#apparently I draw best under other pressure

[luludeluluramblings]

Socialite!BatSis!Reader x Yandere!Bat Family

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Hi! I don't know where the fuck this came from. But, it has plagued me for months. Inspired by Labour and the Fruits by Paris Palmoa, Please Don't Cry for Your Daughters Eve by Lydia the Bard, and Curses by the Crane Wives. This my attempt at being dark, so either this fucks you up or I fucked up. Apologies for both.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Implied assault, neglect, yandere themes at the end

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You got the Wayne looks, the Wayne charm, the Wayne name, but you’re fragile. Bruce would tell you. Damian would tell you. (Not so kindly.) Everyone in the manor would tell you.

But, charm and good looks still have their uses. And, everyone in the family despises all the galas they need to attend.

So, when Bruce offers to take you to one, you up the charm, you dress your best. You use your finest manners and all the proper ways your Momma raised you to your advantage. And, you flourish.

You can tell from the slight smile Bruce has on his face on the way home. The hint of pride in his eyes at your job well done.

You can’t help your family or Gotham as a Bat. But, you can help them as a Wayne.

The socialite. That’s your roll. Not a bird, not a bat. A little social butterfly. Drawing the public attention away from the things that go bump in the night.

You like your role. Sure, you're not bounding over the Gotham skyline saving people from muggers and insanely themed villains. But, you're helping your family, and that's what matters to you.

At least, that's how it starts.

It was special to you in the beginning. Going to charity gala's and events with your father, Bruce. No one else in the family enjoys going to these events. It was your own personal father and daughter bonding time, in a way.

But, as you got older the pressure started and the distance between you and the others grew.

You were a music box ballerina. Spinning in place to the same tune over and over again while sitting on a dusty shelf. And, Bruce would wind you up to dance every time he need his social butterfly to charm Gotham's public.

Soon you had a whole team of faceless people picking out your dresses, changing your style, cutting your hair. You couldn't be anything less than a vain air-headed heiress, because that was your role. Brucie needed someone to follow in his footsteps, not Batman.

The dresses got more expensive, the flashes got brighter. The diets got stricter.

And, the distance grew farther.

And, then Bruce stopped going with you to the galas.

You weren't upset the first time. Or, the second time. Or, even the third time.

It was the fourth time that things started to crack.

Sure, Batman was needed. Sure, there was Justice League business. Sure, there was a patrol that ran late. Sure, there was a breakout at Arkham.

But, the fourth time, when you found him and the rest of the family laughing in the cave, it really didn't feel like they were focusing on the good of Gotham while you were struggling to smile sweetly at men twice Bruce's age wanting to take you home.

Still, you powered on. Kept doing your part. You were making the family proud afterall.

Right?

It was the ninth time it happened that you broke.

The nineth time you had gone to a gala alone in an expensive dress you didn't pick, one that showed off way too much skin. One that seemed to tell everyone in that grand ballroom that you were up for the taking. One that just barely hid the bruises from their fingers and palms under the fabric.

You wore that placating smile and that dress all the way home. With a driver you didn't know at the wheel of the car Bruce sent for you. The backseat empty even if you sat on it.

When you got home, you walk in on something that made each cracked piece of you ache.

Apparently it was game night. Everyone that mattered was playing Mario cart of all things.

"Look at that Cinderella’s back from the ball." Jason was the first to notice you standing in the doorway of the room. And, his words burned.

Cinderella. Cinderella. Back from the Ball.

"Hey, glad you’re back. Hope you had fun." Dick didn't even glance at you as he spoke, took focused on beating Stephanie who had her tongue sticking out as she concentrated.

"God, those galas are so boring, I don’t know how you do it." Duke says in passing. It would be meaningful if he hadn't said the same thing the last six times you had come home.

Tim and Damian were also playing the game, with Tim occasionally nudging Damian to mess him up. Like typical siblings.

Barbara was in the room as well, a book on her lab to read. Only you could tell she hadn't read much, judging from where her book mark was located.

"Good job." Bruce says absentmindedly. You can't even tell if its directed at you or at the blueshell Damian just managed to hit Dick's racer with.

Words don't even leave your lips as you exit the doorway, pieces of you falling to the floor as you wobble to your room.

Cinderella. Cinderella.

The clock striking twelve in your mind as you feel the rotten pumpkin sinking in your gut and the magic wearing off.

You don't notice that Cassandra seems to hear it too as she watches you. Like she can hear the shards falling to the ground. And, she's unsure if she needs to warn the family that something just broke down the hall.

As you enter your room, taking in the fancy decor. It feels disgusting. The magic is gone. It's all rotten and you want it gone.

Cinderella. Cinder. Cinder.

Your tear the fabric of the dress as you take it off. Tears falling down your cheeks s you struggle against the fabric and clasp. Expensive gemstones falling to the floor as your finally rip it free.

There bruises under your dress. Finger prints on your bones. And, you're choking on air as the fabric rubs your skin as it falls to the floor. The fabric ripples like water and you hate it. You want the opposite of cool rippling water. Water drowns, and you need air.

Your skin feels to hot and each bruise burns.

Cinder. Cinder.

You're Cinderella and you crave ashes. You need air, but smoke will do instead.

Instead of letting it lay on the ground like it's dead, you throw open that grand window in your room and chuck it out the window. Watching as it flutters and falls to the grass in a heap, the breeze doing nothing to cool your anger on and underneath.

It’s not enough. Not enough. It's not going to be enough.

More. Cinderella. Give it more.

Your closet door was cracked when you left for the gala tonight. Now you break it the rest of the way and grab each hanger carrying a pretty dress in a bag and throw it over the ledge.

Still not enough. Needs more ash.

Cinderella. Cinderella.

You break you dresser as you rip out the drawers. The wood splintering as you throw it out the window and on to the pile of dresses on the night dew covered grass.

You want to throw more, but you chest is heaving and your hands are shaking. Instead you stumble out of your room with just the bruises on your skin and towards the kitchen. You don't even hear the pans and cabinets doors slamming as you search for the matches.

Before you can find your light, you find a bottle of fancy wine. One that reminded you of the smell of this night.

You grab it, not caring that another bottle falls and shatters by your feet. Drawing attention, but not yours, as you finally find the matches and wobble out the door towards your pile of soon to be ash.

Cinderella. Cinderella.

You're laughing as you shatter the bottle on to the fabric. Lighting up a single match and then throwing the entire box at it the pile.

It catches light quick and the air around you finally matches the heat under your skin.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You can barely hear Bruce's voice from behind you as your laugh. Turing to face him and the rest of the family's horrified faces at the sight of you.

You can barely restrain the giggles.

“I’m Cinderella. Cinder fucking Ella.” You spin like the little figurine you are. Like the pretty paper ballerina before she burst into flame.

Bruce rushes towards you, words spilling from his lips as terrifying thoughts fill his head at the sight of the bruises illuminating your skin.

“What happened tonight?”

“You would know if you had been there. But, you weren't. You never are.”

“Listen, you said you liked the galas-“ Excuses, excuses. You made enough for him and the rest of them in your own head that you don't want to hear more spoken out loud.

“I did! I did! But, that was when I had my father there to keep me safe.” You mock, spinning out of reach and looking at the flames.

They don't last long. The wood from your broken dresser drawers the only thing keeping the fire going. The expensive fabric not lasting long at all. Pretty things rarely ever do.

“But, no. I’m just another little one of your pawns in this family. Only you didn’t fuckin’ train me on how to fight off wandering hands. You taught me that I just had to grin and bare it.” Bitterness trips from your lips as you wipe of that sweet tasting wine from the night off your mouth.

“What happened?” His voice almost shakes. Almost, but not quite. You were the fragile one. The paper ballerina. The little Cinderella of the family.

You weren't suppose to break under his care.

But, was there any care if he let you fall from the shelf after he so haphazardiously placed you on it between uses?

“I’m not a whore.” You whisper to yourself. Words that had been dying to say to the hands that touches to tonight. Words that you wanted to shove down the throats of the strangers that pinched your skin, that gripped you too tight and too close.

“I’M NOT A WHORE!” Instead you scream it at him. Uncaring if you don't look pretty and perfect while doing it. Uncaring if your voice cracks from the way the emotion bubbles from your chest.

Startling enough, Bruce wraps his arms around you. Like he was trying to shield you. Like he was trying to keep you safe. Like he should have done. It feels awkward and tight. Your arms pressed tightly to your chest at an awkward angle. Your legs giving out at you sob and scream at him.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t you touch me. Let me go— I don’t want you to touch me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m— I’m so sorry.” His whispers over into your hair as he clutches you close. So close that you feel more bruises forming on your skin.

Cinderella. Cinderella.

“I’m not—" Your voice breaking as you wail. Like the child you are in his arms.

Through your tears you watch Dick turn away, followed by the others. Cass lingering to brush your hair back as Bruce holds you tight.

You don't see his fist clench so tight his knuckles turn white.

You don't hear the silence in the cave as Jason changes out the bullets in his gun.

You don't feel the chill in the air as Damian scouts out the fancy house.

You don't feel the fear of God that Tim puts into grown men as that watch their wealthy drain to zero before their eyes on screens.

You don't watch as Barbara makes a few calls and plants evidence of crimes that can't be covered up.

You don't see Stephanie ripping out teeth.

You don't see Duke letting Gotham go dark as terror reigns for that one long night and day.

You just see Bruce, holding you close and apologize over and over again while Alfred puts out the flames behind you.

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A/N: Yeah, I love the thought of Reader being the one to be the Socialite Wayne while everyone does vigilante stuff. But, interacting with Gotham’s elite would suck so much and so many things could go wrong.

A/N: Apologies if I missed the mark with it or if it’s all over the place.

A/N: I just really loved the imagery of standing in front of a fire of expensive burning dresses while screaming at Bruce naked as the day you were born much to the rest of the family’s horror.

[urlibragirl]

summary : you and eren were childhood friends, but you guys drifted apart. One day, Eren decide to stick the pieces back.

warnings/content : mdni!, fem!reader, jealous!eren, eren is a virgin, little bit of angst, p in v intercourse, unprotected sex, oral sex(m receiving)

word count : 1271

Sighing heavily, Eren rubbed his forehead as he tried to recall the events leading up to your falling out. You guys had been inseparable during childhood, always playing together and sharing secrets. But somewhere along the line, things changed. 

He remembered the day clearly, it was after Jean had joined your group of friends. There was something different about you, you seemed happier, more confident. And yet, at the same time, she seemed distant too. Like there was part of herself that kept hidden even from him.

Grinning widely, you clapped your hands excitedly as you talked to your friends about the tv-show you watched the night before. Your laugh echoed through the hallways, drawing attention from everyone around you.

You may have been known for being somewhat wild and carefree, but there was no denying that people enjoyed being around you. Even though Eren preferred quieter gathering, he couldn’t help but admire your ability to light up any room you entered. Watching you interact with others made your heart ache just a little bit more. 

He wished things could go back to how they used to be, but he knew that ship had sailed long ago. Instead, he forced himself to focus on his studies, hoping that one day he might finally gain control over his feelings. Little did he know, your paths were destined to cross again under unexpected circumstances.

One fateful evening during winter break, Armin hosted a party at his place which included most members of their original friendship circle. Despite initially declining due to personal reasons, Eren eventually caved in under pressure from Mikasa and Jean who insisted he needed some time off studying. Reluctantly agreeing, he arrived at Armin’s house.

As the night wore on and the party reached its peak, Eren found himself drawn to you, despite the animosity that had grown between you two over the years. With a determined stride, he made his way through the crowd until he stood in front of you, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Hey," he said, trying to keep his voice casual despite the butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

You glanced at him, “Oh, hey Eren,” you answered “It’s been a long time.”

You guys stood in awkward silence for a moment, the weight of your unresolved issues hanging heavy in the air.

“Look, I didn’t mean to ignore you or act like a jerk. It’s just that seeing you with Jean made me realize how much I missed having you around. We were best friends since forever, and suddenly, you were gone. I tried to move on, but my heart wouldn’t listen. So yeah, maybe I acted immaturely sometimes, but deep down, I was hurting too.” 

Your eyes widened in surprise as you listened to Eren pouring his heart out. You hadn’t expected such honesty from him. For once, he sounded vulnerable instead of aloof. “There’s also something I need to tell you,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper. “Something I’ve been wanting to say for quite a while now…” You paused for effect, taking a deep breath before continuing.

“The truth is, I’m in love with you. From the moment we met all those years ago, I knew there was something special between us. And as time went by, that feeling only grew stronger.” you finally said.

“But what about Jean?” Eren asked with a surprised tone. “Oh, with Jean it wasn’t anything serious,” you said. “It’s going to sound horrible but both of us needed someone to forget about the friend they were in love with, me with you and him with Mikasa, but apparently it wasn’t really effective”

“So why didn’t you say something?” he asked. “Well, I could ask the same thing to you Eren?” you answered, teasing him a little bit.

“I guess I was just scared,” he admitted sheepishly. “ Afraid that maybe you really had moved on without me – I’ve missed you Y/N,” he confessed, his voice shaking. “More than you’ll ever know”.

As your faces drew closer, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of intense emotion. Your hearts raced in unison, beating wildly against your chests as you prepared yourselves for whatever laid ahead.  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, your lips met in a tender, passionate kiss.

It was as if all the pent-up frustration and sorrow from your tumultuous past had suddenly vanished, replaced by a powerful wave of desire and affection. Time stood still as you were both lost in the moment, savoring every second of your long-awaited reunion. 

When you guys finally pulled apart, you gazed into each other's eyes, lost in the depths of each other's souls. "I love you, Eren," you whispered, your voice shaking slightly with emotion. "And I love you too, Y/N," he replied, his voice equally strained.

As your lips parted, Eren found himself struggling to catch his breath. This was new territory for him; he had never experienced such intense passion before. He looked into your eyes, wondering if she felt the same way. 

To his relief, he saw a mix of lust and tenderness reflected back at him. Gently guiding you towards the nearby bedroom, he led you inside and closed the door behind you. The room was dimly lit, casting eerie shadows across the walls. 

Undressing each other slowly, you were revealed in the sight of each other's naked forms for the first time. Despite being a virgin, Eren couldn't hide his excitement or nervousness. You sensed his apprehension and decided to take charge. 

Kneeling down beside him, you ran your hands up his thighs, stopping just short of his erection. Looking into his eyes, you gave him a reassuring smile before taking him into your mouth. Eren let out a moan as you teased him expertly, sucking gently on his cock while running your tongue along its length. 

Overwhelmed by pleasure, he reached down to touch your hair, encouraging you to continue. As you worked him over with your skilled tongue, he couldn't help but wonder how lucky he was to have found someone like you. 

Meanwhile, you moved up to straddle Eren's lap, grinding your hips against him suggestively. You wanted this to be special for him, and you intended to make sure it was. Slowly lowering yourself onto his hardened member, you gasped as you felt him slide inside your wet folds. It was tighter than he expected, but in a good way. 

You began moving up and down, meeting his thrusts halfway as you both sought release. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the air, punctuated by gasps of pleasure from both parties involved. Eren grabbed hold of your hips, pulling you closer as he buried himself deeper inside your warmth with each stroke. 

Your rhythm became faster and more urgent as you neared climax. Just when it felt like neither of you could take another moment, you both cried out in ecstasy, your bodies shuddering together as you reached orgasm simultaneously.

"Oh god," Eren groaned, his voice hoarse from exertion. "That was incredible." He pulled you closer, burying his face in your neck as he savored the scent of your skin. "I don't think I've ever felt anything like that before." You smiled contentedly, tracing gentle circles on his back. "Oh don’t worry, we're just getting started." 

With renewed energy, you two began exploring each other's bodies once more, lost in the heat of the moment. Every touch sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, heightening your senses and deepening your connection. 

a/n : i wrote this at 2 a.m, so there might be grammar mistakes sorry

[im14andivebeen14foramonth]

ADHD CURTIS BROTHERS HCS PLEASEEEEE 🙏

YESSS I FUCK WITH THIS HEAVY

Ponyboy

pony's most apparent symptom is his inattentiveness. his head is always up in the clouds, and he spends a looot of time daydreaming

very very very forgetful, mostly about his own needs. he'll go days without brushing his teeth if darry doesn't remind him

pony has a bad habit of zoning out while looking directly at people, so they just look over and his eyes are like wide and glazed over and staring into their souls. it especially freaks steve out for some reason. "QUIT STARING AT ME LIKE THAT!!" "huh?"

he can't get himself to do his homework in a timely manner. he works best under pressure and so he'll just procrastinate it until the night before it's due and then he locks in

when he does lock in like that, he's practically dead to the world. bro forgets to eat and drink and move his body for like hours at a time until darry or soda makes him get up and he's just like "ow. ow. ow. everything hurts"

he's still hyperactive though and it drives darry crazy sometimes. when he's with the rest of the gang is when it really spikes, and he'll start running all around the house with them. darry can tell though when he needs to get his energy out because he'll just start following darry around the house and bounce around or drum his fingers on every single thing he can. when he gets like that, darry will ask him if he wants to go for a run or play football or smthn so that he can get his energy out

bro WILL hyper fixate on every single thing he's interested in, his consistent ones are books and movies, but sometimes he'll just spend hours a day thinking about one specific book or drawing one character from the latest movie he's seen

it's always a 50/50 on whether he's going to have lots of fun or get super overstimulated in different places. like in grocery stores, after a half hour he's ready to start crying and he'll usually just get quiet and not leave darry's side until they leave. but he thrives in other places like fairs and festivals, and enjoys the bright lights and loud music

he doesn't have great control over his temper. he gets frustrated super easily and will get snappy over the smallest things, but almost every time without fail it ends with him crying and feeling bad

Sodapop

this man may just be the most hyperactive person ever

he will NOT stay in one place for more than five minutes at a time. he's always running around the house, and when he does stay in one spot, he's shaking/bouncing his leg the entire time

like pony though, he gets his moments where he locks in and they're the only times that he doesn't break focus no matter what. he'll go from talking nonstop to just being dead silent as he tries to fix something on a car at work and it freaks steve out

he's so bad with rejection :( even if it's something as small as someone saying they don't like his favorite car, or they're not in the mood to talk about horses, he'll get so sad and feel like his interests are stupid

he cries a lot no matter what he's feeling. if he gets frustrated, angry, or scared, he'll start crying and his energy goes through the roof

soda is easily the most forgetful person any of the gang has ever met. he'll forget what day it is, to put shoes on, to take food out of the oven, everything. it's mostly a short-term memory issue. however, his memory will be really good for oddly specific things. steve: "remember that time I got a cold or something in like elementary school and-" "oh yeah that tuesday in october in first grade when you were wearing that red shirt and you kept sneezing during story time :)" "why do you remember that??" "I dunno"

when he gets overstimulated it's BAD. it doesn't happen often, but when it does, he'll break down in tears and refuse to speak to anyone. darry's the only one who can ever calm him down

he stims a lot, usually by playing with the hair on the back of his neck or rubbing whatever shirt he's wearing

Darry

although it may not be as obvious, darry's also on the hyperactive side. he loves football, running, swimming, anything that's high intensity and lets him get his energy out. when he doesn't have a chance to do those things, he'll usually just pace around or do a quick workout

he will drum his fingers every single time he's thinking, he's even worse than pony with it. and if he has a pen in his hand, you better believe he's clicking it nonstop. the amount of dirty looks he got in school for it was crazy

even though he gets on pony for it a lot, darry also zones out a lot. he's usually better at hiding it though, like people will be having full conversations with him and they don't realize that he was zoned out the whole time until they ask him something and he just goes "huh?"

his biggest hyper fixation has always been football. he could talk for hours and hours about any player, team, or game if someone lets him

he did great in school, but he always had to find obscure ways of remembering things for tests and quizzes, he especially did a lot of those acronym things. whenever someone asked him how he did something or remembered something, he would explain his weird system and they would be even more confused

this poor man cannot cope without a schedule. that's a part of the reason why he gets so bothered when pony isn't home at the right time, because it throws off his schedule and then his whole day is ruined

whenever he reads, he can only focus if he sort of murmurs the words the whole time, and he almost always plays with the edges of the paper to keep his focus

when he gets overstimulated, he gets snappy and loud and doesn't want a single person to touch or talk to him

he's big on vocal stims. he hums or mumbles to himself or makes random noises whenever he's trying to focus on something

[iamamythologicalcreature]

What the WIP Wednesday am I doing?

Okay, sooo apparently everyone is doing WIP Wednesday, today. (Okay maybe not the entire internet, but you know, there's a lot of wipsday action, today.) I thought, "Okay. Sure. I can get lost in this crowd. It's a good crowd."

So, I say to @alexalexinii, @monbons, @prettygoododds, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @mooncello,

@blackberrysummerblog, @fiend-for-culture, @shrekgogurt, @bookish-bogwitch, @noblecorgi,

@drowninginships, and @artsyunderstudy (who is the devil on my shoulder today apparently XD)... You are all to blame for this. Yup. Your fault. Peer pressure! (Thank you for tagging me though, I look forward to seeing what all you have happening in your creative minds. <3)

Cause. Well. I don't usually post art in progress. I'm far too anxious a person to do such a thing. It's fine if it's a sketch that's like... finished as a sketch. But in progress? *gulp*

Well, here goes.

This is what I've been working on, usually when I'm supposed to be working on something else:

Mermay!

(sorry for the low contrast, my eyes are delicate orbs that shy away from bright light...)

I did three sketches. One of which I will endeavor to color and make all nice and pretty. I've already determined it's not going to be the first one. The other two are neck-and-neck and it will likely come down to who has fins I like better. Which will it be? Tender snowbaz or playful snowbaz?

(Either way, I'm very determined to give Simon mermay wings. So that's going to happen come hell or... high water... *ahem*)

Honestly, I just really love merpeople. I'm surprised it's taken me this long to attempt this. The very first thing I ever learned to draw as a little bittle babe was a mermaid. (My teachers did not appreciate my dedication to anatomical accuracy the way I did.) Soooo Mermay? Mermay is a THING? Well, twist my arm, guess I have to snowbaz it.

(Oh, and shoutout to another guilty party, the SSCoNE server. They put the idea in my head. OH, and @cutestkilla. For general encouragment. And @hushed-chorus. For general encouragment and writing a gorgeous fic with merman Baz in it. )

Even more tagged people under the cut:

HELLO OUT THERE! @rimeswithpurple @run-for-chamo-miles @youarenevertooold @whatevertheweather @that-disabled-princess

@arthurkko @raenestee @facewithoutheart @emeryhall @agni-ashes

@skeedelvee @thewholelemon @supercutedinosaurs @tender-ministrations @bazzybelle

@ic3-que3n @imagineacoolusername @valeffelees @roomwithanopenfire @ileadacharmedlife

@aristocratic-otter @best--dress @technetiumai @brilla-brilla-estrellita @onepintobean

@palimpsessed and anyone else who wants to join in/say hi.

(I love getting tagged, because I tend to miss out on things if I don't get it stuffed into my notifications. Feel free to hit me up on Discord, too, send links. I just can't often browse tumblr as I wish. Not if I want to draw and... read... I need to do some reading...)

*Pitch Manor is still happening, I'm just taking a break to draw fish boys in between doing a few too many other things. I like being busy.

[medeaft]

OC Deep Dive: Kai

Tagged by @porcelainseashore and @essie-essex. Thank you! <3

I have decided to do this with Kai (mine, not Porcelain's, of course), who is the Tremere Sire of my Bloodlines self-insert, and who was executed not nearly as permanently as some would expect (but that's a story for another day). I don't feel quite right calling it a deep dive, it's hardly that, but they are interesting questions, even if it does not nearly describe him wholly; and since this is apparently the name of this ask game, I'll leave the title as it is.

The picture is a portrait of him I painted earlier, it links back to the original post. I'll put the questions and answers under the cut, since it's long.

. ⋆ ˖ ⁺‧ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽˖⁺✩⋆◯⋆✩⁺˖☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ‧⁺ ˖ ⋆ .

What common/uncommon fear do they have?

He actually doesn't have many; not ones that stick around at least. To be sure, he'll be afraid when he can see a bad outcome threatening; but that will pass as the situation is handled. He is prone to worrying about his loved ones however, and his Sire, Emmeline, might be the one he worries about with the greatest frequency.

Do they have any pet peeves?

He has very little patience with intrigue. Especially people trying to get his cooperation in conspiracies without telling him the truth of what they are trying to involve him in. If anyone comes to him saying something like "there is no need to tell [trusted ally] this, it doesn't merit their attention/would only worry them/they already know", he agrees to nothing and immediately makes sure to tell [trusted ally] all of it first thing, even if he doesn't understand what they actually wanted and doesn't personally see the harm in it. There probably was going to be harm in it somehow. He's not here for the conspiracies, he's here for the magical studies, which are a much better use of both cloak and dagger.

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

3 items? There are 3 000 000 items in his bedroom, and you can't find even one of them… Only he knows where he ever put anything, but he remembers exactly. These include, selected for no particular importance:

A Rubik's cube

A compass (the orientation kind)

A compass (the drawing kind)

What do they notice first in a person?

Behaviours; to wit, in context rather than by themselves. (Sitting on a bench at a train station and looking upward at the arrivals-departures display, sitting on a bench at a park and looking upward at the swaying flowering branches, and sitting on a bench in front of a house and looking upward at the lit windows are distinctly different behaviours.)

On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?

4. He'll get through it if he has to, but he is very aware of the function of pain as a warning of something that should not be that way, and he will not make it a point of pride to needlessly go through harmful things, he will remove himself at his earliest convenience.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure? (or freeze and fawn)

Flight. That's not a permanent solution though. He might not articulate it this way (unless he is asked), but he is aware that if someone is engaging him unexpectedly (whether that be openly framed as a battle or not), that makes it a battleground that the other chose, and that consequently favours them, even if he doesn't know yet why; this fact informs his instinct that if there is any uncertainty, he would rather remove himself and choose a different time and battleground of his own liking, one where his opponent is the one surprised and, if possible, at a disadvantage.

What animal represents them best?

From an outside perspective, a cat. He looks attractive, non-threatening, charming even, socially presentable to have around; but you'll eventually find him doing atrocities, and he won't feel even a little bit bad about them; and then he'll rest peacefully sitting in weird positions, possibly draped across his friends' laps. A lot more loyal than many expect, because he's simply not very hierarchical about his loyalties. Also enjoys his hair being petted, but naturally only those he is close to are aware of (or have permission to do) this. From his own perspective, a scorpion. He likes them and thinks they are cool, and if he had a different form, he would want it to be a scorpion.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

Cute young guy, friendly, probably into metal, what with the symbols and the piercings. A bit creepy, but probably harmless.

Do they have any hobbies?

Reading comic books and watching television are certainly hobbies he has. He also likes puzzles he can solve by manipulating objects physically (the Rubik's cube is a good example here, but there are many others). He doesn't consider learning new things to be a hobby; as a Tremere, that's his main vocation and goal in unlife.

. ⋆ ˖ ⁺‧ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽˖⁺✩⋆◯⋆✩⁺˖☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ‧⁺ ˖ ⋆ .

I had to redo this because there was something wrong with the post originally. Sorry about that to anyone who sees it twice.

Tagging @master-of-shenanigans, for when you are ready to return; @viiihouse; @ridiculus-mus (I know you do too have characters you wrote, they don't have to be VtM ones! I want to know more about them!! :D), and tagging back @porcelainseashore in the hopes that you do this with more characters!

[mabelstone]

This is pulled straight out of my drafts (didn't feel creative enough to follow through with the idea) but something public with Remer would be hot, but like he's being noisy about it and you have to keep him quiet but he's STILL managing to be loud😁 (love you bae I believe in you)

thanks baby cakes hope i did your idea some justice xx

Be Quiet

doug remer x f!reader

CW: public (ish) unprotected intercourse, consensual slapping (just once), kind of orgasm denial? well, reader is a teeny bit mean but they make up for it

Remer was known to be obnoxiously loud in bed. Even if meeting him for the first time, you’d instantly pick up on the fact. He was also very secure in his sexuality, many of his most effective psyche outs involving his dick in someway or another, whether he was pretending to jack off on the field, or telling someone from the opposing team that he wanted to “feel them deep inside” him.

He had the tendency to get you all riled up in public spaces; rubbing you through your panties under the table at dinners, sending you unspeakable pictures/texts during important meetings. Tonight, you were out at dinner with the Beers team and their respective plus ones, dining at a high end restaurant to celebrate their success of the Denslow Cup.

Remer was currently running his fingers along your inner thigh, looking up and talking to the group as if nothing was happening under the table. You were growing more frustrated about this apparent kink he had by the day, always trying to get you hot and bothered in public then denying you anything further until you got home.

You'd just about had enough, squeezing your thighs around his hand for some sort of relief. He looked absolutely delicious tonight, an ambiguously patterned shirt, black slacks that were a faux leather material, all complimented by his signature glasses and unruly curls. You felt like a dog on heat, attempting to subtly grind down on his fingers the best you could, him digging his nails into your inner thigh to let you know he understood what you were up to. His fingertips dragged across your panties, applying enough pressure in the right spot to make your breath hitch in your throat. He still looked around the room and joined in conversation, playing the perfect innocent act while you continued to throb beneath his touch.

He slipped a finger under your panties and over your heat, barely touching you, yet collecting a decent amount of your slick, wiping your arousal onto your thigh subtly. He looked down at it with a smirk, seeing it glisten under the lights before drawing his hand from you completely. He grabbed out his phone and shot you a quick text, before pocketing it and turning back to the group.

You frustratedly pulled out your phone, the text reading, "so wet over nothing."

You stood up from the table, grabbing him by the wrist and yanking him up with you. "Excuse us for a minute," you smiled to the table, tugging your inconsiderate boyfriend to the nearest bathroom you could find. He was so surprised that he couldn't even form his usual smart ass comment, just blindly following along wide eyed, before you roughly grabbed him by his shirt and shoved him into a stall.

He stared up at you wide eyed as he sat on the lid of the toilet, almost in shock at how out of character this was for you - well, in public anyway.

"Uh, what are you do-" he laughed, cut off by your hand covering his mouth. You slipped your underwear off with one hand, the other keeping Remer quiet as you instructed,

"Take your pants off." You kept your heels on, your panties getting caught around your ankle. Not that you cared though, you needed to feel him inside of you within the next 10 seconds or you'd go insane. He obliged eagerly, a muffled "yes ma'am," vibrating against your palm. You helped him pull them down around his ankles, roughly shoving his back against the wall as to say, 'don't worry about it.'

Without a second of hesitation, you lined him up with your entrance, removing your hand from his mouth to see his typical mischievous grin. You gave him his first and final warning, dark desperate eyes that were so serious about the words to follow;

"Don't. Make. A Sound."

With that, you lowered yourself down onto him, the delicious stretch causing the faintest gasp to escape your lips. He groaned loud, gripping your hips tight as he threw his head back. Your eyes widened as you slapped your hand over his mouth again, moving inches away from his face to shush him, "you need to be quiet or I'll stop." His eyes were apologetic, nodding in understanding as you began picking up your speed. He did his best to be quiet, staring at you with the sluttiest expression you'd ever seen on a man.

"Good boy," you praised quietly, rolling your hips rhythmically, feeling his cock hit your sweet spot with each selfish movement. Satisfied with his behaviour, you began picking up your pace again. Removing your hand from his mouth, your roughly gripped his shoulder, using the advantage of having heels on to push yourself up and down his length. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, the soft sound of the skin of your thighs slapping together and soft breaths echoing through the bathroom.

"God, Remer," you moaned as quiet as you could, both of your pants starting to accelerate.

"Fuck," he groaned, using his thighs to bounce you, hands moving to your ass, digging his nails into your skin hard. He slapped your ass with all his force, a big red welt forming almost instantaneously.

You gasped loud, striking him across the face, ripping a loud, girly moan from him. He always loved when you hit him in the bedroom, though it took some time for you to come around to it.

"Remer, quiet," you tried to warn, but it came out in a strained whimper, your hands pulling his hair roughly.

"Sorry, baby," he laughed breathlessly, brining his thumb down to circle your clit.

"Shit, fuck," you whimpered, Remer now bringing his spare hand up to your mouth this time. You gripped his shoulders harder to stabilise yourself, grinding harder and faster now.

"I'm gonna cum, Doug," you panted against his hand, his pressure on your clit more meaningful now.

He moaned almost pornographically at your admission, the sound causing you to come undone above him, slapping your hand over his mouth to dually shut him up, but also to hold yourself steady as you continued to ride out your high.

It was exhilarating really; bodies coated in a light sheen of sweat, both of you covering the others' mouth as you tried your best not to scream out in pleasure.

Just as you could tell he was about to finish, you lifted yourself off of him. He whimpered at the loss of contact, shocked that you were denying him for the first time... ever.

"What? No, what are you doing?"

"Giving you a taste of your own medicine," you whisper shouted, leaning forward to place a chaste kiss to his lips. You bent down to pick up your panties, only getting them just over your ankles when suddenly, Remer's strong hands pulled you up, flipping you around so roughly that your cheek smacked against the stall door. He grabbed your hips, sliding into you frictionlessly. You gasped at the invasion, your fingers instantly finding his soft curls.

He wrapped his hand around to the front of you, rubbing at your overly sensitive clit again. He breathed heavily in your ear, the heels making it easier for him to fuck you from this position.

His thrusts grew sloppier, your second orgasm approaching as he continued to assault your g-spot. You could tell he was close by his change in breathing pattern and the quiet, pitchy moans falling from his lips.

"Please cum in me," you whimpered pathetically, always ending up putty in his hands, even when you wanted to hold back from him.

And so he did without a word, but rather a loud groan, biting into your shoulder in a poor attempt to suppress the sound. The mix of pleasure and pain, accompanied by those angelic moans of your boyfriend nearly tipped you over for the second time.

"I'm gonna-" you warned again, nearly crying out when he pulled his cock out of you.

"Remer-" you whined, cut off by his lips pressing gently against yours.

"Shhh, someone might hear you." He mocked, bending down to pull you panties up for you before doing up his own pants. You stared at him gobsmacked. He simply opened the stall door, taking your hand and leading you back to the table without a word.

When you sat down, everyone turned to face you both, all conversations dying down.

"What'd we miss?" Remer grinned while you sat there mortified.

"Remer, you moan like a chick," Coop laughed, pulling the same reaction from everybody but you and your boyfriend.

"I told you to be quiet," you whispered to him.

[mania-sama]

find a time machine and take me back to when i was six

Nate - NF

➼ information ❧ Genshin Impact ❧ Pairing: Kaeya & Klee ❧ Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, gratuitous descriptions of pain, character study ❧ Summary: The story in which Kaeya is affected by the events of the quest, "Requiem of the Echoing Depths." ❧ Word Count: 938 ❧ Cross-posted from Archive of Our Own ❧ Original post date: 18 April 2022

It started as a pull in his chest. Kaeya ignored it in the beginning, figuring it was a simple spike of anxiety from the close quarters of the confinement room he and the Spark Knight of the Knights of Favonius were trapped in. Klee took his mind off of it as she told an incomprehensible story about Dodoco and Inazuma.

That was the thing about little kids– they don’t have a great sense of understanding of the world around them. When something happens, it’s hard for them to retell it back to an adult in a manner that makes sense. Klee was no exception to this rule, no matter her title and position within the Knights of Favonius. Kaeya found it entertaining nonetheless. At some point, Yoimiya had helped Dodoco draw a picture… he thinks. Sometimes it was better just to nod and agree as if he understood what was going on.

The ringing in his ears became apparent suddenly without warning. Kaeya couldn’t hear Klee anymore, only able to watch as her mouth moved in continuation of the story. The stone walls seemed to start to move inwards, closing the already tight space of the confinement room. He tried his best to hide his growing panic from Klee, although it was clear he wasn’t doing a good job of it. She looked worried and said something, but he wasn’t able to read her lips due to his blurry eyesight.

Gloved hand pushing against the stone wall, Kaeya attempted to stand up from his previous sitting position in the corner of the room. His muscles instantly began to burn, pulling him forward and backwards at the same time. It felt like all of his internal organs, his flesh and bones included, were trying to burst out of his outer layer of skin. He groaned involuntarily, gritting his teeth against the biting pain.

Kaeya’s knees hit harshly against the floor as he collapsed forward. He could barely see Klee as she was undoubtedly shouting at him or to someone else. His head buzzed like a swarm of bees, effectively shutting off all his senses outside of the feeling. All of that, though, was being occupied by his nervous system.

He pulled at his hair, willing for the pain to stop and for his body to remain still. He was not aware of where he was in the room anymore, his uncovered eye squeezed shut as if it would help reduce his agony. Now, instead of combusting in on itself, his body seemed to want to go downwards. Kaeya didn’t know what was down, other than the damp cave systems already explored and unnoteworthy.

The palms of his hands pushed against his temples, and his breathing had become a pattern of uncomfortable hyperpnea. His entire being still wanted to go down, down where the ground would not give under his weight, so his body was retaliating against the pressure.

It got worse, somehow, when he felt the stinging of his covered eye. A thousand needles prickled against his eye, yet his two hands were already occupied protecting his head. Kaeya couldn’t apply pressure even if he wanted to. 

He was convulsing as he suffered nothing short of torture. Kaeya wasn’t sure how long it went on; it could’ve been a few minutes, an hour, a day. It was all the same to him as his soul tried to break apart every cell that held his body together and tried to scatter the stardust that made up his core being. It was with complete certainty, though, that he did pass out cold in the confinement room. Whether that be during the process of torment or after was of no difference. What mattered was the dreams of a distant life Kaeya’s mind supplied him during his time of unconsciousness.

Kaeya did not have many memories of Khaenri’ah. He was six years old when his life turned upside down, or rather, rightside up. He remembered the destruction the archons had caused as they laid waste to his homeland, but not the halls of the castle he once roamed. It was only during the times of sleep that he could recall what he once had before he was ultimately abandoned.

The past was the past, though. His eye was the only remnant of Khaenri’ah he still retained. Home was not the decimated nation– home was the little girl crying in his arms when he woke up in a comfortable bed. Klee took notice of the consciousness of the Cavalry Captain and immediately launched into a story recounting the events. Unfortunately, he remembered the agony all too well, and phantom pain prickled against his skin.

Home was the red-haired bartender, a man Kaeya still believed to be his brother, looking at him with a completely blank stare in the doorway. Home was the acting grandmaster sitting in a chair by his bed, making unsuccessful attempts at pulling Klee off of Kaeya’s extremely exhausted body. Home was the chief alchemist in a snowy land miles outside of Mondstadt, studying the alchemy that Khaenri’ah once excelled in.

Home was not Khaenri’ah, and Kaeya was okay with that. It did not explain why his body suddenly broke down and his soul attempted to flee his body. It did not explain why his unconscious brain only thought of the nation after the torture. However, not all things need an explanation. Kaeya was content with this information– if he received more in the future, then so be it. If he didn’t, then that was fine as well. As long as he could remain home, nothing else, especially not Khaenri’ah, mattered.

[minheelovelee]

hii 🦋 anon here again!! how are you doing?? are you excited for the epex comeback? i’m really looking forward to the full album and i can’t wait to learn more about the concept~

i was hoping to request some dubcon or cnc epex keum thoughts if you’re comfortable writing for that genre? if not, i respect that of course and won’t ask again, i checked to see if there was anything in your “about me” but i didn’t see it but i’m not sure if you’ve mentioned it otherwise :(

thank you sm either way!!! <333

hi 🦋 anon!! it took me a long time to reply i’m SORRY :((( but!! im here now :)) thanks for requesting, sweetie. i haven’t put anything about ok/not ok topics in my intro post, that’s something i should look into. but yeah im totally fine with dubcon or cnc and just about anything!! usually if i receive an ask i don’t care for, i just delete it hehehe.

nsfw under the cut

when thinking about cnc with donghyun, an idea that really stuck with me was him having his way with you while you’re sleeping.

on particularly long days, donghyun will come home later in the evening with energy and stories. his phone reads 12:48, but he’s still surprised to find you passed out on the couch. your rhythmic breathing making that apparent.

12:51 he makes his way to the shower, trying his best to be quiet. part of him wishes you were awake. he wants nothing more than to wash your hair and hold your body in his arms. and push you to your knees :)

1:04 donghyun sneaks out to the living room once again, leaving a trail of water droplets behind him. he’s not sure what’s turning him on more, your calm breathing or your exposed tummy.

1:05 his hands touch you for the first time that night. he’s hardly making contact with your calf, but he can’t believe how warm your skin feels. your thighs draw his attention. he lays kisses on the skin, starting from the outside, making his way in. no longer is he holding your calf. his hand have made their way to your ankles, pulling them apart to expose your inner thighs.

1:08 you’re still sleeping? damn. the material of your shorts rubs on donghyun’s nose. a slow, calculated movement brings them down to your knees. he follows them to the bottoms of your feet and lets them fall off the couch’s armrest. he’s completely hard now. he imagines how you’ll tease him when you wake up. but maybe you’re just as needy.

1:11 your tummy is his next focus. he wonders if you’re still ticklish while asleep. you’re still unmoving, so he assumes not. wet kisses appear and lead down to where donghyun is most excited to see. thin, black panties cover your pussy. his brain provides him with a memory of what you look like underneath. he hooks one finger beneath the material and pulls. the stress proves to be too much for the cheap fabric, as it rips at the seam. “shit” donghyun whispers, speaking for the first time since arriving home.

1:14 will you be mad if he rips these off your body? probably not. he’ll buy you a new pair. he’ll buy you a dozen if that’s what you want. he uses one hand to hold the fabric in place while the other grabs a hold and pulls up. another swift rip detached the garment from your body. he throws the, now useless, cloth near your shorts. hovering over your mound again, your pussy is met with nothing but his hot breath. his mouth has been watering for the past 10 minutes, waiting for this moment. he swallows the spit in his mouth and takes a moment to appreciate the fact that you’re still asleep. you must have had a long day if you’re still off in dreamland.

1:16 his lips meet your cunt for the first time that night. sweet kisses are left on your outer lips to put pressure on your clit. he wants to lick around your hole, he wonders if you’ve gotten wet at all. having your legs together won’t do.

1:17 “i’m so sorry, princess. keep sleepin’, imma make you feel so good.” he grabs your right leg at the knee and hikes it onto his shoulder. one more shaky breath escapes his lips before they meet your entrance. “fuck, you’re wet. how are you wet right now? what are you thinking about?” that pulls a reaction from your body. your head jerks and leg muscles tighten. but your eyes are still closed.

1:19 he moves up to your clit, wetting it with a few long licks. when he wraps his lips around it, he moans. he’d built up the anticipation and looked forward to this all day. he earned this. does it really matter if you’re asleep?

1:20 shoving his tongue into your hole once more, he lets his nose rest on your clit. the smell draws him in deeper. he lets himself get messy as he eats with fervor. his hands grab a little too tight on your ass, and it becomes apparent that you’re now awake. he hears a broken “donghyun? wh-at? oh.”

1:21 “babygirl, you are fucking soaked right now. did you know that? was i givn’ you a nice dream?” his shiny lips gave you a clue, but he doesn’t give you time to answer. “close your eyes again, princess. let me take care of this pussy.” you didn’t have to be told twice. there’s no stopping him once he gets a taste.

donghyun who’s addicted to giving head is so real. thank you for requesting!!!

[wordtotherose]

"Is there a reason we've stopped to block the doorway?" Astarion drawls, taking notice of the building attention they are gathering as the weird group taking up the entrance to the brothel. "It better be a good one if you're looking to continue in this. People tend to get antsy when you block them from their evening's entertainment, you know."

He's stood practically plastered to Elizia's back having not expected her to stop dead at the door of Sharess' Caress. Gale and Shadowheart are behind him and behind them a small line is beginning to form. His lover has got the same tense posture, and he'd be willing to bet expression, that he has previously only witnessed when she has stepped onto a pressure plate trap before he's disarmed it. Part guilt, part embarrassment, and a whole lot of trepidation. He does, just in case, take a quick look at her feet to ascertain that this is not what has happened. The top step is clear of all nefarious meddling, as expected. Which has him returning to his question.

"Well?" He prompts.

She looks over her shoulder at him and he's pleased to know he would have won his bet. "Is there, at all, any way you can think of to get the other two to leave without asking questions? Any fucking way at all, I will only draw the line at murdering them permanently."

He lowers his voice to match her hushed volume, leaning in slightly. "Unfortunately not right now. Gale has been muttering his way through their lunch menu since we started heading here. I mean, I could kill them and stash them until we get back to camp if you don't mind making more of a scene than we are already but that's the best I've got at such short notice."

A shake of the head accompanies a deep sigh. "I thought that might be the case. This is going to fucking suck."

And with that she's pushing the door open and striding in with her head high. Astarion follows, curiosity thoroughly piqued. The Caress is the same as it has always been.

Continue Reading on AO3 or under the cut

Plush, deeply coloured furnishings, wait staff dressed skimpily enough to entice but not scandalise the casual lunch goer. There's even familiar faces working the bar and not so terrible singing coming from behind the velvet curtain separating the ground floor into two. He follows Elizia as she leads them up to the bar, watching her closely. He's not sure if it's his mind playing tricks or if she really has started to sway her hips more, and has she actually plastered on a mask of a flirtatious smile or is she grimacing? It's hard to tell when they're not alone or in camp. He barely can tell the differences still and she flirts with him daily on their travels.

"Well, well, well!" A silky voice interrupts his train of thought and he gets a delightful view of Elizia straddling one of the bar stools instead of sitting down like a normal person. "Look what the cat dragged in. It's been a while, wildflower, you certainly are a sight for sore eyes."

The barmaid, possibly the owner of the place if he remembers correctly, lounges over the bartop, the cut of her dress leaving very little to the imagination. Elizia, to Astarion's absolute horror, leans forward herself to provide her cheeks for two loud kisses from the woman before sitting back. It's like he's walked into an alternate reality where Elizia is apparently friendly and charming rather than sarcastically helpful and abrasively short-tempered. There's a sour feeling in his stomach as he stands over her shoulder, completely ignored by this human woman who kisses Elizia in greeting. Without getting a scowl or punched or any sort of repercussion at all. The others don't seem to notice anything out of the usual, instead claiming a table further in to wait out Elizia's apparent gods damned reunion.

"As are you, Ruby," Elizia says, sly and with an actual honest to gods wink, it takes everything Astarion has to not say anything lest he start squawking in indignation, she's never winked at him! "I take it business has been going well?"

The woman- Ruby- waves a hand from side to side. "Good enough. Not as good as when you were around to bring in the hordes but well enough, well enough. I have a room going spare if you're looking for one? Same split as before and all, better if your gentleman here is pitching in."

Astarion chokes on air he doesn't even need. Elizia recovers for him, a much more familiar edge to her voice now. "Not for sale, I'm afraid. I told you years ago, I'm done with it. I don't need the money anymore."

Ruby nods, pushing a glass of wine towards Astarion as he gets his wheezing under control. He takes it gratefully, swigging it down in one despite the taste.

"Yes, you did. I don't think I said it then but I am truly sorry for your loss, flower, he was a gentle one, that kid. Didn't deserve the hand fate dealt him, neither of you."

It takes a second before it clicks in his head. A conversation in a dead field plays out in his memory. Elizia's demeanour barely shifts but he knows her, or at least knows her tells, well enough to jump in at last, steering the conversation elsewhere.

"Are you going to introduce us, darling, or am I to stand here like a particularly fashionable accessory whilst you two catch up?" He keeps his tone light, teasing, and is relieved when she takes it as the lighthearted jab it is.

"I don't know," she teases back, flashing that falsely carefree smile at him. He decides he hates it. "You are just intimidating enough to be an incredibly attractive bodyguard."

"Oh you'll need one of them if you're sticking around," Ruby says with a chuckle that has Astarion looking at her with narrowed eyes.

"And why is that?" He asks.

Ruby nods subtly to a number of guests scattered across the room. "I still get enquiries after you, kid. You are apparently rather hard to forget."

"Oh good," Elizia says through gritted teeth.

Astarion leans in close to her, voice low as possible so only she hears. "Say the word, darling, and we are gone. Or, if you'd rather they go, I will be more than happy to oblige. With great relish if you don't object."

She kisses his cheek and reassures him that she'll be fine, no spilt blood necessary. He backs down reluctantly.

"Dangerous indeed," Ruby muses. "If you're not here to work, what are you here for after so long?"

"Can't a girl just come to visit?"

"Are you paying for this visit?"

"I'm paying for lunch, surely that's good enough?"

Ruby shakes her head. "You know that ain't where the real money is. What about you, you've been here before, haven't you? Hard to forget a face like that."

Astarion looks between the two women, wondering when he'd lost all control of his day. "Um. Hi. Yes. And no."

"You sure about that? We got plenty of types to suit your every fancy, all of them I'm sure would be happy to spend time with the two of you, or just yourself if I've read you wrong."

"No! I mean- yes, we are but no, thank you, to your...types." he splutters his way through, hands waving to really add to his overall look of idiocy, if he could blush he'd be red as the carpets. None would recognise him now as the irrestible seductor he was.

"We're sure," Elizia says, swiftly saving him from further rambling. "We've got business to attend to, I'm afraid."

It's only when Elizia has steered them away and down through the curtain into the adjoining room that he realises she still never introduced him to Ruby. He's lengthening his stride to catch up and quietly ask her when Elizia is suddenly not on the ground and is being spun around in a circle by a very handsome, very happy drow. Who is wearing very little. Elizia is laughing, crying to be put down weakly as she gets spun round and around. Astarion, on reflex, has a blade out ready to take his first opportunity to defend Elizia. Finally letting her go, the man hands Elizia off to a very similar looking female drow who wraps her arms around Elizia's neck and kisses her. For a good time longer than is socially respectable between close friends. The male drow has a hand on Elizia's back still, terrifyingly low and very, very, familiar with her. Astarion stows his blade as Elizia gently pushes the woman back, saying something he can't quite make out.

There's greetings again and another hug between them all and then Elizia is stepping backwards into Astarion, deliberately slotting her back against his chest and covering his hands with her own when he wraps them around her stomach. He props his chin on her shoulder, all too aware of her slight shaking and the tension she normally would have lost from being in his hold by now. He takes deliberately steady measured breaths in the hopes she'll follow his example. She does, thankfully, and the shivering lessens gradually even as she makes introductions.

"So, you two are related and yet offer yourselves up as a package deal? My, you have rather more incestuous friends than I expected, my dear," he tests the waters with a quick kiss over the perpetually bruised bite mark on her neck, she doesn't shy away but doesn't relax any either.

"We are twins, yes, but we are not so corrupt as you are no doubt picturing. Should both our services be called upon we may kiss for their pleasure, and coin, but that is all." It's aggravating how pleasantly the drow responds to his jab, how easily he brushes off Astarion's less than gracious judgement.

"I take it you worked together then, dearest?" He asks Elizia, stamping down on the stupid prickle of jealousy trying to scorch its way up his throat.

"From time to time," Elizia says, not a hint of her discomfort to be seen or heard. "The younger ones tended to go for these two and I often had the elder, something to do with looking young and only being a half elf compared to their hundreds of years."

"Plus she looked absolutely delectable every night. Could charm her way into anyone's gold purse this one," the sister says, clearly thinking it a compliment but Elizia's shift further back into him said enough. "But I take it you know that already," she carries on with a wicked smile, "is he the reason you left?"

"Alas, no," Astarion answers before Elizia can, "I haven't had the pleasure of her company for much longer than a couple of months. Right time, right place, and we've been travelling together since. We've only come back to pass through, won't be staying long, I'm afraid."

Elizia pinches the back of his hand subtly.

"Or maybe we will!" He rushes to add. "Who knows! The whims of fate and the Gods and all."

"Well..." the twins share a look before the female drow, he really didn't pay any attention to their names, continues, "that's...lovely. I'm sure."

"It is," Elizia agrees before extracting herself from Astarion's hold. "It's been lovely catching up but our friends are ordering food and I'm the one paying so we should go make sure they aren't going mad. I'll try and come see you again soon. It's been too long."

There's another round of hugs and then Elizia is taking his hand and leading them back to the others.

"That was far less painful than I expected," she murmurs to him as they approach the table.

Gale is already tucking into a bowl of something steaming, a book spread out in front of him. Shadowheart is methodically picking apart some sort of pie looking bored. He does feel a bit of pity for her, the wizard is not the best dinner conversation. They slide into the chairs left opposite the two, glasses of identical red wine ready and waiting. Astarion starts inspecting it whilst Shadowheart leaps at the chance to have an actual conversation rather than sit in silence. For a cleric she is not best known for her patience nor comfortable relationship with her own thoughts. He supposes he isn't much better but certainly he's less desperate about wanting his due attention.

They've barely been sat down for five minutes before the first of them comes over. Completely uninvited, a tipsy, giggling kaliodescope of a bard is swinging herself into Elizia's lap without so much as a by your leave. Astarion watches, jaw dropped, eyes wide in dismay, as the frankly horrifically dressed tiefling boldly exclaims how much she has missed Elizia these past few years before sticking her tongue down her throat. Gale casts sleep on the girl quickly and that's the first one disposed of. Elizia applogies to them with a world weary look in her eyes and nary a blush to her freckled cheeks. Shadowheart accepts the apology and their conversation continues as if nothing has happened.

The second assailant nearly has Elizia and Astarion's blades through their neck when they approach on silent feet to clap their hands on Elizia's shoulders to shake her in excitment. They don't kiss her at least. Astarion desperately wants to touch her in any number of possessive, and some deprived, ways to put a stop to it all but with every unexpected touch Elizia tenses further and further so he can't. He keenly knows the hunted look in her eyes and he doesn't want to add to it. So he keeps his hands and thoughts to himself as they eat.

The third, and final, person is a human man who looks for all the world like a perfectly decent type until he's crowded Elizia into an alcove on her way back from the bathroom. He watches, empty wine glass cracking under his grip, but doesn't intervene. Won't intervene until Elizia gives him a signal to because she is her own woman, his equal in strength and loyalty and if she can trust him to flirt his way through every conversation then he can trust her to handle herself how she wants. This is all beautiful, wonderful growth that he is sure he will look back on with pride until he smells her blood.

Things happen rather fast at that point.

Shadowheart shouts an exasperated "For fuck's sake, Astarion" as his chair clatters to the ground loudly but he's not listening. He is, as it happens, across the room throttling the man and spitting threats into his face until he runs out of creative ways to describe cutting off his fingers. He lets go and the man bolts. Elizia is stood, seemingly still processing everything.

"Where did he hurt you? Can I touch you, love?"

She nods slowly, eyes following his hands as he inspects her forearms and wrists then tilts her head from side to side to check her neck.

"You're bleeding, Tavaril, I need you to tell me where because I'm quickly running out of places to check that won't have me tracking him down and gutting him in an alley."

A flash of recognition crosses her face and then she's catching his hands in her own, drawing them up to her left ear. His index finger comes away with a small drop of her blood on the tip, her earring was pulled, that's all.

"You've gotten very sensitive about my blood, haven't you?" She sounds like she's mocking him but he can hear the quiver of nerves too. "You didn't do a thing when everyone else was feeling me up but as soon as someone else spills a tiny bit of my blood..."

He pulls away, unhappy with the bitter twist of her lips, the dip in her brow.

"I think you'll find that the first couple of times I was seconds away from feeding them their own tongues. Ask either of the other two, I've practically been twitching the entire time."

"That's a lot of restraint for you."

He shrugs, smiling down at her. "What can I say? I trust you, darling, and I didn't want to make things worse. A first for me, I know."

Her eyes soften and she holds her arms open. "You won't make it worse."

"Mm," he hesitates a moment longer before stepping into the offered hug, tucking his face into her neck to breathe her in. "I can't fault them their adoration for you, I suppose. You are magnificent, after all."

He feels more than hears Elizia's laughter.

"Would you like me to, shall we say step in, next time? Should there unfortunately be a next time."

"Only if you don't mind, I just... it's exhausting and they're more likely to back off quickly if I have a dashing companion to cut in."

He pulls back to check that no actual damage has been done to the tip of her pointed ear. "Flattery will get you everywhere, my dear. I will gladly make a nuisance of myself for your honour. What was that man even doing to tear your piercing like this?"

She rolls her eyes and brushes his hand away to feel it herself. "He never liked my ears, reminded him that I was half-elven and he had some history or some such with elven neighbours and long story short he would cover the tips when he wanted to look at me. He's an idiot and I didn't often let him have his way but when my brother was especially bad, in the winters especially, I had little choice. He paid at least."

There's a fair few things he'd like to say to that but what's done is done and Elizia looks more comfortably herself than she had and he doesn't want to ruin it. Instead he lifts her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the backs of her knuckles.

"I happen to love your ears, my sweet, my half-elven love."

"Oh really?" She asks, teasing properly this time. "I hadn't noticed, what with your fixation with them every time we slept together. Also, laying it on a little thick there."

Astarion groans, dropping his forehead against her still lifted hand. "Do you have any idea how many filthy things I want to say to you right now? You're torturing me, Elizia."

She pats his cheek with her free hand. "You can tell me all about your innuendos later. Gale is about to be propositioned by a man I know has a thing for scholars of all things and I want to see how long Gale takes before he realises he's basically talking dirty to him by telling him about his book."

"Torture. Elizia. Torture. You are a devil in disguise."

"Just a bit of a professional whore," she says, tugging him to the awaiting disaster.

He intertwines their fingers fully, allowing himself to be led. "The best of us are."

[thenixkat]

ive got 23 chapters left and i'll be caught up on what's out of Kaiju no. 8

kaiju no 10: stop fronting and admit you like fighing just as much as me so we can kill my younger sibling

using swords is more fun than shooting things heh

imagine finding yer platonic soulmate and its a big bloodknight dragon that just wants to fight fuckers and maybe eat you too

of course yall tied a sword to yer tail. 3 swords

that;s what happens when yer fighting two fuckers and dont pay enough attention to teh support

the vice captain and no10 sacrifice their tail to win the fight kaiju no 10, after everything: Cool we beat my younger sibling. That was fun. We should fight your teammates too

the vice captain apparently shut his older brother out of his life years ago for trying to demotivate him and not supporting him

so teleportation is a thing that kaiju can do

…Mina's going to ride her pet tiger into battle against the teleporting monolith and just carry her bfg

the tiger still isnt cool. The exotic pet ownership and animal endangerment is just distracting. AT least put some armor on yer cat also yikes the legs on that tiger are janky

so kafka failed the exams for 5 years b4 Mina was able to take them. Which given he's 5 yrs older than her makes sense

but also sir you failed a test 5 years in a row and then kept trying for another 7 yrs b4 presumably aging out of being able to try until they raised the max enlistment age at the beginning of the story

and then Mina decided to be mad at Kafka for just not being able to pass and leaving her to fight monsters alone breaking his promise to always be there but like he tried for over a decade. some people arent built to join the military

and because she turned out to be talented for taking out big targets she got pushed to having to be perfect by the one the only shitty rich dad who gives everyone issues who he decides to train to be the future of the nation's defense

we just keep finding out that this asshole just traumatizing so many people for teh greater good

oh you have some talent? lets throw you onto the front lines and inform you that if you fail yer risking the lives of yer comrades and civilians

ma'am I doubt Kafka being there would have changed shit other than you'd talk to him more often. Like he would have been at the bottom teir of shit if he was an officer, they'd have his ass on support and evacuation at best if he hadn't have become a kaiju that was deemed useful local high stress career was not good for her mental health

pls dont put everything on one person's shoulders. That's a great way to break them or have them burn out young ma'am Kafka being in the Defence Force would not mean he'd be allowed to be at yer side in situations like this. Yer mad at him when you should be mad at yer superiors for putting all this pressure on you

its easier to blame Kafka than her superiors apparently

good fucking lords that tiger's anatomy is bad damn brah practice drawing animals pls

damn my guy Kafka really busting his ass to achieve his dream, rekindle his friendship with his childhood bestie, and uphold his promise to her when she just decided to use him as a scapegoat for all the pressure she's under that her superiors put on her and decided to freeze him out for not being able to meet the military's standards for enlistment even tho he tried for over a decade both of them just need to find other friends hot damn

like sometimes yer childhood bestie isnt a major badass like you and can't accomplish the thing you both want him too. Getting mad about it is kinda fucked

[yeehaw-in-magic-space]

Session 6b Recap: Part 4/5 (AKA, The Ballad of Barley)

(this section of the recap is comprised exclusively of the drunken monologue that Bandit King Alexander Barley went on to explain to the party where he had come from)

“You probably won’t be surprised to hear this, but I came from a family of barley farmers. For generations we planted barley and gave it to our Baron to be distributed out to soldiers across the Sovereign Kingdom—at least, I imagined so. We didn’t exactly keep tabs on it after it was loaded onto a ship. My family was loyal and well liked, so my grandfather was made sheriff. He was responsible for administration and disbursement of goods to our Baron at the end of every month, a responsibility he passed down to my father when I was young.

The Long War had already started by the time I was old enough to look up at the stars and wonder what was going on out there. It had been good for our rulers, but not so good for the people in their territories. Things were tense, which meant my family was under a great deal of pressure from all sides hoping that they’d strike a deal in favor of either the farmers or the nobility trying to sell off crops as fast as possible.

My parents kept me out of business, but I remember when certain kids I knew weren’t allowed to visit my house for weeks when their parents were fighting with mine. I didn’t pay it too much mind, though. It would all work itself out and before anyone knew it my friends and I would be playing knights in the woods again.

Eventually, I ended up in the military academy. My parents wanted bigger and better for me than a town that was moments away from starvation or uprising. So they cut a deal, and I was sent into the stars to become a soldier and win glory for my Baron, my Count, My Duke, and of course, my Prince. 

They called me Barley there. Anyone who entered the officer academy without a last name was given one. It was to keep things even, I think. To make it clear that we all had an equal shot, whether or not it was true. I scrapped with young men who were clearly destined for command. They would be colonels, generals, rangers, and I hated them for it. Some of them were richer than me, others were simply better. I was lucky to be named captain at my graduation. Apparently I ‘showed potential’ and my ‘ambition for leadership had grown’, though it probably didn’t hurt that our instructor liked me best. I learned from my parents that it was more important to be liked by your betters than your neighbors. Your betters could get your son into the officer’s academy, your neighbors could only promise not to draw blood next time you argue over scraps.

Yes, I’d realized what my parents had done by then… and I loved them for it. I applied myself in their honor. I became an academic, a strategist, and a halfway decent fighter. I wasn’t uniquely brilliant at anything, but I was all around competent and I had a good eye for opportunity. I wasn’t going to blow the one shot I had. So I played teacher’s pet, I made a big fuss about the nobility, and I learned to stop scrapping with those destined for greatness and to start fighting those who competed for the same seat as me. I assume that’s how I really made captain, but I always felt it was proof of my growth as a strategist.

Anyway, long story short, I fought my way up during the Long War. I killed and burned until I was introduced to my Prince and offered the position of ranger. It was the proudest day of my life, and it would have been the proudest of my parents’ if I’d ever bothered to tell them. 

I didn’t know then how useless it would be: that no one could promise land or income until they knew if they’d have any holdings themselves. I was saddled with more and more danger and the opportunity to plunge myself further into the jaws of death, and in exchange I might one day get to control a city slightly larger than the one my parents had gained control of by organizing fucking barley shipments. Still, I fought. I fought until I had taken this world and all of its moons. I fought until my men had dragged the prince of this world before my Prince, and then executed the poor boy at his behest. I had taken it all, while my Prince had been struggling to keep what his other rangers had managed to resecure. It wasn’t going anywhere, but I was.

We got as many men as we could, stole as many ships as we could, and took back what we had already taken once. The months after that were hard, but the people of this world pulled through. We’d all heard about Bandit Kings, and although we didn’t have a crime lord around, it seemed easy to make one out of thin air… so we did, and Alexander Barley rose from a knight three centuries too late to a king born from the thinnest imaginable window. I made nice with those who came after my Prince was struck down, and here we are.”

[sideblogforcrimpy-plus]

Fic idea!

Spencer, the oblivious twit, is having a groundhog day experience. While initially he was alarmed, because this is impossible, after a couple days he settles a bit (ignoring the scary thought of 'is this indefinite? Am I destined to repeat this day over and over and over like a boring version of the doctor's confession dial?).

But he has time to really research and learn a bunch more. First he's a bit wary of fobbing off work, because what if this day is the final day of repeats and he makes a mess of the actual tomorrow?

But as time goes on and today leads into the same today each day, he gives in, he calls in sick, and he chills the hell out. Spencer didn't even know what truly relaxing could be like until he'd called in sick 30 times the same day in a row. But now he's got the bulk of another language under his belt (conversationally verbal, he'd hand cramped last time he tried a written language in the time loop).

Then the days where he goes back into work for a bit of a break, he's still learning, but through fresher eyes. Like now, he appreciates that Hotch may cut him off in times of stress, but he'll prompt Spencer to say the same thing later when there is time (I didn't forget, it wasn't the place or time. What was that about popcorn smell in the jungle from an animal??').

And he sees that when he's particularly annoyed, Penelope is out of her office more when given the chance. Not to press him too much for information (though she certainly does a bit; it's how she cares) but rather to guide attention from him to her, giving him space to breathe and grieve the possibility that this might be his forever now, this day, ordinary Tuesday where they're not even in a fun destination. And all the while, she seems to surreptitiously glance and stare as best she can to see if he's better now that he's had his own bubble.

It'd taken him a couple days to figure out who was leaving him sugary teas on his desk when he couldn't hide his anger, but he caught Prentiss squinting at the bull pen from the kitchen to make sure no one was looking at her before she left it for him. He thought, when his mood was sour, that she apparently wouldn't be caught dead doing something nice for him, heaven forbid. But when he calmed down he realised she just wanted to quietly help because he didn't like or accept well any other kind of help. And she probably didn't want praise for it, she just wanted her friend to feel better. She didn't want a thing to be made of it.

And though all those things calmed his mind and warmed his heart, what made him most pleased, most content, was Derek. How he would check in on him full of jokes with a thread of sincerity carefully woven in and unmissable. How it showed he knew Spencer was struggling with something and showed he was aware and cared, but didn't want to pressure Spencer or draw too much attention to it since he knew Spencer wouldn't like it.

How on the days that went so well Spencer tried to have them repeat the same way, he and Derek got so close Spencer became aware that he didn't know if he was projecting his feelings onto Derek or if Derek might actually feel the same.

And then, on the last day, he was so painfully aware that he wasn't projecting. That his colleagues, his friends, were the best people he knew, and he was so sick of learning how deeply they cared for him but not being able to reciprocate in tangible way. Because tomorrow would be today again and again and again it seemed, and he'd never be able to show that he knows.

He knows how much they care. How much they all do for him and each other, more aware than he's ever been. He knows now, almost the most painfully, how much he and Derek Morgan must be sick for each other and he's done with it. He can't spend his life building on relationships the way he now wants to if every day is this god damn Tuesday. And then it's Wednesday.

[octopuscityblues]

The Octopus Hunter

August 2024 Update

Rustday, Newt 7, 244 Day 13 of the Containment Experiment

Played poker with Dr. Fidge and the others. Vermin was obviously cheating but Walls kept jumping to his defense. I don't know what she sees in a sleazy creep like him but I suppose it's none of my business.

Dr. Fidge said that the experiment is going well and the Field is holding. He tried to explain it to me again, but it went in one ear and out the other. All I got is that the experiment is now part of the prestigious Tiny Teams conference and that's apparently a really good thing? Woohoo, I guess...

Fleaday, Newt 8, 244 Day 14

Stuck on guard duty with Stutter again. There's not much to talk about. Vermin and Walls finally finished synthesizing and animating all the required "graveyard sprites": visual attachment points to draw the ectoplasm entities into the Containment Field. "The sprites make the Field come to life and feel like a real ectoplasm habitat", as Walls put it.

I have a terrible headache and can't sleep. Wonder how Mom's doing...

Smogday, Newt 9, 244 Day 15

Dr. Fidge asked me to gear up and enter the Field. Not the best way to start the day, but it's not like I have a choice. Today they were demoing the experiment to a group of military commanders. How many times do we have to update the experiment's parameters for these demonstrations?

We did manage to correct a long-standing fault in the Field's boundaries that occasionally prevented it from responding to the controller's input, so it's not all bad.

Gruelday, Newt 10, 244 Day 16

I had a medical checkup with Dr. Henrietta today. She said there's nothing wrong with me physically, but gave me some sleeping pills.

Something's definitely wrong with Dr. Fidge. Stutter asked him about the experiment's end date and Fidge got visibly upset. "We're all doing our best here! I'll have a date for you soon enough". I wonder what's eating him?

Mossday, Newt 11, 244 Day 17

Apparently they extracted part of the ectoplasm and packaged it into a miniature field with its own dedicated page on the Steam academic publishing platform. The marketing folks even recorded a new "trailer" for it, like it's the latest summer blockbuster.

Walls and Dr. Fidge keep arguing. She thinks the ectoplasm extraction will weaken the Field's structural integrity. Dr. Fidge said he's under a lot of pressure and had to give the Ghost in a Bottle shareholders something to market.

Oh, and the pills worked. I slept like a slime baby, although I still feel terrible.

Rustday, Newt 17, 244 Day 23

No time to update this diary. Really sick and also dealing with the Containment breach. We laid Vermin and Walls to rest today. This isn't what I signed up for...

Smogday, Newt 19, 244 Day 25

I woke up feeling funny. Another tooth fell off. Stutter, Dr. Fidge, and I are quarantined. Dr. Henrietta says it will be alright, but I don't trust her.

Gruelday, Undead 5, 244 Day ??

They're all dead. Dr. Fidge was the last one. I'm sorry. Too hungry. The Field is unstable. Rips in the universe...

I'm coming home, Mom...

[booksandchainmail]

Pale 11.2 extra

I just want you to know I’ve been trying to be my best self and do good in the world and if there’s something that ends up keeping me from coming back to you guys I hope you know that at least.

this bit is incredibly sad to me. "If I died, I died doing the right thing" is actually a pretty good ending, but coming from a kid it's just bleak

All the not listening you did and the ignoring me and everything? I forgive you for that and I think I understand

I wonder how this will feel going on? I imagine that even if Avery is glossing over this a bit for her parents to not feel guilty, she must have done some final sour searching to reach this point. It must be weird to come to terms with everyone in your life, be prepared to not leave regrets behind, and then get to keep on going with the clean slate

Sheridan, you had my back when it counted and I can’t tell you what it means to me, or how it changed the idea of what family is in my head. You get so down on yourself but you’re so so so much better and cooler than you think you are.

oh... that;s really sweet

A beautiful woman once told me I was on the cusp of losing my connection to humanity.

lol at specifying beautiful

no comments on the rest of Avery's letter to Ms. Hardy because I'm tearing up

If I can escape the chaos do you want to hang? We can hang out with Sir and chat art orrrr We could hang out and you can take your shirt off and I can draw you orrrrrrr We could hang out and we both take our shirts off and we can pretend we’re confused about who is supposed to be painting who before finding something else to do

smooth

I told Lucy and Avery and a woman called Miss to pass on a password for a gallery I sent you.  You’re my designated replacement if anything happens and that gallery has the big rundown.  Yep, you thought you were getting to know me?  That was all the tip of the iceberg, buddy.

I'm picturing Jeremy opening this, reading it, and realizing that a girl who was a pretty new friend in his life had no outside contact closer than him

On that note? I’m writing this under the assumption that they’re there. Avery Kelly and Lucy Ellingson. No other end result is okay in my books.

oh Verona

Care and Feeding of Lucy Ellingson and Avery Kelly: I liked the headline but because I wrote it I gotta let you know the feeding part: Lucy gets into stuff like pepperoni sticks and sour foods and things that make you go WOAH (except garlic and onions apparently) and it’s all intense and crap but when you get down to it I think she likes sweet and savory stuff most.  Avery is a vegetarian and she can eat next to anything you could call food, now, but I think what matters is that it comes from a place of care. She likes fruity flavors and mellow stuff. If Lucy’s down and out and needs nourishment to get back in the game then a chance to have a savory home cooked meal or a sweet treat she can spend a bit enjoying would do it for her.  For Avery, just the fact that you notice she’s down and out is important and then you can hand her a sports drink or something and she’ll be up for more.

aww, funny and cute that she's leaning into this bit, deeply touching that she knows this about them

[Tash is] about three years older than us she’s super cool enough I wouldn’t blame you for getting a crush on her. 😉

... yeah that's fair! Don't know how Jeremy would feel about the eyes, but I love that it's not a factor for Verona

If you bring me back as a composite echo and someone wants to take me as a familiar to help clarify me further then I’m down.

what the hell. I mean a good backup plan! But a hell of a lot of pressure to drop casually at the end of this letter

If not or if that’s weird then don’t sweat it.  Thanks for being a friend.

or don't resurrect me if you don't want! wild.

I got lucky because home was the place I could come back to to unload the small things, instead.  This was pretty close to perfect. Except I haven’t come home to unload this time, if you’re reading the letter.

yeah tearing up again

Zed has agreed he’ll fill you in if someone needs to.  He knows most of the story and it’s easier for him to answer your questions than for me to explain everything here.  Imagining you going through my stuff and uncovering it all with a terrible look on your face is making this too hard to write.

Interesting to me that Lucy is the only on who leaves information for her mom to take action, I guess because neither Verona or Avery feel that their parents are particularly useful

As a last ditch effort if the cops fail and Avery and Verona are gone you can contact a man I listed on the sheet. His name is Samaniego and he organizes people who hunt monsters like one of the ones I’m about to fight.

damn that's a nuclear option. But I suppose if all the girls are dead there's no point in playing fair or easy

I don’t want this to end without there being justice.  If I was capable of accepting any other answer then I think this might be the point I gave up.  I could let Edith win, I could choose the option where I didn’t risk me dying and you having to find this letter. I can’t.  I can’t let the people who would do that get what they want and take any more power or get any more influence.

Lucy... I love how much her principles come through in this. Avery may be the soft heart in the group and Lucy all business in her letter, but peel back the focus and drive and you get this moral determination

This can’t end without justice of some sort.

[decepti-thots]

re: meta again. first, thank you for the long answer! you have a lot of interesting points, e.g. how fandom spaces influence how you interact with media: my first fandom space was restricted to teenagers who mostly knew nothing about media analysis (and it was also animanga haha), and then I moved onto tumblr, where - in my memory - most users were slightly older teenagers but still didn't know much about media analysis. there probably was meta somewhere (apparently on LJ?), but I didn't see (or notice?) a lot of it. which possibly also was because I changed fandoms a lot more quickly, and I feel like many others did, too. there's a book fandom where five years ago, the general sentiment about an antagonist was 'well fuck him' and now people write extensive posts on why he did what and what that means for the story and why it mirrors the protagonists arc etc, which maybe means that sometimes fandoms need time to get past the initial excitement of new things to give more attention/time to meta?

I very much agree that tumblr makes interactions/discussions harder. especially re: reblogs - its so easy for someone to disagree with you in a reblog and some of their followers to take that as a hint to hate on you - I've seen this happen mostly related to "shipping the wrong things", but why wouldn't it happen for drawing the "wrong" conclusions in a meta post? I feel like the general tumblr user is older than they were 10 years ago so maybe I should hope that they've grown up as well and are more reasonable about this to be fair

what I also noticed regarding the book fandom and TF is that TF fans - depending on your specific bubble probably - seem to be more aware that writing meta is a thing, because they're more likely to call it that.

re: elitism - it's important to me that the things I was referring to can feel elitist, not that they are, if the distiction makes sense? maybe it also wasn't the best/fairest choice of words, sorry. the sentiment isn't meant towards e.g. the people complaining about headcanons that have become accepted in the fandom but have zero relation to canon. its more frustration that theres seemingly infinite canon material and you can't really join any conversation without interacting with a good chunk of it, while (seemingly) everyone else has already done that already.

and finally, wonder if part of who writes meta and who doesn't is fandom "socialization"; there seem to be a few people for whom it appears easy to express their thoughts online, and then a much larger amount of lurkers who don't, and I've never really figured out the cause.

god tumblr does really let me put as much text as I want here, I'm a bit sorry for the long message. If you have any further thoughts I'd be happy to hear them but no pressure

First of all: no apologies for the long message! I love it, I will put my thoughts under a cut for everyone's dashes but we LOVE an in depth fandom meta-meta discussion in this household. I started this blog to RAMBLE and rambling is WELCOME my friend.

You make an EXCELLENT point about how longevity can influence fandoms here, anon. Especially for fandoms where there isn't a constant drip-feed of NEW canon, I absolutely think fandoms living on and people going back and re-engaging the source material to look for new ways to engage it can gradually make meta a larger part of the fannish space sometimes. (To give my own book fandom example, I was on the periphery of book!Good Omens fandom back in the day, and the amount of time people had spent with just that one single book meant that more and more discussion of the ways you could read and work with that one book meant there was some very in-depth meta going on there.) (…as you can imagine, the last few years have been a hell of a wild time for me with the show fandom becoming the Hot New Major Fandom, LMAOOOO.)

There's definitely also something there about the old "if someone I follow clowns on a person, my (para)social relationship with them means I feel like I'm doing a social faux-pas by not choosing a side" you mention here too. Tumblr really makes visible the idea of social networks in a way I have to admit I overall find uhhh. Kind of not great. "If I follow someone who follows someone my mutual hates, do I need to perform my support of someone here", that kind of thing. (Answer: no, that is some Panopticon shit, bring in the Foucault. I am only half joking.) Even over an objectively inane Transformers headcanon take, it's the social mechanism more than the content that brings in the pressure I think. Again. Web 2.0 wants everything pushed at everyone all the time to encourage More Interaction, and reducing any sense of wider social circles being removed from you personally is a part of that I think. It's all equal on The Endless Timeline, innit.

I see what you mean about the "feels like" distinction on elitism, anon, now you lay that out- that makes sense. I do think TF fandom is sometimes a bit of a minefield in terms of like, even within certain subdivisions of canon there's so MUCH stuff (and the fandom has, IMO, a bad habit of not bothering to decide what is more or less "useful" in conversations; sometimes tertiary material is… you know. Tertiary. LOOKING AT ALIGNED FANDOM). I think those of us who are sometimes a bit more "canon completionist" do need to approach these things in terms of like- take IDW1 fandom. If someone posts meta about MTMTE based on just material from MTMTE, approaching that in good faith and not going "well it's in continuity with phase one, and THIS phase one comic says [xyz]", but instead seeing it as a perspective that takes that one text as a complete thing in itself? (And maybe considering how that perspective and how it differs from one which looks at the whoooole canon is interesting, rather than deficient, in its differences of opinion.) There are folks who get very snotty about people doing that in a way that is, at the very least, unproductive. (And the folks bringing in their Extensive Lore Knowledge TM by whining stuff from other continuities contradicts a take on a different continuity are just uhhh. Annoying. Those people can just Stop, Please, lmao.) I think understanding that different approaches to what "canon" even is can be interesting rather than something to be "corrected" might go some way to making it feel less… intimidating? Alienating? For folks working with what they like.

As for the confidence in sharing opinions thing… I can only speak for myself but uh. If I have a personal flaw it is unwarranted overconfidence, not insecurity, haha. Let me put it that way. I do think that cultivating a confidence in the idea "I have my own personal tastes, and those tastes are idiosyncratic and do not need to be compared to other peoples' taste, and they are Valid TM" is a skill to be honed and one I think is worth honing, and I think may be a big thing here from my anecdotal observations. I find that many people in fandom don't have a lot of confidence in the idea that you can express not just an argument for "objective" (lol) "quality" but a sense of personal taste? (This is not unique to fandom, at all, but I think fandom has a lot of it, if that makes sense.) Especially because often the things fandom centres around lack cultural prestige. It's why an appeal to being Real Literature TM is the go-to argument for why fanfiction is "acceptable". I think a similar thing can be true of opinions; to let go of the urge to have everyone agree with you 100% of the time and to be "proven" right, you have to feel confident enough to sit in subjectivity and be like. My opinions may be subjective, but that's fine. And you do have to cultivate that! But I think that's where the "I can express an opinion and not feel destroyed if someone flat out rejects it and I can't even disprove their argument" trick kinda lies, maybe. And maybe meta is easier if you've already internalized that, so the possibility people will be like "nope" is less scary?

[theclockworkkidart]

White Lace Agate. Another of the Agates (Steven Universe OCs) but this time it’s the youngest.

Lace Agates are meant to be the more powerful of the Agates (elite soldier/assassins), and White Diamond saw the success of the other ones and wanted one for herself. Before even emerging, White Lace was already under an immense amount of pressure to live up to high expectations. She struggles with that, which has resulted in her being known to be very snappy and the crybaby Agate. Tuxedo Agate was tasked with mentoring her and he’s trying his best while also dealing with the judgment directed at White Lace.

Her unique abilities are currently unknown but her weapon is a giant seam ripper.

My SU Agates are all based on shonen/magical girl tropes so yes there are references.

This is a redraw (included under cut, but also here is link) from 2019. I also included her first drawing that never made it on tumblr apparently from 2016.

No effects:

2019:

2016 (with Tuxedo Agate, an older design of him):