#best earth friendly brands

[mossandfog]

10 Eco-Friendly Brands to Support This Black Friday 🌿

As they say, vote with your dollar. What exactly does that mean? Choosing eco-friendly brands is a powerful way to align your spending with your values. These companies prioritize sustainable practices, reduce waste, and minimize their carbon footprint, helping to combat climate change and protect natural resources. Supporting them not only encourages responsible production but also drives…

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Eight — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Everything is starting to get on top of reader and tensions rise. Azriel takes a trip to Fenlaros and comes away with a headache. Cassian does what Cassian does best. A friendly face swoops in to save the day.

Word count: 8.3k.

Warnings: A little freaky deaky 18+, NSFW, smut, minors dni.

Azriel’s kiss is a burning brand.

It’s fire and ice and earth and rain. It tastes like freshly set snow, and it feels like the refined touch of a steeled warrior.

He kisses you like he aches for you. He pulls his hands away only to remove his gloves and chuck them aside, and then he’s clasping your face once more, skin on skin. He’s always so warm — a part of him you’ve missed.

And a part of him that drives you to kiss him back with barely any hesitation.

This — his mouth on yours — feels like the answer to a riddle you’ve been puzzling out for days, weeks, months, years. You’re gasping for air, and his tongue is sliding between your lips, and his taste overpowers you so thoroughly that you think it could break something inside of you.

There isn’t much furniture left in here. A few scattered tables, a shelf or two hanging off the wall. Not much to work with, and yet it doesn’t matter, because you and Azriel will have each other however you can. You’ve spent a lifetime making do with whatever you’ve got. This is no different.

Azriel’s hands fall down to your hips, and he’s lifting you so abruptly that a yelp leaves you and lands straight on his lips. Your arms loop around his neck, and he’s fastening your legs at his waist and stumbling with you — stumbling towards one of those old tables. A plume of dust erupts around you as he sets you down and slots himself between your legs.

“I fucking miss you.” He groans, grabbing your face. “I miss…us.”

You feel so many things. There’s no chance to sort through them, verbalise them, before his mouth slants over yours again. He’s hungry, needy. Hot and sinful. This Azriel is a far cry from the one who coyly confessed to his inexperience. This Azriel writes poetry onto your lips and paints masterpieces on your tongue. He kisses like eternal happiness depends on it. He kisses as though he’s been an artful lover for centuries.

He’s been practicing, the thought pops into your head.

Not with me, the realisation follows.

And that feels like being thrown stark-naked into the snow. It’s not a nice feeling — to realise that Azriel may be treating you to skill refined elsewhere. Not when you think about kissing him more than you’d like to admit to yourself. Does it make you a gods-damned hypocrite after what you did with Cassian? Perhaps.

But none of this — not one bit of it — is reasonable, or rational, or logical.

All you know is that your stomach lurches suddenly, violently, at the thought of where else Azriel’s lips might have been. And that’s all it takes for you to shove him away.

He stares at you, wide-eyed. Perplexed.

“I needed you.” You pant, the words tumbling from you in a flurry of charged emotion. You’re not sure you planned to say it. “On Solstice — I needed you.”

Azriel’s face changes in the blink of an eye. The hunger is gone, replaced by…something else. “Y/N—”

“I needed you, and you weren’t there. You promised me.”

“I know I did. And I’m sorry—”

“Did you even think of me?” It’s awkward, but you try to scramble back on the table. You just…need that distance right now. “Did you not wonder how I might be doing, how my day might be playing out in that hellish house, before you jumped into bed with Kaeda?”

“We didn’t—”

“Did you think of me?”

“Y/N, of course I thought of you.” He tries to clamp down on your legs, but you’re moving further away, damn near falling off the table in your efforts. “But you — you said you would come and find me. I waited for you—I—”

You’re really not sure if it’s a strangled sob or a choked laugh that fights its way up your throat. Perhaps it’s both. The sound of it is jarring, and it echoes around the armoury and reminds you of where you find yourself right now. The situation you’re in. How different things might be had Kaeda not come onto the scene.

“You waited for me?” You repeat, righting yourself. “And—what? Did you get bored? How do you think it felt, Azriel, when I came to find you — the only person I wanted to fucking be around in that moment — and you were busy with Kaeda on top of you? As if I needed my heart breaking any more that night.”

You hate it — hate it so viscerally that the words won’t stop coming. That you’re bringing your heart into this and allowing it to be stomped on again. Your eyes are watering, and you turn quickly before Az can see.

For a moment, he says and does absolutely nothing. And then he takes a step closer to you.

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t there when you needed me. Believe me, I am.” He says. There’s another step. Another. He’s hovering at your back and you know he’s wondering whether he should reach out and touch you. “But, Y/N…you encouraged me to pursue things with Kaeda. Am I to apologise for that?”

You blink at his words so abruptly that your tears spill down your cheeks.

Now you’re laughing.

It’s a humourless laugh — a hysterical one. It breaks from you in a series of fractured, incredulous noises. At least the emotion boils your blood so thoroughly that it warms you from the inside.

“Apologise?” You round on Azriel, balling your fists at your sides. “No. You don’t need to fucking apologise. But you also don’t need me to practice on anymore, do you?”

He clamps down on his jaw, a telltale muscle moving. “I didn’t kiss you for that—”

“You kissed me because you miss me. Because I am…I’m just a security blanket, aren’t I? I’m what’s familiar, and you’re used to being around me, and having distance between us has fooled you into thinking that you want to kiss me.”

“No—”

“But you’ll kiss me…and make me feel good..and then the novelty will fucking wear off, and you’ll be running straight back to Kaeda because she is who you’ve wanted all along. Not me. Never me.”

“Cauldron, Y/N, will you just let me speak?!”

No.

You will not.

You can’t.

You can’t do this. You can’t break in front of him. You refuse to.

You want to sound strong, and sure, and unbothered, but you open your mouth, and the words are watery and broken. Weak.

“No.” You swallow a lump down. “No, I won’t. Just…just go, Az. I need some time.”

“We’ve spent the last week apart. That’s plenty of fucking time—”

“Go! Go back to Kaeda. Stop…stop pretending like this could play out any other way. It can’t. It won’t.”

“I’m not leaving on an unresolved fight. You and I don’t do that.”

You are far too beaten down to discuss this any longer. You shrug, and the gesture is an effort in itself. “I’m not sure I know what either of us do or don’t do anymore. Things have changed. Go.”

“Y/N—”

“Go!”

Finally, it seems to dawn on him — the realisation that you’re serious. You won’t be discussing this tonight. You’re not strong enough for that yet.

He falters a moment longer, so clearly not wanting to walk away. The two of you have never been like this. You can fight like the best of friends do, but you’ve always made the effort to resolve things, to not part on a bad word.

But things are different, now. You know it. Az knows it.

“…Fine.” He rasps after a long stint of silence. “I’ll go.”

You nod. If he’s expecting you to suddenly change your mind, he’ll be gravely disappointed.

His eyes sweep you once more, and then he’s turning. Dragging his feet to the door like a kicked animal.

“Az?” You call quietly, and he stops.

The hope in his eyes as he looks over his shoulder almost breaks your resolve. Almost, but not quite. “Yes?”

“Send Cassian next time.”

He doesn’t deign to reply.

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Azriel is not well-versed in the world of dinner parties and propriety.

He has a few decent shirts he reserves for special occasions — like when Rhys’s mother cooks a nice meal, and he and the others dress up out of respect.

Y/N would laugh herself hoarse if she could see him right now.

A thought that stings almost as much as the intense, burning gaze of Tathaln Baralas, Lord of Fenlaros.

He’s a mammoth, domineering presence at the head of the dinner table, seeming to command every bite that each person takes of their food, every sip of their wine. It’s silent unless he speaks. It’s tense because he makes it tense.

He watches Azriel as though he’s going to finish his food and then take a bite out of the shadowsinger himself. Az’s shadows are taut around him, not wanting to make a spectacle of their brilliance. The dinner so far has felt like one big, held breath.

But finally, Tathaln clears his throat, and Kaeda and her brothers sit up straight. Az does the same.

“I trust your friends have fared well since your little adventure in my camp.” The Lord addresses Azriel. “I hope the punishment wasn’t too severe. I did many similar things in my youth — though I can’t say I was ever quite so bold as to venture into a rival territory.”

Azriel inclines his head slightly. “I wanted to apologise again — for what happened. Things got out of hand.”

“I’m partly to blame, father, as you know.” Kaeda adds. Azriel damn near jumps out of his seat as her hand lands on his thigh beneath the table. “It was my idea to invite my friends from Windhaven. An oversight, perhaps, on my part. I was eager to show Azriel what Fenlaros has to offer.”

Tathaln seems to think on that as he chews his food. He washes it down with a gulp of wine and reaches for the carafe to refill his glass. The whole thing feels like somewhat of a performance, and nobody speaks a word as it plays out.

This family dynamic is…odd. Not that Azriel has much experience where normal family dynamics are concerned. But there’s a formality with which Kaeda and her brothers — not that the two males have breathed a word this entire meal — address their flesh and blood. Like he is their Lord first, and father second.

And that isn’t unusual for Illyrians — not at all. Offspring are, more often than not, treated like a prospective trophy to be paraded in front of competing families. The fiercer, more ruthless the child is, the prouder the parent will be. It’s a brutal, ugly way of living that never changes, no matter how many generations stack up.

But perhaps Azriel is at fault for having too high an expectation. Perhaps he shouldn’t ever have been fooled by Kaeda’s wings and spirit being left intact, unlike most females around her.

Tathaln is a puppeteer, and Kaeda and her brothers are his dutiful puppets.

“There was no particular harm done.” The Lord eventually says — rather reasonable, for an Illyrian. “I imagine you received a stern talking to. Revoked privileges, perhaps?”

“Lord Devlon saw fit to lecture us, yes.” Azriel concurs with a nod. “But besides that, we weren’t really handed any punishment. It was my friend, Y/N, who bore the brunt of his wrath. She’s been forced into homelessness as a result.”

A sudden, sharp kick lands on Az’s leg from beside him. He glances at Kaeda in his periphery, eyes the fierce expression with which she looks at him. It seems to be communicating, don’t bring this up now.

But Az wants to bring it up. He’s pissed off; more so than he initially thought. At himself, mostly, and at Devlon, at Rhys’s father, maybe even a little at Kaeda — at everyone really.

Tathaln pauses, his fork mid-air. And then he sits back. “Right — the girl that was here. Why has she been made homeless?”

Girl. It’s a sneer of a word in Illyrian mouths. Azriel has to clamp down on his jaw and remind himself that confronting the sexism that runs through their veins is a fruitless task in that moment.

And Kaeda sighs at his side. As if she’d rather be talking in great detail about the roasting of a boar, than about Y/N.

But it answers a question that’s been rattling around in Azriel’s mind all evening — that no, Kaeda had clearly not mentioned Y/N to her father, as she said she would.

“Her father kicked her out on Solstice.” Az explains. “He’s not a good male, to say the least. Y/N was living with myself and my friends, but after the events that unfolded here in Fenlaros, she was sworn off having any contact with us, because Lord Devlon seems to think that she’s the driving force behind any and every bad choice we make. She has nowhere else to go. It’s…worrying.”

“Perhaps she’ll think twice before wandering into rival camps.” Finally, one of Kaeda’s brothers speaks. Arlen, Azriel thinks his name is. Clearly the idiot doesn’t see the irony of his statement.

Or perhaps Kaeda doesn’t have to adhere to the rules that every other female is strictly held under.

“Arlen.” The Lord shoots him a warning glance. He turns back to Azriel. “I would argue that Lord Devlon is full of shit.”

Azriel stops. Blinks. That…that’s not what he was expecting.

“How so, father?” Kaeda’s brow furrows.

“It’s his job to keep the soldiers under his command in line, no?” Tathaln’s dark, feline eyes are assessing Azriel as he speaks — seeming to read his response. “If he finds that a single female is the cause of such disruption, perhaps it is himself he should look at. He can’t be a great leader if he has to resort to such extremes just to keep his soldiers under control, now, can he?”

Az stares back at him. The question is meant for him, but it all seems too…too easy. Reason and logic are simply not a common thing among these people. The words sound almost…false. Forced.

“No.” Azriel agrees. “I suppose not.”

“Do you find him to be an adequate leader?”

“I’ve never known any different.”

Tathaln’s mouth tips up. “That isn’t what I asked.”

No, it isn’t. But this is a fine line Azriel is treading. He positively despises Lord Devlon — thinks him an arrogant brute who uses his title to flout camp laws and customs and turn everything in his favour. Not to mention the fact that he and his cronies are so clearly threatened by Az, Rhys and Cass — an undoubtedly formidable trio. Azriel is sure that if Devlon had his way, the three of them would be slung out by their necks. Or hung by them.

But his personal feelings towards the Lord of Windhaven doesn’t change the fact that openly disrespecting him — and to the lord of another camp — is a huge dishonour. One that could blow up in Azriel’s face if this conversation were to somehow make its way back to Devlon. He has to choose his words carefully.

“He has a method of leadership that I can’t say I’m in agreement with.” Gods, he is the epitome and personification of diplomacy, if he does say so himself. Ten points to the shadowsinger. “I’m not sure that using his power to target vulnerable females was ever part of his job description. I’m sure, as a father to a female of the same age, you can see where I’m coming from.”

Tathaln takes another pensive sip of his wine. He inclines his head. “Indeed, I do. I think it’s terrible leadership. And I think you’re wasted in Windhaven.”

“I appreciate that, my lord.”

“There is no need for modesty, Azriel, the shadowsinger.” As he speaks, the Lord’s eyes inch towards those very shadows. He studies them with a strange expression that looks almost like…hunger. “Do you know why I sent my Kaeda to your camp? I may as well admit, I have an agenda.”

Azriel glances at Kaeda. She’s staring at her plate, shoulders squared. “Oh?”

“I sent her there to scope out the quality of the units that are being trained in the Windhaven Camp. My sons were sent on similar missions to other camps — Camp Theriel, Camp Steelshore, Camp Aruin. The consensus of what was reported back to me regarding each camp was that potential is not being filled. Quite frankly, a mockery is being made of Illyrians by the poor training of these legions. If war was waged tomorrow, half of our race could be wiped out.”

Bold, bold words.

Azriel finds himself stunned silent.

“We are Illyrians, no?” A thick, callused finger traces the rim of Tathaln’s chalice. “We are a warrior race. We have birthed some of the fiercest warriors in Prythian’s history and decimated tens of thousands across battlefields. And yet, it would seem, these days, that our camps are producing fewer warriors, and far more lazy, unambitious brutes who care only about drinking and fighting and fucking. Our reputation could be destroyed yet.”

This is…bizarre, Az thinks.

He also thinks that it’s a little unfair. He’s the last person to ever defend the creatures around him that are supposedly his brethren, but he also thinks that Tathaln’s assessment is wildly exaggerated.

Illyrians drink, yes, and fight, yes, and fuck, yes. But they do so in between harsh, gruelling training. They drink to forget the brutal nature of their life’s work. They fight each other because they’re just as angry as one another, and that needs an outlet. They seek pleasure, because it’s one of the few good things to be found in these parts.

Their training is not for the faint of heart. You train well, or you die. It’s that simple.

And if Tathaln, Lord of Fenlaros, truly has such concerns, Azriel doesn’t understand why the fuck they’re being presented to him, of all people.

“Is this something you’ve raised with the High Lord?” He asks — he isn’t sure he even means to say it.

Kaeda tenses beside him, and Az wonders if, perhaps, he’s overstepped the mark. But Tathaln seems somewhat pleased by the question — seems pleased that Azriel is engaged in the discussion.

“It is.” The male answers. “And I think he finds himself agreeable to what I’ve had to say. However, I haven’t yet presented my solution — what I believe to be the right course of action.”

Az takes the bait. “Which is what?”

“Eventually,” Tathaln says, “I would do away with the individual camps entirely. I would have one, sole camp to train Illyrian warriors, overseen by the most powerful members of our race. Members with rare, unique powers who can draw on the Illyrian potential and make our people what we were always supposed to be. What we once were, before we became too complacent. Better, even.”

And just like that, it makes sense that Tathaln is sharing such things with Az.

Rare, unique powers. Powers like that of a shadowsinger. So incredibly unique that Azriel has never met another of his kind.

Tathaln has ambition — he covets power. He has a vision that needs backing.

It’s like everything suddenly clicks into place in Azriel’s mind.

He finds himself looking at Kaeda, not her father. Finds himself wondering if she ever had genuine interest in him, or if that interest came entirely from Tathaln. Finally, she lifts her gaze to his, and she wears a strange, pleading look.

“Don’t get me wrong, shadowsinger.” Tathaln says. “This is not a goal that could be achieved overnight. Power takes time to build. I couldn’t take this idea to the High Lord without something to back it up — something to get him on side.”

Azriel shrugs. “But what would you have me do? I’m just a soldier in training—”

“You are a shadowsinger. Do you even realise what an asset that makes you? Perhaps your poor start in life, your mistreatment, has caused you to downplay your potential. But I see it. Your power could be a lethal weapon on a battlefield. And off a battlefield. There is so much you could be doing, and yet Lord Devlon has you landing punches on a sparring dummy and calls it training? You are made for better things than that.”

Praise is…it’s a rare thing, in Azriel’s world. And he doesn’t care about that, because the little praise he does get comes from the people who matter, and that’s all he needs.

But hearing somebody other than his close friends — his family — speak so highly of him, is…new. And he’d be lying if he claimed not to like it.

Still, Tathaln is clearly beating around the proverbial. Azriel almost doesn’t want the discussion to go any further, because his head is already full to the brim with swimming thoughts and close to exploding. But they’ve come this far already; he may as well learn what his role in this bigger agenda would be.

“What is it you want from me, my Lord?” He asks.

A small smile plays on Tathaln’s mouth. His eyes, yet again, are on Azriel’s shadows, rather than Az himself. “As I said, change cannot be made overnight. It would take years — generations, perhaps. I would need enough males — strong males — backing my cause, before the High Lord would even hear of it. But I am a patient male. I know what I want, what is right for Illyria, and I will do everything in my power to make it happen. Starting with strengthening my camp. Being known as the strongest of all camps. And strengthening my influence, too.”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

“Having your power on my side could be a good thing for me. And I could hone you. I believe this mission starts with you. Abandon Windhaven and take up residence in Fenlaros. Train under my command. Come and see exactly how wasted you are in that place. Come and see what we could build together.”

“You want me to be your pet?” Azriel raises an eyebrow. “Your project?”

“I want to hone your potential and show you what an asset you are. I want Illyrians to be a feared people once more. I want to build the strongest, most powerful army in all of Prythian and make Illyria what it was always supposed to be.”

In the wake of the impassioned speech, silence sweeps in. Azriel is staring at his plate, and he thinks he might be feeling cold all over. There’s a strange tingling at the back of his neck — like a warning sign.

He still doesn’t understand why he’d be integral to such an agenda. He’s a shadowsinger, yes, and that is not to be downplayed, but he’s just Azriel. He’s just an Illyrian who trains to fight, and fights to kill, and to one day be killed. That is simply how it is.

And Windhaven — ugly and cold and harrowing as it is — is his home. His family is there. A cottage that is far too small and cramped to house a group of adults but is always a beacon of light and hope and warmth. A place in which he’s made wonderful memories and felt genuine happiness. He’s happy to tolerate the hellish ways of life around him, because he has beautiful things in front of him.

Beautiful things that wouldn’t follow him to Fenlaros. Yes, he may have broken a rule and breached a camp to attend a party — but doing so under casual circumstances is wildly different to doing so under official ones. As a soldier of Fenlaros — as one of Tathaln’s puppets — he would be expected to adhere to the strict rules and standards that he metes out. Fenlaros would be his territory, and there would be no blurring of those lines.

But could Tathaln really be seeing more potential in Azriel than had ever been noticed before? Could it truly be that Fenlaros has more to offer him? More to be done for him?

“I would be turning my back on everything I know.” Az says, the mere words tasting sour in his mouth. “My loved ones. The family I’ve built. They would be left behind. I’m not under any illusion that you’d allow our two camps to interact if I came here.”

Tathaln dips his chin. “I am not going to sugarcoat that. It would be an adjustment, and a painful one at first. But there is far more for you here, shadowsinger. I simply ask that you consider it. Just as I believe your two brothers would consider it, if I were to present the offer to them.”

“And why haven’t you? Presented it to them? Why me?”

Those dark, calculating eyes swallow him up. “I need a shadowsinger. It starts with you.”

Azriel isn’t even sure what that means, and he doesn’t want to think about it any longer. There’s a lump in his throat. His appetite is well and truly gone. He might even be sick.

He couldn’t possibly leave his family. The thought makes him violently ill.

“As I said, all I ask is for your consideration.” Tathaln watches him. And then his eyes slide to his daughter. “As this meal is clearly over, perhaps Kaeda should show you around Fenlaros. Show you what this place might have to offer. Give the shadowsinger a tour, my sweet.”

Kaeda smiles broadly. “Yes, father.”

Az wants to refuse, but he can’t find the words. Too much is going on in his head. He wants to get out of there and go straight back to Windhaven, where it’s familiar and where love waits for him. He doesn’t want to be a component in a greater agenda.

When he met Kaeda, it was simply about…exploring attraction. About experiencing. Not about this.

But he can’t fucking speak. He stands without telling his body to stand.

And for some reason, when Kaeda slides her hand into his, murmurs a soft “come, Azriel”, he doesn’t protest.

Numb and stunned and sick to his stomach he may be. But he follows.

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Azriel isn’t sure if he’s heard a single word that has left Kaeda’s mouth.

She speaks, and yet it’s simply background noise. He can’t hear around the screeching in his head.

He should really just take to the skies and fly home, but perhaps he’s already a puppet — his feet stay on Fenlaros turf. Kaeda guides him around the camp as though the conversation at dinner never happened. She shows him her favourite haunts and introduces him to people whose names he forgets instantly.

It's up on a viewpoint overlooking the camp, just he and Kaeda alone, that he finally releases a slow, weary breath. He folds his arms against the railing and welcomes the cold air biting into his skin. Kaeda stands just a short distance away.

“We call this area the Widow’s Watch.” She says, daring a step closer. “It’s said that centuries ago, at the end of battle, the camp wives would gather up here with firelit torches and await their husbands’ return. If their husband returned, they’d extinguish the torch. Those that were left burning signified who did not return from war.”

Azriel says nothing; isn’t sure he’s capable. He digs his fingers into his arm.

Eventually, Kaeda stops at his side, also bracing her arms on the railing. She looks out over the camp wistfully, as though she can see hordes of wounded soldiers returning home. “I can’t imagine how eerie that sight must have been — the beacons of the dead painting the sky with fire.”

“No,” the agreement leaves the shadowsinger unexpectedly — surprises even him. “Neither can I.”

It’s then that Kaeda angles herself towards him just slightly. He meets her gaze. She’s so very beautiful — the kind of female that artists beg to paint. Her cheekbones are high and defined, her lips full. Her eyes look like shards of glimmering green rock. Never is there a hair out of place. Never a stray lash or smudged rouge. She is, quite simply, a vision.

But Az finds himself wondering if he’s ever known any part of her, or if she’s just following orders.

“I know you must have questions.” She eyes him cautiously.

“So many that my brain can’t keep up.” He takes a small step away. “Have you ever been genuinely interested in me?”

“I have.”

“Your father literally sent you to cozy up to me.”

Her eyes shutter, thick lashes fanning against her skin. “It wasn’t like that, Azriel. I mean — it was, to some degree. You’re right that my father sent me, and that he already had his sights set on you. I work for him. I’m training as his spymaster.” She opens those eyes again — wide. “Yes, he told me to get to know you. But he didn’t say romantically. That was all me. I just…like you.”

Gods, it should feel good, feel like a positive thing, to hear that. To know that the beautiful female he’s been getting to know these past months has genuine interest in him.

But he feels…nothing. No sense of relief. Only the anger that’s still simmering at this entire thing being orchestrated by her father.

“Does it not bother you?” His tone is brusque, sharp, as he stares Kaeda down. “That your father has you do his bidding? You’re a pawn in a game.”

“My father has a vision. It is an honour to serve him, and to be a contributor to that vision eventually coming to fruition. I will not apologise for that.”

“A vision. To create…to create one fucking super camp that he is to oversee? It sounds to me like your father has a hunger for power. Things have worked this way in Illyria for millennia. Why should they be changed now?”

Kaeda shakes her head. “You’re wrong. Things aren’t working. That’s just the problem.”

“You—”

“Are you proud to be an Illyrian, Azriel?” She steps closer to him; perhaps too close. “I’m not. Not with how things are right now. But I want to be. We are a warrior race. We are supposed to train, and fight, and protect. We’re supposed to be formidable. We’re supposed to be feared. But with the way things are going, fewer and fewer of those things are remaining true. If we don’t change how things are run across these camps and light a fire under our soldiers’ asses, half of our people could be wiped out when the next war comes. The Illyrian race could cease to exist entirely, and our legacy will be left at the mercy of rhyme and tale. We can’t allow that to be the case.”

Azriel studies her.

Her passion is…intense, yes, but also strangely beautiful. There’s a ferocity in her eyes that is so rare among a people who live and breathe misery; whose lot in life is to die.

That doesn’t mean, of course, that he appreciates Tathaln’s scheming, nor Kaeda’s. But they’re not exactly wrong in that ambition is a rare commodity these days. Those who can train for the Illyrian army do so because it’s what is expected of them. Those who aren’t cut out for it make do with everyday jobs around camp. Nobody has pride or passion. Nobody is prepared for war.

So Azriel’s shoulders relax just a little, even though his scepticism remains very much present. “I still don’t understand why I am being scouted for this cause, though. Why not take it to the High Lord? Or why not get Rhysand on side?”

Kaeda shakes her head. “As my father explained, we simply don’t have enough backing to go to the High Lord about this idea — not yet. He knows of my father’s opinion and even agrees that things need to change, but such a complex idea requires careful handling. And conspiring with his son about it would surely not put us in his favour.”

“So…what? I’m the next best thing?”

“After Rhysand, you’re the most powerful, yes. Your influence could aid us greatly. I don’t think you realise how highly coveted you are. Every other camp is aware of the fact that Windhaven has a shadowsinger. And they’re equally aware that your abilities aren’t being put to their full potential under Lord Devlon’s command. Changes will be made whether you accept my father’s offer or not, Azriel. But the changes we’re proposing are the best ones. The right ones.”

“I don’t see what’s right about having to leave my friends — my brothers—”

“Gods, Azriel, just…just take the emotion out of this for five seconds and listen to me.”

Az’s jaw clenches. “I am listening.”

“Then hear me clearly. Change is coming. It’s inevitable. And one thing I can tell you with absolute certainty is that even if you weren’t to come to Fenlaros, you would still be separated from your friends, or your brothers, or whatever you call them.” She hovers close enough to touch, now, mere inches from him. “One thing I’ve picked up on in Windhaven is that Lord Devlon is very intimidated by the strength of you, Cassian and Rhysand being together. The older you get, the more powerful you’re becoming, and people are growing aware of that. Devlon intends to separate the three of you, and by any means necessary. He can’t risk the threat you pose to him. He’ll tear you apart.”

The information doesn’t surprise Az one bit. He’s sensed a growing panic amongst Devlon and his cronies. They don’t stand a chance against the future High Lord and his two closest friends. And Azriel doesn’t doubt that if physical separation didn’t work, the callous bastards would resort to something far, far worse. Or try, at least.

But still, none of this is making any fucking sense to him. He needs a stiff drink. Or twenty. “How would coming to Fenlaros solve that in any way?”

“Beating Devlon at his own game — separating yourself from your brothers — will lure him into a false sense of security. With you gone, it’ll be one less problem to worry about. He’ll let his guard down. Meanwhile, we’ll be building our influence here and forming a case that can be taken to the High Lord. With his support of our changes, we’ll have the power to do more. And then eventually…eventually, your brothers can join you here. When we have more ground to work on. My father would never begrudge the bond the three of you have. He’d see it as a positive…having three such powerful Illyrians under his command.”

Too much to think about. Way, way too much. Azriel just wants to get out of there. He wants to lie down in a dark room and pretend nothing and no one exists.

But he stares at Kaeda. And he asks, “And what of Y/N? Could she come here, too?”

There’s a very slight hesitance — small, but certainly there. But then she purses her lips, and she shrugs. “Whatever you want.”

He’s not sure she means it. And that…that’s a whole other rabbit hole he’s not sure he can face going down right now. Another situation entirely.

Before he can say anything else, Kaeda closes the gap between them. She cups his face and leans up, close enough that their mouths are almost touching.

“Just think about it. That’s all I ask.” She says. “I really do like you, Azriel. And I really do think we could have something. Think of what we could do here, together. Of what we could be. We could make history. Just…promise me you’ll think about it.”

His lips part with a response he hasn’t even thought of. But there’s no chance to speak it as Kaeda slants her mouth over his and kisses him slowly, softly. Deeply.

Her fingers sink into the strands of his hair, and she breathes a muted hum into his mouth. She tastes like peppermint and sugar, and she kisses as though she hasn’t just laid the weight of the world on Azriel’s shoulders.

And that weight might be why he’s stiff as a board, barely reacting. Or it might be the horrible feeling of dread that this is all wrong. He kissed another female, earlier today — and that kiss had felt like burning, eternal sunshine.

This one feels like…like a ploy.

“Just promise me.” She pulls away just enough to whisper. “Promise me you’ll think about it.”

There’s no way he can’t think about it. The seeds have been sown. And perhaps he feels a little slither of guilt for how rigid and cold he currently is, because he doesn’t shoot her plea down like he should.

He sucks in a slow breath and inclines his head.

“Okay.” He says. “I’ll think about it.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The fucking wall is Azriel’s fucking face.

At least, that’s what the fuck you tell yourself as you send a dagger hurtling at it and watch it bury its point into the surface. Another scuff mark to add to the growing smattering, all courtesy of you.

Fuck. Him.

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt so angry in your life, and Cauldron knows, you’ve had ample reason to. But this anger is…it’s consuming. It’s violent and jagged and nauseating. It’s claws sinking into your heart and your brain and dissecting everything that plagues you in both sleep and consciousness.

And it’s this severe because you care. You care so very much.

You’re sick of caring.

Why would he kiss you, after all that has happened since the last time? To taunt you? To grab your feelings in his fist and twist them? To practice on you?

And to think you almost gave in to that strange, carnal need to have his hands on you again. You cannot — will not — allow yourself to think about which deeper emotion or desire that need is rooted in. Thinking will lead only to realisations that may destroy you yet.

And he’s probably with Kaeda right now, too. Perhaps losing himself in her, forgetting all about you with the aid of her touch—

You scowl and march to the wall, yanking your dagger out. Your anger and your need to just…move, is keeping you warm, at least. Nighttime in the old armoury is about as pitiful as can be imagined, but the relentless cold is actually a strange…relief. It hurts in a satisfying way.

How fucking dare he, your mind chants, not for the first time, as you stalk back to your spot. How dare he treat you as though you’re nothing? You brace yourself and send the dagger hurtling towards the wall once again—

The door is suddenly bursting open, and the weapon only just misses Cassian’s face on its journey as he strides in, arms full of items you don’t care to look at.

He stops abruptly. Blinks. “Did you just throw a dagger at me?”

“No.” You immediately scowl, stalking over to retrieve it yet again. “Fuck you.”

“Ouch. Fuck you right back. I brought blankets and food.”

“Shove them up your ass.”

“I’d really rather not.” He kicks the door shut behind him and strides over to the pile of your scant belongings, dropping his items and freeing his arms. He turns back to you with raised eyebrows. “Is there a particular reason you’re acting like a little storm cloud, or is it just a way to pass the time?”

Finally, you sheath your blade — partly because you’re not sure you trust yourself with it right now. You face your friend, fully aware that you’re out of line and fully resentful of the fact.

“I had an argument with Az.” You admit, not even certain you mean to.

Cassian’s eyebrows raise. “Well, that explains why he nearly bit my head off earlier, too. What did you fight about?”

Do you tell him? Do you confess all your complicated, messed up feelings — the bizarre circumstances that brought them about — when you haven’t even sorted through them yourself? No. You can’t. It’s a bit too soon for that.

“It was…nothing.” You stalk over to your things. “Just nothing.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing—”

“Thank you for bringing me these.” You toe a thick blanket with your boot.

Yet again, Cassian’s eyebrows go up. “Are you hinting at me to leave?”

“Just because I have to face the night in this hovel, doesn’t mean you should be subjected to the same fate. I wouldn’t expect that of you.”

“Well, fucking expect it, because I’m staying—”

“Cass—”

“Come here.” He opens his arms. “Right now.”

You stare at him. And in that instant, with him seeing you — seeing everything you are, everything you’re feeling, what you need — your anger simmers, and it threatens to turn into tears.

“You clearly need a hug.” He points out softly. “And I’ve missed you this past week. So come here.”

In an instant, you crumble. You’re stepping forward and damn near falling into Cassian’s arms. He catches you, just like he always catches you.

His arms band around you, warmer and more secure than any blanket. He pulls you tightly against him, and you allow your arms to snake around his waist. It’s only then that you realise how much you need the firmness of his body to hold you up. He’s like a huge, supporting wall that stops you sinking to your knees.

“I’m so sad.” You whisper, nestling your face into his chest. His scent and his warmth permeate his clothes, and they combine and wash over you in a soothing combination.

“I know.” His broad hand cups the back of your head. “Everything is a huge mess right now. But we’re going to get through it — together.”

You hate that you can’t believe him; not right now. Everything is too up in the air, too uncertain. A dark mass has followed you around this camp for the entirety of your life, and it’s closer than ever to closing in and snuffing out who you are.

“How can you be so sure?” You ask. “I don’t think I have the strength to fight anymore, Cass.”

He pulls back to study you. To cup your face and look into your eyes. “Yes.” He says firmly. “You do. You always have and you always will. There is nothing — nothing — you can’t face. I truly believe that, Y/N.”

Staring back at him feels just like…like the night in the cottage, when you lost yourself in him. Him being there for you, speaking the words that are so hard to believe and yet so what you need to hear. The same urge arises in you to give over to those feelings. Do something for yourself for once.

You think Cassian might read that thought on your face. Perhaps you wear it shamelessly.

He studies you closely — studies you hard. And his throat bobs as his eyes flit down to your lips.

“Y/N.” He says. “Let me make you feel good.”

You swallow, also. And you don’t need to think about it. “Yes.” You nod. “Yes.”

In a flash, he’s closing the gap between you, his mouth finding yours. The hot and heavy weight of his lips is a relief. One that makes you release a soft sigh.

You don’t let yourself think about the fact that you were kissing Azriel in this very building only earlier. Nor about the fact that it could have gone much further than that. Cassian gives you himself, and you take, your hands bunching in his jacket as you haul him against you.

His hand fists in your hair, tilting your face up to him. And as his mouth stains yours with his urgent need, he’s backing you up, walking you back and back until you collide with that very table that Az kissed you on earlier.  Cassian picks you up in an easy sweep and places you on the tabletop. He parts your legs and slots himself in between, his mouth never once leaving yours, never once faltering.

Until he parts from you and says, “Lie back.”

With his hand guiding you down, you do just that. You sprawl out on that table, anticipation coiling in your stomach. It warms you from the inside, makes your skin too hot and your clothes too heavy.

Cassian doesn’t mess around with teasing or taunting. He drags his hands over your breasts, your stomach, and down to the laces at your breeches. You don’t care about the cold air. You lift your hips and wish only for him to undo those laces faster. You want your skin bare, and his touch marking it.

“I didn’t get to taste you last time.” Your friend pants, pressing a kiss to your abdomen. “Will you let me now?”

Goosebumps erupt over you skin. You grip onto the edges of the table and breathe, desperately. “Yes. Please.”

So boldly, he yanks your breeches and undergarments down in one go. His fingers find the very centre of you, already soaked, already ready for him. What he finds there makes him groan.

“Here? You’ll let me taste you here?”

“Please.” You pant again. “Just…please, Cass. I need this.”

“I know.” A kiss lands on your skin. “I know.”

His hands drag down your legs at the same time he sinks to his knees. You bow your head forward — just to watch the predatory grace with which he aligns his face with your sex. He licks his lips like you’ve presented him with his most carnal desire.

He inhales slowly — breathes in your scent. A growl rips from his throat.

And then he dives right in.

His tongue licks a stripe up your centre, from your entrance, up to your clit. Your hips buck at the contact, one hand moving to bunch within his hair. As his tongue swirls over your clit, pleasure barrels through you that ends in a cry.

“Your taste is fucking divine.” Cass groans, and his hands pry your legs further apart. He wastes no time in lapping at your juices, damn near fucking drinking you down. He drinks and drinks like a male parched. “Gods, Y/N.”

“More.” You gasp, thrusting your hips towards him. You grind your cunt against his face, and you can’t stop your body jerking, your head lolling back. “Gods, Cass, more.”

“More?” His teeth graze against the sensitive nub. “Tell me what you need.”

“Your mouth. Fingers. You.”

A delicious, sinful chuckle, so incredibly deep and lilting, breaks from Cass and vibrates against you. He lands a harsh suck on your clit. “I love how filthy you are.”

And he shows you how much he loves it, as one finger suddenly gathers up your wetness and teases your entrance. You moan, plead, beg him to slip it into you. He does so at the same time that he fastens his lips to your clit and strokes at it with his tongue.

You feel him smile against you. Your responses seem to provide him with almost as much pleasure as your touch would.

“Just like that.” He growls the words onto you, sliding his finger out and back in — adds a second one. “Take what you need. Fuck my fingers.”

You need this pleasure. This release. He has no idea how much you need it. Nobody does. You need to feel like somebody else, feel like you’re somewhere else. You need to feel something other than…blinding pain.

And so you take what you fucking need, undulating your hips and moving yourself on his fingers, against his tongue. Cassian follows your lead, keeps up with your pace. As your moans pick up, so do the thrusts of his hand.

“Going to come for me?” His hand moves faster. “Come around my fingers?”

“Yes.” You throw your head back. “Fuck—Cass.”

“Come.” He growls. “Want to feel you.”

It’s as if your body is fully under his command, because the words have your climax bursting through your body and chasing you from every negative feeling that’s been plaguing you. It feels beautifully catastrophic, fucking mind-altering. It feels like an out of body experience.

You know, somewhere in your mind, that you’re being loud, but you don’t give a single damn. You welcome your orgasm and allow it to consume you. You allow your loud, gasping noises to echo around the building.

But perhaps it’s the loud volume of those noises that prevents both you and Cass from hearing the door open behind you. Perhaps it’s the heat of your passion that makes you immune to the sudden gust of cold air.

Whatever it is, neither of you notice a third presence until a voice bellows behind you.

“Cauldron fucking boil me, my eyes!”

Both you and Cass rise with a start, you scrambling to cover yourself. A horrified expression stares back at you both.

“Roza.” You both say at the same time. Both blink in shock, too.

Rhysand’s mother covers her eyes with her hand and turns her back to you.

“Please correct yourselves before you traumatise me any more.” She says. “Can’t turn my back on you idiots for five gods-damn minutes.”

azriel tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd

[infamous-if]

✮ DEMO (457K) ✮ FAQ ✮ PLAYLISTS ✮ PATREON

Latest update -> 9/08/2024

You're going to be a superstar, no matter what it takes.

You and your friends have been in a band since high school, when all you were was a lead singer to a band that played out of someone's garage and did occasional birthday party gigs for the neighborhood kids. after years of grinding, your band has yet to make it big, but has managed a small and dedicated cult following. All you and your bandmates want is to see your names in glittery lights, traveling the world to perform for millions of fans.

Your chance comes in Misfit Alley's Battle of the Bands. After auditioning every year with no success, your band has finally gotten the opportunity to tour across the United States and open for the biggest band in the world, performing against other bands in the hopes that you win and get signed.

As you perform, your fame rises and you can see the dream coming to fruition. But with fame comes problems of its own, some that might just ruin you and the band you swore to take to the top.

Infamous is rated 18+ for explicit language, explicit sexual themes, drug and alcohol use, violence, morally questionable behavior, and more.

✮ FEATURES ✮ CHARACTER INTROS ✮

Customize your MC (the lead singer of your band)'s appearance and personality, as well as their public image and persona. Are they loved or hated by the public? Controversial or appeasing? Humble or arrogant? Fame and money-hungry or simply there for the music?

Following that, work on your band's public image and whether they're mainstream or underground, depending on the choice of music you release and what kind of promo you do. Is your band hated by parents due to its explicit content or is your band squeaky clean, perfect for a mainstream label?

Engage in fiery romance with an array of wild characters, including some that may just get you into hot water with the rumor mill.

Create your own lyrics and decide whether you want to be a genuine artist or the face of a brand.

Get rich and famous ! Isn't that what you're here for?

✮THE BAND + ROs✮

The Band Manager: Orion/Oriana Quinn ✮ he/him or she/her, 35 ✮ [RO] -- strict and reserved, O is the antithesis of what a rockstar is. Some call their cold and uptight demeanor having 'a stick up their ass' but they call it being business focused. O is all about bringing the band to the top, which includes being professional at all times.

Special romance route: you can choose to have been chasing O for years, to no success (until now?)

The New Addition: August Pierce ✮ they/them, 26 ✮ [RO] -- With the exit of your bandmate, August has taken her place as the band's drummer. Usually shy and reserved, that all goes out the window once they start playing. You wonder if their isolation is less a personality trait and more the fact that they're in a band with longtime friends. Doesn't matter--seems like it'll take a while for you to get close to them regardless.

The Idol: Griffin/Gina 'Gigi' Reign ✮ he/him or she/her, 28 ✮ [RO] -- the spunky, charming and controversial lead singer of Misfit Alley and now your mentor, G Reign is currently the most famous person on Earth. Everyone either hates them, wants to be them, or wants to fuck them. Of course, this means a slew of trouble if one gets close to them...that is if they even allow it.

Special romance route: engage in an affair / engage in a strictly physical relationship (that can lead to a romantic one) // poly route with Victoria Valentine

The Rival: Seven Lawless ✮ he/him or she/her, 27 ✮ [RO] -- once your best friend or ex, they are now your rival and the lead singer of Soft Violence, another band competing for Battle of the Bands. They hate you. Still, the line between love and hate is a whole lot of passion.

Special romance route: can either be an ex or a former best friend, enemies to lovers.

The Girl Dad: Sebastian Holland ✮ he/him, 33 ✮ [RO] -- a normal and friendly data analyst, Sebastian isn't about the music scene....but his daughter is and she's a superfan of your band. Sebastian is your typical 'nice guy' almost too nice, sometimes, and has been dragged along by his daughter to follow the Battle of the Bands for her birthday. He's just a normal civilian. The last thing you should do is get to know him, right?

The Eye Candy: Victoria Valentine ✮ she/her, 27 ✮ [RO] -- G Reign's wife, she's an upcoming actress and model. Victoria has been G's eye candy since they came up on the scene, but you can almost sense the tension between them. And the way Victoria seeks shelter in someone else...that could be you.

Special romance route: engage in an affair // poly route with G Reign

✮BAND MEMBERS✮

Rowan Hart (he/him) -- guitarist

Iris De Luca (she/her) - keyboardist

Devyn Powell -- (they/she) bassist, background vocals

reblogs appreciated! and thank you for your interestttt

[melu-lis]

anyone who simplifies the popularity of zuko to people liking "dark bad boys" is showing a sign of low media literacy. even before i watched atla, my friends recommended that i watched it solely bc of zuko. and after i watched it, i understood why. in the first episodes, most of the audience perceives him as this hot-headed jerk who's obsessed with capturing a 12 year old boy. but then we get to the episode "the storm" and we learn that the reason zuko wants to capture aang is because he was banished by his father; it doesn't excuse his actions but it is a reason. and then in the 2-parter of "the siege of the north, we learn that he has a sister and that their father often pitted them against each other, making him more sympathetic to the audience. from book 1, it is established that zuko will be more than just a villain. we don't see much of a change in zuko's character until book 2 after him and uncle iroh are branded as fugitives by the fire nation. throughout the season, we see him have an identity crisis and grappling with who he is. by the end of book 2, zuko seems to be content with his life in the earth kingdom and figuring out who he is by himself. that's why in tcod, the audience expects him to join the avatar especially after bonding with katara and confronting his uncle about teaming up with aang. but the show defies our expectations by having zuko join azula in her takeover of ba sing se. some people have a problem with this since he showed a lot of growth in book 2 and thought his betrayal was made to not make zutara a possibility but i think it make sense because zuko was more content being a neutral bystander and joining the avatar would be more risky especially he still wasn't on friendly terms with aang. when we see him return to the fire nation, we see that he's gotten everything that he ever wanted, he has father's approval and is hailed a hero by his country, but he isn't happy. this is why his confrontation with ozai is so satisfying, he realizes that not only the way his father treated him was inhumane and his approval is meaningless, but that his nation's century-long war was never a noble pursuit. when he joins the gaang, he tries his best to atone his past mistakes and demonstrate his sincerity of wanting to end the war and ends his arc by becoming the new fire lord ushered in an era of peace and kindness with the help of his ally and friend, aang. i think this why zuko is more popular compared to aang, the protagonist of the show. while aang and zuko are constantly portrayed as narrative foils to each other, aang doesn't have this constant inner turmoil that zuko does. this is why a lot of fans and casual viewers have an issue with gaang's confrontation with ozai. aang talks about how he struggles with killing ozai since it goes against the principles of his culture, a culture that is basically extinct, but this is never brought up until the series finale! it's not like there aren't any episodes where aang struggles with fulfilling his duties as the avatar, there are plenty and it does make him a sympathetic character. it's even more frustrating when you learn that aang not killing ozai was the plan since the production of book 1. there were countless opportunities where aang's struggle between wanting to maintain his identity and be a full-fledged avatar could've been addressed! i think this what aang stans who are resentful of zuko's popularity don't understand, aang's character arc is a lot more disoriented compared to zuko's.

[blackynsupremacy]

BIG MAN ON CAMPUS

pairing: cooper koch x black!reader

summary: you’re in with the frat brother who’s living his best life and it’s not so bad.

contains: fluff, reader is a bit shy at first, fratboy!cooper, partying, alcohol consumption, mention of hookups, platonic relationship, cooper being a green flag, mention of nicholas, hurt/comfort, friendly banter, use of nicknames/pet names .

a/n: i saw these pictures on pinterest and yep! its been a minute since i made a cooper fic. the next chapter for the nick 80’s au is in the works!

tags: @sabrinasopposite @oscarisaackissmykitty @greengoblinswifey @supaprettyg @hnch33rios @sheydnni @venic-bxtch @xoxoglittergossip @austeenbootler @titsout4nicholas @hoffmansgirl @niteskysx @thabiddie23 @jkr820 @simply-the-best23 @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @motherismotheringggg @babyseolar

fratboy!cooper who attends your college on a full-ride tennis scholarship. he’s an athletic prodigy, but he also is a theater major with a focus on acting.

fratboy!cooper who is the most popular within the brotherhood. he’s handsome, fit, intelligent, studious, charismatic, easygoing, and sociable. people like him because he’s so down to earth.

fratboy!cooper that represents his house and letters with excellence. he leads most of the community service and fundraising events.

fratboy!cooper who is against hazing by any means. he will shut that shit down immediately because the pledges are already going through it as it is. why put them through more hurdles?

fratboy!cooper who has a preppy, old money attire. he likes the finer things and enjoys taking care of his appearance. his signature brands would be brands like aeropostale, hollister, american eagle, calvin klein, ralph lauren, and a&f. skin care, hair maintenance, and hygiene are a must for him!

fratboy!cooper whose proud of who he is. he does not give a fuck about what anyone may say concerning his lifestyle. he can still talk that talk and back it up if you try that shit when it comes down to it.

fratboy!cooper whose had a few steamy hookups in the frat house here and there. he plays it safe though!

fratboy!cooper who pulls attention from the guys and girls. even though his main attraction is towards the guys, he loves and cherishes the ladies alike. he sees them as radiant creatures! he’s the type to not tolerate any type of harm towards women in his house. if he sees that, he’ll make sure people like that will be removed immediately.

fratboy!cooper who you meet at a party that your friend dragged you to after your breakup with a guy from another frat. you sat there pissed just trying to enjoy your drink and get the night over with.

fratboy!cooper who sees your sulking figure and goes over to check in on you. “are you not having fun?” he questioned. you look towards the male about to tell him to piss off, but you stop yourself in his genuine, benevolent hazel gaze. you tell him it’s the opposite and briefly explain your situation.

fratboy!cooper whose empathetic and lets you know that it’s your ex’s loss and that your friend was kind of shitty for bringing you here. “talk about not reading the room.” his sarcastic response made you giggle in which he beams at the sight of your smile.

fratboy!cooper who makes you his own specialty of the drink “liquid marijuana” to which you sing your praises at the concoction. he makes sure to watch over you, so that you’re not too intoxicated.

fratboy!cooper who digs your vibe and gets to know you by sticking by your side. you partake in drinks, gossip, dance, and just talk about each other. by the end of the night, he puts his number in your phone, ensures that you’re hydrated and guided safely back to your dorm.

fratboy!cooper that sends you a text to check in the morning after the party. you tell him you’re hungover and he sends you all types of remedies that helped him in the past.

fratboy!cooper who has you dying laughing at all the memes you exchange within your private chat. you two share the same humor which is a relief.

fratboy!cooper who you happen to realize is in your literature class. study sessions with him are never dull and he’s super helpful.

fratboy!cooper who helps to bring you out of your shell. when you’re comfortable enough, he’ll invite you out to his tennis matches, plays, improv nights, the beach, the gym, or clubbing. he even takes you horseback riding.

fratboy!cooper who loves your beauty and style. he’s down to go with you to the beauty store and asks questions what products you use to make your hair look so healthy. you even put him on to some curling cream for his hair. he LOVES the smell! he likes to help you take down your braids.

fratboy!cooper that’s mesmerized by your talents. no matter if it’s singing, cooking, poetry, gaming, designing, drawing, etc. he loves to see you in your element.

fratboy!cooper who likes to give you advice on dating. he knows men are trash sometimes too. as his friend, he’s gonna make sure you don’t fall in the same trap. “listen to me. you need to block him!” he can’t stress that enough. “i’ll block mine when you block yours.” you retort. “touché.”

fratboy!cooper who loves to teach you the basics of tennis, so he can play/practice with you.

fratboy!cooper who makes you feel safe at every frat event.

fratboy!cooper who doesn’t mind ordering you an uber or being the d.d. (don’t drink and drive!)

fratboy!cooper who hypes you up to talk to your crushes. especially his cast-mate, nicholas chavez.

fratboy!cooper who gets a little jealous when you give another guy a little more attention. he’d never tell you that though.

fratboy!cooper who loves to see your confident, wild side. he was getting a drink when you came through the door at a party, so he didn’t see what all the commotion was about when he heard the hooping and hollering from his brothers.

fratboy!cooper who is absolutely shook at your beauty in that freakum dress you got on, but he’s protective of you when the guys push up on you too hard.

fratboy!cooper who would dance with you all night. he likes the way you move. he likes the way your body is.

fratboy!cooper who you would ask to watch over your drink while you go to the restroom. he’s hella vigilant and he does not play that shit.

fratboy!cooper who you do skin care with when he wants to spend the night at your place. korean face masks for the win.

fratboy!cooper who would pretend to be your boyfriend when a guy tries to push up on you and he won’t take a hint. he’s a hell of an actor, so he has those guys convinced.

fratboy!cooper whose gives you sweet nicknames like “queen”, “babes”, “sweetheart”, “gorgeous”, or “love”.

fratboy!cooper who loves you like a true friend would. you’re there for each other, thick and thin. he shows you that not all frat boys are self-absorbed assholes that only have partying and sex on the brain.

[writingduhh]

heyooo!! do u mind spewing some words for isaac x additional member of tgc, fem!reader?? thank uuuu 💗

I would absolutely looooveeee toooo

OMG YESSSSSS hope this is what you were wanting :)

▷ You’re the wildcard of the group in the best way. You’re just as chaotic as the rest, but you also have moments where you keep everyone grounded.

▷ The boys see you as family. They tease you constantly but also fiercely protect you, especially if trolls or haters try to come at you online.

▷The Fans love how funny and relatable you are, as well as down-to-earth . Comments often saying, “She’s literally perfect, how did Isaac pull her?”

▷ Your banter with the boys is top-tier entertainment. You give as good as you get, roasting them just as hard as they roast you.

▷ The other members of TGC are both amused and slightly protective of your relationship. They’ll joke about Isaac being “whipped,” but deep down, they love seeing how happy you make each other.

▷ They joke about Isaac being “jealous” of how much time you spend with them. “If Y/N wasn’t dating Isaac, she’d be dating all of us,”

▷ On camera, your relationship with the boys is all laughs, chaos, and mutual teasing. Your playful roasts and your quick comebacks are fan favorites.

Off camera everyone is surprisingly more soft and friendly with one another. Whether it’s quiet nights cuddled up (platonically) watching scary movies, late night has station or food runs, or just hanging out in each others rooms. There is definitely more sweetness and camaraderie than shown on camera. 

▷ Same goes for your and Isaac’s relationship as well.

▷ On camera, your relationship is more tame and comedic. Off camera, though, he’s surprisingly very soft. Whether it’s quiet cuddle sessions after filming or late-night talks in your room, Isaac has a way of making you feel like the only person in the world.

▷ While everyone knows you and Isaac are “the” couple, they also love teasingly shipping you with other members (purely for comedic reasons). Isaac plays along but always gives side-eye to the camera.

The Groupchat podcast was in full swing, the boys seated around the table, mics on, cameras rolling. You sat next to Isaac, comfortably sipping your drink as the conversation spiraled into its usual brand of chaos.

“So, Y/N,” Larry started, leaning into his mic with a mischievous grin. “The fans wanna know: when are you finally ditching Isaac for Tanner ?”

The room exploded with laughter as Tanner immediately threw his hands up in mock celebration. “Finally! Someone’s addressing the real questions.”

You rolled your eyes, smirking. “Oh, totally. I’m sure T could handle me.”

“I could!” He declared, pounding his chest. “Isaac doesn’t appreciate you like I would.”

Isaac, sitting back in his chair with his arms crossed, rolling his eyes behind the sun glasses . “Right. And you’d do…what exactly?

Tanner stumbled over his words before throwing his hands in the air in defeat

“Alright fine you win… for now.”

Everyone at the table laughed.

And just like that, the conversation shifted to another ridiculous topic, leaving behind a trail of laughter. The fans definitely clip that exchange and posted it on social media.

▷ With Isaac as your boyfriend, it’s like the group doubled in absurdity. You both constantly bounce off each other with bizarre jokes and pranks. The rest of the house dreads when you team up for challenges or schemes because it “never ends well” for them, at least.

[quiteliterallyilliterate]

MDNI

So I promise to write the Isekai pt. 2 next, but i had this idea skittering around the back of my brain and I- I just had to. Anyway. This is smut. Kiddos please leave and come back for the next episode.

cw: Completely gender neutral. Sexual content, descriptions of masturbation, oral (m receiving) and lots of praise.

Hope you enjoy~

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Link was a patient man. In every iteration and every universe, it was something that followed him each time— the ability to wait for the sake of a greater sense.To wait as his muscles burned so he could get the best strike. To redo the same puzzles over and over until the dungeon is complete. To learn every small detail about you, even the ones that are irrelevant to most, for even the chance at you loving him even a fraction of how much he adored you.

Loving you was easy. Partly because you made it so easy to be loved that it felt as if it were something inherent to him, written in his soul. Hyrule has walked the span of worlds and yet it was you who he found to be the most precious. Afterall, even among the exceptionality that was Hylia’s heroes, you were an outlier.

For long he waited, passing the time as you grew accustomed to your surroundings and made your place among the chain. The last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable. He would sooner relinquish his magic and bleed his soul into a cold earth than force himself upon you. He may have been raised apart from proper society, but he was no monster of his desire. He is better than that creeping urge beneath his ribs.

But that didn’t change that he could feel it flare when your knuckles brushed his when you’d tag long onto his inevitable wanders. He never found it easy to sit still, but teaming with energy and magic from a full heart meant it was all he could do, to wander. You didn’t need to follow as he went to embrace the world’s soft silence. And yet, wordlessly, you’d offer him your company and follow. You made him wonder, If two arms were not enough to grab a hold on life, perhaps four?

It became familiar to feel his heart lurch as you looked upon him with soft, loving eyes when he healed you. You’d mutter the quietest thanks, just for him to hear. A gift that once marked him as tainted or impure was one that you praised.

The people of his homeland were mean, crooked people. If you weren’t exactly like one of them, you had to be purged. He was shunned by most for his magic. He does not fault them for not trusting what they don’t know, but the bitter cold loneliness got to him more than he’d like to admit. It was many years before he learned to accept that his gifts were not faults as he’d been told. The sooner he shut out the cries of unhappy souls, the sooner he could be happy. Still, he thinks of how perfectly you defied their logic.

You were nothing like anyone he’d known. Strong and defiant, taking orders from only those whom you thought to be good leaders. But you knew when to pull back. How to listen and how to care for fragile things that do not care for themselves.

It was a surprise to quite literally no one that he fell. It was also secret to no one how badly he longed. Mainly in part to his own lovesickness, he was always horrible at suppressing his emotions. But he could endure Legend’s incessant teasing if it meant he could stare at you while the sun bathed your face in just the perfect light.

He was utterly hopeless, at your beck and call for any and all orders. In the society he hailed from, such behaviours were disgraceful of a man. But so long spent being a mistake of magic meddling with mortals meant he didn’t care what they branded him as, so long as he was yours.

He was patient.

Enough so he could watch a fondness beyond friendliness grow behind your eyes.

Enough that he could hold hands with you on late night walks.

Enough that eventually, he’d hold your hand as you travelled and lead you by the small of your back whenever you joined him on his rambles. He celebrated each little milestone, giddy despite his efforts to remain calm.

He could readily recall the first time he cradled one of your hands in his, a cold night’s walk as the first snowfall dusted on whichever Hyrule the chain had wandered into. A shiver racked your body, and he couldn’t find the self restraint to stop himself before grabbing both of your hands and cupping them in his own. He brought them to his lips, almost akin to that of prayer and blew hot air onto your chilled skin. The moment passed slowly as his heart fluttered like a fairy within his ribs.

“Let’s get you back to camp to warm up” He’s still surprised he could manage to suppress the tremble of his voice as he kept one of your hands and led you back. He remembers so clearly the look you passed him with wind-flushed cheeks before your eyes darted into the treeline.

It was not much later on that he realised that this one sided love of his was anything but unrequited. Unfortunate that it happened under the circumstances it did, but it was worth it in his eyes. He hopes that even in the situation where you wouldn’t be bleeding beneath him, he’d still recognize the yearning of your heart. It was hard to miss

the fluttering of your heart as his hands glided over the appropriate grounds of your skin. It was harder to miss the way your soul reached out towards him through the bridge of his magic. The sensation was so unexpected that he faltered for a second, the bond weakening. He welcomed you, his world, with open arms.

It was a longer while yet until he kissed you. Even then it was still debatable, as he didn’t initiate. This time, a humid summer evening. A chorus of critters and crickets accompanying his ramble. He’s still rather unsure what it was about fairy culture that made you reach out and cup the curve of his jaw, but he’d be a fool to complain. Especially considering how gently you kissed him afterwards, stopping him from leaning forward and closing the gap to admire his flustered face for a moment. And for that second, he was suspended in time, lost within the raw feeling of being alive. He’s sure he was shaky at first, but he grew a little more confident as you guided his hands to your hips. You did most of the work in hindsight, gently sucking and nipping at his bottom lip. All he’d ever known told him to be ashamed of the whine you pulled out of him as he squirmed beneath you, but the proud smirk you rewarded him with filled his heart with something other than shame… But it certainly burned equally as much.

He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering back to the clearing, no matter how much time had passed or what he tried to distract his thoughts with. Vividly he still feels the sweat clinging to his skin and the pressure on the side of his hips as you shifted to straddle him. Its hard to forget that amount of pure energy and magic rushing through his blood as his heart soared. He just couldn’t keep his thoughts off of you.

Mostly they were innocent: what flowers he could braid to make your crown, what gifts he could adorn you with… things that would make you smile.

But it was those odd nights he couldn’t quite wrangle his mind that he would instead wonder about what would make you keen. What he could do to have you squirming in your seat. Whether or not you’d prefer him be below you or above. Where exactly you’d prefer his hands and lips to explore.

It was now he truly understood the priminality of the mind scape. Things that under any circumstances would have been the former, his mind would skew into the ladder. Sleepy groans as you wake twisted into whines of pleasure as he indulged in drinking down your sweet release from his worship of your sex. Sly calls of his name in teasing being morphed into your beckoning as your hand works his cock.

He tried, hard as he might to shove such indulgences out of his mind. He’d never cross your boundaries.

But is it really crossing boundaries if you’d intentionally slip a hand between his thighs while cuddling?

Is his imagination that far off if you already suck at the sensitive part of his neck?

He did not wish to indulge in being so sacreligious as to deface your divinity. So, he’d resolved to cuddle you to sleep and slip away, as he had tonight. He’d never been particularly too fond about touching himself in any way intimately. It was seen as a sin back home to indulge in pleasure outside its most primal use of breeding. But especially when considering the roads he travelled on were uncharted and dangerous, he never had the time to ever succumb to temptation in the first place.

He fumbled with his pants, eventually freeing his erection that you’d spent the last ten minutes palming. The cold air of the night only served to make him more sensitive, his lungs sucking in the air through his teeth as he rested his head back against the tree he leaned on. Slowly, he loosened his hand from where it was balled up, tightly gripping at the grass beneath him. It was easier, moving his hand to caress the length of his dick, when he imagined it was you. Hylia- how badly he wishes it was you.

He spread his thighs, as if making room for you already as his thumb gently rubs the crown of his cock. He feels his blood pulse as he continues the motion, sending shocks shuddering over the webs that made up his nerves. He slips his hand lower down, groaning as he adds pressure in his grip. The calluses of his hands are rough, contrasting the sensitive skin.

He wishes that you would watch him. Tell him he’s doing it right, kiss the column of his neck and whisper into the shell of his ear how good he’s being.

He wants to be good for you, it’s all he’s ever wanted. Sure, it’s changed now in its deeper meaning— But being a good boyfriend and being a good boy can’t be that different, can they? The thought makes his head swim and go dizzy as his languid strokes turn eager and needy.

He squeezes his eyes shut and blocks out the world to focus on you. Stunning, perfect, intoxicating you. He recalls every raspy whisper telling him how well he’s learning for you, every passing praise he’s collected. He imagined you behind him, working your hand up and down at this painfully stimulating rhythm while telling him you pretty he his as he whines your name.

All it’d take is your order for him to sing your praises and he’s moaning out his begs. His whimpers could be your hymns as he falls to his knees and worships your heat dripping with slick pre-cum. For his offering to you, he’d stay there as your fingers tug at the roots of his hair, letting you cum all over his face as his dick is left neglected. Perhaps if you were truly gracious, you’d let him hump against your leg.

His back arches as he lets out a throaty whine of your name. He sputters and grinds his hips against his hand as ropes of cum spurt from his cock. He pants, his eyes fluttering open as his fuzzy vision works toward refocusing. His blurred senses snap back to normal as a hand cups his jaw and turns his head to the right. Your eyes are half lidded as you scan over his body and the mess he’d made.

“Awe look at you” Your voice purred as your other hand combed through his wavy locks. His swallows thickly as he tries to decipher the expression on your face. What if you hated him? What if he’s too sinful for you? What if you don’t want him anymore? What if- But he finds not an ounce of dismay.

“You sounded so pretty… wailing my name as you came everywhere” His face flushed and his rapid train of thought halted, going to a complete silence.

“I- Hylia- I’m so sorry sunshine-“ He stammered out, only for you shut him up with a kiss, whispering assurances between breaths. He can feel your lips brush past his own as you mumble words of loving adoration. You nip slightly at his bottom lip as your tongue slides into his mouth, exploring his own. One hand finds purchase on his hip bone as the other stays tangled among his hair. He chances your lips as you pull back, tongue darting out to lick his saliva from your lips.

“You look so nice all dazed like this,” You tease as his head spins with you. The hand in his hair slides down to tilt his chin up, exposing his neck.

“Do you mind if I mark you up a bit?” he’d be a fool to ignore the glint in your eye, nothing pure he’s sure of it.

“Fuck- Please” Your thumb presses into his mouth and onto the very tip of his tongue as your lips suckled at the side of his neck. He can’t think of tomorrow’s embarrassment as he tries to hide the marks. His foggy mind can only focus on how amazing your lips feel as they leave bruises and the way his nerves jump when you bite him gently. He tries to beg for more as you lean away, but is stopped by the soft pad of your thumb. He swipes the tip of his tongue across it one last time before it’s removed, much to his dismay.

“Would you like some help?” You ask, bemused as the hand on his hip spread out, your palm flat against the lowest part of his abdomen. He didn’t even notice that he’d gotten hard again. Let alone that he had been arching his back.

“Don't be nervous. I want to make you feel good” Your thumb, still damp with his spit, caressed his cheek with sincerity. Your eyes held nothing but a genuine love. He nodded slowly, eyes wide as they stared back into your own.

“Use your words for me love, I wanna hear you”

“Please- shit m’ so- ah~” His begs were coked from his throat as your hand finally dipped down to fondle his balls. You sunk to right between his thighs, pressing a kiss to the very inside of either one.

“So good of you getting all prepped for me” You cooed, your hands rubbing circles into his thighs and massaging out the tension from being splayed open for so long. You pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock, your tongue licking away the bit of pre-cum that followed. You smiled and licked the underside of his length along his veins all the way back up to the head.

“Mnh- Please”

“Please what, dearest” You knew what you were doing, sucking only when he tried to beg for more, reducing him to moans.

“M- mph~ More!” You grinned as he finally got the word out through choked whines.

“Alright” Finally, you took him into the wet heat of your mouth, flattening your tongue as you took him as deep as you could manage, your hands working what you couldn’t. Only to sink back up to focus on the tip while a rush of cold met his shaft.

“F- Ah~ Please” He cried as he rocked his hips, pleading to be returned to your wet mouth. His hands threaded into your hair as you sank back down. He tried his hardest to stop his hips from sputtering, lest he choke you. But something within his mind snapped as he stood at the precipice of pleasure. His hips bucked into your mouth, relishing in the warmth.

When his mind finally cleared and caught back to consciousness he was back at camp, all cleaned up. He was in fresh clothes and felt no stickiness on his skin. Your hands worked carefully as they carded through his hair, twirling at the untamed and uneven cuts. He groaned as a wave of exhaustion rolled over his bones.

“Sh sh” You eased from behind him. He was cuddled up on your chest, starfished over you.

“I cleaned you up and brought you back. You alright? Water? Snack?” He buried his face into the crook of your neck as he shook his head. This is where he was supposed to be, not waiting about for some sake of superficial love or false marriage. He was supposed to be here, loved in your arms.

“You did so well for me,” You pressed a tender kiss to his temple “I love you so much.”

“I love you too sunshine” He mumbled into your skin as sleep dragged him away.

[nekonanamii]

All for the best pt. 1— Toji x Fem! Reader

Your boyfriend Suguru doesn’t treat you as good as he used to. Maybe it’s because he’s busy getting his balls drained by someone else.

Just keep reading, I promise you this is a Toji x reader fic <3

Suguru and you have been together for years. You’ve been together since university, but ever since you moved to a bigger and more lavish apartment, things just haven’t been the same.

“Sorry honey I’ll be out til late I have a business meeting over dinner” he says in a text.

You can’t even remember the last time you had dinner together. You’ve had your doubts thinking he can’t possibly have business meetings over dinner that often but you kept telling yourself that your dear Suguru was faithful and loyal to you.

Little did you know that he was busy getting his balls drained by none other than the real estate agent who sold you two the new apartment. The very one you’re currently in right now.

It started with some light and friendly flirting between the two over apartment viewings, followed by the real estate agent’s skirt getting skimpier and skimpier each time they met for a viewing, the agent couldn’t help but gawk at how beautiful this man was and how sexy he was too. Suddenly, Suguru’s pants were by his ankles and the agent was on her knees sucking him dry.

By some odd chance, while the agent was showing him the new shower system this apartment had, the water accidentally turned on and got her white blouse wet, and by some odd coincidence, she had nothing underneath.

“Fuck you set this up didn’t you?” Suguru says as he pumps his cock in and out of her cunt.

Of course she planned this. Why on earth would she forget to wear a bra today?

And just like that Suguru spends more and more time fucking your real estate agent and blowing load after load into her cunt. What’s worse is that you have no idea they’ve fucked in every single room of your new apartment.

It’s Monday and you’re buying groceries for you and your boyfriend. You can’t help but think about how you don’t even need to get as much groceries as before because Suguru doesn’t even eat his meals at home anymore. So there you are, with half the amount of groceries you usually get and more wine in your cart than actual food.

“Sorry honey I’m spent. Maybe tomorrow.” Suguru says as you try to initiate some sort of sexual contact. What gives? You know your boyfriend has a high libido, but ever since you both moved apartments he just doesn’t seem to want any action?

You have your suspicions sure but Suguru would never cheat on you, right?

Wrong.

It’s 10:19pm on a Friday, you were supposed to be at your parents house til Monday but you and your mom had a small little argument about when you were gonna get married and give her grandkids, you’d love to give her answers I mean you’ve been with your boyfriend for 6 years now it was bound to happen sometime soon right? As you opened the door, you heard music. It was the type of jazz you know Suguru loves to listen to as he drinks his favorite whiskey. As you get closer to the living area, you hear it. Little whimpers and someone saying your boyfriend’s name as if it were a prayer.

You watched as your boyfriend roughly fucked into your real estate agent on your brand new couch that you picked with both her ankles on his shoulders. Your loyal and faithful boyfriend of 6 fucking years was thrusting hard while yelling out a string of curses about how much he loved her cunt.

Sickening.

Tears streamed down your face. You didn’t make a sound, but the tears were gushing out of your eyes. The pair were too busy fucking each other’s brains out to even notice you were there. You couldn’t even move. You wanted earth to just swallow you whole.

Suguru grabs the remote to the speakers and that’s when he sees you. “Y/n I-“

You sob. Uncontrollably and miserably.

~

The series of events that followed was a nightmare.

All Suguru had to say was “it just kinda happened, you weren’t there and I was lonely.”

Bullshit.

6 fucking years down the drain.

You buried yourself even more into your work. Spending longer hours at the office. Doing more work than the actual scope of your position.

Your boss took note of this. After all your were his favorite secretary. You were also the most competent.

You worked at Fushiguro Corp and you were the Mr Toji Fushiguro’s secretary.

~

Today was a special day, it was the celebration of the merger between Fushiguro Corp. and Gojo enterprises.

You were on your 4th glass of champagne and you were feeling the best you’ve felt in weeks after having gone through the worst betrayal of your life. You head to the viewing deck of the location your company held the celebration at. Little did you know that your boss was there first.

“Ms y/n, careful now you might fall off” he says as you rest your elbows on the railings

You’re a bit startled to see your boss out here, you can’t help but think to yourself how sexy he looks in his suit

Your boss let’s our a small chuckle, “Yeah you think so?”

Oh god did you just say your thoughts out loud? Shit. You did.

His large hand lands on the small of your back, pulling your closer to him.

“Now now, be careful, I told you you might fall”

~

And just like that Toji was pumping you full of his cum. He hates it when you waste even a single drop, hell he’ll fuck each and every single drop back into you.

You were his sweet little secretary and right now you’re splayed over his lap in the middle of a workday in his office receiving a harsh slap for letting his cum drip down your legs.

“M’ sorry it was just so much sir—” you sob as he gives you another harsh slap. He has a finger plugged into your pussy making sure his load stays inside.

Toji loved how easy it was to make you his good litte girl. You were smart, great at your job, and even though you were lousy at keeping his cum in your pretty little cunt, he thought you were absolutely perfect.

Your boss was a busy man with a tight schedule. He frequently had business trips abroad, he usually brought along multiple secretaries with him on these trips but on this particular one it was just you.

Of course you were on his private jet getting dick shoved down your throat as he took in a work call. Toji told you to stay quiet but how can you when he’s pushing your head deeper into him. Your boss ends the call, he pulls up your head and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief.

“Aww little girl couldn’t take my cock?” He says smirking as he looks at you.

There you were on your knees with saliva dripping down your mouth, glossy eyes, flushed cheeks, and red puffy lips.

God what a sight he thought to himself.

Just as you were about to say something he plunges his cock back into your mouth as he holds both sides of your head. He fucks into your throat while praising you for how obedient you were taking him in just like that.

“Good girl now be a doll and unbotton your shirt, I wanna see your pretty tits”

As soon as you exposed yourself to him, Toji’s pace became more erratic.

“Fuck, baby you’re so fucking beautiful fuck me—”

Your boss cums down your throat then pulls out of your swollen lips to cum on your face and your tits. It’s crazy how much cum he has. Honestly.

You get to the destination. It’s a private island. Your sneaky boss disguised this getaway as a work trip.

The villa you were staying at had a large double door facing the ocean. You would’ve enjoyed taking in the soft sounds of the water and the stars out tonight if you weren’t on all fours getting pounded like there’s no tomorrow.

~

Several months later your belly’s all round as Toji lightly fucks into you. “Wouldn’t want our precious little princess to get hurt, yeah?”

This man was truly insane.

You thought that the fact that you were pregnant, Toji would have some common sense to lay off you a little more.

Wrong.

Toji loves seeing you round with his baby. Fuck he thinks you look the sexiest like this.

He can’t wait to fuck another baby into you. <3

~

Your little princess is turning 1 and you were back to getting pounded non-stop, always having your pussy filled with this man’s cum.

Toji loves you, he proposed as soon as you got back from that “business trip” with him. He promised he’d take care of you and love you forever.

This man not only married you but gave you your beautiful darling daughter, and he can’t wait until he gets you knocked up again <3

Honestly, I just need Toji in my damn guts

Also! I made a second part (ish!) pov you’re the real estate agent 🫣

[moonlightspencie]

rewatched the update video, read some posts from both people who like and dislike the update, and just finished charlie’s (mo1stcr1tikal) video about watcher. here are my complete thoughts:

Video Execution

i appreciate that they seem to have consulted with a PR person, or at the very least really sat down and thought through their approach with the video.

they didn’t try to boo-hoo themselves.

they used a lot of positive “you language” for the fans (which i very much appreciate as a media and communication person myself)

they took accountability for their mistakes, and actually uttered the word “sorry”. low bar, i know, but many apology videos still somehow slip under the bar.

they very clearly put the focus on ryan and shane in the video. it sucks a bit that they probably felt they had to since much of that was probably due to the negative comments directed at steven, but it WAS a smart move. fans feel most betrayed by the two the majority connect with the most.

it. wasn’t. overproduced. (again, low bar, but it is what it is).

overall thoughts on execution? it was smart. they look uncomfortable, and whether that’s intentional or their true feelings, regardless of why they look so uncomfy, it makes it easier to watch. they don’t look pissed or smug. they look embarrassed. which, in an apology video, is a good thing. sorry to say

The Solution

i think they came up with the best alternative they could after royally fucking up with the majority of their fans.

the patreon solution… mixed feelings. i understand they don’t want to just go forward with one or the other: the patreon or the streamer. however, as ive seen some patrons say, it doesn’t make all that much sense to have both logistically. i think it’s only set up this way because they can’t go back entirely on watcher.tv now. good on them for giving a bit of a fix with the codes being sent to patrons.

i was still lost on how they weren’t “advertiser friendly”, and that’s where charlie’s video came in to affirm my suspicions. go watch his video for more information, but long story short: watcher is a GOLD MINE for advertisers. huge and loyal audience, engaging ads that make the viewer want to watch the ad, and an ever-growing channel.

on the back of the last point: how on earth were they struggling with money to begin with? it simply doesn’t make any sense. they had so many revenue streams & again, DO get sponsors and appear to be incredibly brand-friendly.

trust is still lost with most fans, and that will be hard as hell to regain. the ex-buzzfeed three-guys-on-a-couch model didn’t even work when the try guys were fucked over by their friend and brand trust was lost a little bit. and this loss of brand trust is fully on all three dudes on the couch this time

overall thoughts on the solution? it’s good for what they can do now that they obviously cannot just fully backtrack. that would arguably be a worse idea than the original idea for the streaming service itself. i think this would have worked much better and they would have retained integrity if they had done this from the beginning, and/or had a slow rollout instead of jumpscaring us like that. ghost files is supposed to spook us, not surprise paywalls.

Final Thoughts

a ton of trust was lost. the parasocial relationship that specifically shane and ryan fans had with them, that was the REASON for so much of the loyalty, is fractured, and for many it will never be the same as it was. i understand their fuck up when it came to the announcement was likely just them needing more self-awareness and a professional to guide them through it, but i still question how it got to that point where they felt like their fans would enjoy this to begin with. not to mention, again, how were they not making enough? why not try other options first?

i hope sincerely that watcher truly learns from this. that they remember their business isn’t about money or ambition (in a positive or negative way), but is built on the backs of their fans’ loyalty. without that fan loyalty, buzzfeed unsolved would have been the only thing we knew ryan and shane for. we wouldn’t have followed them to a new channel if we didn’t care about them and their work to certain degree.

it was a good apology video. genuinely. i’m glad they didn’t jump into it with a bandaid solution. i just wish they had the foresight to know their fans well enough to understand that there is NO way this would be well received by the majority. and there’s no going back on that now, obviously. what’s past is past. i hope moving forward that they gain a little self-awareness and that they gain some FAN-awareness. until/unless they start working on television and movies, they have to keep their fans happy. we are the consumer, not the employee, and it feels like they started somehow blurring those lines with the original video they posted. it felt like one of the corporate ‘training’ videos for my job when we start using a new system.

fans are important in online spaces, particularly. we provide free advertising for our favorite bloggers/youtubers/etc., and willingly give up money to support them through various streams (in watcher’s case: patreon, merch, live shows). you cannot exist as a creator online and think that you don’t need to keep your fans happy when it is your source of income. it’s simply how being a successful internet personality works, for better or worse.

good job to the watcher boys on how they went about the apology/fix. i hope things go better from here on out.

[lostinwildflowers]

The Farmer's Daughter

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: You and Jake go way back to his roots in Texas, with things ending in a rough manner. Now, he comes home to the farmer's daughter whose heart he swore he would never ride, or fly, off with.

Word Count: 4.0K

Warnings: Angst, Harsh Language, Hangman was lowkey a jerk, Cowboy!Hangman

A/N: *I will say if you are not a fan of ranch/farm life, this may not be for you!* But, I'm finally back to write something! I'm sorry it has taken so long but I have been so incredibly busy, but I hope this will be a good enough apology! COWBOY HANGMAN!!! -Birch&lt;3

Part 2 - The Aviator's Cowgirl

Wind roars across the grassy plains of the valley, ruffling the dense coats of various colored cattle. Some were red, some were black. Others were red and white, while others were roaned and speckled in color.

The cows were quietly cruising through the glen, making their way down south toward the greener pastures. Spring was finally on its way, with warmer, sunnier days followed by even oranger sunsets.

Many of the calves clung close to their mothers after the spring calving, not wanting to be too far from the herd. Some of the cows were bolder, leaving their calves further away, then having to call and bellow to find their distant young.

It was one of the most beautiful things, living out on a cattle ranch. There was no sign of the city in any direction, and you got to raise the food that would supply you and your family through the seasons. Some may call it cruel, but others would say you were using what God gave you to live on.

Hours spent in the fields were not wasted on you. Plowing the land and fertilizing the dry, cracked soil, were not foreign ideas to you. Sowing seeds into the prepped ground, watering them to give them a chance at survival.

To you, there was no other life than being a rancher.

Being a rancher had its perks- making the best friends a man could have. The dogs, of course. The horses, even more so. And yet, nothing could beat the compassion and care of a friendly neighbor.

Growing up on your homestead, the next closest ranch was a few acres away. They never were close enough to see any of their cattle or pigs, and you had only been to their house as a kid.

Being a kid seemed so long ago.

Now, you spent most days sitting on the back of your palomino mare, Sandy. Days like today were spent watching your herd move down the mountain and into the plains of the valley. You didn't always use to be alone when you pushed the herd.

Occasionally your father would join you, but he had other matters to attend to, and your brothers always seemed to join him. Not that you cared, as riding horses was perhaps your favorite aspect of being a rancher.

You would check fences, push the cows, and ride up to the top of meadows to watch the sunset over your home. To you, there was nothing like the connection you had while riding a horse, and you wouldn't have given her up for anything.

At one point in time, you would have given every possession you had up for a certain cowboy.

Tall and muscular, with blonde hair, and green eyes. The classic, square-jawed look of a cowboy. A sharp tongue paired with an even quicker wit, combined with a charming personality and smile was the death of you.

It didn't help he was always willing to help out. Roping the calves for the brandings, fixing up the four-wheeler that seemed to stall every time you got it out. Even going as far as to bring your mother some of their fresh apples in the fall when your trees gave out.

He was kind-hearted, chivalrous, and down-to-earth. He was the definition of God's cowboy.

Jake Seresin.

The first time you ran into him was when you were at the farmer's market in town. Your mother had given you a specific list of items to get for her homemade chicken casserole, as she was busy picking up your younger sister from her riding lesson.

The stalls at the farmer's market were not unfamiliar to you, as you had tagged along with your mother many times as a child. The sellers were always kind to you and had Texas-sized personalities to go along with the enormous amounts of ingredients and produce they sold.

"Good morning, Mrs. Bell," you call as you walk up to the older lady's stand, looking over her collection of fresh berries and vegetables hand-picked from her garden.

A white head of hair popped out from the back of her tent, a wide grin on the older lady's face as she replies, "Oh, good morning, dear! Help yourself to whatever you need, I'm just having some help unloading my crates."

At that, Mrs. Bell disappears, and you giggle at her antics as you start to bag up a few peppers and tomatoes from her stand. It was a fairly quiet morning, so you took a moment to look around your surroundings.

A few older gentlemen were setting up their meat stand. You could see cuts of chickens, turkeys, and wild geese sitting on ice just as they worked on the larger carcasses of steers and barrows.

Your concentration is broken when you hear rustling at the back of the tent, and you turn around, clenching the bag of veggies close to you.

A boy donning a tan Stetson appears in front of you, his muscular arms holding a large crate of cucumbers as he slid through the folds of the white tent. His green eyes lock onto your own (colored) ones, and in an instant, his boyish charm captivates you in the form of a beautiful smirk.

"Good morning, Miss...?" he asks, a slight drawl to his rich voice as you take him in. He's wearing his cowboy hat, yes, but his hair was shaggy under the hat, a dirty blonde that you knew his friends probably teased him for.

He wore a simple navy t-shirt, as the morning was already warm. You allowed yourself to rest your eyes on the snug Wrangler jeans that hugged his waist, accentuated by the large and shiny belt buckle that finished off his look. You almost could have bet he wore a pair of boots too, but you snapped out of your daze before you could finish thinking about it.

"Y/n," you usher out, warm with embarrassment as he sets the crate down in the open spot in front of you. His green eyes are as sharp as jade when he regains eye contact with you, and his head tilts a little as he repeats, "Y/n...?"

You groan internally as you scold yourself for being so starstruck. You blink once to regain your cool, before shifting your weight and responding, "Y/n L/n. And who are you, cowboy?"

A low whistle slides out from his pink lips before he chuckles out, "Pretty name for an even more gorgeous girl. And as long as I can get your phone number, you can call me anything you want."

Being six feet underground had never sounded better at that moment, as his shameless flirting had your cheeks burning and your will to live dropping. You were thankfully saved from responding when Mrs. Bell popped up next to him and scolded, "Jake, you leave my favorite customer alone!"

You glance back over at him, quirking an eyebrow and you ask, "Jake, is it?" You whistle back at him and say, "Kind of a basic name for a basic cowboy, huh?"

Mrs. Bell folds her arms, watching the two of you with a knowing look in her eye. The cowboy, Jake, lets that wide smirk back onto his face and repeats, "It's a great name, for a great cowboy. I think it'd sound good next to your name too."

You do your best to ignore his flirtatious comments, and you look at Mrs. Bell and show her your bag of veggies. "Just three red peppers and four tomatoes," you say, willing the butterflies out of your stomach.

The older lady gives you a wink as she rings you up, and briefly turns to Jake and says, "Be a dear and go finish getting the rest of my crates, please."

He gives her a respectful nod and catches your gaze again, this time with a softer smile. Jake tips his Stetson towards you and murmurs, "Have a nice day, Miss. L/n."

You swore you were as red in the cheeks as the vegetables your mother was making you buy. Thanks, Mom, I'm pretty sure I'll never be able to look Mrs. Bell in the eye ever again.

The next time you met the blonde-haired cowboy was just at the start of summer, kicked off by the county fair you were always a part of. It was either submitting some of your favorite photographs from the ranch or helping your little sister prep her show steer for her 4-H competition.

And this time, Jake caught you at a shaved ice stand just after 6 o'clock in the evening, with the rays from the sun starting to fade into a mirage of colors across the fairgrounds.

He slid into the line behind you, as you were the only one crazy enough to get shaved ice in the evening as it cooled off. That smirk ended up on his lips again, and he announced himself with an order, "Make that another of whatever Miss. L/n is ordering, please."

You whip around at the drawl to his voice, cash in hand as your eyes widen. No. No. No. This is the worst time for this cute cowboy to be seeing me. My hair certainly has fuzz in it from our steer, my clothes are covered in mud, and I don't have any makeup on. Shit.

And Jake? Looked phenomenal. Wearing his Stetson, of course, with a tight white t-shirt that clung to every single unholy part of his body. The thin material led down to a deep blue pair of Wranglers, along with his buckle and boots.

He looked like a walking model from Ariat or Kimes, and here you were, looking like you had just finished wrestling a lamb from its ewe mother through a bale of straw.

"J-Jake," you stutter out as the attendant goes to make another shaved ice. His grin only widens when he realizes how caught off guard you are and he chuckles, "You miss me or something, sweetheart?"

You can't help the warmth that floods your face, and you know it's not from the sun, especially with the evening cooling off. Sweetheart? He certainly knows how to lay it on thick.

"I didn't realize you came to the fair," you opt to say, trying to ignore his flirty comment. He leans up against the side of the shaved ice stand as his green gaze latches onto your own and states, "Honey, I've been coming to this fair before I could go mutton-busting."

A giggle falls from your lips as you picture a little Jake riding on the back of a sheep, clinging on for dear life. He chuckles at your response to his comment, his gaze flashing up to the cashier as he fishes a $10 from his wallet. You finish giggling right as he passes the cash to the attendant and you frown.

"We're paying sep-" "It's alright, Miss. L/n, I got it," Jake says smoothly, grabbing both cups of the watermelon-flavored shaved ice and handing one to you. He shoots a wink at you as his fingers brush your own, and you once again find yourself fighting pink from your cheeks.

"Y/n," you say once you grabbed your shaved ice and spoon from him. He quirks his eyebrow at you but doesn't say anything. You roll your eyes and repeat with a shrug, "Y/n, you can call me by my first name."

Jake smiles at you, this time very genuine as he nods, "Alright, Y/n," he tests your name out, "Would you care to join me at the tractor pulls tonight? I know where the best seats are."

It's your turn to flash him a wicked grin and say, "Hell yeah, we need to go make fun of my brothers!" At that, you peel off away from him, leading the way toward the pulling lanes with a maniacal giggle. Jake can only smile and shake his head as he follows your figure.

What had he gotten himself into?

It didn't take long after the fair for the two of you to really hit it off. Casual hangouts turned into dinner dates out at the local diner. Short texts turned into long, midnight calls asking each other about how your day was, even if every day was almost the same.

Days turned into weeks, which turns into months as Jake spent time with you. He would spend any chance he could with you when he wasn't working or helping Mrs. Bell. He'd pull into your driveway, picking you up in his red and white '77 Ford truck, the pinstripes of red on it soon became one of your favorite colors.

You would take him out on the trails of your family's farm, trotting through the creeks, loping through the pastures. Jake was a cowboy, yes, and knew how to ride, but nothing made you happier than seeing him get along with Sandy, your mare.

He would even take you down to his family's farm, driving out into the pastures to watch the sunset over his fields of horses. Many nights would lead to the two of you cuddling up on the bed of his truck, surrounded by a blanket and a stray pillow or two.

You never had been more in love than when Jake pulled you into his arms and made you dance under the stars with him to Carried Away by George Strait. It was that very night Jake kissed you for the first time, and you could swear he knew exactly what he was doing when he claimed your heart as his own.

From then on, you were his, and he was yours. Everyone was ecstatic you had found a respectful man, although a bit of a tease, to stand by your side. Jake devoted himself to you and working on his father's farm, promising you a life of happiness.

It was almost expected that you were going to marry Jake someday. He had the same values as you and wanted a nice little family of a few crazy boys and some pretty little girls. He wanted to teach them how to ride, how to rope.

He wanted you to make dinner for him when the days got too long for him to help, and for him to clean the dishes while you put the kids to bed. Jake could picture his future so easily with you, you weren't ever like anyone he'd ever met before.

That's why two years into your relationship with the cowboy, he got you a promise ring for your anniversary. It was a simple silver band, as he knew you worked with your hands every day and would likely abuse a ring with a large stone on it.

Jake held the ring in his right hand, asking for your left one slightly. You couldn't help but cry and laugh at the same time as you nodded, giving him your hand to slide the ring onto.

You wrapped your arms around his neck in a tight hug, his hands landing on your waist before wrapping snugly around your body. His grip was firm and unwavering, a solid constant in your life.

"I want you to think of me when you wear this ring, okay?" Jake whispered softly in your ear, holding you close to him. You sniffle and pull back, giving him a nod with watery eyes.

"I'll always think of you, Jake."

And the next day he was gone.

"Go on, git!" you yell at a loose heifer running away from the herd. You groan as she runs off into the woods, and you push the sorrel gelding you were riding into a trot to go after her. The rest of the herd started grazing as you left them, the wind whipping through the dried grasses around you.

It was a cold day in Texas. Your grey felt cowboy hat did its best to keep the wind off of your face, and even with your warmest jacket and wild rag tied around your neck, you still felt chilled and numb to your core.

It had been a hard few months when Jake disappeared without a trace. Mrs. Bell had no one to help her at her tent in the farmer's market, so you picked up the slack to help her.

Your dad grew sick and couldn't run the farm as readily, so you, your brothers, and your sister had to step in, while your mother took care of him. That meant you spent more time in the saddle, working all the horses and pushing the cows to the hay and silage for the winter.

Your gloved fingers reach for the rope tied to your saddle horn, and as you made your loop, your (colored) eyes found the young heifer again. You slow the gelding you were riding down, Ringo, he was called, as you come up to the small cow.

You could tell she was frightened, so while she didn't run, you gently threw the loop over her head and dallied the rope to your saddle horn. You glance over your shoulder, ensuring the rope was secured around the heifer's neck before dragging her out of the woods and back to the herd.

When the herd comes in sight, confusion floods over you to see Sandy, your palomino mare, being ridden. It wasn't your sister, she had her own bay gelding she liked to ride.

And it wasn't your brothers, as they preferred the four-wheelers. There was only one other person who rode your horse other than you. It was a cowboy. And not just any cowboy.

It was your cowboy.

The silver band on your left ring finger seemed to freeze over with a gust of wind, even though it was covered by your gloves. You can feel tears threatening to burn the edges of your eyes, but you ignore them.

It was him.

Trotting around the edge of the herd, keeping them close together, Jake steered Sandy perfectly, riding her with a practiced ease, like he had never left. You continue to drag the heifer up to the edge of the herd, where he finally catches sight of you.

You can't stand to look at him, and you leave your rope dallied to your horn as you swing your chap-covered leg off of Ringo and onto the ground. Tears stream down your face as you try not to sob, and you walk over to the scared heifer.

You slide the rope off of her neck, and she gets up and runs off to join the herd. You can hear Sandy's footsteps stop next to Ringo, and you hear Jake's feet hit the ground.

Sobs silently wrack your body, and you close your eyes and cover your face as you hear him approach you. He doesn't say anything, but you know he's standing directly behind you, waiting.

A gust of wind blows through, making you gasp for air as it seems to leave your lungs. The tears on your cheeks feel like they freeze to your skin as your vision blurs and a loud cry falls from your lips.

And that's enough for Jake.

He takes two large steps forward, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist from behind. His large frame helps block the wind, yet his touch makes your cries get more violent.

You turn around in his grasp, your gloved fists coming up and punching him in the chest. You're sobbing and thrashing, completely overcome with emotion.

Jake doesn't budge though. He's harder, firmer under your touch than you remember. From the blur in your vision, you can just barely tell that his shaggy locks have been cleaned up into a tight, slicked-back look under his Stetson.

How you had missed that damned straw hat.

"How could you?!" you scream as you lash out at him, a sob leaving your lips at the end of your cry. Jake just holds you tighter, and he takes his chances and pulls you into a close hug, wrapping his arms around your waist to stop your onslaught of attacks.

Your hands get trapped against his chest, yet your whimpers don't end. You can just barely hear Jake shushing you, the sound of his voice blending in with the whisper of the wind floating over you.

"How could you?" you mumble, your voice breaking at the end of your question. Jake pulls you impossibly closer, the felt hat on your head getting bumped off center, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

"I never meant to leave you," he states, his voice different than how you remember it. There was no familiar twang to his voice, it was harder, more neutral. He didn't sound like himself. You push off of him, fighting through the new strength he seemed to come back with.

You push your hat back down onto your head, brushing away the tears from your eyes and cheeks with the backside of your gloves. You stand back and take him in. He's wearing the clothes of the man you loved, but he certainly didn't look like the Jake you remember.

He was broader than before. Wider from shoulder to shoulder, no doubt covered in more muscle. He was clean-shaven, with no sign of the stubble or beard you grew to love on him. Even his eyes had harshened, they weren't as sweet or soft as you recalled.

"How could you leave me like that?" you ask quietly again, not happy with his answer. "You left me after that night, Jake. You LEFT me after you gave me this damn ring!" At that, you pulled your left glove off, the silver band immediately catching the cool light from the overcast sun, gleaming as if it were brand new.

You could feel a wave of new, hot tears burning at the edges of your eyes, but you pushed them down and continued, "I waited every day, Jake. For a call, a text, or a letter in the mail. And I got nothing." Your voice dropped deadly quiet on the last word, a lone tear streaming down your cheek.

You couldn't read the emotion on Jake's face, as it was perfectly masked. You huff once to catch your breath and then you yell, "Say something, dammit!"

Another gust of wind blows through, and Jake glances down at his boots before regaining eye contact with you. The jade color of his eyes had dimmed, and when he gazed at you, you didn't know how to feel.

"I never stopped loving you, Y/n. I had to leave, even though I really didn't want to," he starts. He takes a step toward you, but you take another step back, your arms wrapping around yourself protectively.

Jake can feel his heart crack at the way you're looking at him. It was never supposed to be like this. You seem to glare daggers at him and whisper, "You always have a choice." He swallows thickly, averting his gaze, and continues, "Not this time, I didn't."

You groan in frustration and whip around in a circle, heading back for the horses, but Jake catches your free hand in his own. His rough fingers catch your left hand, the feeling of his skin on yours enough to make you stop in your tracks.

"Y/n, please wait," he calls out. You immediately snap back, "I waited 6 damn months, Jake! You just up and disappeared! No one would tell me where you were or what happened to you."

You rip your hand out of his, quickly shoving your gloves into the pocket of your jacket. You pull the promise ring off of your ring finger and looking him in the eye, you slam it up against his chest.

With tears in your eyes you whisper, "I'm tired of thinking about you Jake, because every time I think of you, I think about how you left me with nothing."

He doesn't move as you pull away from him, grabbing the reins of both Ringo and Sandy, you mount the gelding you had been riding. With your rope recoiled and Sandy next to you ready to pony, you look back at him.

"I'm sure you can find your own way out of this damn pasture," you say coldly as you lope off, Sandy trotting next to you as you bypass the herd of cows.

And as you ride off toward your homestead, tears streaming down your cheeks, Jake is left standing in the pasture with snow falling around him, holding the ring that had previously bound him to you.

Tag list: @xxdragonwriterxx @tejxswini @mysterystarz @mortedeveles @vs-redemption @kal0psi-a @gin-no-g @starstruckkittensweets @kitacharm @shirari @animated-moon @mitzwinchester @elitparadox @yumeyooa @angels-main @anlian-aishang @notroosterbradshaw

(If anyone would like to be removed, please just let me know<3)

[konstigthebonewitch]

I fucking hate Christianity. Christ is cool as homeslice would've ripped these crispy-créme pieces of dogshit a brand-fucking new asshole. I've been lied to my whole fucking life and by perverted incel men who think that just because they have a dick that they're somehow fucking special. Spoiler Alert: The Abrahamic "god" is the actual fucking devil. The real God had to fucking clean up after that piece of shit all the damn time! Sin doesn't fucking exist! If people were smart and read of Mary Magdalene they'd see but NOOO!!! A WOMAN IN CHARGE?! OH THE OUTRAGE!!! While the archbishop and head deacon play circlejerk in the basement with an empty wine bottle.

Best part? I don't just live anywhere! It's the fucking bible belt (ironically getting it's ass kicked by storms, but no, it's just a conspiracy theory 🤮.) I'm glad there is only one town with this name, it is one too many! Negative one is too many!

Fuck the South, fuck Christians, fuck churches, and most of all, fuck anyone stupid enough to believe that fucking bullshit.

They can't thump their almighty Trump-signed bibizzles without being a fucking snake and shitting on it. I am so glad reality is in reverse. I'd rather scrape bones out of a pit in the forest and dance in skins around a fire under a full moon than look at these "friendly, well-bred" Southern inbreds any fucking longer. The kitschy fake shit got old when Dolly Parton got her fifth boob job in '82.

I can't wait until the Vatican burns. Maybe Nuclear Assault will actually hang the goddamned pope.

I don't fucking belong here on Earth anyway, I never did and never want to. It makes me want to bash my head against solid concrete.

[positivexcellence]

towwn: whether your style is soft + romantic, bright + bold or modern + minimalist, there are eco-friendly summer skirts to suit every aesthetic. with that in mind, we rounded up some faves that are easy to wear + use ethical production at a range of price points. from pre-loved pieces to recycled and regenerative fabrics, take a spin in one of these sustainable skirts for many seasons to come.

@sezane we love the vibrant retro vibes + versatile all-season pleated design of the dilo skirt. made from 100% recycled polyester, the brand is oeko-tex® certified + uses recycled packaging.

@poshmark shop pre-loved fashion for vintage, designer, and currently trendy brands. we’ve seen multiple versions of this @freepeople denim mini in various sizes + washes, all under $40.

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@eticadenim made from 59% cotton, 36% tencel, 5% recycled cotton, the katina skirt in moonstone or pink is a summer staple.

@farmrio known for transforming and refurbishing vintage clothes farm rio’s wrap midi is made of 100% recycled materials, including linen + viscose. the brazilian brand plants a tree in the amazon for each sale.

@aerie this y2k-era low-rise cargo number is easy to dress up or down. part of ae’s “real good” collection, it’s made with 98% sustainable cotton, less water waste + mindful of recycling earth’s resources.

@amourvert crochet is having a summer ‘24 moment + we’re here for it, esp in this 100% organic skirt you can layer over a swimsuit or pair with a cute tee. committed to using deadstock fabric, planting trees + the practice of circular fashion, the brand also offers a resale marketplace.

@onequince this 100% washable silk maxi or midi skirt offers luxurious, sustainable comfort with its best-in-class mulberry silk produced in bsci-certified factories with ethical production.

@girlfriend comfy for beach volleyball, tennis or around town on a hot day, these skorts are made from 79% recycled plastic bottles & 21% spandex.

[mercidupreclothiers]

Luxury Meets Sustainability: Discover Eco-Friendly Women’s Clothing by Merci Dupre Clothiers

In an age where sustainability and luxury are increasingly intertwined, Merci Dupre Clothiers is redefining what it means to be both eco-friendly and elegant. As the demand for environmentally friendly clothing for women grows, Merci Dupre is leading the way with a collection that combines high-end fashion and a deep respect for the planet. Every piece is crafted to make a lasting impression and leave a lighter footprint on the world.

The Rise of Sustainable Clothing for Women

Modern women are more conscious than ever about the impact of their fashion choices, especially as awareness of environmental issues continues to rise. Sustainability is no longer a niche interest; it's a movement toward mindful consumption and lasting quality. Merci Dupre Clothiers embodies this ethos by creating sustainable clothing for women that aligns with both ethical values and timeless style.

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Merci Dupre Clothiers: Where Luxury Meets Eco-Conscious Design

At Merci Dupre Clothiers, we believe that eco-friendly women’s clothing can — and should — exude sophistication. Every piece in our collection is designed with the modern woman in mind, balancing elegance with a commitment to sustainability. Here’s a closer look at how we achieve this balance.

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For those seeking sustainable clothing by Merci Dupre that doesn’t compromise on luxury, our collection offers the best of both worlds. Choosing Merci Dupre means selecting pieces that not only look and feel exquisite but also represent a commitment to environmental and social responsibility.

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Building a Greener Future with Merci Dupre

Merci Dupre Clothiers is committed to leading by example in the luxury fashion industry, showing that environmentally friendly clothing for women can be as chic as it is responsible. Our collection is designed for the woman who values elegance, quality, and sustainability in equal measure. By choosing Merci Dupre, you’re not only making a statement about your personal style but also supporting a brand that strives to make a positive impact on the world.

Explore the latest collection and join us in the journey toward a more sustainable, luxurious future.

[nocturnalghoul]

Call Off Your Bloodhounds

Okay this is something that I thought of the idea and then started writing only to scrap it and start over like 3 times, so I’m happy to finally have it done. I started out with the intent of writing evil irredeemable special, but then took a wrong turn somewhere and ended up with Special who uses his brotherly connection with Cowbell as like a grounding point so he doesn’t get lost in the cruelty that he so deeply loves.

This is one of three fics that I plan to post today on my birthday as a sort of reverse present. Enjoy! I'll link the other two fics here and here once I get all three posted

Oh also I'm tagging @askingforthesun because its the lads and I know you were excited for this one.

Summary: All the best tall tales need a villain, and there is one ghoul in particular who is especially good at this. The PR ghoul would be lying if he said the trail of hushed whispers that followed his wake didn’t bring him pleasure. If he focuses hard enough he can catch glimpses of the horror stories exaggerating his skilled exsanguination. There is so much praise for his ability to play nice for interviews, but it's lovely to see his other more unsavory talents given proper recognition.

Words: ~1.6k

Warnings: Mild mentions of violence and gore but nothing direct, blood, murder ghouls

Read on AO3 here or under the cut

The majority of siblings within the ministry would agree that there is almost a mythological quality to living alongside ghouls in the beginning. That spell eventually gets broken by the hijinks of the everchanging friendly pack of band ghouls, but for the ghouls that tend to stick to the background around the abbey that feeling never really goes away. 

Siblings can occasionally manage to sneak up and catch a certain unnerving earth ghoul unaware, or see a lightning quick ghoulette mid-hunt performing some magical feat, but it always ends up the same way. They rush back to tell their tale with all of their friends hanging onto every word with almost childlike enthusiasm.

All the best tall tales however, need a villain, and there is one ghoul in particular who is especially good at this. The PR ghoul would be lying if he said the trail of hushed whispers that followed his wake didn’t bring him pleasure. If he focuses hard enough he can catch glimpses of the horror stories exaggerating his skilled exsanguination. There is so much praise for his ability to play nice for interviews, but it's lovely to see his other more unsavory talents given proper recognition. 

It hadn’t always been like this. Long ago he was part of a pack, living the boring existence of a random ghoul serving the satanic church and fading into the background just like the others. It was one young woman in particular who recognized how exceptional he really was early on into her rise to the top. She recognized just how sublime he was at tracking down those who wished not to be found. His particular brand of quintessence was never suited to the infirmary, but was excellent for finding the loud thoughts and racing hearts of those attempting to hide and for intuiting exactly how to tear and rend in order to take down his prey without a fight. 

The other ghouls could get away with the occasional disappearance, but never with the frequency that he does. This brand of death and cruelty would be punished if performed by any other, but he is a very special ghoul afterall and that affords certain privileges. At this point it’s almost a game to determine is that stain in the carpet from a forgotten breakfast or a forgotten sibling.

The newer ghouls aren’t exempt from getting caught up in the stories either. 

Cowbell has reached the end of the tour he had been leading the recent summon on, but can tell there is still something on his mind. “So did you have any questions or concerns?” they prod gently. 

There is a long pause as the young ghoul attempts to figure out exactly how to approach the subject. “Well there's not really a problem, but something is bothering me. That one quintessence ghoul kinda freaks me out considering all I’ve heard about him around the abbey, but one of the other guys said he is fine as long as I ‘don’t fuck up’. Do you have any advice on that?” the summon sputters out, trailing off at the end. 

“Oh, do you mean Spesh? I told them to stop freaking out the new ghouls. He’s totally chill so long as you avoid trouble and don’t act like an idiot.” 

Almost as if on cue, Special emerges around the corner attempting to hide something behind his back. The new summon is clearly staring directly at the splatters of blood on his uniform and streaked across his face, but correctly decides that pointing it out counts as being stupid. “I saw this weird plant while I was in the woods on business and thought of you kid” the quintessence ghoul says with a friendly smile. The plant has been haphazardly shoved into what was clearly the first pot Special could steal from the greenhouses, but has clearly been dug out of the ground with care if the dirt caked under his usually immaculate nails is anything to go by. “Enjoy” he tacks on before sauntering off, undeniably picking pieces of somebody out of his teeth.

The new summon stares in confused terror as Bell beams while fussing with the plant. “See, he is such a thoughtful guy.” they chirp before dismissing the new ghoul and leaving to replant the present. 

~~~

Cowbell isn’t a fool, he recognizes the destruction that Special reeks on a regular basis. He also knows that the monster that everyone else sees is not the complete picture. While everyone else treats him like a campfire ghost story made real, he knows that Special doesn’t do anything without a reason. With his old pack having long since forgotten him, Bell is really the only semblance of a pack he has left.  He has always been a big brother to Bell, and nobody could possibly come close to understanding either of them as well as they know each other. 

It’s a point of pride for Cowbell, to be a grounding point for his brother whenever the tides of chaos grow stronger. Special might have a talent for wickedness, but he isn't unreasonable. 

All of the carnage he sows starts as a command from the heads of the clergy or for their benefit, even if he allows himself to get swept away in the stories at times as well. 

Today however is the worst he has ever seen Special get lost in the thrill of the hunt. It had started with a task from Imperator, something or rather someone that her best ghoul was so wonderfully equipped to deal with. The mistake came in her trying to get Omega to interfere. She had a morbid curiosity if another ghouls quintessence would confuse Specials senses, not realizing exactly the frenzied ghoul she was creating. 

Instead of the cold calculated cruelty everyone was used to, the ghoul was leaving a frantic messy trail in his wake. All of the siblings had been moved to sheltering in the heart of the abbey until everything quieted down, with the ghouls taking residence at the perimeter or out in active pursuit. 

Cowbell however is strolling through the grounds as calm as ever, taking note of the trail of destruction his brother has strewn until he reaches the center of the main courtyard. They sit down patiently, legs crossed and hands folded in his lap, on the stained cobblestones and wait with his back turned to the main gardens. 

A few times another ghoul on guard duty wanders by and attempts to convince them to go inside where it's safer, but Bell laughs and waves them off. They hear one of the passersby mutter something about how if he doesn’t have any self preservation that's fine with her and politely decides to ignore it. If he knows anything, it's that Special would never hurt him. 

Special is exceptional at sneaking up on people, but has never been able to sneak up on Bell no matter how quiet he is. The loud crunches and clicks that Bell hears drawing closer is so out of the ordinary for the ghoul that they almost doubt it’s their brother approaching until they feel the familiar buzz of their magic in the air. 

“Well well little ghoul, what are you doing out here in the open like a fool, hmmm? Are you a tasty treat for me to play with?” Special rasps breaking the eerie silence. 

Bell cautions a glance out of the corner of his eye, but sees no sign of recognition on his brother's face. Whatever Sister’s little experiment was must have been so much worse than any could imagine for Special to still not recognize him this close. 

The quintessence ghoul surges forward, pulling Cowbell abruptly up off the ground before freezing completely. As Bell takes stock of the ghoul in front of him he struggles to recognize the one he cares for so deeply. Special is absolutely drenched in blood, his clothes ripped and disheveled due to his carelessness. The wild bouts of magic swirling inside of his eyes is hypnotizing but Bell pushes past it, looking for the spark of recognition finally present within them. 

Bell lays a tranquil hand on his brother's face and smiles weakly, reaching to move the mask off his face. “It’s over Spesh, be done.” Normally the quintessence ghoul cannot stand to go maskless, but for Bell he has always had a weak spot.

The deathgrip on Bell’s collar disappears as quickly as it arrived as his brother slowly crumbles to the ground. “I’m sorry.” he mutters, barely audible. 

The two sit there while the ghouls trying to track Special down trickle past, heading inside to let everyone else know that the threat is no longer. They both ignore them all though and continue a quiet conversation as if the entire proceedings of the day never happened. 

After half an hour, Imperator comes out of the main door leading to the courtyard with a team of ghouls to clean up the chaos that has been sewn. With a particular quick nod from her, Special shoves his mask on, picking himself up and heading inside to clean up and find a fresh uniform. 

“I appreciate the role you played today” she remarks to Bell, watching the team of ghouls head out towards the general garden grounds. 

Cowbell can’t help but laugh. “Listen, he will always follow your orders with pleasure and without hesitation. It's who he is. However, the next time you decide to use that fact for a sick experiment, I shall take it personally. You would do well to remember that I do not come to heel as easily as he does either. Goodbye.” they sneer before heading inside after Special. 

As important as a villain is to a story, they would be nothing without their motivating force.

[nearly-magic]

i decided to rewrite a part of one of my oumami fanfic chapters because it was LACKING!! but im not gonna update it because i wanna keep the chapters as close to how they were when published, so that my writing skills can be seen improving lol- ANYWAYS heres the small bit of the chapter :3

"Hahahaa! Wooow, what a cool trick that was, Kokichi! Dumbass, heh," Miu joked.

"It's not like you're any better! Here, try doing what I tried to do," Kokichi hands the phone over to Miu. Miu quickly restarts the level, and immediately begins fumbling around.

While Miu was attempting the trick, Kokichi's eyes drifted away from the phone screen. They drifted over to Rantaro, and he couldn't look away. His eyes followed individual strands of his hair over to his piercings. Did he always have those in? Does he not have other ones? Do they not hurt after a while?

Then, his eyes shifted to Rantaro's face. The sun hit his face just right, he was more than just 'pretty'. His eyes were the most charming green he'd ever seen, like shiny polished emeralds with how they sparkled.

His outfit was different from what he wore in the killing game. Well, everyone's was, he didn't know why he highlighted his specifically. He was wearing a plain white T-shirt, which had some kind of brand logo in the corner. He still had his necklace thing however. I wonder if that has any sort of importance to him.

Kaede told a joke, which Kokichi didn't hear, but he watched how Rantaro laughed. His laugh made Kokichi's heart feel like it could soar the skies and touch the clouds, but he was brought back down to Earth when Miu celebrated, excitedly shaking Kokichi.

"Did you see that? I fuckin' did it! I'm a genius! A gorgeous one at that!" Miu yelled, making him cover his ears due to the sheer volume.

"..Huh? Oh! Yeah, awesome! You go girl! Guess ya proved me wrong!" Kokichi faked paying attention because he was focused on something else, something he considered more eye-catching.

"Lemme try now!" He tried to grab Miu's phone, but she pulled away before his fingers could even touch it.

"Wait, dumbass! I'll give you my phone in a second! You're so impatient!" Miu said with a smile. Her phone beeped, indicating it was on low battery.

"Hah! My phone's on five percent! Ah, wait, that means I can't use it either.. Well, I'm a fuckin' winner, cuz I did the trick and you didn't," Miu puts her phone away in her bag and Kokichi complained a little, slumping in his seat.

Everyone had finished their meals already. Miu stands up to go to the bathroom, almost getting tripped by Kokichi. She turns to yell a couple more swear words, then runs off.

Kokichi watches her go away. 'Guess I'll have to talk to these bozos now,'  Kokichi thinks, putting his hands in his pockets. He then unexpectedly feels something in one of them.

He pulls that something out, and discovers it's a piece of wrinkled paper. From before the killing game, presumably.

He unfolded the paper and all it said was 'lol, gay '. He could feel his face get warmer slightly.

He felt called out because of earlier. Not his fault that Rantaro was just that pretty.

What?

He put the paper back in his pocket once he saw Miu coming back. He tried his best to conceal his blushing face, but to no avail. He saw Miu's face turn into a smug one, meaning she thinks she knows what's up.

Before Miu could say anything, Kokichi trips her again, completely throwing Miu off as she starts throwing friendly insults at him again.

[sharktankindiaproducts]

Everything You Need to Know About Shark Tank India and Its Judges

If you’re a fan of entrepreneurship, innovation, and exciting business deals, you’ve probably heard of Shark Tank India. The show has taken India by storm, giving budding entrepreneurs a platform to present their business ideas in front of successful investors, also known as "sharks." It’s the perfect mix of business education, entertainment, and inspiration. In this blog, we’ll take a deep dive into what Shark Tank India is all about, the role of the shark tank india judges list, and how this show has inspired millions across the country.

What is Shark Tank India?

Shark Tank India is the Indian version of the popular American reality TV show Shark Tank, where entrepreneurs pitch their business ideas to a panel of investors in the hopes of securing investments. The show gives these entrepreneurs a chance to present their startups and ideas to well-established businesspeople, who can either invest their own money in the businesses or pass on the opportunity.

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Who Are the Shark Tank India Judges?

The Shark Tank India judges are a group of highly successful entrepreneurs and business leaders from different industries. These sharks bring their experience, knowledge, and capital to the table, looking for innovative ideas and promising business ventures. Let's take a look at some of the notable Shark Tank India judges who have appeared on the show:

Aman Gupta – Co-founder and CMO of boAt, a leading electronics brand, Aman Gupta has played a key role in making boAt one of the most popular brands for headphones and other electronic accessories in India. His business acumen and marketing skills are highly respected, and he has been a fan favorite on the show for his friendly and down-to-earth approach.

Anupam Mittal – Founder and CEO of People Group, Anupam Mittal is best known for his pioneering work with Shaadi.com, one of India’s largest matrimonial websites. His deep understanding of technology and marketing gives him a sharp eye for identifying promising startups in the tech space.

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Peyush Bansal – Co-founder and CEO of Lenskart, Peyush Bansal has revolutionized the eyewear industry in India. His focus on tech-driven businesses and customer service makes him an insightful judge. Peyush is known for giving practical advice to entrepreneurs, helping them grow their businesses with a customer-first approach.

Ghazal Alagh – Co-founder of Mamaearth, Ghazal Alagh is an entrepreneur who has made a name for herself in the personal care space. Mamaearth is known for its natural, toxin-free products, and Ghazal’s passion for clean beauty shines through in her work as a judge. She often provides valuable insights to entrepreneurs in the beauty and wellness space.

How Shark Tank India Works

On Shark Tank India, entrepreneurs come onto the show with a specific business pitch. They present their business ideas, products, or services to the sharks, who then decide whether or not they want to invest. The entrepreneurs usually ask for a certain amount of money in exchange for equity in their company.

Once the pitch is presented, the sharks have the opportunity to ask questions, dig deeper into the business model, and assess the potential for growth. Based on the entrepreneur's answers, the sharks either make offers or decline to invest. Sometimes, multiple sharks show interest, leading to negotiations where the entrepreneur can choose the best offer.

The sharks bring more than just money to the table. They also offer mentorship, business connections, and strategic advice. Getting a deal on Shark Tank India can be a game-changer for startups, giving them the resources they need to grow their business quickly.

How Shark Tank India Inspires Entrepreneurs

One of the most significant impacts of Shark Tank India is the inspiration it provides to aspiring entrepreneurs. Watching the show, viewers get to see real people turning their ideas into successful businesses. The show encourages people to dream big and teaches them the importance of perseverance, creativity, and hard work.

The show has also helped break down the stigma around failure in business. Many entrepreneurs who don’t get a deal still receive valuable advice from the sharks, which helps them improve their business models and try again. It’s a great reminder that failure is just a stepping stone to success.

Shark Tank India Products

Many businesses that have appeared on Shark Tank India have gone on to achieve great success. From innovative tech products to eco-friendly solutions, these businesses have captured the imagination of both the sharks and the viewers. Shark Tank India Products has become a platform for promoting these entrepreneurial success stories.

For those interested in discovering products featured on the show, Shark Tank India Products offers a wide selection of innovative and unique items. Whether you’re looking for new gadgets, health products, or sustainable solutions, the businesses that have appeared on Shark Tank India are some of the most creative and forward-thinking in the market.

Conclusion

Shark Tank India has not only entertained millions of viewers but also played a crucial role in promoting entrepreneurship in India. With its panel of expert judges, the show provides invaluable lessons for anyone interested in business, innovation, and success. Whether you're a startup founder or simply someone with a love for great ideas, Shark Tank India is a must-watch.