#and the writers should be called out for it and we should be upset about it because they really should know better by now

[to-be-a-dreamer]

A brain dump of thoughts after Agatha All Along ep 6:

Okay but like. The parallels between Agatha and Billy that we get to see now????

Both of their mothers chose to protect other people, complete strangers, over their own children??? Like. We know Wanda made the right choice, sacrificing her family for the greater good, but in her own twisted way did Evanora believe she was doing the same? Did she ever love her daughter? On some deep level, beneath the anger and hatred and warped sense of justice did it hurt her to try to kill her own child? She believed Agatha would bring countless death and destruction, that she was destined to be evil. As warped as her justifications were did she see it as a selfless sacrifice like Wanda's? Does that make it right? Does Billy have as much reason as Agatha to be angry with his mother for choosing to let him and his brother die? Do her truly selfless intentions matter to a child was just desperate to survive? Will he be able to forgive Wanda before that resentment is used against him? Is Agatha just trying to manipulate him by taunting him about Wanda or does she truly see a bit of herself in a child whose mother tried to kill him? (Edited)

Both of them were forced to do something horrible just to survive??? Agatha had to murder her own family. Billy had to steal the body of a boy who had just died. He had to pretend to be the child of these poor unsuspecting parents who just want their son back. Who have no idea their child is dead. The Kaplans will never get to bury William. He has to look them in the eye every single day knowing he's not really their son but what else was he supposed to do? He hates what he's doing to these people but what choice did he have? Could he even control it or did his soul instinctively seek out a new vessel to protect itself? Agatha was just a child who didn't want to die. Billy was just a child who didn't want to die. Were they selfish? Could they control it? Can we truly blame them if they could?

Both of them do terrible things when they feel backed into a corner or overwhelmed or emotional??? Things that they come to regret as soon as the emotions clear??? Billy looked horrified when he finally realized what he had done to Lilia and Jen but he's an intensely powerful and traumatized child who was overcome with grief and anger. Do we really think every single one of Agatha's kills was 100% self-defense? Do we really think she never killed someone in a fit of anger only to regret it after? And maybe Agatha has come to accept and embrace that now but she must have been like Billy when she was young. (Billy is literally the same age Agatha was when she killed her coven and was even younger when he took William's body) She must have been horrified at her power, at the things she did when she felt trapped. She must have bent over backward trying to defend herself and justify her own actions before realizing no one would believe she didn't want to do those things so she might as well embrace her power to its fullest potential ("I'm not that nice").

Both of them are walking the road for someone they lost??? I know Agatha says she's on the road for her power back but that's not how the road works, right? It doesn't give you what you want it gives you what you're missing. I think if Agatha was really able to get anything at all in the world, it wouldn't be her magic. Agatha is looking for Nicky. Billy is looking for Tommy. I don't know if either of them will really get that at the end but they are absolutely in this for the same reason.

I know there are mixed responses to this episode (at least when I first scrolled through the tag) but I for one really enjoyed it. I was really worried they were going to half-ass the explanation for why Billy was being Like This and fuck up one of the only queer Marvel Comics characters but comparing his actions to Agatha's and showing us this kid who is SO MUCH like how Agatha must have been when she was his age is so much fun actually. Like, it would have been really great but pacing-wise we probably couldn't have spent the necessary time going back into Agatha's past and diving deep into her progression from "scared child who does horrible things out of desperation for survival" to "cutthroat witch who is more than eager to hurt and betray others for her own personal gain". But we get to see it happen to Billy over the rest of the season and maybe even multiple MCU projects!!! Or maybe we'll get to see him make different choices. Maybe Agatha will be able to give him the chance no one gave her. Maybe history doesn't have to repeat itself. Maybe Billy's journey will give Agatha the chance to change her own story once and for all.

Idk this is really rambly and maybe my opinion will change as I think about it more but my first reactions are positive. Yeah on a meta level it sucks that the wlw couple is moving so slowly in their own show while the young, conventionally attractive mlm couple got to kiss within their first few minutes of screentime and they probably could have put in the effort to intentionally combat the miserable lesbians trope. But on a story level, I'm personally glad they're not rushing Agatha and Rio's arc. They're definitely going to get their moment but the reason they're so compelling is because of their history and the tragedy between them. We don't have all the details of what really happened between them yet but I don't think it's something you can just kiss and make up about. Billy and Eddie are teenagers with no real baggage between them. Agatha and Rio have possibly centuries of hurt and anger and betrayal to work through Let Them Cook! It'll be that much sweeter and their relationship is one of the CORE overarching plots of the show you don't want them to rush it. (Also I personally am too ace for the "we're gonna make up by having hot sex about it" type of conflict resolution and would have hated if Agatha and Rio were intimate before sorting at least some of their shit out but that's just me ik a lot of people would have enjoyed it and I'm sure it could have been really compelling but I actually cannot stand those kinds of plots most of the time.)

Also just keep in mind that the only other named queer characters we've had in the MCU literally ever are Phastos and Ben in the Eternals and like. Yeah it shouldn't have taken this long for a queer lead but the massive jump??? We went from one character (out of like ten mains) whose partner has minimal personality traits and like five minutes of screen time to a show with two main character on-screen queer romances!!!! In the Marvel Cinematic Universe??? And one of them is a season-long complex and interesting story that is a central plot of the series and not just half-baked fanservice!!! And one is just sweet innocent love between kids who care about each other!!! I do wish wlw stories didn't always have to come with attractive cis gay men but do y'all understand how huge this is for the MCU????? It shouldn't have taken this long and we can definitely criticize the negative tropes the show falls victim to but net positive progress is always something to be happy about. If you're not familiar with the greater MCU and the history of Marvel in general just understand that this is actually insane for them and I'm so excited for the doors that just opened for future queer storylines, but that can only happen if we show Marvel that, yes we do want queer characters being openly intimate on screen. Be happy for Billy, keep being happy for Agatha and Rio during all stages of their story and maybe we'll get to see more of this!!!

[wholoveseggs]

I’m so upset with the lack of Daemon requests so I wanted to give you a challenge.

Reader x Daemon on a dragon. That is all :)

Ride the Sky

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen X Hightower!Reader} As the eldest daughter of Otto Hightower, your own life feels completely out of your control. But a chance encounter with Prince Daemon gives you the opportunity to step out of your cage and touch the sky.

♡♡ ahhhh I love you @elijahstwink, this was such a fun idea & I 100% believe Daemon would do this... ♡♡

4.8k words - Warnings: smut, hightower!reader, fingering, sex on dragon back, daemon being a flirt & hating Otto, kinda mentions of marital rape? tyland lannister {ew} && caraxes being the best noodle boi...

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

{Daemon Targaryen Tag-List}

@elijahstwink @starshipcookie @absolutemarveltrash @odairtrqsh @darkened-writer @cheneyq @fallout-girl219

The tower of the hand was always such a foreboding place for you. It never meant good news when you were summoned and this time was no different. You stood there, shifting from foot to foot, and finally, the man you were supposed to call father, turned around from the window. He had been watching the city below, and now his gaze was on you.

"I've heard rumors," he said and you flinched. This wasn't the first time he had accused you of doing something inappropriate. In his mind, a lady was a lady, and she should act accordingly. But it seemed no matter how hard you tried to please him, nothing you ever did was good enough.

You opened your mouth to respond, but he waved you away. "I don't want to hear your excu-”

"I wish to know what I've been accused of, then," you snapped back, your own temper getting the better of you. You knew you would pay for that later, but right now, you wanted to hear what it was.

"That you've been imbibing in too much wine and games, not focusing on your duties as a lady of the court," he said sharply, looking back down at his papers. He began writing and you stood there, seething.

"So?" you finally asked, and he looked back up at you.

"It's unbecoming," he replied, his tone laced with condescension, "Especially when you are here at court, looking for a husband. Any potential suitors do not wish to have a drunken wife. It will not look good for him."

You sighed. It was always about men, what would please them, what would make them happy. Never you. And the way Otto looked at you, the disdain in his eyes, you knew what was coming. He had been making the same noises for a while, that he needed to find a match for you, and it seemed as if he had finally found one.

"Lord Lannister is a powerful ally," he began, and you immediately felt your temper rise again. You bit back the urge to yell at him.

"And you think I'll be a perfect wife for him? A boring drunkard whose bed I'll have to warm?" you asked, and you could feel the tears welling up.

Otto's expression was hard. "I would think him being a drunkard would be something you have in common," he replied.

He could see the distress on your face and his voice softened just a little. "We must look to the future of House Hightower, and Lord Tyland would make a fine match for you."

You shook your head, tears spilling over. "I don't want him-”

"And what is it that you want?" Otto snapped.

You stared at him. You wanted so much, and none of it was the life he would choose for you. You couldn't stand it anymore, and you spun on your heel, heading for the door.

He didn't try to stop you, and you didn't care.

You didn't want to go back to your chambers, because Alicent would be there, and you couldn't face her either. So, instead, you went outside to the garden, trying to find a quiet spot where you could cry and hopefully not be found.

You found a stone bench, tucked away in a quiet corner and sat down. The tears flowed freely, and you cried and cried, wondering what would happen now, what would become of your life.

You felt as if it had been planned out without any input from you, and now you were going to have to marry a man who was full and passionless. All because it was what was good for the family, and what was best for House Hightower.

It wasn't fair.

You let out a sob and stood up, looking for something to throw, to break, just to let out the anger and frustration that was coursing through you.

Your eyes fell on a statue.

It was one of the Kings, long dead, but you couldn't remember which one. You glared at it and then, without a second thought, gave it a shove.

It didn't fall over, but it teetered a little, and then settled back.

"Is that how we honor our kings now, by toppling their statues?" "A voice said, and you whirled around. Prince Daemon was standing there, looking at the statue, and then you, a small smirk on his face.

"I-I didn't mean," you stammered, wiping your tears, but he held up his hand.

He didn't say a word, just walked over to the bench. He motioned for you to sit, and you did. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, and you tried to control your tears.

Your father loathed the prince, and therefore you were expected to avoid him. You had seen him only once or twice, and the first time you had seen him, you were a girl of ten, and he had just turned seventeen.

You remembered seeing him, and being amazed by the beauty of him. He was the most handsome man you had ever seen, and the fact that he was a prince just made him all the more alluring.

You remembered asking your father if you could marry the prince. Your father had laughed, and told you no, he was not suited for you.

Of course, that hadn't stopped you from having the occasional daydream about the two of you, and here he was, sitting next to you, while you were crying over the thought of your father giving you to an old man.

"What is it like," you asked him, sniffling slightly, "To have the freedom to do what you wish?"

He gave a slight chuckle. "Freedom is an illusion," he replied, his voice quiet, "We are all prisoners in one way or another, even kings,"

"Then I wish for my prison to have a dragon," you muttered bitterly, immediately regretting the words. It wasn't proper to speak to him like that, but he only laughed.

"Perhaps one day," he said, his gaze settling on your face. You could feel his eyes on you, and you blushed, ducking your head.

"Why do you ask about freedom, Lady Hightower," he said in an almost teasing tone, "Is your life not everything a lady could want?"

You didn't meet his gaze, and he observed you thoughtfully, you were a mystery to him as much as he was to you.

"Or perhaps, it is not," he said, his eyes narrowing, "Perhaps you want more than what your father will allow,"

There was a bitterness in his tone when he mentioned your father, the disdain they had for each other was no secret. You didn't wish to add to it, but you couldn't stop the words from spilling out.

"My father is marrying me off to Tyland Lannister," you said, and his lips curved into a small smile.

"And I assume that is why you're here, hiding in the garden," he replied, and you nodded.

He was still watching you, and his gaze made you feel uncomfortable, but in a good way. "I don't want some dull drunkard in my bed, I want..."

You trailed off. It was an improper thing to say, he was the prince, your better. You shouldn't be speaking this way.

"Say it," he said, his voice soft, yet commanding.

"I want my husband to be able to bring me pleasure," you said, the words falling from your lips.

He chuckled, a deep rumble that came from within his chest. You felt even more ashamed by his response, here was the prince laughing at you, thinking you foolish and stupid.

You stood, trying to hide the fresh tears threatening to spill. "I should return to the keep," you said, "Thank you for the company, your grace,"

You took a step, and then suddenly his hand was around your wrist. His touch made your skin feel hot and a strange sensation spread between your legs. You gasped softly, and he stood up, stepping closer.

He towered over you, his blonde hair gleaming in the sun, and his violet eyes were dark and intense, his lips were still curved in a smile, and he was close enough for you to smell him, the scent of smoke, leather and musk.

"Would you like a taste of freedom?" he asked, his voice low. "Before your cage closes,"

"I-I-Yes," you stammered.

He pulled you with him, and you followed.

He led you down the paths and out the gate, along the long stone road to the dragon pit. The guards bowed, and let him pass, and then, to your amazement, he led you into the pit itself.

"My Prince-” you gasped, but he held up his hand again, silencing you.

In the dark of the cave, you could hear them stirring, the great beasts of his house. There was a deep rumble, a sound that felt ancient and primal, and a shadow fell over the both of you.

You stepped back, fear making your heart race. He turned, and you saw the amusement in his face. "Don't worry," he said, "He won't hurt you, unless I tell him to,"

You heard the sounds of his dragon moving forward, and a large snout appeared from the darkness.

"Lady Hightower, meet Caraxes," Daemon said, gesturing to the beast with a wide smile on his face.

You could only stare as the dragon came forward. His body was covered in red scales, and the wings were enormous, his claws scraped against the stone floor, his neck long like that of a snake, and he had a crown of horns on his head.

You have never seen one up close before, only ever far away and up high in the sky. But now, here, in front of you, he was a sight to behold.

Daemon reached out his hand and the dragon nuzzled it, his large, golden eyes fixing on you. He whispered something to the beast, in the language of Valyria, and then turned to you, beckoning you closer.

You hesitated, and he smiled. "It's alright," he said, holding out his hand.

Tentatively, you reached out and touched his palm, letting him take your hand in his. It was soft and warm, and his long fingers curled around yours. He raised it, and pressed it to the dragon's snout.

His scales were smooth and hot to the touch, and the dragon exhaled a deep breath, the sound like a purr. You could feel his breath on your face, and it smelled of sulfur and heat, and underneath that, the metallic scent of blood.

He nuzzled you, his eyes half closing. Daemon smiled and let go of your hand, and you stroked the dragon, amazed.

"He's beautiful," you said softly, admiring the red of his scales and the gold of his eyes.

"Yes," Daemon replied, his gaze fixed on you.

Caraxes pulled away and then, to your astonishment, the dragon lay down on the ground. You looked at Daemon, not understanding, and his smile grew.

"I promised you a taste of freedom, didn't I," he said, and suddenly you realized what he meant.

You watched, amazed as he climbed onto the dragon's back, and held out his hand to you. "Come," he said.

You stared up at him. His hand outstretched, waiting for you to take it. You didn't know what to do. Your father would be furious if he found out. But this was an opportunity you might not get again.

Without hesitation, you put your hand in his, and let him pull you up, settling you in front of him. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly. Your skirts were in the way, and you struggled to find a comfortable position. You were suddenly very aware of the heat of his body behind you.

"Here," he said softly, his hands moving up your thighs, and then, you felt his hands bunching up your skirt, until the material was up around your hips.

The dragon raised his head, and stretched his wings, a deafening screech filling the air. You could feel him move, the muscles in his shoulders shifting, his body flexing.

With one last scream, he began to move forward, at a speed faster than anything you had ever seen, and suddenly, with a running leap, his body was rising. Daemon had his arms wrapped around you, holding on to the reins as Caraxes' wings beat against the air.

He rose, higher and higher, and suddenly the ground was falling away below you, and the sky opened up before you. You could feel the dragon's strength as he climbed, the power in his body, and the heat and the wind and the roar of his wings.

The sky was a beautiful mix of reds, oranges and pinks as the sun began to set. You could see the Red Keep and the city below, the winding streets and the river and the ocean beyond. It was a breathtaking sight.

Daemon said something in Valyrian, and the dragon gave a cry and suddenly he was moving forward, gliding along the air, his wings spread.

The horizon was endless, the clouds were around you, and the world seemed small and insignificant, all your problems forgotten, at least for a moment.

"Does it feel like freedom, lady Hightower," he murmured, his lips against your ear.

You flushed at his closeness, the warmth of his body and his voice. "Yes," you whispered.

He took your hands, placing them on the reins. You held tight, feeling the dragon move beneath you, the muscles and tendons rippling, the scales smooth and hot.

"Hold them tightly, and pull on them, to turn him," he said.

You did as he instructed, and Caraxes changed course, heading north. The dragon rumbled and roared, a loud squeaking sound that made you laugh.

You felt Daemon smile against your neck, his hands winded around your waist, one hand pressing into your stomach, and the other resting on your thigh, his long fingers curling around the hem of your skirt, the fabric flapping in the wind.

He held you like that, his grip strong and steady. You didn't want it to end, this freedom, the feeling of his arms around you and the dragon flying beneath you.

The hand that was pressed against your stomach moved lower, his fingertips brushing the inside of your thigh. You wanted him to continue, but you also wanted him to stop. It was not appropriate, and you were unsure of what to do.

"My Prince," you said softly, a hot flush coming over you. He was touching you in a way no one ever had, and the feeling was overwhelming.

"You are far too beautiful to marry some dull Lannister cunt," he said, his voice low, his lips grazing your neck. His hand slid up your thigh, pushing the hem of your dress with it. Your breath hitched as his fingers moved underneath the linen shift you wore, brushing the soft, wet flesh between your legs.

"This isn't proper, my Prince," you said, trying to focus on the reins and not the way his hand was making you feel.

"And who is here to see? Or to hear?" he murmured, his breath hot against your skin, "Only my dragon, and I don't think he'll care,"

He pressed a kiss to the spot where your neck met your shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin, and you inhaled sharply, your body arching into his. He smiled, his fingers finding the small nub of pleasure between your legs, brushing over it softly. Your hips jerked and you gasped, your head falling back against his chest.

"A woman like you should be in control of who she gives her maidenhead to," he whispered, sucking little marks onto the delicate skin of your neck, "Who gives you that pleasure you crave."

The wind was cool on your skin, but inside you burned. He was igniting a fire deep within you and you were powerless to stop it.

His fingers moved faster, circling the little bud and then stroking it. He knew exactly how to touch you, and you were helpless under his hands.

You knew that you were being indecent, letting him fuck you with his hand, your skirts shoved up, the dragon soaring through the sky. Your father would kill you if he knew. But the thought of it made you only wetter, and you began to push harder against his hand.

"That's it, chase the feeling," he breathed, his fingers moving faster, his other hand gripping your waist, pulling you back against him. You could feel the hardness of his cock, pressing against your back, and the knowledge that he was aroused by you, only made the sensation stronger.

Your hands let go of the reins and Daemon quickly grabbed them with his free hand, keeping the dragon steady. You clutched his arm, your body shaking, the pressure building inside you, your legs trembling.

You let out a cry, and then stars were exploding behind your eyes and he was whispering to you, soft and low, encouraging you as you felt yourself fall apart, coming undone.

You slumped against him, the tension leaving your body, and he was there, holding you. You felt his chest rumble with a laugh and you managed to get yourself upright.

You looked at him, his violet eyes, the smirk on his face. You reached out and touched his cheek, and then pulled him towards you, kissing him.

His lips were soft and warm, and he kissed you back, his tongue parting your lips and entering your mouth. It was a deep, passionate kiss, and when he finally pulled away, you were breathing hard.

He smiled, his eyes darting from your lips down your chest. "Perhaps we should return to the keep, my Lady," he said, his tone amused, "before we get carried away,"

You looked down, and saw the sprawling countryside, a sea of green dotted with little villages and the faint outlines of crops and farmland.

"Where are we?" you asked.

"Near Duskendale," he said, his eyes boring into you. He gave you a smile, and in that moment, you lost yourself completely, mesmerized by him and everything that had just happened.

Daemon pulled on the reins, yelling something in Valyrian. The dragon gave a loud screech, and began to descend. He guided Caraxes lower, heading for a field near a small village.

The dragon landed gracefully, his wings folding against his body. The trees and grass bent in the wind from his wings, and the few animals nearby scattered. You could feel the rumble as his belly hit the ground, and then he was still, his breathing deep and steady.

Daemon hopped off the dragon and held his arms out to you. You let him help you down, his hands sliding around your waist. As your feet touched the ground you stumbled, your legs were weak and shaky, and you had to cling to his arm to keep from falling.

His eyes met yours and he leaned in and kissed you. His lips were soft and firm, and you melted into the kiss, your fingers reaching up to tangle in his hair. He pressed you into Caraxes side, the dragon curled around the two of you protectively, his tail flicking lazily.

The beast was warm against your back, you could feel its chest expand with each deep breath, a gentle rattling sound coming from it.

Daemon broke the kiss, nuzzling into your neck. Your whole body was on fire, and you could feel the heat of him pressed against you.

"Would you like me to make you come again, lady Hightower," he whispered, his teeth grazing your skin.

"My Prince... I've never...," you managed to get out, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Better me than a Lannister, yes?" he said, a smirk on his face.

You blushed furiously, unable to respond. He was right. You didn't want to give your maidenhead to some Lannister bore. You wanted it to be him.

Caraxes curled tighter around the two of you, warm and surprisingly still, his long neck and head outstretched, surveying the area around you. His eyes were lazy, and he was making a strange rumbling sound, almost content, like a big cat.

Daemon looked up at him, smiling at the beast, then back to you, his hands moving up to cradle your face. He leaned in and captured your lips in a hot, searing kiss that had you clinging to him.

His hands dropped to your hips, pulling you closer. You could feel the hard length of him against your belly, and a hot ache settled between your legs. You had never felt like this before, so hungry, so desperate.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck. His hands moved down, pushing the skirt of your dress up and bunching the fabric around your waist. He lifted your thigh, hooking it around his hip.

With his other hand he unlaced his trousers, freeing his hard cock. You had never seen a man's cock before, and the sight of his had you blushing even deeper. It was thick and long, the tip pink and leaking a clear fluid.

He smiled, seeing the look on your face, "go on, touch it," he said, his voice low.

Tentatively, you reached out, your hand wrapping around his shaft. He was hot and hard in your palm, the skin smooth and velvety. You moved your hand up and down, marveling at the way he grew harder and thicker.

Your eyes flickered back up to his face. He had a satisfied smile on his lips, his violet eyes dark and intense.

"Like this," he said, placing his hand over yours and guiding you. He showed you how to stroke him, the pressure and speed. When he let go, you continued, enjoying the way his eyes closed and his head tilted back, his lips parting as he breathed heavily.

You watched him, entranced by the sight of him, his pleasure growing. He placed his hand back over yours, stilling you.

He took your other thigh and hoisted you up. You clung to him, your arms wrapping around his neck. His hard cock rubbed against the soft flesh of your cunt, and you moaned softly, the ache inside you growing.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and he thrust against you. You gasped at the feeling of his hard cock sliding against your clit, the head bumping against your entrance.

You looked up at him, pleading. He was looking down at you, his eyes dark, his hair falling across his forehead. He was so handsome, so strong.

"Please, my prince," you breathed, desperate.

He smirked, his eyes flashing, and then he was guiding himself inside you, the tip of his cock parting the soft, wet flesh.

He pushed slowly into you, and you felt a sharp pain as his cock tore through your maidenhead. You cried out, and he kissed you, swallowing your gasp.

He hummed against your lips, a soothing, comforting sound. His hands squeezed your bottom, holding you steady. He moved slowly, rocking his hips, pulling you into him with each thrust.

"I've got you," he said, his voice rough, his breath hot against your skin.

The pain slowly subsided, replaced by a delicious, aching pleasure. You clung to him, your eyes closing, lost in the sensation of him filling you.

You could hear the sound of the wind, and the rustle of the trees. The deep gentle sounds of Caraxes' breathing. And the sound of your heart pounding, and Daemon's labored breaths.

He slowed his thrusts, drawing it out, pushing hard and deep, slamming your body back against the beast with each motion. You clutched at his shirt, nails digging into the soft material, gasps and sighs and half-formed moans fell from your lips. He picked up the pace, faster now, and you both lost yourselves in it, your pleasure was all that mattered.

His face was a picture, pleasure and devotion and tension and complete and total ecstasy. Your name was on his lips, a litany of beautiful profanities fell from them, a mix of Valerian and common that made the redness in your face grow deeper. You began to grind your hips against him, rolling them as he moved with you, his movements becoming erratic. His hand came down to cup the back of your neck, holding you steady as he leaned in and captured your lips in a messy kiss.

He stilled, letting out a low groan as he pressed himself deep, holding your hips in place as he filled you with his seed. Your body shuddered and twitched and you whimpered against his mouth, clenching down on him. It was too much, and you followed him over the edge, a bright burst of light going off behind your eyes as you succumbed to the feeling.

He rested his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath, his eyes closed and a look of pure bliss on his face. You giggled, running your hands through his hair, and he managed a lazy smile.

"Think of me when Tyland is trying to stick his cock in you on your wedding night," he said, his words warm and breathy against your lips.

You chuckled, then turned sad, remembering that your wedding would take place soon, and you would never see Daemon again.

He seemed to sense your sadness, his hands cupping your face, his eyes full of promises he could not keep. He said nothing, just kissed you again and held you, pressing you back against the dragon.

Caraxes purred, you could hear a faint rattling, like old armor, and the dragon's chest expanded and deflated slowly, the rhythm soothing.

You stayed there for what seemed like an eternity, Daemon wrapped around you, his hand tracing gentle circles on the exposed skin of your thigh.

You sighed, content and warm and happy, but knowing that the spell was soon to be broken, and you would have to return to the reality of the life that had been laid out before you.

"We should be getting back," you said, frowning. You didn't want the moment to end, but you had been gone for far too long, and your maids would be wondering where you were.

Daemon nodded, reluctantly pulling away. He laced up his pants and then helped you straighten your dress. You tried to flatten the wrinkles with your hands, but there was no helping it. You had been flying, and then you had been fucked, thoroughly, by the heir to the throne, and there was no hiding that.

He grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips, his eyes full of promise and heat. You blushed, and he grinned, pulling you back to the dragon.

The ride back was slower, the dragon gliding gently through the sky, and you had the urge to cry. You wanted this feeling, of freedom and warmth and safety, to last forever.

You sat back against Daemon's chest, his arms tight around you, the wind whipping through your hair.

Caraxes flew lazily through the sky, and you could see the Red Keep getting closer, the massive walls looming large. The dragon descended, the air rushing around you, and then the beast landed in the center of the courtyard near the dragon pit, his wings beating wildly, sending clouds of dust and dirt swirling around him.

He roared, a great and terrible sound, his long neck twisting and his wings stretching. The beast was restless, and he seemed unhappy to be back in the confines of the castle.

Daemon leapt off the dragon, landing gracefully, and then turned and helped you down, his hands lingering on your waist. He gave you a wicked smile, and you blushed, unable to meet his eyes.

"I swear," he said, lifting your hand and pressing another kiss to your knuckles, "I'll burn down Casterly Rock just to get a taste of you again."

You chuckled, a blush coloring your cheeks, then you looked him in the eyes.

"And I will gladly watch it burn," you said, grinning.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek, and then he was gone, climbing back onto Caraxes and taking to the sky. You watched them disappear, the great, crimson beast disappearing into the clouds.

You stood there, alone in the courtyard, watching the sky long after he had disappeared. Your heart was heavy, despite his promises, you knew that you would never see him again.

You turned and walked back to the keep, your mind filled with memories of your time together. It was a small moment, a stolen moment, but you knew you would hold on to it…

And be reminded of it every time you looked to the sky.

[luveline]

we know that the criminal minds writers looooved hurting spencer but i would love to see bau!reader (bombshell!reader if you think it would fit) hurt and spencer losing his mind a little (ofc everything would end up being okay because we love fluff in this house 💗)! thank youuu <333

ty for requesting! ♡ fem, 1k

“Spencer, are you coming in?” 

The boy in question winces, the cellophane wrapped stems in his hand strangled by an anxious grip. Your voice is hoarse, quieter than usual, though that could be attributed to the thick wooden door between you both. He takes the door handle in his hand, readjusts his fingers, can't quite get himself to go in. 

“Spence,” you say, missing your usual cheer. “Please come in.” 

He opens the door slowly. It weighs a hundred pounds, each inch heavier than the last. 

You're propped up on the movable bed with a dinner table over your legs. Someone's brought you contraband, it seems, expensive soup from the fancy restaurant you like just outside of work. Next to it lies your phone, your chapstick, and a prescription bottle. The orange of it is too glaring to look at for long. 

“Nice to see you finally, heart-throb,” you say, sitting back, rolling your shoulders as you smile. “Where've you been?” 

Sapped by terror in the waiting room, mostly. “Sorry,” he says, offering no explanation. You deserve one, but he can't get the words out. “How are you feeling?” 

“Shot at.” 

“Is it bad?” 

Your eyes soften. “No. Wanna see it?” 

He does in an awful way. To alleviate his panic, sure, but to know what it did. To see what his stupidity resulted in. The unforgivable in stark scarring. 

You lift your shirt and shift your soft bralette up a touch to show him the wound and all its grim stitches. “It almost missed me. Guess I'm not as lucky as I think.” 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Not right now. They told me not to wear wire bras for a while, so you win some, you lose some.” You let your shirt fall back into place. He can see the indecision in your eyes. Not one for hiding like he wants to, you address the elephant in the room. “Now you've seen it's not so bad, can you look at me again?” 

“I'm looking at you.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

The thing is, Spencer doesn't, not really. Half the time you act like you're sharing a secret with him but he doesn't have a clue what you're talking about, and the intimacy is lost, and it's his fault. He's never been good or smooth or charismatic, he's never deserved your attention, and it's his fault you're here, hurting, his fault you'd been prone on the ground, his fault Morgan had to hold your side closed, his fault you almost died. 

“Spencer,” you murmur, “you know I don't blame you.” 

Of course he knows that. 

“You should,” he says tightly. He doesn't mean to get angry. 

“Well, I don't. So give me my flowers and sit down.” 

He bites the inside of his cheek. He's mad, but he gives you the flowers without any roughness, and you take them with a similarly thin thank you. 

Your reunion isn't going how either of you wants it to, it seems. 

Spencer sits in the chair next to your bed as you pick between the petals, admiring their colours, their softness. For a moment you're peaceful, but you close your eyes and press your nose gently to a small bud, and you ask, “Why are you acting like this?” Heartbroken. 

He could explain it in halves. You passed out in the back of the ambulance. Your surgery had unexpected complications. Hotch was so angry, and he still wasn't as mad at Spencer as Spencer was at himself. 

Seeing you hurt because of his mistake isn't a feeling he thinks he'll survive a second time.

“I don't get why you like me,” Spencer admits. “Not before, and especially not now. You should be pissed. This,” —he gestures to you quickly— “is my fault.” 

“It's not your fault, Spence.” 

“What would you call it?” 

You put your flowers down and stare at your lap. He's pushed you too far. Nice, he thinks to himself scathingly, to upset you in your sick bed, that's exactly what he should be doing to make it up to. Great going, Spencer. 

“Will you hold my hand?” you ask quietly. 

He hesitates, his heart skipping a beat like a missed step down the stairs. 

“Please? I just… this has been a lot. I'm not telling you to make you feel guilty, I swear, but it's been a lot. And so many times I wished someone was here. I wished you were here.” You turn your head away from him. “I thought you were mad at me. I'm still worried.” 

Spencer stands up. He feels every stretch of muscle as he does it. You raise your eyes to his, holding out your hands; you know him better than anyone else, he thinks. He overcompensates every time. 

“I'm sorry,” he says, crossing his arms behind your shoulders carefully. 

“I told you it's not your fault.” 

“For not being here to hold your hand.” 

Your hand curls in the front of his shirt. 

“M'not mad. Not even slightly. I mean, not at you…” He rubs your back with his thumb. “Why would I be mad at you?” 

“What was I supposed to think?” 

He presses his nose to your temple, eyes squeezed close in regret. “...You're right.” 

This is what he should've done the moment you woke up. Instead, he let his mind focus on detail, what flowers demarcates remorse, or if cellophane wrapping would be an imposition. Anything to forget how your hands shook as the adrenaline wore off. 

They're steady now as they wrap around his sides to rest at the small of his back. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, lips touching to your skin with each syllable, like fractions of kisses. 

“I missed you, handsome. Please– don't do that again.” 

He rubs your back. “I won't,” he promises. “I'll be here as long as you want me to be.” 

“Forever, then.” 

For once, your flirting doesn't make him blush. 

[ajortga]

inspiration

pairing: wednesday addams x fem reader

word count: 1.9k+

summary: you are wednesday's inspiration to end her writer's block.

warnings: mentions of blood, knives, stabbing, (but only briefly, story is full of fluff)

-

“Hey baby,” you say softly, closing your dorm door gently before you approach your girlfriend, busy with her novels on her typewriter. “Writer’s block today?”

Her eyebrows scrunch together, like if staring down her typewriter would magically have the words come to her.“I told you not to call me that mi corazon. And yes, I will admit I am quite struggling with my second book. It’s hard to incorporate feelings that aren’t just vicious. No ideas.” Wednesday says firmly, clicking on the keys before turning to you, her deep brown eyes looking in yours. 

You laugh, sitting next to her and placing a hand on hers, “Oh, but you can call me that?” You roll your eyes, taking out her left braid and redoing it for her. 

“It’s different.”

“How so?”

“Don’t question me or else I won’t call you that again, puppy.”

She looks down at your figure, tongue sticking out slightly as you tangle the three parts of her hair to intertwine. “Did you give Thing a snood?”

It’s a little quiet, faint pop music from Enid and Yoko’s room coming from outside. You smell like you just came from a garden, the black-haired girl taking the hint that you smell earthy, musky, and slightly sweet from your natural undertones.

You tie the ends as you nod, “It’s getting a little cold, don’t want him to feel left out, do we? Why? Did he tell you?”

Her eyes soften, of course no one could see when they did except you, but she glances to the glass that leads to outside. “Hinted, he wore that thing for a week already without taking it off.”

You grab the rubber band and tighten the braids, kissing her hair softly. “He loves it that much, huh?”

“Love is a strong word,” Wednesday states, not mentioning that the creature was only wearing it because he loved you as close as he loved her. “But it’s a close competition.”

“Mmmm,” you nod, looking at her as you smile. “Oh, I came in here to tell you that I gotta help babysit my nieces and nephews in an hour and won’t be back till night.”

Oh. At least she would have alone time for her new novel, Wednesday thought.

Right? 

A new novel that she has completely blacked out on, Viper de la Muerte yet to have another plot hole to discover. Now that she thought about it, maybe she should map out the feelings the girl has. What makes her angry, upset, triggered… Happy. Wednesday shivers at the thought. But what’s a story with just angst and blood? No one would want to read that if it was published. She would think about that later.

“I see,” she says, taking note of the way you’re playing with her fingers. It’s something you do when you’re nervous or hoping for a response. A response that Wednesday has no clue what you want her to speak. 

Maybe you were telling her to get some alone time, or so she doesn’t worry the whole day and search the woods high and low for you. She did do that once. When you and Enid went out for a candy run. To say the least, she was pissed.

‘Worriedly freaked out’ Mrs. Weems would say.

“Well,” Wednesday clears her throat, trying to get rid of the awkward silence, “If you need me I’ll be here.”

Oh…

If any human being were to look at you, they would see no change in your expression.

Wednesday is not a human being. She’s studied you in and out. Slight raise of your eyebrows indicated you were interested, a scrunch of the nose meant you were trying to be playful. But there were some things that she could just feel, like when there's no spark in your eyes. You looked a little disappointed.

“Unless,” the girl says quickly, “You want me to come with you?”

Your eyes widen, and the spark comes back again, she has to let out a sigh of relief. “Could you? You would do that?”

“Of course I will bab-” She coughs again, “Mi corazon. You should know that by now.”

She would do anything for you. Even if it meant having little kids tug at her hair.

You smile.

-

“I’m beginning to regret this,” the black hair girl says, slightly irritated as you bounce baby James up and down in your arms. Baby James, who is completely peaceful and giggling, while baby Mabel tugs on Wednesday’s braids, babbling and giggling. 

She gives her a hard tug on the ends, making Wednesday flare up for a moment.

“Hey, hey.” You say, quickly to your girlfriend’s side as you carry Mabel with one arm. “We don't tug on people’s hair, okay? Not me, not your brother, not my girlfriend, definitely not my girlfriend! Don’t do that.”

Mabel throws her arms up in the air and rips four strands off your hair.

“No!” You firmly say. 

“See, I’m telling you,” your girlfriend gives Mabel a cold glare, which makes Mabel giggle and kick. “I tell her to stop, she doesn’t.”

She’s got a point, but you don’t give up that easily, “We just have to be patient,” the baby brunette lifts her small chubby hands to your hair before you look at her and firmly say, “No.” She immediately stops and babbles, “Won't ...Tchhh..Touch..” 

Your eyes crinkle into a smile. “See! She did it!” You yippee.

Well, I guess these small creatures are trainable after all, Wednesday thinks.

Before you can cradle Mabel and play with her hair, two voices shout in the distance, coming down the stairs, “Auntie Y/N!” Another boy and girl stomp in, running with toys in their hands that are currently in the air.

Wednesday makes a small scowl, looking at the tiny kids stampeding up to you with giggles of joy.

“Hi guys!” You smile, being tackled to the carpet as two boys cling onto your legs and the girls jump and down around you.

They look at Wednesday, which she can almost feel their curiosity, innocent eyes searching her. “Who is she? Pretty braids.” One of the girls, Jess, asks as she looks at the black haired girl. 

She would’ve expected you to say that she was your friend, especially in front of all these toddlers, but instead, you pick Jess up and swing her in the air. “That’s Wednesday, my girlfriend.”

“Awww,” the two girls say as they babble and wave to Wednesday. “Can we touch your hair?”

You look at Mabel as she looks up at you, “Won’t tug.”

“Okay baby,” You say, kissing the top of Mabel’s head. “Don’t hurt her. I love her too much for her to go bald.”

It almost makes Wednesday’s cold heart warm up. A small twitch of her mouth smiles. A smile that only Uncle Fester would bring before she knew you. A smile that she would only feel when she solved another mystery and connected the dots. 

But you could make her heart feel like goo anytime. To say the least, seeing you all soft around kids made her feel something. Inspiration.

As you and Wednesday came home from the night, her braided hair having slight ends sticking out from all the kids admiring and playing with it, she immediately walked to her typewriter.

2 months of writer's block, 2 months of having no clue what to add to enlighten Viper’s personality. But here she was, like she had new fingers. It felt like they just knew what they needed to say as they clicked and clacked against the typewriter. Magic that comes from the start of her fingertips. You were her inspiration.

————————————— CHAPTER IV ——————————————

One thing that Viper would never like to admit, to even herself, is that she feels more than these emotions that she thought didn’t exist. She thought she was emotionless, not feeling an ounce of joy. Even the word joy made her want to tear a knife through her ragged heart. For once in her life, she felt an emotion that occurs once in a blue moon. An emotion that started to occur so many times before and after a blue moon.

Perhaps it was weird to her at first. Weird to be able to feel something deep in her soul. But she felt her ragged heart feel warm. Soft and pumping with blood. Soft enough to feel protective of what mattered most to Viper. At first, she felt eager and overly protective of her sword that was given to her as a gift. But now, she feels as though she was given a gift that was sent from above. Hell, she thought it didn’t exist till she came.

Viper de la Muerta felt soft, fond, and joyous for someone she never knew for long. She only started to know her recently, yet her family never made her feel soft. Sure, she was protective over them, but never enough to have the fondness dissipate in the matter of seconds. This girl was different, everything opposite from de la Muerta. She was happy, unafraid to show Viper her worst side, unafraid to lean a little closer to Viper when she herself was crying, she was the sun to Viper’s moon. 

Oh, and there came the toddlers. Viper had never seen this side of this girl before. She was gentle and sweet at all the same time, like she would kill to protect these little ones, or to be able to make them happy. The look in the girl’s eyes made Viper wonder if she looked at her with the same feelings.

Viper had something to look up to. Someone. And she knew that this girl was the one. As soon as she saw it with her own eyes, the person who made her feel productive all these past weeks jumped in front of her to save her life before it could be too late. She had taken a knife through her chest before it could go through Viper’s heart. As soon as the girl dropped to her knees in a flurry and saw her eyes, confused and scared, Viper was crying. For the first time in 12 years, she was crying. 

She felt all the emotions she never felt before from the span of now, and when she first met the girl. She felt proud whenever she brought something up and saw the girl light up into a smile. Upset, when she had made her cry. Worried, when she nervously scratched the chair she was sitting on, praying to Lord that they wouldn’t take her away from Viper. Anger, as she hunted the person who held the knife and hurt you. She used the same knife as she brought down the blade the 23rd time to his bloodied body. One for every day she had been unconscious. Guilt, Viper felt guilty every day you had laid on the hospital bed, eyes shut with an oxygen tank over your nose, so guilty that she wished that you didn’t come in time to save her so she could save you the trouble from being hurt. She’d survive a knife that was close to her heart. If she didn’t, she’d still wish that something would’ve happened differently so you didn’t take the blade. She felt guilty that she felt guilty about growing so attached to someone and not being able to let them out of her sight.

But she felt something else. She felt love for her, something that she couldn’t figure out before she thought it was too late. She had kept her close, reading her favorite books next to the unconscious girl in the hospital. She had talked to her like she was awake and breathing, she had held her every night till she fell asleep and got better. Viper had made sure she was safe.

Her name was Y/N.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Do you think it's weird that I was fine with Roxas finding out he was Sora's Nobody in Kingdom Hearts, but Adrien not being what we thought he was triggered my ick factor a lot? Do you think it's because we learned that about Roxas before we had a lot of time to get attached to him?

I was initially going to say that I can't answer this because I've only played Kingdom Hearts 1, so my knowledge of the later games is pretty limited. Then I remembered that my little brother is both obsessed with those games and the Mycroft to my Sherlock*, so I gave him a call and got the expert opinion (and a reminder that I need to play the Kingdom Hearts games so that my brother can talk about them with someone who understands story telling because those games apparently make a lot of... interesting choices.)

Here is the sum of my brother's analysis:

The two properties handled the concept of personhood and artificial beings in such wildly different ways that it would never even occur to him to compare them (though it was an interesting question once posed). A good portion of the later Kingdom Hearts games revolve around asking what a person even is. Should they try to make the Nobodies into people? Do the Nobodies even need to change to be people or are they people already? What makes Roxas different from other Nobodies? These questions start being asked very early on and, for all the story's flaws, you can tell that the writers are aware that they're dealing with a serious topic and that they're trying to do it justice.

Meanwhile, Miraculous introduces artificial beings who don't have true free will and then... completely ignores all of the ethical implications of that plot point. Emilie and Gabriel are good parents. The fact that the heroes have been killing off sentimonsters isn't concerning. Gabriel's commands are just a minor inconvenience to Adrienette and not anything that needs to be explored in a deeper way. He's still totally redeemable and it's fine that Adrien never learned the truth while his father was alive so that he could decide what that meant for their relationship on his own terms.

Given all of that, it's really not shocking that Kingdom Hearts makes you feel invested while Miraculous repulses you because the Miraculous introduced human sentimonsters for cheap shock value to the point where I firmly believe that it was a retcon. Meanwhile Kingdom Hearts planned major elements of the plot around the concept and set it up right from the start of the second game. If Miraculous had done the same kind of thing, then I doubt that most salters would be deeply upset by the concept. They still might dislike it, but it would be seen more as a matter of taste than as a true flaw.

*For those who don't know, Mycroft Holmes is Sherlock Holmes' older brother. Sherlock openly admits that Mycroft is the smarter and more observant of the two siblings. The same can be said of my sibling when it comes to story telling. Everything I can do, he can do just as well or even better. He's never seen miraculous, but knows the major plot beats from a mix of cultural osmosis and reading the occasional fanfic when an author he likes crosses fandoms. He is highly amused that no one he follows does anything save for fix-it type stuff and says it tells him everything he needs to know about canon's writing quality, an assessment I fully agree with.

[fancyfade]

Difference between Bruce and Dick as Batman.

So I know that there's a lot of temptation to compare Bruce as Batman to Dick or Damian, and Dick as Batman to Damian, often with a "oh well obviously Bruce was meaner/Dick was nicer", but I do think they have a neat contrast that fandom often overlooks (as well as some parallels).

Robin: Year One #3

Batmatn #408

Batman and Robin #6

Dick and Bruce both will deal with whatever current threat exists, before fully helping wounded Robin, getting a verbal "I'm fine" confirmation. They clearly do care about Robin. But they also have an obligation to protect people Bruce tries to physically stop joker. Jason's not fighting Dick, but he is trying to talk him down and talk him into getting help, like he did in Battle for the Cowl. The characters also generally avoid a wounded Robin -- it's just easier to see for Bruce, because Leslie calls Bruce out on it "you're leaving (to go deal with this?)" whereas no one questions Dick leaving Damian once he's got medical care and doing his own mission to revive zombie bruce. I imagine this is partially from guilt (we do see Bruce blaming himself for Dick's close call, and Dick framing Damian as his responsibility in Battle for the Cowl) and also possible due to the whole 'batman has a job, robin's physically OK now so time to help protect people' thing.

A strong difference is after the character's get injured and treated. Bruce becomes overprotective, and continues being emotionally distant, which understandably upsets Dick. He is so overprotective he benches Dick each time he is wounded seriously, and that creates friction between them.

Robin: Year One

Batman #408

Contrast this to Dick's general lack of protectiveness. Nothing changes when Damian gets wounded as Robin. Which works well (emotionally) for Damian and it works for the conventions of the genre.

Dick is generally not portrayed as very emotionally overprotective when Damian is injured, and when Damian is captured, he often expresses more verbal concern for the people who captured Damian than Damian himself.

Batman and Robin #9 - Damian, with a new metal spine, got thrown off a building by the zombie batman dick accidentally revived.

Batman and Robin #13

Detective comics annual #11

I should note: I think it would be uncharitable to assume that Dick expressing more verbal concern that Damian will hurt the supervillains who have him kidnapped means Dick doesn't care about Damian. We see in Batman and Robin some of Dick being worried when Damian is shot, and we see Dick telling Azrael they need to find a quicker way to get to Damian when Azrael is talking about how to find the guys who took him. And also, you know. I just don't think Dick would care more about the supervillains that Damian. But Damian is regarded as a tough kid, he'll be fine no matter what, and he represents a threat to other people (interestingly, something I've seen fans accuse... Bruce of doing to damian? Even though Bruce was much more protective and wasn't worried about Damian killing Nobody when Damian was going with Nobody, or Damian killing the Saturn Club guys when Damian let himself by kidnapped by the Saturn club guys to find civilians to rescue)

But I am analyzing here the actions he does and the words that he says, and what the writer dedicates panel time to. I think it's interesting that Bruce and Dick's similarities with regards to Robin getting injured involve emotionally removing themselves from the situation and focusing on cases, and then their differences are in the follow up. Dick often maintains a status quo, which is satisfying to the Robin character (he does not feel like he's being fired or judged) and fits with the conventions of the genre. Bruce often becomes overprotective to a degree where the Robin character feels estranged from him, and is excluded, resulting in alienation from robin and coming across as the "bad guy".

I find it very interesting that Dick avoids repeating mistakes of the past that Bruce made (becoming overprotective of Robin to an alienating degree and firing him) by doing things that would be read as callous or uncaring to the reader if he wasn't Dick, I guess.

P.S. I know some people say this is why they regard Morrison's Dick as OOC, but I didn't have any place to fit that acknowledgement in the above paragraphs, but I think it's important to note that this was not just Morrison's Dick. In general Dick as Batman era was way different than Nightwing Rebirth era Dick or even post 2011 Dick.

[xoxochb]

Ok, could I PLEASE get a Leo x fem!reader fan fic where they're best friends but both want to be more (maybe they kiss...idk) ??? Pls, I'm desperate. There's not enough Leo fanfics and you're such a good writer.

— astronomy nerd

warnings: leo has W rizz 💯 (do people still say this?) pairing: leo valdez x fem! reader

“well anyways, there is no sound in space because there’s no atmosphere to carry the sound vibrations. It’s really cool if you think about it. are you thinking about it? whatever, did you know the sunsets on mars are blue? how cool is that?! and one million earths could fit in the sun, isn’t that awesome! just imagine that, the sun is huge, I mean seriously-”

your voice trails off forever, you had been talking non stop about miscellaneous outer space facts since leo had walked into your cabin and caught you reading a planet book. it’s not that he hated listening to you talk, gods no, he would listen to you talk for hours on end without a stop but in this particular moment he found himself distracted by the bright smile adorning your lips, he can’t seem to tear his eyes away. and with you being too busy caught up in your space talk you fail to realize leo hadn’t been listening

but you did, however, finally take notice when you ask him a question and he doesn’t respond, stuck in some kind of daze. you call out his name three times before snapping your fingers in front of his eyes, making them widen and his cheeks flush red

“you weren’t listening” you point out

“I’m sorry I- uhm, I’ll listen now. sorry”

you sigh. “what do you think about creating life on mars?”

creating…life? it doesn’t even take a second for leo’s brain to go from concentrating on your words to imagining creating life within you, forget fucking mars, when you’re older and leave camp preferably married with kids. with your good looks and his humor that’d be one hell of a child! he can’t suppress the widening grin, which you additionally notice

“you’re not listening again! what are you thinking about?”

“I think you should!”

your brows furrow at the late reply to your question. “okay… well I surely can’t. but the scientists at nasa know that mars has water so really if you think about it we need to bring seeds from earth to mars and we can build trees, y’know? then that will create oxygen— mars has a very thin atmosphere meaning you can’t breathe on it, but if you just put this huge tent around it the oxygen would start flowing and you’d be able to breathe. does that make sense?”

“what would the tent do if there’s no atmosphere on mars though?”

“I watched a movie about it once… but… you make a good point” you frown, realizing your information had gotten mixed. leo mirrors your expression when he realizes he had upset you. the aura of the room suddenly becomes very awkward

don’t say something stupid don’t say something stupid don’t say something stupid-

leo’s mouth fails him. “what does a star win in a competition?”

your lips twitching upwards was worth the idiotic joke he’s about to respond to

“a constellation prize”

“I have another! what type of music do planets sing?”

“what type?”

“nep-tunes!”

your laugh progresses. “where did you find these jokes?”

(the second he found out you liked astronomy and outer space he had researched like crazy so he could come up with the best jokes possible to impress you). he shrugs. “I made them myself”

“really?”

oh gods he hopes the blush on his face isn’t visible. “yeah…”

“you should be, like, a stand up comedian or something. you’re really good”

okay, yeah, he’s gonna put a ring on it the first chance he can get (your wedding has been elaborately planned already, he keeps the plans hidden underneath his mattress). with your smile as bright as the stars, eyes reflections of the moon, your hair cascading over your shoulders like the sunset over the evening sky, extremely captivating to the eyes of the silly son of hepheastus. he hoped he didn’t look like a lovesick puppy right now, staring at you like this, yet he’s surprised to find your gaze mirrors his. oh no

no no no. leo prays to ever god and goddess he’s aware of that you can’t visible see his cherry red cheeks or his smile of contentment

“do you think there’s more than one universe?” he blurts out

“of course. why?”

“because I think I’d love you all the same in every one regardless of our forms”

good gods of olympus your heart skips a beat or two. act casual

“even if I was a worm?”

“I’d build you a terrarium”

“If I was a star?”

“I’d place myself next to you”

you shouldn’t be tearing up at the thought of this but you can’t help the drops of salty water that fall from your eyes. “In every universe would you be staring at my lips instead of listening to what I’m saying?”

“if your lips always look this kissable, then yes”

oh gods oh gods oh gods oh gods so this is really happening? this is real life? surely, truly?

“leo, can I-”

“please”

you suck in a breath and whisper, “I’ve never done this before”

“I haven’t either”

very slowly, almost like neither of you had moved at all, you lean in until your lips finally meet in the middle at last. not just the first kiss, because this surely was not going to be the last

[miley1442111]

Reader x Rafe. They have only been on a few dates. They do not have a claim on each other. Rafe’s cousing is visting for the weekend, unknown to her, and is a really pretty girl. Rafe posts a photo of her on his story on instagram, having dinner. Reader assumes the worst, that he is keeping his options open and dating others, and it makes her really sad when she only had eyes for him. She is aware that that they have not had a talk about dating others, and she does not have the ’’right’’ to be so sad but still is, wanting him to just feel like her, liking her so much that he does not want to see anyone else. Rafe at some point later after his family/cousin dinner is done, he texts reader at night, asking if she wants to talk on the phone ’missing her voice’ but she just scoffs sadly to herself reading it, now thinking he is just a bit of a pig, thinking she truly meant nothing to him for him to be so casual about it. Unknown to her, Rafe feels exactly the same as her, not wanting anyone but her and is walking in circles at home in panic talking to himself, wondering what he has done. He does not want to be to pushy as they have just started dating so he does not harass her with texts. A few days go by and he sees her at the bonfire with her friends, kind of approaches her like he approached Kie, very gentle and soft. She tries to just keep it short, answering his questions being polite and goes to leave after getting her drink but he is like ’’wow wow wow, wait. You’re not answering my calls. I feel like I’ve done something to upset you and it’s killing me’ and she kind of brings up the girl, not in an accusing way, more so like ’’I get it. You wanna keep your options open. I’m just not comfortable with that because I like you a lot. We had a good run but I guess that is it. Take care of yourself’’ with a sad smile but then he stops her from walking away and clears up the misunderstanding and its a sweet ending

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my promise- r.cameron

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a/n: thank you so much for requesting! sorry to everyone, i've been struggling a lot with writer's block and with college starting up everything has been super busy but I should be back on a fairly regular basis now :)

pairing: rafe cameron x fem! pogue! reader

summary: i suggest you look at the request

warnings: rafe is a bit of a dick without realising, reader is upset, pogues hate rafe, i think that's it?

+ this rafe is not show-accurate, this is another universe where he can express emotions and recognise how his action affect others :)

not entirely proofread

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Rafe Cameron was a pig. Three months of talking, and he finally asked you out. And now he was on a date with someone else. 

But what else were you expecting from the ‘Kook king’? Your friends were right. You shouldn’t have even bothered with Rafe. He would always be a fucking man-whore with too much money and too little empathy. Of course you were a game to him, what else would you be? You were a pogue. You were nothing in his eyes, just a fuck. You weren’t even his real girlfriend. He had no claim on you, and you had no claim on him. 

----------------

You would’ve genuinely stabbed yourself in the eye if it meant you got to stop watching them interact. Rafe and that blonde girl. You’d never seen her on the island, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t from here. Random people spent summers here every year, a lot of people rented out their houses, especially the rich ones, just so someone would be in their mansions while they were busy in Bali, or the Hamptons, or wherever rich assholes went on holidays. 

She laughed at something he said and you rolled your eyes. “He’s not even fucking funny,” you scoffed. 

JJ rolled his eyes. “I hate to say ‘I told you so’, but-”

“Yeah yeah, you told me, I know,” you sighed. “Thought I could make a kook act like a human, that’s on me,” you held your arms up in defence. You two stood side by side as you shone the cutlery. Serving at the Country Club wasn’t bad, and the tips were good. It’s just you didn’t expect to see him on a date with someone else. 

You got off of work at 8pm, Rafe and the blonde girl were still busy chatting when you left. Jj gave you a lift on his bike and you decided to grab all of Rafe’s things and leave them on his doorstep, not even bothering to explain. You knew what you saw. You knew what he was doing. You didn’t care anymore, you were worth more than that. 

At about 2am you woke up to your phone ringing. 

“Hello?” 

Your groggy voice made Rafe smile. It had been a long night of entertaining his annoying beauty-queen cousin, and he wanted to talk to you, to see you. “Hey baby.”

You rolled your eyes. “Hi Rafe.”

“How was your day?” he asked. 

“Fine,” your answers were short and to the point. You had no interest in entertaining this anymore. “Yours?”

“Boring as fuck,” he chuckled. 

“What did you do today?” you asked, morbid curiosity getting the better of you. You wanted to see if he’d admit it. 

“Nothing much, worked out, golf, went to dinner with family, that’s it.” 

Of course he was lying. And using his family as a cover? Asshole. 

“Why did you call me?” you questioned, trying to act interested, but failing miserably. 

“I missed your voice,” he admitted shyly. 

“Ok, you heard it, night Rafe,” you sighed before hanging up. A part of you was angry. Another was just upset. How could he see other people? You two had a really good thing going, didn’t you? You thought he was going to ask you to be his girlfriend. How wrong you were. It just reminded you of why you were so apprehensive to date him in the first place, to date anyone in the first place. Maybe you weren’t enough for him. Maybe you weren’t enough at all. 

You let yourself try to sleep it off, but the next few days you were down, and everyone could tell. Jj had told the others what had happened, and you could see the pitying glances from Kie and the boys, and the annoyed looks from Sarah. She hated him, genuinely, but this was the last straw. She’d told him not to break your heart. She’d warned him. 

“What about the bonfire tonight?” John B offered to the group as the sunset. “That would cheer you up,” he nudged your arm and you grimaced. 

“I don’t feel like going out,” you sighed. “You guys go ahead.”

Sarah sighed. “You can’t let this ruin your week Y/n. He’s a dick, he’ll always be a dick, and it wasn’t your fault for liking him. Every single one of my friends as a kid liked him, then he showed his true colours and he’s a dick again. His behaviour is not a benchmark for your value. He’s in the wrong, not you. Come out with us tonight, even if it’s just for 30 minutes, yeah?”

You rolled your eyes, giving in. “Fine.”

----------------

You hadn’t texted him back in three days. He didn’t want to be the pushy ‘be with me all the time’  boyfriend, but he was used to texting you at least once a day. Now you’d left him without a response for 3 whole days. Thinking back, he knew you were being weird during the phone call the other night, and he couldn’t understand what he’d done. Were you losing interest? He hoped you weren’t. You were the only girl who he’d ever been really serious about.  You were the only girl he’d ever felt a real connection with. You were his girl, at least, you would be. 

He pulled up to the bonfire with one thought in mind, find you.

You pulled up to the bonfire with one thought in mind, hide from Rafe. 

----------------

Hiding didn’t exactly last long, especially when he was directly following you around the entire beach. If you went towards the water, he’d come near you, if you went towards the house, he’d come near you, if you went up to the fire, there he just so happened to be, roasting a marshmallow with a big smile on his face. You did notice how he wasn’t carrying around his signature corona, nor was his nose full of white powder. Huh. He’d listened when you said you didn’t like him being ‘uncontrolled’ as you called it, yet he went on a date with another girl. Strange.

You sat away from your friends, by the water, nursing a can of beer. You weren’t a heavy drinker and you’d probably go home after this, since you’d already been at the party for a little while. You watched the sea come in and out. Wave after wave, softly brushing against the shore. 

“Hey,” Rafe’s voice brought you out of your trance. He sat down beside you, dirtying whatever expensive shorts he had on. 

“Hey,” you answered.

“How are you?” He asked, his tone not missing the awkwardness of this moment. He was nervous before coming up to you, but now? Having to come face to face with your cold tone was becoming unbearable pretty quickly. 

“Fine thanks, how are you?” You asked, continuing your staring at the sea. 

“Good. Better, now,” he smiled, placing a hand over yours. “You forgot to text me back.”

“Did I?” you didn’t even try to make yourself sound sincere. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. You been busy? How’s work?” 

“It’s fine,” you answered. After a moment of silence, you got up. “I’m going to get another beer-”

“Wait,” he jumped up beside you. “You’re not answering my calls. You’re not talking to me normally. You’re not answering my questions. Have I done something to upset you?”

You scoffed. “I wonder.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean Y/n? You’re killing me here.”

“Look, I get it you want to keep your options open and we were just casual, it’s fine. I’m just not the kind of girl to just be casual with, alright? That stuff makes me uncomfortable, and I really liked you. But if you want to go and do that, that’s fine, just don’t bring me into it,” you explained calmly. “Goodbye Rafe.”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait!” he called after you, making you turn back. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw you at the Country Club with the blonde girl, Rafe, seriously, your dating life is your own- what?” You stopped talking because Rafe had started pulling a disgusted face. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s my cousin,” he explained. “My super annoying cousin.”

And everything made a bit more sense. The family comment wasn’t a lie. Now that you think about it, they did look pretty similar.

“Oh.”

“You thought we were on a date?” 

“Well it was candle-lit,” you chuckled.

“All the tables at the club are candle-lit past 8pm!” He laughed. “That’s why you’ve been ignoring me? You thought I was cheating on you?”

“Well, we haven’t technically said we were dating so… I just assumed you were keeping your options open,” you shrugged. 

Rafe cracked a smile. “You think I’d pick anyone over you?”

You shrugged. “People do.”

“People are fucking stupid,” he wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you two walked further down the beach. “So, Y/n Y/l/n, will you do me the honours of officially being your boyfriend?” 

“Only if you do me the honours of being your girlfriend,” you smiled.  He turned to you and cupped your cheek, pressing his lips to yours. “I’m all yours, promise.”

----------------

obx masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

[mxtxfanatic]

Just wanna say for those of y’all who came into this fandom late: just a few years ago, speaking on Jiang Cheng with anything less than glowing praise used to bring so much harassment that “angry grape”-related tags had to be created to circumvent jc stans finding and subsequently dogpiling your posts. I’ve since seen this tagging convention appropriated by his stans to be an “affectionate” petname for his character. If you wrote a wangxian fic in which Jiang Cheng did not appear, your fics would get bombarded with stans flooding your comments with their own headcanons on why Jiang Cheng isn’t around but “this is how he’d react if he was” and “everyone loves him, they’re definitely thinking about him, rn” and “when is he supposed to show up, op???” If you read a wangxian fic and Jiang Cheng did appear, there was a 95% chance that you would have to slog through thousands of words of abuse apologia paired with every character (except maybe Lan Wangji, maybe) claiming that Wei Wuxian deserved to be abused and should just learn to handle it better because abuse is really love. It took me a year of reading purely (only, exclusively) wangxian fics to find a single fic that had both 1) canon Jiang Cheng and 2) did not twist the other characters into fanon iterations to justify canon Jiang Cheng’s abusive behavior. When more canon writers started appearing, their fics got flooded with negativity, claims that the fic wasn’t realistic because “jc isn’t like that,” and demands to change things. They started moderating their comment sections. Eventually, jc stan writers even stopped tagging Jiang Cheng in their fics despite writing him as a major character because people began to avoid reading fics if they knew from the tags that his character appeared.

The “canon jc” tag was created on tumblr because jc stans said that if we didn’t like being attacked for canon opinions we should “create our own tag.” It was not a tag that always existed. Nobody used it until my friends created it. And every few months after that, we’d get a new “flood the tag” campaign by jc stans pissed at the name until it died down… until twitter refugees arrived, bringing with them a new faction of jc stans. That jc appreciate week or whatever they call it that starts on Halloween? Created by jc stans in an attempt to flood out Wei Wuxian appreciation posts on his birthday by making sure that new Jiang Cheng content would dominate all the major tags on that day. I watched the creators brag about that.

One BIG fandom upset happened when a jc stan wrote a horribly mistagged rape and murder wangxian fic and had their friends promote it so that wangxian lovers would read the fic and be traumatized. They gloated about having "successfully baited people," then tried to delete their tweets admitting it when they got them in trouble. I was there for that, too, and I only dodged being triggered because I saved the fic to read for later instead of cracking it open immediately.

Some of y’all may see me around now, but I’ve been watching this fandom for much longer than I’ve been making posts, before even the friends and mutuals I know now even knew I existed (yes I was a lurker lol). I’ve seen the development of all this play out across tumblr, ao3, and twitter (despite my best efforts to avoid the twitter side, that’s how ubiquitous it was). That’s how inescapable it was. I saw so much shit go down that I already had a mile-wide blocklist before I made my first post, and even then, I still got hate commentary on some of my posts the moment I dipped my littlest toe into metas. I had anon off for like a year because I didn’t want to deal with any harassment, and the moment I turned it off, I started getting bait anons (though not as bad as the others I’ve seen, holy shit). When I started this blog, all I did was liveblog and reblog other people’s art and metas. I was so stressed entering this fandom because the shit I had seen off rip was absolutely disgusting. That’s why I have very intentional rules of engagement that I try to hold to for myself. I may never be the first to start the fight, but I damn sure will defend myself and my friends. I also will never run away from admitting my mistakes, but I will also never be bullied into treating someone’s personal fantasies as equal to the actual factual text.

This isn’t to say that fanon enjoyers don’t get harassment. Another big fandom scandal was that a popular fanfic writer obsessed with canon had been harassing other writers through a series of bot accounts into leaving the fandom. What a lot of people don’t bring up in their bid to paint canon enjoyers as particularly prone to “fandom bullying,” however, was that the “canon” they were obsessed with was tied almost exclusively to the canon wangxian’s top/bottom sexual dynamic. I’d read that person’s works before—enjoyed them, even, before the scandal happened. They wrote fanon into their fics in other ways. The fanon/canon divide isn’t the problem; entitlement to unanimous fandom praise and recognition is.

There’s nothing wrong with enjoying canon or fanon, nothing right or wrong or morally superior for either camp. But do me a favor: go into the main jiang cheng character tag right now, and count how often you see a post about Jiang Cheng that portrays him in a negative light. Not one that portrays him as an snarky asshole or a teacher’s pet or a helicopter parent or a crybaby who only wants to be loved, but one which shows him in all of his uncensored glory as a piece of shit antagonist. How often do you see fanart of Jiang Cheng that isn’t “best jiujiu” or “sad didi” or “badass sect leader”? How often do you see metas that don’t include some iteration of “everyone is just so mean about poor little jc who just didn’t have a choice in anything he ever did 😢”? Go to the main novel tag and do the same. Hell, go to the wangxian tag and see what you find while you’re at it. How many of those posts are viral compared to “look at jc with his dogs!” or “look, I made lxc and jc kiss!” Then tell me whether or not you believe that jc stans are being specifically targeted for some unique and undeserved persecution by the fandom at large.

[macabr3-barbi3]

DoubleTrouble No 1 🖤❤️

Myself and the delightful and talented @fraugwinska have been working on something tasty and present to you: a DoubleTrouble fic!

A single prompt from my Ao3, shared between two writers, one POV each ❤️

I tackled the reader's perspective, and you can find one from Alastor's POV right here! So many thanks for FrauGwinska for being an absolute superstar and working with me through this new and exciting experience <3

We hope you enjoy!

Tags: period sex, cunnilingus, mentions of blood (obviously), rough sex <3

Minors DNI🔞

The Blood is Rare 🩸

The fact that you still had a period in Hell was bullshit, but you suppose they needed to give people something to be miserable about. That was probably why people ended up in the situation you were in now, seated across from Alastor with a deal on the tip of your tongue; sheer desperation, because somehow the cramps were even worse than they had been on Earth and the only thing that helped was a good old fashioned orgasm. If it were anyone else you wouldn’t even consider asking- a lot of demons, except the really-weird-even-for-Hell ones, were still squeamish about blood being involved with any kind of orgasm.

If you were right though. Alastor would relish the opportunity you were about to present to him.

Fresh to the hotel just a few days after your last Hellish period, Alastor had startled you in the kitchen with a knife in your hand. The resulting jump had caused the blade to slip, gash in your thumb bleeding steadily over the apples that you had planned to fry up. Rather than allowing you to fetch a bandage, Alastor had chuckled, said “no need, dear,” and popped your thumb into his mouth. It was probably some ploy of his- strike fear into the hearts of new residents, give them a reminder that he was a cannibal and that he wouldn’t hesitate to eat them if they stepped out of line or caused any issues.

It backfired on him. At the taste of your blood his eyes grew black, staggering away from you with the shock of it, antlers extending so quickly they smashed the glass front of a nearby cabinet and he ended up trapped between the wooden dividers.

“More,” he had snarled, but his antlers stuck in the cabinet had been enough of a delay for you to make an escape. 

He apologized, of course, a couple days later, explained his nature as a cannibal, a predator, had reacted before his mind, and that such a thing would not happen again. He had ended the awkward conversation with a statement of, “should you feel the desire to spare some of that tasty treat in your veins, do be a dear and let me know!”

And, well. Here you were. Letting him know. Ready to make a deal with one of the most powerful Overlords in Hell to get a little relief from the torture chamber that was your body in ovulation, even when there was nothing to fucking ovulate.

Alastor was tense when he phased into the hotel conference room to meet you as you had asked. His spine is stiff when he settles into the chair across from you, not having been alone in a space since that time in the kitchen. “What is it that I can help you with, my dear?”

“I want to clarify something- do you want to like, eat me?”

“Oh!” Alastor’s eyes widen with his smile. “I wouldn’t have been so blunt about it, darling, but if you’re asking- yes. That little taste that I had a few weeks ago was… inadequate, to say the least. But naturally staying here at the Hotel, Charlie would have been terribly upset had I consumed you.” He flicks his gaze over your form. “Why do you ask? Surely you don’t mean to let me indulge.”

A deep breath as you brace yourself. “Hah, not exactly. But uh, I do have a proposition of sorts for you. In regards to that. Kind of.”

He fades out of sight, rematerializing a couple seats closer to you. “Color me intrigued! What do you have in mind?”

You almost call the whole thing off- then a monster bolt of pain rips through your abdomen, nearly forcing you to double over the table with the ache of it. Any thought of embarrassment or hesitation flies from your head. Alastor is the only one that would be willing to help you in this way, you’re sure of it.

The groan of pain escapes you before you can stop it, and his eyebrows raise. “I have a deal to offer you that would allow you to- um. Sample my blood, if you’re amenable. Once a month.”

His head cocks to the side before his expression clears and he understands what you’re implying. “You’re referring to menstruation?” You nod, face red. “I see. Please provide me with more details of what this proposal would entail on my end then.” His claws are digging into the table, wood splintering beneath them and betraying his interest before even hearing what he would have to do.

“Right. I don’t know if you’re aware or not but periods can be crazy painful. Just on Earth too, but down here they’re basically unbearable when the cramps get bad. One thing that can help is having an orgasm.” You’re trying to resist the urge to hide in some way. You know this is what needs to be done. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, of course- just, you know. Uh, collecting on your benefit would probably do the trick.”

His eyes narrow. “I see. That is the… service I’m to provide, then?” A nod, flushed face dropped into your hands. “Well, I suppose I will simply have to endeavor to do my best! I’m never one to turn down a challenge- certainly not when the payoff is so enticing.” His eyes go dark, not quite black yet but the air between you changes, antlers going long and jagged. “I’m open to your proposal.”

“I need terms,” you breathe out, pleased that he’s still willing to help with the sexual nature of your request. “I need- just, something confirming that you won’t actually eat me for real. The blood is all that I’m willing to part with- no flesh.”

He sighs, eyes rolling. “Less exciting,” he says with a wave of his hand, “but not a dealbreaker. Anything else?”

“Only once a month- during this time. You can’t just be making me bleed whenever you want.”

“Done.” He’s in the chair next to you then, eyes black, grin so wide it threatens to split his face open, clawed hand held in your direction. “Do we have a deal?”

You take his hand in yours, green light filling the space between you and a screeching feedback sound assaulting your ears. When it fades Alastor is watching with hooded eyes. “Would you like to begin now?”

“Oh God. Uh, if now is a good time for you I guess. If you want to do it now.”

He laughs low and dangerous, his tall frame rising from the chair to tower over you. “Darling, I’ve wanted some semblance of what you’ve proposed for weeks. I’m not a man that makes a habit of denying himself a treat when it’s offered to him so sweetly.”

Your hand is still in his, and there’s a strange pull behind your navel as Alastor yanks you into the shadows with him, rematerializing in his bedroom. “Feel free to sit on the bed,” he offers, gesturing to the mattress and manifesting a large dark towel. “Or lie back- however will be more comfortable for you.” 

He releases your hand once you’ve sat, and you stay upright as Alastor sinks to his knees in front of you, fingers coming to the top of your skirt and pulling everything down in one fell swoop, his expression darkening at the scent of you exposed before him before ducking his head. You can’t see what he sees with how close he has already come to your skin, his enlarged antlers blocking your vision, the muscles of his back flexing with the force of his inhale as he breathes you in. A jolt of pain hits you again, deep in your core, and your whimper at the feeling has him bringing his eyes back to your face.

His eyes are hooded and dangerous, feral smile on his face while your fingers dig into the bedsheets. “Feel free to hold on, dear,” he says with a gesture to his antlers, before dipping his head to your bare cunt and slicking his tongue between your folds, angling his head just so to slip into your heat.

You can almost forget that Alastor is only doing this to satisfy some carnal desire of his with the fervent way that he pushes his mouth against you, slick muscle delving deep into you and brushing his nose against the firm nub of your clit. There’s a reverberating rumble as he moans at the taste, clawed fingers coming up to grip at your thighs, spreading them wider so he can get even closer to the source of his obsession. You can feel where he flicks his tongue inside you, brushing against that sweet bundle of nerves with every strong push and pull. The pleasure curls in your gut, keeping the worst of the cramps at bay while your body tenses and releases in rhythm with the demon’s ministrations. Every so often he pulls out, brings what he’s collected back into the haven of his mouth and savors it, eyes closed and his throat rumbling with a satisfied groan.

“You’ve no idea,” he growls, “how I’ve thought of tasting you. Consuming you.” The sharp points of his teeth brush against your clit and your body jolts, hands finally flying up from the bed to clutch at his antlers, grip tight on the tines of them as he looks up at you. 

The look on his face is nearly your undoing- more animal than man, and his claws dig into your flesh, tiny pinpricks of pain dragging you forcibly back to the moment. Your orgasm is just out of reach, not enough focus where you need him but you don’t want him to feel uncomfortable if you ask him for more.

“Fucking divine,” he whispers against you, and when his tongue brushes your sensitive clit with the words you shudder, the motion drawing his gaze to your face, flushed and hot. He smiles wide, expression smug as he leans in and does it purposely this time, licking up your folds and finally focusing where you need him to be. He circles it with purpose, pressure so sweet and sadistic, a light suck making you cry out his name and fist your hands on his antlers.

“Fuck! Alastor, yes, there- oh god, please, more…” He tenses under your hands and you worry for a moment that you’ve done something wrong. Then he’d sliding his hands under your thighs and dragging you closer to the edge of the bed, draping your legs over his shoulders.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, the vibrations of his voice sending heat flooding through you, overriding the painful ache of a cramp that tries to make itself known.

“Alastor,” you moan, and his tongue resumes its residence in the tight grip of your cunt, a hand coming up to brush a clawed finger over your clit. He works you quickly, his efforts paying off as your body tenses, invisible string inside you drawing tight and snapping with a force you’ve never felt before. “Alastor- A-” You try to say his name again, hear it come out as as a choked off whimper and a near scream as you reach orgasm, legs tightening on his shoulders and pulling him as closer, your walls clenching down on the length of his tongue before be pulls back and licks you through the remainder of it.

You release your grip on his antlers and fall back against the mattress, eyes closed while Alastor removes his face from between your legs, licking along the tiny pinpricks of blood from his claws before you shoot him a halfhearted glare. 

Your abdomen is blissfully absent of any clenching of your internal organs seeking revenge. Sated, you sit up from the mattress to see Alastor still knelt before you, faint lines of dried blood- your dried blood, your brain supplies- around his mouth. He looks like a predator fresh from his kill of the night, antlers jagged and long, eyes still dark and frantic as he looks at you.

“Was that sufficient, darling?”

“God, yes, it was perfect. I- I really appreciate your help.”

“Hmm. Of course. Though I must admit, only part of my… appetite for you has been appeased.” He rises from the floor, knees perched on either side of your thighs now and leaning in. You can smell something metallic on him as he approaches, know that it's your own blood as he stares down into your eyes hovered over you.

“Oh?” You become aware of a hard length pressing into your thigh. “Oh! I didn’t think that was something you would be interested in.”

He shrugs, rolling his hips and hissing at the friction. “Nor did I, dear. That does seem to be a theme with you, though- having a taste and finding that I crave more against my better judgment, against all reason.” He places a hand on your hip and runs his claws along the bare skin. “Would you allow me to help ease your pain once more?”

“God, yes,” you breathe out, “please, Alastor.” He takes a moment to undress, trousers removed along with his boxers before he climbs back over you and presses against the still slick folds of your cunt. He pushes in, hot and hard length opening you up and settling deep inside of you with a harsh exhale of breath against your neck. “Fuck, it’s so good.”

Alastor growls, the sound reverberating through his chest as he thrusts into you. A pulse of arousal shoots through you, the thought of bringing such a well spoken man to his baser instincts, so thoroughly invested in you that he can do little more than snarl like an animal into your skin, pushing you ever closer to the edge again. You’re already soft and sensitive from your first release, the cresting wave of a second hustling towards you. 

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, sharp teeth nipping at the tendon he finds there and moaning. “I could devour you,” he whispers, and you feel yourself clench down on him at the broken crack in his voice.  He drags his tongue up the length of your neck, hesitates like he’s trying to savor it. “I could feast on you for centuries and never tire of the taste of your flesh, whether coated in blood or sweat.”

A whimper escapes you as he sucks on the skin of your shoulder, leaving a trail of harsh bruises along the path he takes. A hand comes up to twist into his hair, something to ground yourself, to draw this out as long as possible. Your other hand digs into the flesh of his arm pinning you to the mattress. “Fuck, more, please,” you beg him, and he pulls back from your neck to watch your face twist and contort in pleasure while he slams against the sweet spot inside of you.

“Say my name,” he demands, fingers on your hip digging bruises into the soft skin, his other hand tangled in the bedsheets, tearing them to shreds to avoid sinking his claws into you. “Say it. Tell me what you need.”

“Oh God, Alastor-” You angle your hips, the movement bringing him even deeper into your body, the length of him so sweet and sinfully delicious that a whine escapes your throat before you can think to stop it. “I need- I don’t know, Al, I can’t-”

“You must,” he commands, and he lets go of your hip to slip his hand between your bodies, fingers pressing against the taut skin of your opening where your bodies are joined. The stimulation is foreign and new and has your walls tensing and releasing rhythmically around him, release so close now that you were seeing stars behind your clenched eyes.

“Look at me.” Your lids fly open to meet the sight of Alastor above you, his face contorted in something like pain. “You must,” he says again, fucking into you with vigor now, sweat beading on his forehead. “I need it around me, I have to feel it. Please, darling, give it to me-”

Fuck. How could you deny him when he asked so sweetly? Not that you had any control over it- your body breaks beneath him, cunt wrapped around him like the softest of silk and tightening its grip. Your limbs seem to go numb for a moment, pleasure warping your reality for a few blissful moments, your vision focusing in a tunnel on Alastor’s face before it vanishes, burying once again in the space between your shoulder and neck.

With a final cry of his name he sinks his teeth into you, not tearing back as one might expect but content to simply let them rest there as he spills into you with a broken moan, hips bucking hard and fierce and then easing into something softer as your walls pull and push, wringing every drop from him.

A breath of silence as you both catch your breath, interrupted by a hiss of faint pain as Alastor pulls his teeth from you and licks at the wound he’s created like a satisfied cat. “You promised you wouldn’t try to eat me for real,” you mutter, voice soft from the strength of your cries.

Alastor hums against you, tongue still moving against you. “Hardly my fault.” He’s mouthing greedily at your skin, claws traipsing on the flesh of your hips and roaming wherever he can reach. “You’re delicious,” he groans, taking one final taste of your blood before pulling back and collapsing next to you, “a delicacy. How am I meant to live without this at every moment of the day? I think I shall starve.”

You huff out a laugh, stretching your muscles as well as you can without really moving. “Don’t be dramatic. You get it once a month, at least.” You roll onto your side, ignore the feeling of something slick and wet between your thighs and focus on the fact that your body is limp and pliant and not seeking revenge on you. 

“You raise a valid point, my dear.” He throws you a sideways look, his antlers now having returned to their normal size and his ears relaxed against his skull. “Though I’m not at all opposed to repeating this aspect of the experience outside of your… monthly allowance to me. Deals always have room for negotiation, do they not?”

“Let’s get through this one first and then we’ll talk.” You yawn and try to rise from the bed, but an arm from the demon beside you is thrown haphazardly over your waist, pinning you in place.

“Stay,” he says, his eyes lidded and peeking at you. “There’s more to come yet, right? May as well stay where we can easily access one another for the duration.” His crimson eyes close the rest of the way and you settle back into the mattress, allowing your body to relax and slip into a peaceful sleep beside him.

[silvercat-s]

How would Silco react to Jinx calling him father or dad?

OKAY 

I'll give you the short answer first, so feel free to stop here if you don’t want to see me rambling nonsense for the next ten paragraphs: Before the events of season 1, he would probably freeze and pretend he didn't hear it, all while panicking internally and refusing to acknowledge just how happy and proud that makes him. After the finale, if he had somehow survived?  Just sheer happiness and relief, and he and jinx would be crying on each other arms. 

Allow me to explain  

Despite Silco behaving like Jinx’s father in every way that matters —whether it means going out of his way to comfort her in her moments of doubt or jumping to her defense when she is criticized, and that dynamic being something obvious to those closest to him, like Sevika and the chembarons, I don't believe for a second Silco ever referred to Jinx as his daughter out loud before, nor do I think Jinx ever felt secure enough in their relationship to call him dad.

I always felt like their relationship before the finale, while close, had some sort of emotional barrier. Silco is a broken man with deep-seated abandonment issues, I think he would avoid admitting, even to himself, just how much Jinx means to him. Acknowledging that would make him vulnerable, it would mean confronting his fear of being betrayed and abandoned again.   

And for the longest time, he didn’t have to. He had no reason to reflect on their bond, no reason to fear losing her. why should he? She works for him. she has no one else. she belongs to him. Everything was perfect the way it was...and then Vi gets out of prison.  

His whole world starts falling apart. He can’t pretend he’s not afraid of losing Jinx anymore, of her abandoning him for Vi. He starts spiraling. That’s why we see him act so manipulatively when she confronts him over lying, he’s desperate! and It's in this moment of desperation that he says "I'm your family"

And then by the time the dinner party happens, Silco has almost lost Jinx at the bridge, he’s had everything he’s ever wanted offered to him on a silver platter, yet found himself unable to give her up. and he has finally said the word out loud for the first time “is there anything as undoing as a daughter?” at Vander's statue no less, he has fully accepted what Jinx means to him.

When Silco tells Jinx “You’re my daughter, I would never forsake you” he nods to himself and almost chuckles, as if the words are so obvious to him now that he can’t believe he’s never said them before. And on Jinx’s part, it’s clear that hearing this means a lot to her.

What really stood out to me in the script of Silco's death scene was the line “Jinx, with the affirmation of love she’s always wanted ringing in her ears” referring to his last words to her. This admission of love is something she’s always longed for from him, she probably never had the courage to call him dad or to ask what she meant to him— Jinx, like Silco, fears rejection and abandonment. And for the first time, she has that confirmation, the emotional barrier between them is fully down.

That only adds to the tragedy of their bond, Silco only able to admit to both her and himself how important she truly is after all those years, and Jinx only realizing his love for her when he’s dying from the wounds she inflicted.

I do believe that if Silco had survived, they would have started to build a proper family relationship.

That's why I'm so upset they wouldn't let Jinx refer to Silco as her dad in season 2. I feel like her reasons for hesitating to call him that were completely resolved in the finale. Silco already called her his daughter, and Jinx now fully understands she was deeply loved by him. It's like the writers completely disregarded everything about the finale, their relationship and what it meant for Jinx's character going in season 2.

[hamiltonaf]

Can you do one with Kylian being very jealous of yn all the time and every time she talks to a guy friend he gets mad and makes a big fuss about it and yn gets tired of him and wants to leave him but then he gets upset and begs for forgiveness but she is so tired of his bullshit and want to take a break from the relationship but after 1-2 months they get back together and he got jealous again so she wants to know why he is like that and it turned out that his ex girlfriend cheated on him multiple times so he had trust issues and she assured him that she wasn’t going to do the same thing

Trust Issues | Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Minor angst

A/N: Hii loves ! I’m finally back. Apologies for being MIA, I had a lot going on, plus I had writers block. I’m sorry in advance if the end is disappointing - I honestly feel like I forgot how to write lol. If you’ve sent a request before, please note that I’m working on it. Anywho, enjoy .xoxo

Never thought I’d come to a point in life where I had to cut off all my guy friends for Kylian’s sake. I’ve told myself in the past that if I had to face that in a relationship then I’m walking out. Mentally I’m playing hangman with Kylian’s name.

I love Kylian, I really do, it’s also cute at times to see him get jealous but when it comes to a point when he tells me that I need to stop talking to my guy friend then I don’t vibe with that. He’s basically saying that he doesn’t trust me.

We’ve fought, he apologised, I looked past it for us to move on, but he just crossed the line.

I went out for a friend’s birthday dinner, Kylian decided to stay back and chill at home, though he promised he would pick me up after. The birthday dinner felt like a reunion as some of us were seeing each other after years, it was great catching up with everyone, especially Daniel. Him and I were really close growing up as our parents were good friends, but since I moved and was with Kylian I rarely attended gatherings.

It was getting quite late and Kylian was delayed, I didn’t bother rushing him since Daniel was accompanying me and we were just catching up on lost time. We were stood outside the restaurant, dinner had just ended, some had left and others were in their own conversations. “So how are things going? What have you been up to ?” Daniel eagerly asked. “Well, I’m in my final year of studying so it’s been a bit much but I’m coping. How are things going for you ?” I replied. “Life is great. Can’t complain” he smiled proudly. “Still running your parent’s empire I suppose” I smiled. “Nothing has changed” he grinned.

“Good for you Dan. You’re living the dream” I half laughed. “I’m living the dream ?” He scoffed. “Yeah of course ! You’re travelling literally every other month, flying first class and living the good life” I said. “Yeah but you’re the one dating the football player !” He stated. “Speaking of him, let me just check how far he is” I paused to check my phone if perhaps Kylian called or messaged. Nothing.

Just as I locked my phone, my head turned when I heard a car rev in the distance, he’s here. “Oh look. There he is” I said as both of our heads snapped to Kylian pulling up beside us. Daniel leaned towards the car as Kylian rolled down the window, “Hey man, I’m Daniel” he introduced himself. “Nice to meet you. I’m Kylian” Kylian shook his hand. “Heard a lot about you. We should meet up soon, I’ll message (Y/N)” Daniel suggested. “Yeah sure” Kylian said lastly. “Take care bro” Daniel said before pulling me in for a hug. “Bye Dan. Until next time” I murmured. “Until then. Ciao” he said as his hand rubbed my back before breaking away from our hug.

I got into the car and immediately I could feel the tension in the air. “Hi baby” I smiled as I leaned in to kiss his cheek. He didn’t say anything or react, he just remained stiff. I knew what was coming and I wasn’t ready to face the drama for the umpteenth time. Choosing not to say anything in the car until we got home was the best decision. The second the door shut, he didn’t surprised me by being the one to bring it up. “What was that ?” He raised his voice. “What was what ?” I asked as I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Who even was that Daniel guy ? I was there for only a minute and I could see the way he was looking at you. You both seemed to enjoy that hug a little too much” he said. I scoffed, “Are you being serious right now ?”

“Do I look like I’m joking ?” He yelled annoyed. “You have honestly lost it !” I yelled as I turned my back on him and stormed towards our room. “(Y/N) I’m talking to you !” He yelled for me as he followed me to the room. “How the hell can you say we enjoyed that hug a little too much. Are you trying to call me a cheater ?” I raised my voice as I turned around to face him. “You’re just putting words into my mouth. My point is that if another person had seen you both together, they would think you’re a couple. I don’t want you seeing him again” he said.

“You know what Kylian ? I’m done” I huffed. “What do you mean done ?” He asked baffled. “I mean that I can’t do this anymore. I can’t continue being in a relationship where my own boyfriend doesn’t even trust me or allows me to talk to other guy friends of mine without assuming I’m cheating. I’m living a lie by staying in this relationship. Go find yourself a girlfriend that you can control because I’m not that girl” I said before getting a bag and packing it with my belongings.

“Babe please don’t do this. I swear I’m not trying to control you. I’ll admit that I got jealous, okay ? But please don’t go. I love you so much, what will I do without you ?” he pleaded and tried to stop me from packing but I continued.

“No Kylian ! Today you literally crossed the line, I couldn’t care so much for the other guys you said I need to stop talking to, but the fact that Daniel and I go way back and now you want me to cut off our friendship ? He’s basically apart of my family because his parents and my parents are friends. Kylian…I’m so tired honestly of us going back and forth. It just bothers me that Daniel attempted to be your friend in that minute you met but instead you ignore all of that and insinuate that I cheated ? Get some help because I need a break from your shit…this has gone past jealousy” I said in anger, I didn’t have it in me to cry.

“(Y/N) please. I’ll change okay ? I’ll do better. But please don’t go. Please give me another chance” he begged. “Kylian I gave you way too many chances. I can’t believe how long I’ve dealt with this and didn’t leave sooner” I said as I zipped up my bag. “So that’s it ? You’re just going to throw away a 2 year relationship ?” He asked. “All I know right now is that we need space away from each other. I love you Kylian, I do, but I think it’s best for the both of us” I pressed my lips together as I threw my bag over my shoulder. “So we’re over ?” He asked teary eyed. “I- please don’t make this harder than it already is” my voice cracked as I looked up in hopes that my tears would disappear.

“Babe you can’t give up on us. We’re meant for each other” he said as he grabbed my hands and rubbed small circles at the back of them. “Kylian, consider this a break rather than a break up. We can both wisely use this time to focus on ourselves…if we’re meant to be, we’ll find our way back to each other.”

Those were the last words I’ve said to him face-to-face. I left that night and ended up staying at my parent’s house. They were surprised to see me and were quick to ask where Kylian was, I just lied that he’s travelling for an away game. 2 weeks of staying with my parents raised suspicion and they figured out that something was wrong, my mom especially. I told my mom exactly what happened and luckily she took the hint to not talk about it.

Not a day passed that I didn’t receive a message from Kylian. Countless ‘I love you’ and ‘I miss you’ flooded my phone daily, it wasn’t easy taking this time to focus on myself when he was on my mind all day. Whilst making his message clear, he indirectly would ask for us to talk it out and as much as it hurts, I refused. No point in us getting back together if he’s going to go back to square one.

After about a week, I caved in and started replying back to his messages. Eventually easing in to phone calls and FaceTimes. It’s been 3 weeks since that day I called on a break, today I decided it’s time to meet and talk things out.

He seemed sincere and genuine when we met, of course I couldn’t help but give him another chance. We were meeting for one week as if we were in love all over again and after that one week, we’re back together.

Daniel was in town and he wanted to meet up, I happily accepted his lunch invite and was looking forward to rekindling our friendship. Kylian was at training so I thought I’d get ready in the meantime until he was back.

“Ma chérie !” He called as he entered. “In the room, Ky !” I yelled. He came into the room and whistled behind me. “You look beautiful” he said as he placed a kiss on my neck. “Thank you babe” I blushed. “Where are you going ?” He asked as he walked over to sit at the edge of the bed. “I’m going out for lunch with Daniel” I said casually. “Wait, what !” He asked as he stood up. “Why ? I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t see him ?” He said as he changed his tone. I dropped my mascara on the counter and stood up, “Are you back to this nonsense where I can’t have guy friends ?” I asked as I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Do you not know how the story goes about childhood guy friends falling for their girl friends ?” He stood up to stand arms length away from me. “No, Kylian ! That’s not how the story goes. Do you not know it takes two people to be in love which hello ? I’m obviously not.” I said as I started to grow angry. “(Y/N), you don’t know how a guys mind works” he said as he shut his eyes for a second. “Before I walk out of this relationship one more time, could you care to explain your reasoning behind why I can’t have guy friends ?” I raised a brow. His face softened when he heard me mention walking out.

“Babe please no . I’m sorry” he rushed over to me to hold my hands in his. I pulled my hands away from his grip, “Explain Kylian…I can’t continue entertaining this.” He sighed and dropped his head before mustering up the courage. “I have trust issues because of my ex” he admitted. I was shocked. “Well, what happened ?” I asked curiously.

“I trusted her and was never one to question anything she did until I found out she cheated on me with those guys she called her friends. Soo…I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions and assuming the worst, I was heartbroken and felt betrayed. It’s been hard for me to accept having trust. It’s not you babe, I promise I trust you, I just fear that your guy friends will convince you to leave me and walk away from our relationship. I can’t bare losing you, not again after the break” he said as he got emo. “Aww Ky” I pouted as I pulled him in for a hug. We never left each others embrace for a few minutes until Kylian broke away to kiss my forehead.

“I’m glad I got that off my chest. You deserved to know. I love you so much and I’m sorry for my behaviour. I’m trying to be a better boyfriend for you after our break so please be patient with me” he pouted. “I get it now. Thank you for being honest babe” I gave him a quick peck on his lips. “You can go out with Daniel, I won’t stop you any longer” he sighed. “Look, as your girlfriend, I want to help you through this. Remember Daniel suggested you guys going out ? Well why don’t you join us, I’ll send him a message and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. That way you have an idea of what Daniel is like and you have a peace of mind. Also, it’s not just about trusting Daniel, I would like if you and Daniel could be friends. I mean the man is practically family” I half laughed before sending a message to Daniel. “Shame I feel bad now for hating on the guy” he sighed. “Well what he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him” I winked then sent the message.

[isaidyoulookshitty]

idk it is so upsetting to me that veilguard is the first dragon age game i won't be replaying. when i was 15 i played origins so many times (almost a dozen) it is one of the only games i have ever 100% finished. da2 was the same! and while i didn't make it through as many playthroughs of inquisition i put hundreds of hours into it and made an effort to get to the bottom of everything the game threw at me. until veilguard, i had bought every available dragon age dlc for all games, tried to play almost every route given in the story choices, and spent hours reading through codex entries to soak up as much lore as i could.

veilguard has rendered all of that completely null.

it feels almost spiteful at this point that this new frakenspliced bioware cared so little to honor the bones and meat of the first three games. 15 years i have spent loving and cherishing (and criticizing) this franchise and now i feel like a fucking idiot for it. my grey warden? canonically awol and never addressed again. hawke? irrelevant and, for some players, potentially stuck in the fade forever. inquisitor? stripped of any complexity or depth i had given her in favor of the most syrupy, out of character fairytale true love's kiss ending with a man that shattered her worldview and broke her heart. how do you take 10 years to craft an ending this dissatisfying and thoughtless?

and the world i spent a decade and a half fighting for, shaping with player choices, and calling home? gone. "overwhelmed by the blight." literally scorched earth for the next game to build on with whatever the writers pull out of their ass to make players forget all about the original dragon age. it's tragic! disrespectful to longtime fans at best, at worst it feels intentional and like i am being made the butt of a joke told by writers who in the promotional material sound like they could not even be assed to play the games they're attempting to draw from. veilguard is just a product to be sold, not a story worthy of The Dragon Age Setting.

and i haven't even touched on all my gripes with the game's writing, the sanitization of any canon conflict that could be uncomfortable or difficult to address, the stale and cutesy therapyspeak and lessons in basic morality that are baked into every in-game interaction (most of which are shallow and all the same anyways) compared to the dialogue trees from the other 3 games. it is so frustrating to see that the devs chose to cave to a decade of vitriolic fandom politics in favor of addressing the kettle they wrote themselves into.

instead of hand-waving racism toward elves, the panic over qunari, the isolation of the dwarves, the corruption of the chantry, the abuse in the circles of magi, and slavery in tevinter, we should have been given the chance to confront all of it. to put a real end to it. we will never get to do that now. in fact, in their failure to follow through, bioware has only succeeded in exacerbating all of these issues. they have made the elves, which they have openly ADMITTED were "inspired" by Jewish and indigenous peoples, their mouthpiece for white guilt and shame passed down from one's ancestors (while also gutting elves' religion, culture, history, social differences, etc. i could go on). they PERPETUATE the same stereotypes of barbarity, violence, and warmongering imposed on the qunari by the rest of thedas by continuing to make them an opposing enemy force with the exception being a couple of friends they have neatly packaged for us. the unsatisfying conclusion to the mage-templar schism in inquisition is inconsequential. who the player chose to HEAD THE SOUTHERN CHANTRY as divine is deliberately made irrelevant. the dwarves are still isolated and ignorant of their origins save for harding (assuming she doesn't end up killed) and a single closed-off group. and the slaves in tevinter (again, mostly elves)? conveniently kept out of sight and conversation when we finally get to minrathous. everything that happened to fenris to make him the character he is, arguably the most impactful and sympathetic out of all the da2 companions, is not even addressed, much less tackled. all of it is swept under the rug.

i wanted dragon age: dreadwolf. i wanted a solid conclusion to a story almost 20 years in the making. a dragon age reboot might even have been a great idea somewhere down the line, but this was not the game to do it with. it was supposed to be a sequel and they couldn't even get that right. did i enjoy parts of it? of course! i finished it! but i won't be doing it again. the game clearly intends you to, considering a significant portion is locked away by decisions players are forced to make pretty early on, but i can't make myself do it. it makes me way too sad.

i could go on about how i, a queer and nonbinary adult fan, thought their handling of gender and LGBTQIA+ identities was heavy-handed, infantilizing, and felt so out of place within the setting it makes easy fodder for the "woke=broke" crowd that wouldn't have been receptive to queer rep anyway, but that would need to be another post in itself. not to mention the romance! unfortunate that i chose to romance lucanis not knowing his is now notorious for a lack of content, meaningful dialogue, pacing, and actual development. i won't even get to see the other romances in comparison because, as i have said, i will not be replaying.

[nullbojack]

The drama is everything wrong with the Eternitydev community

This post will be long as I'm listing every wrong doing this community has done. For almost 2 years I've been watching this drama and I am just annoyed and disappointed how childish this community is. Even MrDrNose doesn't behave like a mature adult like he should.

I won't name any of the cuprite behind the harassment and death threats because this will just incite more drama. 1. Malicious harassment and slander of the Doc writer who is 16 years old! The person who wrote the document known as the "MrDrNose and the Eternitydev Community Exposed" is "Proto-Kaiden". Who is a minor who wrote the document to call out the wrong doing of the community after they were bullied and harassed out of there.

Of course it wasn't about the harassment. As it shared some other topics such as the concerning choices the developer has made toward the game (Inserting more easter eggs and a repeated 'fetish inserts' of a character instead of focusing more on building the game more), or the time the moderators refused to ban an exposed pedophile from their server after numerous minors were sexually harassed. Now these are concerns that needed to be brought up, and some people have agreed that this is something that need to be resolved. However there are a terribly amount of fans who responded with harassments and threats. These people were upset to see a document on their developer and decided to stalk and harass this minor and continually send threats, insults and tried to spread lies about them to try and get more people to harass them. They even made a subreddit which had around 40 - 50 members all dedicated to try and "Remove Kaiden". Thankfully it was banned, but the fact people went this far over a document is disgusting and not okay. We are supposed to be a "Mature Community" yet can't behave like decent human beings and went to target a 16 year old because they wanted to silence him. They even try excuse their actions by bringing up what he done (That being that he "starts fight in the server" however when I look into this, this is not true and that its the mods who started fights about him for doing almost anything,) or just making up baseless claims.

They even went as far to slander him of being a PEDO with no proof.

Of course it wasn't just Kaiden that they targeted, they targeted people who would take his side, even people who wanted to stay away from the drama were harassed because they agree with the document. This isn't okay and that needs to stop. What make this bad is that MrDrNose enables this behavior and pretends this isn't happening despite many people bringing this up. Not only that he even punish those who goes against the harassment.

On the Eternitydev Wiki three people (one of which is a mod) got banned because they argued with an individual who has been trying to harass Kaiden. Unfortunately I do not have the screenshot of the entire thread as it was removed, but I remember the people that got banned from that thread who called out the harasser for their behavior.

2. MrDrNose had the chance to resolve this drama with Kaiden but choose to throw it away and ghosted the drama.

The biggest disappointment is that MrDrNose have enable this drama to continue. Early this year he was confronted by his own fans on Itch.io (it was a crappy drama that happen over a ingame file titled 'Ariral sex treehouse',) that he could discuss this with Kaiden and resolve this issue so that everybody can be satisfied. He said he will give it a try. However he didn't do anything to even talk to him and actually ghosted the situation and try to keep people from talking about it. As shown by Kaiden himself, Nose did not dm him on twitter or discord.

This actually annoyed me but this drama is still happening because MrDrNose did not want to confront about it and settle it. When it was asked if he did contact Kaiden, Nose would make claims that he did but that he would claim that Kaiden was demanding. He did not provide any screenshots to prove that he did contacted Kaiden and was accused of lying to try and keep the drama going. MrDrNose would respond by banning a few accounts from the comment format and he would change the Itch.Io comment format and have his moderators delete any comments that asked about the drama. It is completely shitty for MrDrNose to let the drama continue for a long time without ACTUALLY trying anything to resolve it peacefully and instead hides from it enable weird people to harass people who goes on the Document's side. What MrDrNose did wrong is enable a conflict that could of been ended so much earlier if he actually care to end it. Instead he ghosted it and let people be harassed over it. I don't even get why he would let this continue. Does he like the drama? Does he like negative attention? Either way, This just hurts the entire community and it's reputation and that will affect the game's popularity because people will be turned off from wanting to share content about VotV because of this hostile and toxic community full of overzealous man-babies who will fight to the end of the earth until Kaiden is gone from the internet.

I don't think I need to explain what he should of done to make a better outcome. It's obvious what he should of done instead of what he just did. 3. MrDrNose is immature and it becomes a problem. MrDrNose's is undeniably immature, and this lack of maturity has caused some issues which make people turn on him. Instead of acting like an adult, he acts like a complete child and antagonize people. For a while now he's been confronted by old fans who has issues regarding if he will ever truly remake the game "Advanced Education with Viktor Strobovski" like he said he would. These fans have lost their trust with MrDrNose after he suddenly deleted 'AEwVS specific channels' and made the server entirely VotV focused. Because of this, fans go out to call him out. And MrDrNose would respond the worse way possible by threatening to delete AEwVS off the face of the earth.

And surprise! This causes more conflict in the community.

My next example of how immature is that he degrade people who call him out, referring to them to be "Mentally ill".

This just make everyone see him as an ableist assholes. Which he is an asshole. Just calling people mentally ill as a way to cope with being called out for his flaws is unprofessional at best and will make people turn on him more for acting this way. One last example of his immaturity is when he told about why he is getting hated.

I don't really need to point out why this is immature. If he sees issues about himself such as "sexualizing characters in public channels" (Inside of a discord server that have members below the age of 17) and "Backstabbing his older fans" as something that "only children will care about," it just make everyone look at him as someone who is not to be trusted if he does not recognize what is right or wrong. It actually pisses me off how a grown ass man cannot acknowledge to why people turn on him and act confused and mad about it and resort to calling them "children" and "mentally ill" for it.

MrDrNose actually need to rethink how he's been behaving and need to learn that lashing out like this will make things worse for himself. The best salutation is to listen to people and respond like a reasonable adult instead of a child. Instead of threatening to delete a game to keep old fans hush hush about it. He should instead reassure that eventually he will remake the game, and I think the best way to convince the old fans to trust him is to share hints of ideas of what he may add in the Remake of AEwVS. Instead of treating issues about his server as nothing but "something that children only care about," he should instead admit that these things are wrong and that he should do better and make sure to not make these mistakes again.

If he continue to behave like this, the game might as well be doom to fail if he can't get his crap together and behave like an adult. People can and will get sick and tired of this and will move onto another game that will explode in popularity. I already know that tons of people have move on from the game. The game ain't exactly being developed properly. Sure it does get updated that add a few major changes, but along in the update are just a dozen "Easter eggs and secrets" that doesn't even need to be added. The game has enough secret easter eggs yet MrDrNose still add 23 more easter eggs in the game despite it not even being necessary. I find it to be kinda lazy if the developer works on these "Major updates" and half of it is just a dozen easter eggs.

It gets very annoying and get people tired of having all this crap be shoved into the game instead of real content such as new Entities, Signals and events. MrDrNose honestly should actually work on the game where he adds more entities and signals instead of making 25 easters eggs. There is ENOUGH easter eggs in the game. 4. Why am I making this post? I'm just completely tired of people being completely ignorant and going around hurting others. People need to grow up and just accept that these are real issues that can't be shrugged off, and not going around throwing baseless pedo accusation to harm a minor for writing a document. The only way the community can become better if the people in it become better human beings that behave civilized and understanding, while the bad ones get exiled from the fanbase. And I wanted to point out to MrDrNose that he should grow up and learn to stop behaving like this child that get cranky that they get called out for not being perfect. If you are reading this, MrDrNose. There is no question that your game is great. However, just because your game is great doesn't mean you can't make mistakes. You remain accountable for your deeds, the conduct of the community, and the consequences that result. Give up trying to prove that you did nothing wrong and simply acknowledge that you made poor decisions and that you need to improve. Is that really difficult? The popularity of your game will suffer as a result of the many bad actors in your community has done. Plenty of people have already left the community because of a lack of hope or interest. You can still make an effort to show people that you're going to do much better and make changes that will hopefully make a much better future for the people in the community. The best way to start is by settling this drama.

[literaticat]

Hi Jenn. Can I ask you some info about “cozy” mysteries? I’m part of a writers group and recently shared some details about the plot of my novel and others in the group keep throwing around this term in relation to my book. Thing is I’m not sure if what I’ve written is a cozy mystery. I mean, it sort of is but also not. It’s a murder mystery and it’s set in a cozy UK village but it’s also kind of dark, with themes dealing with grief and thriller elements. I’m also querying UK agents to start with before I query US ones and while it looks like the term is maybe international I’m also wondering if it’s more US than UK? My comps are Agatha Christie, esp her Poirot novels which I see some saying online are cozy and others saying aren’t cozy, plus modern authors like Graham Norton and Tom Hindle. I know I can ask some of this in my group but I’m embarrassed to as I don’t know if I’ve written a cozy or not or given it’s kind of darker, if I’ve just written a murder mystery. I know this isn’t your area but if you could help me I’d really appreciate it, thank you.

With the caveats that I don't rep adult mysteries, I don't really read adult mysteries, I don't know anything about the market for adult mysteries in the US *or* the UK, nor what terminology is in use for the UK since I am not in the UK? Uh. Sure.

In my opinion, there are four main attributes for a proper cozy.

A cozy mystery must:

Feature an amateur sleuth. In other words -- the main character's JOB is not to solve crimes -- they are not a cop or P.I. or FBI agent or forensic pathologist or whatever. They may be a reporter or a novelist or a little old lady who happens to have a passion for puzzles -- they may be a kooky barista or bookstore owner or chef or something totally not-crime related!

Have a charming setting. By that I mean, warm, cute, safe-feeling -- say, a village/hamlet/vicarage called Button-on-Twee with a delightfully quirky cast of characters. The kind of place you want to take a weekend vacation to. (Not all villages/small towns are like that. Plenty of REAL small towns are in fact impoverished and bleak -- that wouldn't be the case in a cozy small town). It doesn't HAVE to be a village, it could be something like a hotel, vacation resort, or on a large yacht or something -- as long as it's charming/lovely. If it is set in a city, it would be like a pocket-neighborhood within a city. Like, maybe there's a darling B&B and a brownstone full of chatty neighbors and pets on a street that has a kindly greengrocer and a bookstore etc -- and we stay in that little corner of town, far away from skyscrapers and dangerous bits. It would be much harder, IMO, for a cozy to be set on like, a remote and isolated desert planet or farm in the middle of nowhere with no neighbors or something -- those things are not cozy!

Be "clean" -- ie, no explicit sex or grisly violence on page. Obvs there may be romance/relationships, love/kissing, etc if you want, but it will be closed-door, ie, the actual uh... graphic bonking stuff may be implied but will not be shown. Obvs there may be murders, but think, like, the level of violence on Murder She Wrote -- MAYBE we see an assailant whack somebody on the head or something like that -- but when bodies are shown, they are rather discreetly presented, or are discovered off-screen. They aren't showing twisted bodies or guts and gore and maggots in eyes and whatnot, yanno?

Be comforting and satisfying. Like, idk, it's just a vibe. Though there may be murder and light mayhem and delving into some of the darker parts of the human psyche (after all, MURDER, hello!) -- and the reader may certainly experience SUSPENSE (how will our hero get out of this jam?!) -- they will not experience TERROR. The reader knows they are in good hands and that the problems will be satisfyingly resolved and the main character will be OK at the end. They should come away from the book feeling satisfied, with a smile, not upset or stressed out.

If your book ticks ALL of those boxes, you can deffo call it a cozy.

If it ticks 3/4, like, it's sorta borderline 4, as long as the vibe is still comforting, it still could potentially be a cozy, but at the end of the day: If you don't think it's cozy, that's fine. Just... don't call it cozy then! Call it a mystery and then describe it and put the comps and let people come to their own conclusions.

(FWIW, Miss Marple is an amateur sleuth whose books are mostly set in a small town or vacation destinations -- Hercule Poirot is a former cop and professional detective whose books are set all over the map, literally. So by my definition, Poirot books are not cozies. Marple books might be -- but I haven't read them, so IDK about the vibe!)

[solarhysm]

THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE | PARK JIMIN

one shot

> summary: you lost the love of your life, but you will forever be his.

> pairing: jimin x reader (+taehyung)

> genre: angst

> warnings: death, mention of blood, grief, accident, swearing (i'm not good with warning)

> word count: 2k

read it with 'The Night We Met' by Lord Huron xx

*french writer, i apologize in advance for my awful english!

You giggle, pushing him away when his fingers tickle your bare ribs. A soft smile spreads across his lips as he props himself up on his shoulder to look at you.

“What?” you ask softly, using your arm as a pillow, your eyes never leaving his.

“How long do you think we’ll live together?” he whispers, leaning in to nuzzle his nose against your cheek.

“I don’t know. We’re in our twenties. Maybe fifty more years,” you reply, tracing the plump curve of his lips with your thumb.

Jimin leans his face into your palm, closing his eyes slowly. You’ve been together for almost a decade now. You met him at a party when you were twenty, and now you’re almost thirty. You’ve built a life together and even plan to have a baby in a few years.

“Nah, I want us to live until we’re over a hundred years old,” he grins, and you huff playfully.

“People that age don’t even remember their own names,” you laugh, mirroring his position.

You’re both lying in bed, still riding the high of the orgasm you had a few minutes ago. Pillow talk is your favorite part—both of you could spend hours lying on the mattress, talking about everything. Jimin loves to touch you; his hands are never far from your skin during these moments.

“I’ll remember yours,” he adds sincerely. Your eyes soften at his words, and you lean in to kiss his lips. He slowly deepens the kiss, making you smile against his mouth as he rolls on top of you.

Adoration. That’s what you feel for this man. He is the love of your life.

Was. He was the love of your life.

Your eyes never leave the metal coffin as it disappears into the incinerator. Your brain can’t process that he’s really gone. Your shaky hands tighten around the picture frame with his smiling face. How are you supposed to live without him now? How are you supposed to breathe without your lungs?

From the moment you got the call until now, you’ve dissociated. It’s just a bad dream—a nightmare. Any moment now, you’ll wake up and he’ll be beside you, comforting you in his arms, pulling you against his chest so you can find refuge in his warmth.

Swallowing hard, you remain standing in front of the glass wall. Half of the people have already left. Most of them didn’t know him the way you did. His mother is sitting on the bench behind you, silently sobbing. You wish you could comfort her, but Jimin was the one who was good at that—drying people’s tears and making them feel better. It was a gift he had. You wish you could enjoy that warmth it right now. But no. He’s in there, burning like a fucking steak on a grill.

What now? How are you supposed to learn to live without him? He’s everywhere in the house you bought together. His scent, his toothbrush on the sink, his side of the bed. His clothes are still on the couch, where you repeatedly told him to put them in the laundry basket. You always complained about it. Now, all you want is to see him throw them there after a long day at work.

“Are you okay?” you hear Taehyung ask next to you, his hand resting on the small of your back.

Am I, Taehyung? you want to snap, but no words come out. You know he’s just worried—he’s grieving too. He lost his best friend.

“Let’s go eat something,” he says softly, but you don’t move. You know you should. Everyone is in the next room, eating, drinking, talking. You hate it. Why aren’t they mourning him? Why are they all getting drunk while he’s in there?

But you know it would be disrespectful not to join them. Jimin would be upset if you stayed here alone, and his friends know that too. You turn to look at them, all waiting for you, while half the people here have already gone to the ‘goodbye gathering.’ His six closest friends close the distance between you.

And when you swore you weren’t going to cry again, they wrap you in a group hug. The tears fall uncontrollably as you break down into a crying mess. You hate them for it. You hate the world for taking away the only good thing you ever had. They hold you until your sobs fade.

“Come on, Y/N,” Hobi whispers when they step back. You wipe your wet cheeks and take a deep breath before nodding.

The boys sit you down at a table away from the others. They know you didn’t want to socialize—not when most people here didn’t even know his favorite food or how his laugh could light up a whole room.

“He didn’t even know half of these people,” Yoongi mutters, like he’s reading your mind. “Why are they even here?”

“They’re his parents’ close friends... and a few people he met before,” Namjoon explains as he pours you a glass of water.

“I didn’t know this was his parents’ funeral,” Yoongi retorts, rolling his eyes. Your lips twitch into a slight smile. You’re grateful for Yoongi’s sharp tongue.

You were against inviting so many people. You told his mother when she made the list. But she yelled at you, insisting it was her son’s funeral and she knew best. You stayed silent, too exhausted to argue. Jimin has…had only a few close people, and they’re all here, sitting with you.

“We’ll still be here, you know,” Namjoon says, placing his hand over yours and squeezing it gently. “For you.”

“I’m okay,” you reply quietly, your eyes falling to the glass of water in front of you.

Taehyung watches you, biting the inside of his cheek. You know they’re all worried that you might do something drastic. Maybe they’re not wrong. That’s why Taehyung suggested staying at your place a few days ago. It’s hard for him too, but you were half of Jimin’s soul. He can’t imagine what’s going on in your head.

You take a deep breath and wipe your sweaty hands on the yellow dress you’re wearing. It was Jimin’s favorite. You bought it online in a different color, but it arrived in this horrible yellow. Still, he made you try it on, and he loved it. You rarely wore it, only sometimes to make him smile, though he always complimented you for no reason.

It was hard to get out of bed today, let alone shower. When you saw that awful yellow dress, you started sobbing. You should have worn it more often. Now, wearing it helps you feel like he’s with you, in some way. It comforts you to think that he’d like the gesture—to see you one last time in his favorite dress.

You stayed longer after everyone else had gone. Taehyung sat beside you in silence. Your eyes couldn’t leave the picture surrounded by flowers. That’s all he is now—a frame. You close your eyes and exhale softly.

“Hi,” someone says, making you frown as you look up from your drink.

“Hi,” you reply to the guy smiling at you.

He looks nice. His hair is bleached, but somehow the blonde color suits him. The mysterious man wets his plump lips before sitting next to you.

“I’m Jimin,” he says with a smile, offering his hand. You shake it.

“Y/N.”

“I’m not a creep, I swear,” Jimin defends himself immediately, making you laugh. “I just… shit, I’m not good at this. I saw you sitting alone.”

“And you pity me because I look pathetic by myself?” you joke, and he shakes his head, eyes wide.

“No! I—I thought you were beautiful and I worked up all the courage I had to come talk to you. I didn’t want to miss my chance and regret it later,” he says, and you press your lips together, trying not to smile. “But if I’m bothering you, I’ll leave. I swear.”

“You’re not,” you reply, tilting your head toward him. It’s hard to believe someone like him would be interested in someone as boring as you.

“Awesome,” Jimin grins, turning more toward you. “What’s your poison? I’m paying.”

“Y/N?” Taehyung’s voice pulls you back to the present as you blink a few times before looking at him. “They’re closing. Let’s go home. You must be tired.”

Your eyes drift to Jimin’s picture for a few seconds. You take a deep breath and stand up. Taehyung walks over to the frame and picks it up. He offers you his arm as you step outside. It’s already dark. And cold. But you’re not surprised—it’s November. How many more Novembers will pass before the pain numbs, like your frozen fingers?

two months later

“Are you sure?” your friend asks, frowning as you stare at the streetlight surrounded by bouquets of flowers and notes through the car window.

“I need to,” you reply to Taehyung, and he nods, turning off the engine while you clutch your flowers to your chest.

It’s snowing outside. You hear the crunch of snow under your boots with every step you take. It’s been two and a half months since that day. Your bottom lip trembles as your eyes land on a picture of him with your mutual friends.

You were on the phone with him that night. He was telling you he was almost home, that he couldn’t wait to see you. He didn’t see the car. The drunk driver didn’t see him either. He left Jimin bleeding on the ground. How long was he there, alone? How long did he wait before someone found him? Why didn’t you stay on the phone with him?

You place the bouquet in the snow, biting the inside of your cheek. It’s still so fresh. Sometimes you wake up at night and call for him, like he just went to get a glass of water. But no one appears in the doorway. Just you, alone in the dark.

“Selfish,” you whisper, smiling softly as your fingers trace his face in the picture, the way they used to trace his lips. “You said we’d live until we turned a hundred.”

Taehyung stands behind you, pinching his lips together to keep from sobbing. He wants to stay strong for you, but this place makes him break down. He hides his face in his arm, but you can still hear him. You don’t turn to look. You know you’ll cry too.

And four more winters passed before you felt the warmth of spring. It was unexpected—it just happened. Two broken hearts coming together, fixing each other’s pieces. Jimin’s mother hated you for moving on from her son with his best friend. But Taehyung was the shoulder you cried on, and you were his. It was never the plan for either of you. He never saw you like that when you were with Jimin, and you never imagined him as a love interest. It took almost five years.

“I dreamed about him last night,” Taehyung says, and you freeze, the water still running, a dirty plate in your hand. He doesn’t need to say the name—you know. Jimin’s picture hangs in your living room, along with other memories of him around the house.

“Did he kick your ass?” you reply softly as you continue washing the dishes. Taehyung walks over, leaning his hip against the counter. He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear and stares at you.

“He said he would if I ever made you cry,” he replies, making you laugh. That sounds like him. “I told him he’s the one who made you cry the most, and he punched me.”

“You deserved that one.”

“Right. He said he’s glad it’s me and not some asshole… He said that you better live until you’re a hundred years old. I woke up and cried,” Taehyung adds, his voice shaky. You turn to him, your breath catching in your throat.

Wiping your hands on your jeans, you wrap your arms around his waist and hug him. Taehyung sighs softly, kissing the top of your head, his arms holding you close. You don’t really believe in things like this, but the way he described the dream… you know it’s his last goodbye.

Alright. I wrote it two days ago, i wanted it to be longer but i think i cried enough while writing it. It's my first one shot, but don't worry, i'll make happier stories in the future haha. tell me what you think about it, i can't wait to read your reactions!!