan called him a scumbag. And that painful look he had when our Demon Lord thought something along the lines 'screw you, I know how to wake this boy up from his nightmare' and pierced himself with Yichen's sword (which, uh, seems to be quite a recurring motif and the symbolism of it isn't escaping me, nope XD). In the world of jianghu, the next best thing you can do to show you CARE apart from cutting sleeves is to stab (or get stabbed by) the person you care about. Or get stabbed FOR the person you care about.

I also love how effortlessly Yichen is third-wheeling without creating a feeling that he's actually third-wheeling XD Wen Xiao is obviously biased towards Zhu Yan, now even more so that she knows he IS that Great Demon who accompanied her and the Bai Ze Goddess all those years ago. I would totally trust him, too, if I were her. I also love the messed-up dynamic of a former caretaker/child who's grown up because now Zhu Yan definitely doesn't give us those parental vibes, he's oozing sensuality wherever he goes (and him pretending to be all hurt so she stays with him, ahah, that whole sequence was cute and hilarious). And Zhu Yan saying something along the lines that they now get to 'meet all over again' - was it to build a new relationship with her from scratch? M-hmm, yummy, utterly delicious :D

And you can see how Yichen kinda sorta admits defeat in the way Wen Xiao no longer needs his protection against the 'big bad demon' (the man is using his big bad demonic energy to push her swing, for Christ's sake XD), but still can't let the other man go so easily because of REASONS and that 'you'll have to pay for your sins either way' thing still going on between them. Zhu Yan does know what buttons to push when it comes to Yichen, but the feeling seems to be quite mutual (they're cute together and their interactions are so yummy 😍). That scene at the temple is EVERYTHING. And then at Zhu Yan's mansion with the swing. Is he swinging both ways? Ahah XD For a 34,000-year-old being I don't see how that could be an issue)))

Okay, cutting and piercing still seem to be the show's love language and I APPROVE (never had a kink like that, but there's a first thing for everything, I guess XD). The undertones just make it all so yum))

The introduction of the new character, Yinglei, was hilarious))) We also find out that the Wilderness is crumbling down, which makes the whole Bai Ze token thing even more important.

/and I've finally reached the picture limit in one tumblr post, ahah XD/

[tricitymonsters]

How would any/all feel about a fat MC, especially one insecure about her body and reluctant to let them touch at first, since she wouldn’t believe they were actually into her? I’m on the heavier side and this game is such a good escape for me. Thank you very much! 😭

I've answered a similar ask before but i TRULY love this one because it gives me the chance to shout it out again: across the board, all the ROs are into fat MCs. Everyone moves to physical intimacy at their own pace and I think they'd be good at being insistent enough to prove that they're being honest while making sure they don't push hard enough to make MC more uncomfortable.

Akello used to be really fit but has since put on some poundage as his metabolism slows down but he's accepted his thickness as a blessing. He's well fed, strong, and comfortable with age changing his body. But also I think of all the ROs he's probably the most specifically into fat bodies- fat babes of all genders and presentations feel great in his hands, and he loves the look of a fat ass + thick thighs + belly. PLUS also Akello really likes to eat and he wants to share meals with an MC who's open to relishing the pleasures of life with a little bit of hedonism.

Amir loves Big Girls and Thems and Boys don't let his slender looks deceive you. He also has a very mild feeder kink and would insist that you look adorable when he can get you samples of luxe snacks you've never had before. He knows that a lot of people have baggage about eating and bodies but he's one of the first to INSIST all bodies are beautiful and that conventional notions of beauty are not only impossibly narrow, but also carry gross baggage deeply rooted in racist, classist, and sexist nonsense. Besides if a man who looks like Amir does can't pass the Conventionally Beautiful Margin just because he likes makeup and dresses and huge heels how good of a judge could it POSSIBLY be, obviously he is earth-shatteringly beautiful and they're just insecure haters.

Mori wants to put his grabby little goblin hands all over a fat MC please. He loves big boobs (gnc), big butts, big thighs to get crushed in. He has a little belly pooch himself because he's an irresponsible drinker and eats garbage so he's also one of the LEAST likely RO's to make judgments. He's here for a good time, not a long time, and he wants to enjoy getting physical with MC and explore whatever body they have.

Bonus Mentions:

Kazu may be an insufferable gym rat who meal preps but he also eats like a garbage disposal and food is a huge stress/comfort thing for him. As long as you feel strong and healthy in your body, that's all he cares about. Also he's an ass guy so please don't think a big ass won't get him all worked up.

Raath ESPECIALLY loves chubby/fat bodies. So much for him to grab and bite.

Marcel is kinda like Kazu in that he can be a little bit obsessed with his workout routine but Marcel's more interested in that for himself, not pushing it onto others, especially if they haven't explicitly shown interest in getting a routine of their own. Most likely to brag insufferably about his thicc mc partner as loud as he can, though.

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 58

Hey remember when randomly a couple days ago in the event I mentioned that one of these days makes me irrationally angry??? Yeah this is the one. 

So context for this one is that in the danganronpa section of a server I’m in someone asked a question around the lines of-

“Who is your favorite character for a Mastermind AU?”

Nowadays if you asked me, I’m very fond of the Mastermind AU I drew for Toko and Komaru during Tokomaru Week this year, and it’d probably be my answer nowadays.

However if you asked Jem from several months ago, who was brainrotted to absolute hell over these two to the point that she could barely form an opinion on other characters (don’t worry I fixed that issue in my brain, kinda), you know damn well her instant response was Mikan.

At first it was kind of a non-serious filler answer because I didn’t have anyone else who piqued my interest for that at the time. Arguably at first I wasn’t even interested in Mastermind Mikan initially. And then my brain saw I was apathetic to it and was like “Hold my drink” before it spiraled into an AU, which I of course would then use for Day 58 at the time. 

I drew up a character design and some basic details in a total rush, and then drew a really basic but cute enough image of the two alongside various headcanons for this version of the relationship. I actually intended to draw a bonus image of the two on their own just because I felt like I was kinda scamming ya’ll if I didn’t. However I have like, none of the time for that on my hands right now, I’m JUST starting to learn Web Design at the time of writing this. If people like this enough I might try and actually draw some proper art of this AU again though.

As for why this day makes me angry, uhhhh yeah no it’s completely irrational. I have no justification in the slightest I just know that every time i scroll past this  one while looking through the folder of Junkan art for the project I just get annoyed.

I’m actually really happy with the Mastermind Mikan design, might be a biiiit overdesigned? But let’s be real if we’ve learned anything over the course of whatever the hell you’d call this project, it’d be that I am nothing if not a woman of pure excess, especially within the small realm of this ship. 

Okay so hi this is Jem from like, slightly in the future. And when I say slightly I mean like 20 minutes ahead of the previous paragraph. 

So I drew a Monokuma for this AU. Something I didn’t do for my Mastermind Tokomaru AU. I kind of had the idea for a Mikan version of Monokuma in my head for a decent amount of time, partially because I also want to do some art of Mikan and Junko in Shiro/Kurokuma cosplays later (yeah sorry spoilers there is no shiro or kurokuma representation in this project. But worry not, UDG does have representation, muuuuuch later). That made me think about how Shirokuma does kind of have similarities to Mikan (i think, it’s been awhile), which made me realize that monokuma but purple sounded neat. So there’s this now.

I imagine that Junko would still be voicing this version from behind the scenes. Partially because unless it’s literally an Ultimate Voice Actor Mikan AU there’s no way she can do that for a whole killing game. The other reason is I just kind of imagine that Mikan would take a similar role to Tsumugi, being both a member of the killing game and the mastermind, rather than what Junko did where she faked her death and orchestrated from behind the scenes without suspicions. Also yes this would mean that Junko is behind the scenes as normal, just that this time she’s solely focused on managing Monokuma. The Control Room is directly connected to Mikan’s room for easy, non-suspicious access to all the mechanisms. And also so the two of them can cuddle at night, obviously. 

Oh yeah with this Monokuma Redesign I would probably also change Mikan’s hair pin to reflect the same color scheme, even if I do like the way it looks with normal Monokuma colors. I would also probably make a “normal” Mikan design for this version. Just tone back certain parts of it to give the illusion that she isn’t the mastermind. Y’know, for the game that will totally exist based off this au, definitely. 

Honestly I think rambling about it has made me soften up on this one a bit, for now at least. So for real I might try and draw more of this AU regardless of whether people want it or not. That said y’know, if you DO want more of it feel free to say so cause that will in fact give me some mild motivation lol.

Oh I guess last thing. When I first showed the initial Reference image of this Mikan to friends one of them pointed out that I accidentally made her plan into, what is essentially the American Healthcare System. I swear to god that wasn’t intentional but it did make me laugh. 

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

[aidansplaguewind]

Hi @andreabaideas ! We don't know each other but I follow @mzannthropy and I just wanted to say I agree with everything you said about expressing one's opinions and not caring what others think of it. And yes, especially women. I'm a very opinionated woman and as a result I've been called so many awful things by men. I just don't understand why they can't handle us having a voice. I don't understand what's going on in the US right now and why men are so offended by women in power. I mean, don't get me wrong, I can explain it in ways like they're deeply insecure and their masculinity is incredibly fragile, and they're afraid women no longer need men for anything (including sex) and that, especially, terrifies them. But even knowing all of that, I still just don't understand it. So what if a woman doesn't need you, isn't it enough that one WANTS you? But I think the problem lies there. It means they actually have to TRY to get a woman to want them because the days of women having to get married to survive are mostly gone. And now they have to try to be better people, they have to try to hold an intelligent conversation, they have to try to have varied interests and hobbies etc. And frankly I think most men are lazy when you look at that way and they don't want to put forth the effort to earn our interest and desire.

Anywho...

@mzannthropy I think we discussed this before, about how when I first got into Sam earlier this year I noticed immediately that there was a lot of appreciation and attention on his roles on The Hunger Games, Daisy Jones, and ME Before You. I'm wondering though if these are, in fact, people that I would consider fairweather fans. Not used by exact definition but its the closest I can think of to describe it. It's people who only like a celebrity for like one or two roles and are more in love with the character than the actor. Usually those fans don't stick around once the fixation on said character wears off.

I admit, I'm not as huge a fan of Sam as you or @jesstasticvoyage are, because my heart will always belong to Aidan Gillen, but I do consider myself a genuine fan. I just enjoy watching Sam work. He's extremely talented, unbelievably so. I will also admit that he's a far better actor than Aidan. I can't really put into words what he brings to the screen. A passion for what he does, obviously, but more than that. He's simply fantastic. One of my favorite performances of his is Oswald Mosley in Peaky Blinders. He's despicable but Sam is such a pleasure to watch in that performance. As good looking as he is, he did so well, I still hated his guts as Oswald.

Billy Dunne is also a favorite, even though I know you have a lot of not great opinions on DJATS. I didn't read the book so I have nothing to compare it to, so I did enjoy it very much. I was just baffled at what all he did to achieve that performance. The weight loss, yes, and learning to play an instrument, learning to SING well, recording an entire album. That's dedication. And when he's on screen I 100% believe he is Billy Dunne.

I also really liked him in Their Finest. Devastated by the ending but I loved watching it. His performance in The Corrupted is notable as well because that character just seems so not like real life Sam but he pulled it off completely.

Anyway, I'm getting off my point, which was that I personally think if you only like an actor in one role, you can't really say you're a REAL fan of that actor. A fan of the character, sure, but how can one be a fan of the actor if they only like them in one thing? Or even just two things? Especially if you look at the characters in question. They're these McDreamy type characters written and cast to get the attention of young women and teenage girls. I don't want to sound like a gatekeeper but if you only like one role then you're a fan of the character.

Omg, I just made this post so long. Imma shut up now. I really do have too many opinions sometimes 😅

Sam Claflin and Holliday Grainger in ‘Any Human Heart’ (2010)  

[doetic]

There's Doodles of Rams in the Margins - Enemies to lovers!Jschlatt x F!Reader x Hasan Piker (pt.1)

Masterlist // Playlist

Plot: During a lunch with her best friend and roommate F/n, the love hating cynic Y/n is introduced to her new boyfriend Ted Nivision and his friend Schlatt. Little does she know, her and Schlatt would butt heads at a party later that night, leaving her storming out soaking wet and enraged, but with the phone number of a charismatic and attractive curly haired man named Hasan. Word Count: 3086

A/n: Rewriting this fic so I'll want to work on it again, so don't be alarmed that it's different/being reposted!

The Women's Guide to Sex, Love, and the City - Y/n L/n

Jane Austen famously began her novel, Pride and Prejudice, by saying it's a universally acknowledged truth that “a man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife”. Obviously Jane Austen didn't live in 21st century NYC. Nowadays, the very idea of a man wanting to settle down with pure intentions is far-fetched, and a smart woman is especially wary if a man bringing up marriage is wealthy. The topic of love has people in the city so divided that some believe it doesn't exist at all. After hearing both sides out, I can' help but wonder if love is truly just a scam perpetrated by men to get more blowjobs. Are straight women afflicted with a toxoplasmosis type parasite that makes them fall for men so irrationally hard? After running this column for two years and reading all the dating horror stories sent in, I'm starting to think all the women vowing celibacy are onto something. So, when my close friend and roommate, F/n, sat me down to discuss moving in with her new boytoy, I found myself having to bite my tongue. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

“His name is Theodore Nivison, but he goes by Ted,” F/n filled you in on the name of the man you were about to meet, a smile emerging on her face as his name left her lips. "Well, he's actually trying to make Theo a thing now,"

"Theo? really?" You replied, unimpressed. Without hesitation, you pulled out your phone, ready to do an impromptu background check on the man your friend planned to move in with. She had been very closed off about the details of their relationship, not wanting to say too much too early. However, after six months of dating, she seemed confident that their relationship would at least last over a year and was ready to preform the ultimate trust falls -- moving in and introducing him to her best friend, you .

F/n’s hand darted across the table and landed on top of yours, gently lowering your phone. “That’s not necessary, Y/n. Besides, you wouldn’t be able to find much anyways.”

You raised an eyebrow. “It’s not that rare of a name, F/n. It wouldn’t be hard unless he gave you a fake one.”

F/n let out a small laugh, “It’s not like that! He’s just a youtuber so he’s got that stuff hidden as much as he possibly can!”

You sent F/n an incredulous stare, putting your phone back onto the table. She smiled in return, used to your protectiveness, knowing what was coming next. “A man moving to New York from LA is bad enough F/n, but an influencer?” You began to chastise her. “He’s–”

“I know the drill Y/n, we don’t need to go through this every time.” She rolled her eyes lightheartedly. 

Many found your skepticism towards love annoying, but F/n understood it. As your lifelong best friend, F/n knew very well how hopeless it was to try and get you to play into the scam that is dating in the city. Still, she always tried her very best to change your mind on the matter, even when others thought it to be a lost cause.

“I’m just saying, you know how men like that can be. Massive fucking egos that get in the way of everything,” You stabbed a fork into your salad a bit harder than intended. “Is he actually successful, or just a wannabe? You don’t want some guy with some soundcloud rapper mindset.”

“He’s got over a million subscribers I think?” She hummed, unlocking her phone and scrolling for a few moments before turning the screen to you, a dark haired man with glasses staring at you.

“I mean he’s cute I guess, if you’re into the geeky look,” You examined his face. “You could find someone hotter, but I’d probably hate him more if he was.”

F/n put away her phone and swatted the side of your arm playfully. “You haven’t even met him yet!” You paused as you lifted another forkful to your mouth.

“We both know how this is gonna go, F/n. He could be Jesus-fuckin’-Christ himself and he still wouldn’t be good enough for you.”

She let out a small laugh. “Well, please don’t be too obvious about your feelings. He should be here about–” She quickly checked the time on her lockscreen, but before she could finish her sentence the tall dark haired man you recognized as Ted speed-walked over right on cue, a brunette above 6ft with odd facial hair trailing after him. You couldn’t help but think he pulled off the mutton chop look. He was hot in a weird way. Fuckable, but if you were showing your friends a photo of him you would have to preface it by saying he doesn’t photograph well.

“Sorry, sorry! Am I late?” Ted leaned down to kiss F/n’s cheek, your friend grinning brightly at the small action. 

“Right on time, Ted.” F/n’s grin was plastered on her face, but a quick glance toward you showed that her eyes begged you to play nice. “This is Y/n by the way.” She gestured to you expectantly. It took you a few moments to catch on, busy chewing on your salad and sneaking glances at the man who seemed to be a friend of Ted, but once you realized you were meant to do something, you quickly waved. 

Ted sat in the seat beside F/n, leaving the man who accompanied him standing beside the table. “Sorry, Schlatt wanted to tag along, but I figured he wouldn’t be too much of a nuisance.” He apologized, mostly to F/n.

“Don’t lie, you’re the one who clings to me whenever we’re in the same city. He basically begged me to come along,” ‘Schlatt’ huffed.

“Oh Schlatt, you can sit beside Y/n!” F/n pointed to the chair beside you. You moved your purse to hang on the back of your chair, watching the tall man as he crossed over to sit beside you, giving him a polite small smile. He replied with a silent, examining look.

The man didn’t seem socially awkward, instead Schlatt just came off as reserved. From Ted’s comment about him being a nuisance, this behavior seemed odd to you. Perhaps he was just being good for Ted’s sake, or maybe getting a feel of the situation before getting comfortable. 

“I’m Y/n,” You introduced. Not knowing what to do or say, you went to take another bite of your salad, only to be greeted by an empty bowl. You tried not to frown at the betrayal, opting to take a sip of your drink instead. Schlatt let out a hum, turning on his phone. Perhaps he was just tired?

“So, are you two looking forward to the party tonight?” Ted spoke up, breaking the silence that fell over the table. Although his body language made him appear comfortable, with his arm stretched around F/n, you noticed the awkwardness he felt through the apparent stiffness of his shoulders.

“Party?” You looked over to F/n who smiled sheepishly. 

“Ted! I was gonna ease her into it!” F/n laughed. “Ted invited us to a party with him and Schlatt, it’s gonna be a good one apparently. Some group rented out a mansion on AirBnB. You totally have to come!”

“I’m busy that day,” You said quickly. Schlatt, who was busy on his phone, let out a small chuckle that he tried to bite back.

“It’s tonight,” Ted restated.

“Yeah and I have plans tonight,” You said quickly, searching your brain for an excuse. Your search was cut short by F/n.

“You were complaining about having nothing to do all day when we got here. C’mon Y/n, It’ll be fun!” 

You went to sip your drink to stall while you thought of an escape plan, only to end up slurping air. The world seemed to be against you today. “Okay, okay, only for a bit. And I’m stealing back the Jimmy Choos I let you borrow.”

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Sometimes you wished you were better at saying no to F/n. Especially right now.

The party was lively. The bass throbbed throughout the rented mansion as if the building had a heartbeat and the large crowd of people gathered throughout the house swayed in time with it as if the party had cast a spell upon them and commanded it. Although you were committed to being huffy in the corner, you couldn’t help tapping a foot as well. Outside, in the absurdly large yard took place a makeshift game of baseball while others mingled on the deck.

Hate was a word you often used quite liberally despite being warned against it your whole childhood. Despite its secure place in your vocabulary, it was rare for you to truly mean the word as defined. However, in your current situation you felt yourself feeling the word so deeply it was as if you created it yourself. Your irritation was worsened by the knowledge that if the party was populated by any other group of people, you’d be having an amazing time. It wasn’t as if you were upset just because you were a buzzkill. No, usually you were the first one to suggest a night out and the last one to get into the uber home (after being pulled in by your friends). Your attitude wasn’t for a lack of loving parties. You just hated the people at this one specifically. You couldn’t stand influencers.

Your eyes scanned the crowd for F/n, noting the amount of cameras out with scrutiny. You couldn’t help but wonder how many of these people actually liked each other. How many of them were actually friends once the cameras shut off? You couldn’t stand the insincerity that seemed to permeate through every interaction they had, not to mention the egos that they broke their back carrying. 

Unfortunately, the familiar face you were searching for was nowhere to be found, the two of you had been separated an hour ago when a group of people pulled her and Ted away to talk. Your phone battery was dangerously low, so you didn’t send more than one text her way. It was only a mansion, she couldn’t have gotten far. Surely you’d find each other if you stayed in one spot. The situation made you feel a bit like a child lost in a supermarket.

The sigh that escaped your lips was rendered inaudible by both the music and the laughter floating through the open patio door to your right, where out in the backyard a makeshift baseball game seemed to be occurring– with cameras out, of course. Unlike usual, your carefully crafted, much too expensive outfit wasn’t enough to lift your spirits. Opting for plan b, you raised your lips to take a sip of your drink. 

It seemed as if brunette men over 6ft were scurrying into your life like rats, with the man who just came to stand beside you being no exception. You tried to subtly look at the attractive man under the guise of scanning the crowd for F/n once more as you sipped your drink, only to notice him staring at you. Like a cobra, the moment the rim of the cup left your lips, he struck quickly.

“I haven’t seen you around this type of thing before, what’s your name?” He questioned. You took the opportunity to get a better look at the man before looking away with faux disinterest. You were opposed to love, yes, but a good hookup was something you were always glad to indulge in.

“Isn’t introducing yourself first the chivalrous thing to do?” You commented, opting to act hard to get to give him the thrill of the chase.

“Oh! Excuse my manners, I’m a bit buzzed. I’m Hasan Piker. Can I know your name now, mystery girl?”

You let out a small laugh, turning to face him finally. “Y/n.”

“Y/n? I don’t think I’ve heard of you. I’d certainly remember if I did. What type of content do you make?” 

You tried not to grimace at his assumption. “I’m sort of a sexual anthropologist.” You stretched your job description to the limit.

He raised an eyebrow. “Onlyfans?” 

“A magazine advice columnist. It focuses on sex and relationships. It’s a bit of a mix of my personal life and reader questions.” You elaborated with a laugh. “Though I’m trying to break into real journalism.”

He laughed. “‘Sexual anthropologist’?” He ruminated on the words. “Well that’s a creative way of saying it, although it doesn’t seem to be entirely inaccurate.”

“I’m assuming you’re a streamer or something?” 

“Quite a bit of political content.”

You hummed. “More respectable than most, depending on your alignment.”

Hasan let out a small chuckle. “Let's not talk business. I can’t chat long, content obligations y'know? But I noticed you from across the room and wanted to give you my number, maybe we could get more acquainted later.” He gave you a quick wink. The cheesy expression was charming when coming from his strikingly handsome freckled face.

You pulled out your phone, opening it up to the contacts app and handing it over. “I don’t hate the idea of that,” You smirked, internally beginning to enjoy being dragged along to this party now that you had the chance at spending a night of hot, meaningless sex with his muscular form.

He took the phone from your hand and typed in his number. “I have to go, but text me. I’ll be looking forward to it.” His warm hand brushed against your exposed back, rubbing a small circle into your flesh with his thumb before slinking into the crowd from where he came.

You tried to hide the smirk that threatened to creep onto your lips, trying to play it cool in case anyone was watching. In an attempt to hide your smirk of satisfaction you raised your drink to your lips, only to find yourself wet and on the floor just a millisecond later, pain and the flashes and clicks of cameras flooding your senses.

The large form crashing into your body was far too sudden for you to even make a sound or register what had happened for a few moments. Slowly your brain began to piece things together. The open patio door in front of you, the baseball game going on outside that had halted with its players staring your way in shock, the impossibly heavy weight that kept you pinned to the hardwood floor. Some fucker had tackled you in an attempt to catch a ball. You were too stunned to speak, and the delayed full-body pain that flowed into your body only added to your silence.

“Watch where you’re standing, toots.” The voice, mixed with the telltale slur of a drunk man, sounded slightly familiar. Your disoriented brain took a bit to focus, but once it did you saw the face of Ted’s friend Schlatt hovering above you illuminated by harsh camera flashes.

Your eyes stung as they teared up, embarrassment, pain, and anger flooding your senses all at once.

“Watch where I’m standing? You’re the one who fucking ran into me!” You shouted back in anger, not caring about the cameras and bystanders surrounding you. “Get off of me!”

The man huffed as he moved his large form to his feet, a motion your sore body copied once he released you from your prison beneath him. “If you paid more attention to your surroundings you’d’ve seen me coming!” 

“It’s a dark room!”

“Try drinking less, you’ll be more alert,” He retorted with a pissed off chuckle.

“I’m not the one who reeks of whiskey!” You angrily jabbed a finger into his chest. “I’m not taking this from some asshole  with an over-inflated ego,” You glared before turning on your heel and storming away, focusing most of your energy on not stumbling in pain with such a variety of pitying and angry eyes on your form. Behind you you could hear Schlatt yell out in triumph about having caught the ball, his announcement eliciting loud cheers.

“Y/n! What’s wrong?” You heard F/n’s worried voice as you neared the party's exit. Ted trailed behind her, looking confused at the state you were in. You must have looked like a wreck. Even without a mirror you could tell your hair was messed up and your backless white dress was definitely stained from your spilled drink. 

“That fucking guy, Schlatt,” You replied, sending a glare to Ted. “Crashed into me trying to catch a ball and blamed it on me.”

F/n’s face turned angry at your words, looking expectantly at Ted and presumably opening her mouth to tell him to do something about his friend.

“I’ll talk to him, he hasn’t been himself recently,” Ted spoke quickly, giving you an apologetic look.

“Don’t. I don’t want some coerced apology. He’s a dick, it’s whatever. I doubt I’ll even see him much after tonight.” You weren’t sure why F/n and Ted had such weird looks on their faces as you said that, but you felt too scrambled to question it. “I’m just worried about pictures and videos of it ending up everywhere.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Ted comforted. 

“Let's get you home first, I doubt you want to be here any longer,” F/n spoke, placing a hand on your shoulder and guiding you out the front door.

The outside air was cool upon your skin as your drink dried into sticky patches on your skin. The fall breeze felt piercing on the wet spots of your dress that clung tightly to you. You let out a small sigh, the sound of the party fading into the background as the three of you walked to Ted’s car. He had agreed to be the designated driver for the night, something you appreciated. You would have felt awful making some poor Uber driver’s car reek of booze. 

You were so exhausted you didn’t pay much attention to F/n helping you into the car, your body feeling heavy as you rested your head against the back seat window. Thankfully, the two in the front seat respected your reluctance to talk much. You found yourself ruminating on your latest interaction with Schlatt. It had felt so fast that there wasn’t much for you to ruminate about, but of one thing you were certain: you deplored Schlatt and looked forward to never seeing him again.

[makiswirl]

can i just say. and this is probably a niche hill to die on. that i am so gobsmacked every time someone vaguely hints at the idea that jotaro doesn't care meaningfully for the other crusaders, usually particularly kakyoin and joseph, when those two actually tend to be the ones he reacts to being hurt the hardest

like he cares for his loved ones!!!! that literally plays into his character motives in every single part he shows up in!!! stop lying to me!!!!!!!

[iconicname]

The same goes for anya x curly too it may seem cute, but curly was essentially a boy mom with Jimmy as the "boy." Honestly, I think at most anya and curly could be tentatively reconciled friends post fix-it ending or whatever which would take a lot of work on curly's part and giving a lot of forgiveness (If shes willing ofc) on anya's part.

obviously, do what you want i could literally not care less what yall do i just wish fandoms were less shipping-oriented sometimes :/

weird accidental character analysis/rant below

Look, I too, am not immune to the 'oh, curly's kinda cute' thing people have going on. I get it, but I don't want to be blinded by it.

I think people forget that pre-crash curly was a miserable and incompetent guy who stuck around and kept jimmy around for a reason, (while yeah the birthday scene made it clear that he's a nice enough person that pre-crash crew generally had a good opinion of him and he may seem better when side by side with someone like jimmy but that man is nowhere near the picture of a "well-rounded man)

The reason doesn't have to be deliberate or anything like that, it could be that Curly silently never grew out of the dismissal of SA/the female experience mentality which allowed someone like Jimmy to be his close friend for so long. or, in his own words he preferred looking at the bigger picture but because he was so focused on Jimmy's wellbeing (y'know immediately rushing to fucking Jimmy to assure him that everything was going to be okay after ANYA confessed to being pregnant and said that she fears jimmy enough to hide a gun from him that if it were not for the fact that curly would not allow it she would have used to the gun to protect herself. in that scene, it clearly shows that Curly prioritized Jimmy's well-being but also his feelings over Anya's even if if he didn't realize it. to Curly Jimmy was the bigger picture.

Jimmy is clearly not above abusing people he considers his "friends" especially someone who was catering to him to that degree, i.e the birthday cake scene ("both" of them) and the multiple medicine-taking scenes, etc so over the years of knowing jimmy, Curly could have subconsciously internalized Jimmy's sexist way of thinking, as to not create conflict (which is not an excuse) plus someone who may not be happy might cling to the people and disregard red flags in fear of isolation/losing something they consider positive (still not an excuse).

I don't think Curly didn't care for Anya or the rest of the crew, for that matter, but because he focused on catering to Jimmy, he hurt the people Jimmy hurt.

I like to think that Anya and Curly were very similar early days post-crash not just in the "victim to the same piece of shit" kind of way but that they both had the "thinking the best of bad people out of a sense of self-preservation". One of Anya's iconic phrases "Our worst moments don't make us monsters", I like to think that's in character for Curly to adopt that phrase as well for jimmy out of some hopeful delusion and or lasting affection for Jimmy (plus he was definitely delirious and in pain 24/7 mans not going to thinking clearly), especially since Anya and Curly were often together post-crash. but when Anya reaches her breaking point and ends her life it's Curly's breaking point too because it finally fully clicked how horrible Jimmy really was, as a co-worker, friend, and person. and that's why when Jimmy unlocked the gun case, we got the chilling, sardonic, and scorful laugh.

Ya'll have got to stop shipping Curly with Jimmy. That man is a rapist. He doesn't deserve the Yaoi fantasies.

[thats-my-passion-right-there]

I finally saw the mean girls musical (the movie one) I have so many fucking thoughts oh my god

[ozlices]

another super insulting part of the watcher situation i haven't rly seen ppl addressing much

ryan deadass saying smth like "nobody else on youtube has made tv quality content"

like... i really feel like it's important to highlight that bc not only do they obviously have no respect for their audience, but that statement shows they have no respect for their peers in the industry, either.

not to mention it is a shining example of bleeding arrogance to such a high degree, you will straight up fucking lie bc you're truly convinced you're that special when you're anything but.

there's been NUMEROUS online creators who were recognized by entertainment industry workers BECAUSE they made tv quality content & even full stop blockbuster quality content.

bo burnham started on youtube & is now one of the most wellknown & loved standup comedians of our generation, with numerous netflix specials & even a movie he wrote & directed under his belt.

the try guys, fellow ex-buzzfeed employees, had their own tv specials on food network (based off their youtube shows, btw) & a documentary made about them as well

rosanna pansino has also been on numerous food network shows both as a host & a judge

quinta brunsun, another fellow ex-buzzfeed employee, went on to create her own whole ass sitcom that has been highly praised

matpat cameo'd in the fnaf movie because of his theories & multiple other fnaf creators had small cameos through the employee of the month board easter egg

markiplier made multiple high-quality shows on youtube & is now working on a highly anticipated movie (he was also planned to cameo in the fnaf movie but couldn't due to conflicting schedules with his own movie)

hot ones got their own tv gameshow due to their popularity & they are still one of the most wellknown, beloved & respected internet shows

many short films made on youtube went on to premiere at film festivals & even in theaters

the hit horror film "talk to me" was created by youtubers rackaracka

webseries of actual fucking tv shows have also existed for literal decades

the list goes on.

to seriously think that overproduced bullshit is all you need to make "tv quality content" is not only tone-deaf, but shows they do not even know what they're talking about. many tv shows & huge blockbuster movies are made with absolutely microscopic budgets & small teams, & they still get praised & awarded for the passion, dedication, & creativity that shined brightly under those restrictions.

the blair witch project is probably the most wellknown & highly praised example of this, but it is far from the Only example

it is a whole other slap in the face, again ESPECIALLY when puppet history is one of their most popular shows, to spit in the face of internet history. to see the success of their predecessors, even ppl they fucking worked with at buzzfeed, & deny them of all their success & efforts to get where they ended up.

no, y'all are not the first people to make "tv quality content" on the internet. FAR from it. because your crap isn't even genuine "tv quality".

but you are the first ones to ever disrespect not only your audience, but your own fucking industry & your peers on this level.

& you are the first & i sorely hope the only fuckwads dumb enough to pull a stunt this fucking stupid, out of touch & utterly tone deaf.

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 10:32

You tell Bakugou once that you don’t know how to take the train home, and he almost blasted your ears off with semi-yelling (or full-on yelling at some point) insults. 

“Hah?” He scoffs, eyes narrowing. This information is new to him, and a surprising one at that. 

You? The nerd that always bested him when it came to academics, which pissed him off the first few months in U.A.? The person who was not only book smart but was street and people smart as well? 

The whole goddamn package doesn’t know how to take the train?

Really?

He’s calling bull.

“What do you mean you don’t know how to take the train home? What kind of idiot doesn’t know that?”

“I just—“ you’re abashed and really don’t know what to say, “I didn’t really— I’ve never had the chance to take one until now!” For a consistent honors student, you can’t really have everything, can you?

“How’ve you been getting to school and back, then?”

“We had a driver—“

“Fuckin’ course—“

“But hey! Listen—in my defense—my schools were usually a walking distance from our house.”

“And now what? Gonna stand here and wait for a miracle to happen?”

You nudge his side with a frustrated frown (more like a pout, Bakugou thinks.) “Quit it, asshole.”

He backtracks briefly, though you could barely tell at this point. And it’s clear enough that he takes your words into consideration. It could be the fact that you actually look scared shitless right now, something foreign to your typical lax and carefree persona.

“C’mon.” Bakugou grabs you by the arm.

“Ow— hey! Where are we going?”

“You have to learn somehow, or else you’ll look fuckin’ clueless and dumb, nerd.”

You don’t argue because you really just wanted to get home, and while you could just call in your driver, you considered that this was important information that would help you in the long run. Besides, you do agree with Bakugou that not knowing how to commute like this is embarrassing, especially at your age.

“What’s this?” 

Bakugou hands you a card. It’s decorated with a minimalist logo of Musutafu’s native flower, whose color is your favorite.

“An IC card,” he simply answers.

It’s cute, you thought. You noticed how the other commuters had the standard design, so Bakugou must've gotten it personalized to your preference. How thoughtful.

“You could’ve just helped me get a ticket, though,” you murmur. You fiddle with the card in your hand, glancing at him with a puzzled expression. “I don’t think I’ll be using this card that often. It’ll be a waste.”

“Then try and use it as often as you can, nerd.”

“I’ll pay you back for this—how much was it?”

“Forget it.”

“Really, Bak—“

“Forget it,” he barks. “Keep up, you shitty extra. Or else you’d miss the last train to your station.” Bakugou starts walking, and you follow suit.

You can load your IC card at the ticket machines or the nearest ATMs. Different stations call for different ticket gates that obviously have different fares. The expiration of cards usually depends on what provider you got them from—

“What do I do now?”

You’re hesitantly in front of the ticket gate, with Bakugou on the other side. You’re like a kid who’s lost their mother in the mall.

“Just—“ Bakugou had to take a deep breath and not make a scene in the train station. He pinched the bridge of his nose, calling for all his ancestors to give him the strength to remain patient.

“Place your shitty card on the card reader. That’s it.”

You do as you’re taught, and you awed when the gates opened and let yourself walk through with a stupidly big smile on your face. “I did it!”

Bakugou thinks it’s fucking stupid of him to think that your enthusiasm for mundane things was cute. But fuck, something must be wrong with him because suddenly he feels a flurry of butterflies lodged in his throat, his heart beating ridiculously fast. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” 

He gives you directions, how to navigate through Musutafu without getting lost, and the basic stations you’ll be passing by to get to your station. He sees you type most of the things he says on your phone, and the way you were so eager to learn was a sight to see, really.

Boarding the metro, people were just as eager to get home as you two. So you two stood, not that there was much room to do anything about it.

“Hold onto the handle unless you want to fall on your ass,” Bakugou says. His tone is hushed to not disturb the other passengers. At least he followed basic commuting etiquette. 

“It’s so beautiful,” you breathe out. The passing buildings were as huge as those of U.A.’s, if not bigger. With the golden hue of the apparent descent of the sun below the horizon, Musutafu just became more beautiful in your eyes.

He scoffs.

“What’s so interestin’ about a buncha tacky buildings? Never seen one before you came here?”

“Of course I have; they’re just not like this.”

Bakugou follows your line of sight, and he thinks about it carefully. He couldn’t see what you saw, but maybe it’s because he grew up looking at this scenery. It doesn’t amaze him as much as it did when he was younger, he concludes. To you, this was a first. 

An experience that could become a core memory in this city. And he’s with you as you live through it. The thought causes a familiar feeling of pride to exude from his chest.

Maybe he’ll learn to appreciate more mundane things with you too in the future.

The train stops at another station, and the people scurry out. Once in motion, you were surprised by the speed when it took off, and the motion had you stumbling back. You stumble against Bakugou.

“What did I say about keeping a firm hold on the handles, you shitty extra? That’s what those are for.” Whether it’s by instinct or unintentional, Bakugou guides your hand to hold onto the support pole. He doesn’t let go, and you didn’t make a comment about it.

“Sorry! Still getting used to it,” you quietly laugh. “I hope the people here don’t think I’m really that inexperienced when it comes to taking the metro home,” you told him. “It’s embarrassing to think that I haven’t taken one until now.”

Bakugou thinks it’s alright because you were actually on set to learn. No matter what those other extras say or comment, no matter if they give you unimpressed glances, he’s there to grant them one of his own spine-chilling glares if they had the balls to do so. 

A passenger who appeared to be around your age stood up from his seat. “Excuse me, you can take my seat. I get off at the next stop,” he says. You’re a bit hesitant to take the offer, but he reassures you that it’s fine. It’ll be an awkward death for you if you don’t accept it, because now he’s standing. “Please, I insist.”

Unknown to you, Bakugou had an obvious scowl on his face until the stranger left.

“You look like you’re about to shit yourself.”

“Shut up, I’m not.”

“Jealous?”

“Hah? Why would I be—”

“Shh!” you kicked his shoe with yours.

“Quiet, remember?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, still frowning. You hold his free hand, cheekily smiling when he tries to free it from your hold. And in the end, he lets you do whatever the fuck it is that you want, but he would never ever admit that he was jealous of some nameless extra. He’s too far into liking you to help you board a train, get you a personalized IC card, miss his stop two stations ago because yours was still three stations after his, but he doesn’t think he’d be vocal about it anytime soon.

He’ll leave it to you to confess.

Then again, you already knew.

Bakugou Katsuki would not go above and beyond like this for anyone else, but he unknowingly does for you.

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[kawaiianimeredhead]

.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

A fair payment [W. W.]

Willy Wonka x fem!reader

word count: 1.5k

People who might be interested: @strugglingwriterwattpad @cattail5 [Timothée masterlist]

some minor Wonka spoilers I guess! If you like it, tell me in the comments, that will make me happy :)

“Can you mend it?” Willy asked, carefully holding his emerald green jacket that had the sleeve seam torn.

The boy had arrived a couple of weeks ago to turn the world of everyone present in the laundry upside down and, honestly, you were already beginning to enjoy his presence. You looked in the background at the blackboard that Noodle used at night to give him lessons in the hope that he would learn to read because, according to the girl's words, because of that he was almost eaten by a tiger. But in the man's words, what was important was the almost part. 

However, tonight he had asked you especially to go to his room, because he had a problem that he thought only you could solve.

“I think so, I just have to pass the needle a couple of times” you smiled.

Since your arrival Mrs. Scrubbit had used your sewing skills for her own benefit, because after all you had ended up in that mess trying to save a little to be able to buy the necessary materials to make a pretty dress that would be worth enough to advance in the business. Although, obviously, that had not been possible.

"Thank you! I'm afraid that's my only jacket."

“It will be ready in no time. I’ll just go to my room and come back, okay?” you said kindly, placing the garment in the boy's lap and earning a sweet smile from the aforementioned.

Just as Willy had his little briefcase for his chocolates, you had your own, full of threads, needles, and buttons, which you just had to grab from the floor to get everything you needed. When you arrived back you settled at the little table and he remained attentive to your every movement, pulling out a chair so he could observe what you were about to do.

“There was a boy on the ship who helped me with these things,” he began to tell you, keeping his curious nose on your shoulder “But I never thought about learning. You know, for when I had to be alone”

“Well, it's lucky you ended up here. We are a curious collection of workers,” you murmured ironically, referring to all the people gathered there against their will by the work of fate "What did you do on the ship?"

"Cook. Mostly sweet things, but I also know a couple of useful non-chocolate-related recipes. I was the chef,” he said, and you laughed at the exaggerated way he pronounced the last bit.

Willy began to tell you about some of the adventures he had had on the high seas and you listened attentively as the tip of the needle went in and out to join the fabric. It only took a few minutes to get his clothes looking like new, taking the liberty of repairing other places that also needed it.

“Put it on,” you asked, trying not to look at him too much when he did so or pay attention to the way the jacket fit him perfectly.

"It is perfect! You can't even tell it was torn, huh?” he said with emotion, feeling with his hands as much as he could. “How much do I owe you?”

“Oh, it's nothing.”

“I insist,” the man murmured. His curly hair bounced across his cheeks as he sat next to you and he lifted his small briefcase off the floor, opening it to reveal all the little bottles of ingredients. “Your talent for mine. It's a fair exchange."

You had to admit that the chocolates you had eaten were a complete delicacy, but a part of you didn't want to get used to that luxury or you knew that when Willy was gone you would miss his sweetness. In the literal and figurative sense.

Locked in that laundry it was impossible to meet many people your age and Noodle was your greatest company, as if he were a little sister to you. But now that he was there, there was a certain happiness in chatting with him, much more now that his ingenious mind had devised a way to get you out of there even if it was just for a few hours to see the light of day and get coins from the sale of the chocolates to free you of the enormous debt to Mrs. Scrubbit.

“What flavor do you want to try today? Do you want me to add some unicorn skin glitter? Rays of sunlight from a twilight on the seashore? Tears of an African crocodile?”

“Just give me something you think I need,” you replied softly.

Willy thought about it for a moment, because it wasn't the kind of answer he would have expected. What was he supposed to give you that night? A little hope? Happiness? Nostalgia? It was difficult to decide.

Through his bright eyes you watched him reflect and just a second later his hands began to work. You noticed there was a hint of mischief in his smile as he poured milk, chocolate, and the contents of a couple of jars into the processor, glancing at you from the corner of his eye from time to time.

“What are you going to do when we get out of here?” he asked suddenly, not neglecting the tasks.

“Working in a sewing workshop, I guess.”

“Why don't you open your own fashion house?” Willy suggested carefreely, as if it were a very easy thing to do, “You are a great dressmaker.”

“And you are a great dreamer”

“It's my best quality,” he exclaimed, almost offended. You waited a moment before answering.

“I just don't think it's that simple. It requires effort, time, and a lot of money…”

“We will have everything,” he interrupted you, with that optimism that characterized him. Suddenly he stopped what he was doing and one of his hands traveled to take yours. “When I open my factory, we will all be able to fulfill our dreams. And you are going to have a fashion house, I promise you.”

“You make a lot of promises,” you responded, blushing.

“And he planned to fulfill them all. I always do it"

Maybe there was something about the softness of his grip on your hand or perhaps the sparkle in his eyes that made you look away out of sheer nervousness. He seemed to be good and innocent, to the point that he probably didn't even realize how close he was to you or how inappropriate the position would be if Noodle ever walked in.

A tap interrupted your moment and then he abruptly pulled away, excited to show you the product he had just made. It was a pretty circular candy that was bright pink and seemed to be emanating smoke from the inside.

"What's that?"

“You'll have to try it to find out,” he murmured, as he extended the treat in your direction.

You had to admit that you were somewhat curious to discover what the man was offering you, so you took it between your fingers carefully, and even under his watchful gaze you took a bite.

At first it tasted like ordinary chocolate, but then it took on a strange tone, which made you feel a certain warmth in your chest that spread to your cheeks. It was a most pleasant feeling, like bubbly joy combined with the embarrassment of a hug.

You thought for a moment about what flavor that could be, without any success, until after a few seconds you realized that it wasn’t a flavor in itself, but a feeling, an experience... Was it love that Willy had given you?

“How does it taste?”

“Yummy,” you responded, covering your mouth so he wouldn’t see the wet chocolate on your tongue, but also to hide your smile “Delicious, actually. What does it contain?”

“A special and secret ingredient”

"Oh, come on! Aren’t you going to tell me?”

“I just want to know if I got it right,” he murmured and you frowned slightly, not understanding him “About what you asked for. Did I give you something you needed?”

You had to bite your lip to keep from smiling again, your cheeks feeling hot from the simple fact that he was looking at you. You thought that this could even be a love potion that you had consumed without thinking about it, just because he was the one who was offering it to you.

“We could say yes”

“We're even, then,” he exclaimed as he waved the sleeve of his jacket and you nodded in amusement, eating the rest of the chocolate he had made for you.

A yawn leaving your lips made you aware of how exhausted you were and although you didn't love the idea, you knew it was time to leave.

“It's late, I should go to sleep before we wake anyone up.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Willy said quickly, getting up from his seat to accompany you to the exit. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Rest,” you said kindly, and, gathering courage, you leaned forward a little to say goodbye with a hug that he gladly returned.

As you walked down the hall to your shabby, damp room, you thought that it probably wouldn't have even taken a love potion to fall for the charms of the pleasant chocolatier. You just needed one of his smiles.

[hello-eden]

Unexpected Hope

Damian has been disoriented all week. When he was told that stopping the ritual would have repercussions, he did not expect this. He had been dealing with the memories on his own but unfortunately he could not postpone this gala. 

He had been stopping a ritual that would end up summoning the being he now knows as Undergrowth. Damien does not regret that choice especially now that he has the context. Unfortunately it brought back his memories of Phantom.

He didn't quite understand they were memories for quite a while honestly he was a little bit concerned he got possessed. Thankfully after some compartmentalizing and a little bit of isolation, he figured out what was wrong. It did not help the confusion that comes with being a Midwestern teen and an assassin child put into one body but he has gotten the hang of it. 

Unfortunately Damian did not get long before he was forced back into the presence of his family. he had put off many public family events in the last few months so he was not able to get out of this event. he probably could have faked being sick but he'd much prefer to be able to pass off any of his symptoms from the memories as uncomfortableness being around strangers then be alone with his family. 

He's honestly very happy with his choice after he sees her. He doesn't recognize her at first with the dark auburn braided hair and the dress being something other than black but something made him turn around when he heard her rant.

She was giving a humanitarian speech to one of the investors. At first he got closer just to hear about it. It's always funny to see the faces of the imbeciles when people don't bow to their wishes.

Damien thought he finally found someone who was not a gold digger or a social climber. What made him really stop in his tracks was her body language. It was like a neon flashing sign opened up and said ‘hey this is Sam Mason’. 

Damien walked over with hope in his chest that he was not alone. she eventually seemed to get tired of the man or maybe he was able to scramble an excuse and walk away. he couldn't quite hear but by the time he walked over there it was only her.

 “you seem to be quite passionate,” Damian says, trying to start a conversation and figuring out how to ask the hard question.

 What is he exactly supposed to say? ‘Hey, are you my best friend for my last life or hey do you remember being on my ghost hero vigilante team that ended up with all of us being Undead royalty.’

The girl looks him over, probably trying to figure out what he wants. 

“Are you here to argue?” She says angrily, obviously ready for another fight.

“Your speech reminds me of someone, have you ever heard of Samantha Mason” Damien says trying to be nonchalant.

Her eyes seem to widen and look him over again.

“Where'd you hear that name.” She ordered.

“I've heard enough of her rants to be able to pick it out from a crowd.”

 “Danny,”  She said softly her grabbing his hands and squeezing as she looked around to make sure no one saw. “what how I thought it was the only one” Hope seemed to be filling her eyes. 

“Hi Sam” Damien Whispers just as softly just as glad he is not alone. 

Without another word Sam drags them to the stairway rushing up to the floor upstairs and trying to find a room that isn't being used. She eventually finds one two floors above the room they were using for the gala and pushes him into what looks like a break room.

 “How the hell did you get your memories” Sam demands 

“Why are you yelling at me? You have your memories too obviously if you are recognizing your name” Damian says shouting back at her. 

Sam always has a way of catching him off guard. She was happy just a minute ago. 

“yeah well I did something stupid which means I know you did something stupid” Sam said pointing her finger at him.

“ Well I may have accidentally stumbled upon a ritual for summoning an ancient and when I stopped it the backlash gave me my memories back. ” Damien stumbled over their words trying to justify themselves. "What stupid thing did you do?”

“The girls in my stupid Prep School in my grade went through a very witchy phase. there was a slumber party and they were stupid enough to actually find real magic. I had a cut on my hand earlier in the day and try to freak them out by adding a little bit of my blood. apparently my protection spell is literally stuck into my soul, so things went down” Sam says just as hesitantly as Damien

 “you have zero leg to stand on okay fine we were both stupid” 

They both sat there in silence for a while, mostly just basking in each other's presents realizing they weren't alone anymore.

“it's good to have you back," Damian says, giving her a weak smile and running his hands through his hair.

He'd been trained out of all of his nervous ticks but it probably makes her more comfortable to see him just as nervous as she is.

“it's good to see you too da- do you have the same name?” both of them don't seem to realize at the same time that they didn't get each other's names. 

“Damien” he says as he pulls his hand out of his hair and puts his hand out for a handshake. 

“Sarah” she says, grabbing his hand and giving it a shake.

the two of them shake their hand for a moment before they look at each other's eyes and burst out giggling. 

Damien's really glad he decided to not pretend to be sick.

[perpetuallyfive]

God, I'm so happy with what they did with Maddie Nolen.

I'm sure there will be plenty of people mad because obviously there was a weird backlash over a character who has sex with one half a ship, so I'm sure some people worry this will lead those people to feel justified in their initial response.

But ignoring people who can't emotionally regulate for a second, because those childish impulses aren't worth dictating the fun things a narrative can do: Maddie is SO INTERESTING as a character and she fills in a lot of the questions people seemed to have about the rest of the season.

Consider for a moment that it wasn't Caitlyn who convinced Vi to be an Enforcer. It was Maddie.

I know that some people took this line to be about Zaunites, a sort of obvious connection to the very racist idea of "one of the good ones," but since Maddie is talking about Marcus and his betrayal of the Enforcers just before this, I'm pretty sure her framing here is something else. The point she's making is specifically targeted at Vi's own beliefs and weaknesses, her desire to protect. That seems clear to me now with all we know about Maddie's capacity for manipulation.

She's not saying, "You're good, for a poor."

She's saying, "Wow, I agree with you, the Enforcers are really bad; it's so upsetting. I think you might be the only one who can change it, but only if you join us." This is what convinces Vi to do something she never thought she would.

Well, this and the fact that Caitlyn believes in her so much which, again, is information she gets fed to her directly from Maddie. It even seems like Maddie seeks her out just to say this, which on first viewing felt oddly convenient. Wow, Vi just happens to meet this naive girl who just happens to say exactly what she needs to hear to do something so out of character.

Except obviously none of it was coincidence. Everyone already knew how much Vi meant to Caitlyn and getting Caitlyn under control would require either controlling Vi or removing her from the equation. This was a push in that direction.

Then there's her more obvious role as the spy in Caitlyn's bed, there to reassure her that the Noxians are only trying to keep all of them safe. Then when Caitlyn expresses larger doubts, she's immediately ready to lay out an alternative. You could just give up, Maddie seems to whisper gently in her ear. Just reestablish things as they were before.

But she knows Caitlyn isn't going to go for that. She's not going to go back to the council as it was, because it's only going to remind her of the empty place her mother left behind. Maddie knows that Caitlyn isn't going to take this offer, which is precisely why she suggests it. She frames quitting as the only clear alternative to going along with everything Ambessa wants because she knows that Caitlyn will refuse, which leads her right back into alignment with Ambessa. She makes continued obedience into an active choice that Caitlyn affirms she's making.

Even Maddie's comments that suggest direct opposition to Ambessa — "you're our leader... I follow you" — are designed to frame herself and her true leader in direct opposition, just as Ambessa's own warning about entanglements is there to further that point. They both make a point of reminding Caitlyn that they are her true ally, isolating her further from anyone who isn't the devil and (other) devil on her shoulders.

This way Maddie and Ambessa can both tug at Caitlyn, pulling in what feels to her like opposite directions, all so that she lands precisely where they wanted her all along but with the illusion of active agency.

And look, I'm not saying my read on her is gospel, because I think they intentionally gave us enough room to really speculate and wonder about her, someone who could have been just a background nothing character but ends up being such a huge part of the second season. That's so interesting!

I especially love that she comes across as really naive and innocent, just some poor little thing swept up in the fervor, when in reality she's a true believer who has been manipulating things to go her way from the start.