#but of course no one cares to let ugly men be ugly as usual

[katyspersonal]

It is always so baffling for me when a canonically weird-looking and non-conventionally attractive (if not even ‘ugly’) male character is consistently drawn much more prettier, polished and beautiful and people PRAISE this as a good thing? I mean obviously not be mean to people for their art style, but it just rubs me in such a wrong way every time..

It doesn’t help that we all know that if it was to happen with a female character, everyone on the blue site would be upset about it and defend her unique features and imperfections with tooth and nail. But then when a male character is prettied-up compared to the canonical look, it is always seen as ‘thank you for your service uwu’ and ‘this is so much better than the canon uwu’.

[itspileofgoodthings]

.

[yanderefarm]

yandere crime lord introduction

cw;; torture, violence, yandere things, nsft

he's finally here. please feast your eyes on him. pretty boy. im amazed at how the three of them really do look like brothers. i was having a really hard time with his hair when i finally to give him curly hair like his brother and its such a good choice. ajax has some curl to his hair too so they all look related.

achilles is the eldest brother of ares and ajax. he's 35 years old.

he has a nicotine addiction and he goes through a pack a week. quitting is more stressful than it's worth so he hasn't tried.

he stays in touch with his brothers. ares more so because ares calls him to hide bodies frequently.

he isn't head of the family yet, he works right under his father and he has a lot of the same power and responsibilities.

he hates violence and as a young boy he was even more soft spoken and didn't want to hurt anyone. now he has no choice and that adds to his stress.

his whole life he's been compared to ares because he's so much softer than his more aggressive brother. this caused him to really develop a complex where he's always thinking about how much better ares would be at everything he tries and then he starts to stress that people will realize that he's just faking being tough and masculine.

he's known since he was young that he likes men but he doesn't want to risk anymore more evidence against him.

he doesn't have time for relationships or a personal life. his routine is basically work, stress, eat, sleep.

this only changes when he's with you. suddenly he doesn't have to stop and remember to eat. he doesn't have to hurt anyone or be threatening. there's no fear of being exposed with you.

his routine with you is torture, eat, get taken care of, sleep.

at first it was horrible, of course it would be. he spent every day just praying he survived. but one day you weren't torturing him, instead you just let him sit in the same room as you.

for the first time he didn't have to be scared or worry about survival and he was certain all his stress would come back to him. but he realized there was no point in stressing; you would kill him sooner rather than later so he could just comfortably be himself.

he started to get closer to you then forming some kind of strange domesticity. he even found himself enjoying the pain, the horrible pain you would inflict would empty his mind of everything but you.

and then you would patch and clean his wounds so gently. you would always tell him when it was about to sting like you hadn't been putting out cigarettes on his chest an hour ago.

he fell in love with you in the 2 and a half months he spent as your captive. it was nice to love someone so deeply before he died.

and then you told him he could leave. he was confused, upset, confused why he was upset. he wondered if maybe you had found out that your victim had developed a sick affection for you and you were so disgusted with him.

he never understood his younger brother's feelings and possessiveness towards everything. he didn't understand how his brother could claim to love something so deeply that he feels compelled to break it. but when you told him he could go he suddenly understood everything.

it was like something in his mind finally clicked into place and he knew he couldn't let you throw him away. he knew he didn't have any power over you but if he could find something you wanted he could force you to let him stay.

he eventually becomes a pay pig for you. he knows that you're willing to do extreme things for money but he usually just pays to go on dates or for kisses.

he calls you a lot whenever work becomes overwhelming. if you don't answer the phone he'll light up a cigarette instead.

everyone thinks he has a girlfriend and he's some dominant guy who's suddenly whipped for a pretty little girl. they don't know he's the wife.

he loves mascot characters. he really loves cute or ugly cute things. he has a cute phone charm he got from ares and it's the only cute thing he allows himself to own. he can use it being his brother's gift as a good excuse to keep it.

ares knows his real personality while ajax still thinks he's a cool stoic older brother

he is very stoic and he can come off pretty intimidating. he'll accidentally glare at people sometimes because he's just lost in thought and worrying about something.

he only smiles when he's with you. whether you're out on a date or he's getting sewn up he'll have a soft little smile on his face.

if you ever tried to abandon him he would use every resource at his disposal to find you. even if he has to be the one to lock you up he won't let you leave.

he's surprisingly clingy in public. he doesn't do much pda but he'll hold your hand the whole time. if anyone looks at you he'll squeeze your hand and pull you a little closer to himself.

surprisingly it actually takes him a little bit to come around to the idea of bringing sex into things. even longer to convince him that he'd probably enjoy sex more if there was a pain aspect.

now he gets turned on as soon as you press that piece of duct tape over his mouth. he's a complete degenerate.

he loves being degraded. nothing is more exciting than when he calls you at work stressed out and you mock his whole crime lord attitude.

never worry about being too mean to him. he will beg you to make him cry.

he got the family sex = love belief. however because of his work with prostitutes he finds love to be cheap. he didn't think he would ever fall in love until his obsession with you formed.

he also inherited the family forced fem kink. he particularly likes to wear frilly lingerie under his suits while at work. he always sends you a picture of his underwear in the morning.

he over hears someone talking about how much they love calling their wife, wife. so he asks you to call him wife once and it immediately gets him hard. he's a blushing mess about it. .

quiet in bed. when hes not screaming in pain. he just gasps and whimpers at your touch.

he has a desperate need to praise you. like a praise kink but on the giving side. he wants to kiss every inch of your skin and tell you how grateful he is for you.

he doesn't say i love you a lot but when he does it's during sex. especially after edging him.

any kinks you want to try on him he is down to do at least once.

[sansaorgana]

So I loved the way you wrote Buck with his scars! My heart was breaking! Could you maybe write one where he hates them and the reader comforts them and kisses his scars?

hi, sugar! 🥰 I am trying to write these requests chronologically but I couldn't wait to write this one, especially after seeing today's episode because domestic Buck is something I just NEED 😍 I added a whole plot around it, so you can also expect some of jealous Gale 👀 basically, his wife befriended some man when he was away and now he's jealous and insecure that he's not so handsome anymore lol like it's even possible

my inbox is open for blurb/short fic requests for major cleven 🤗

Buck stepped on the stool to take off the last of the Welcome Home signs as his wife stood below with her hand gently put on his thigh, making sure he wouldn’t fall. She didn’t want to miss any opportunity to touch him ever since he had come back.

Buck smiled to himself. It still felt odd to be back home and to be around his wife’s comforting presence, surrounded by her love and affection.

He furrowed his brows at the ceiling’s colour, though. It was oddly snow white and he remembered that it had been needing a renovation when they had moved in a few weeks before his departure to Europe.

“The ceiling’s been painted,” he pointed out as he handed his wife the paper sign and she took it from him to put it away.

“Yes. Ritchie’s done it,” she answered casually.

Buck froze for a second before stepping down from the stool and taking a better look at his wife. She didn’t look as if she was hiding some secret, though.

“Who is Ritchie?” He tried to remain cool. He had no right to be jealous. He didn’t want to be one of those husbands who didn’t want their wives to have any male friends.

Still, he was jealous.

“Oh, Ritchie, he’s just a… Just a friend, I mean…” (Y/N) chuckled and he could see her eyes sparkling. Buck’s jaw clenched at that reaction. “He’s a doctor, a local doctor, you know.”

“Do I know him?” Buck asked, trying to remember if he had known any Ritchies.

“No, no, honey, he was sent here when you had been… away,” she sighed. “I met him at the party…” (Y/N) got nervous explaining and Buck furrowed his brows at her. “I didn’t want to go, my friends forced me, I swear, Buck. It gave me no pleasure to dance and have fun knowing that you were… at some camp, I…” She shook her head and her eyes filled with tears.

“Shh,” Buck put his arms around her and brought her closer to place a kiss on the top of her head. “I hoped you would go out sometimes and have fun. I never wanted you to sit at home alone and cry all day and night. I hoped you’d know that, baby.”

“I know… Well, Ritchie was there. He wasn’t sent to Europe because we need doctors here, too,” (Y/N) sniffed her tears back and looked up at her husband. “He offered me help around the house. He painted the ceiling and took care of that spare room that might be a nursery one day… He fixed the drain and helped to mow the grass. You know, that sort of stuff,” (Y/N) explained. “I don’t know what I’d do without him, Buck. And he did that all for free!”

“For free, you say?” Buck raised an eyebrow. She looked so sweet and innocent, he didn’t want to accuse her of anything but he didn’t trust other men as much as he trusted his girl.

“Completely!” She assured him and nodded her head. “I wanted to pay him, I really did. But he told me that my husband was serving the country and it was his duty to help. He’s a sweetheart, really, Buck,” she tried to convince her husband. “In fact,” (Y/N) took a step back and smiled, “I think you should meet him. I think you’ll adore him! And you should thank him, too.”

“Thank him?” Buck asked, surprised. Perhaps she was right. He should. After all, that man had helped his wife enormously. But the ugly jealousy was too overwhelming.

“Of course!” (Y/N) gave him a scolding look. “Don’t you think he deserves to be thanked? Let me call him! I’ll invite him for dinner. He’s usually free on Sundays,” she ran to the telephone.

Buck only watched as she excitedly dialled the number she had memorised by heart. After a short while, someone on the other side of the line picked up and she smiled widely.

“Hey-ho, Ritchie, darling!” She started and Buck chewed on the inside of his cheek. He leaned on the wall, trying to look cool about it but he was exploding inside. “I was thinking that perhaps you’d join us for dinner tonight? I’d make that lasagna you like so much!” (Y/N) told her friend.

Buck tried not to look surprised that the mysterious Ritchie had his favourite dish already.

The truth was, Buck didn’t have any favourite dish (Y/N) made. And he hadn’t done much around this house before his departure either. They had gotten married two months before. He had been away for more than a year. That Ritchie guy had spent more time with his wife than he had. And it was killing him inside to realise that.

His wife had been everything that made his will to survive so strong. To see her again, to smell her, to touch her, to hear her laugh. She had saved him hundreds of times without even realising. And of course, as he had said to her, he hadn’t wanted her to spend all her days crying after him. But it still stinged his heart that she had some gentleman friend around. Cooking for him, renovating the house together, God-only-knows what else…

“Oh, no, you won’t be a bother!” (Y/N) shook her head to the receiver. “Buck wants to meet you and thank you for everything,” she turned around to smile at her husband. “Well, in two hours perhaps? Great!”

She put the receiver down and approached Buck to hug him and kiss his cheek.

“I can’t believe you’re here with me again… It feels so surreal,” she admitted.

He only hugged her closer, trying not to say anything. All he could feel was jealousy and he didn’t want to open his mouth and accidentally hurt her with his words.

Doctor Ritchie Nelson was older than Buck had expected – around 40. And much more handsome, too. Buck had naively hoped it would be some senior man living down the street or something like that. But no, he looked like a fucking actor. He had shiny black hair and bright blue eyes. He was a few inches taller and his clothes were very elegant.

Buck shook his hand to greet him when he opened the door.

“Major,” Ritchie saluted and then he gave Buck the most wonderful smile. Buck swallowed thickly.

Fuck me, he thought.

“Just call me Buck, doc,” he only said.

“And you call me Ritchie, son,” Ritchie walked inside as if the house had been his.

Buck closed the door behind him. He didn’t like being called son by that man even if he was older. But he didn’t want to start an argument and make his wife sad. She seemed to be very excited about the two of them finally meeting.

“(Y/N)’s in the kitchen now. She will serve the food in a moment. Follow me,” Buck headed to the dining room, painfully realising how stupid his words must have sounded. Of course Ritchie knew where to go.

But Ritchie didn’t say anything to that and took his place by the table.

“Hello, (Y/N)!” He raised his voice in the kitchen’s direction.

“Hello, sweetheart!” (Y/N) greeted him back and Buck took a seat across the table so he could face the man.

Before he could open his mouth to ask about something, his wife went inside with the plates. She put the food on the table and joined them, sitting right in between. 

“So, your wife told me that you went down over Bremen,” Ritchie started so naturally. He had to be born with this charm and charisma. “That was hell of a mission, I’ve heard on the radio.”

“Oh, Ritchie, let’s not talk about the war, can we?” (Y/N) batted her eyelashes at him. “Please,” she laid her eyes on her husband and Buck nodded at her.

He also didn’t want to talk about the war. Especially with a man who had not been there.

“Of course,” Ritchie cleared his throat.

“I’d rather listen to your stories,” Buck told him. “What did I miss ‘round town?”

He quickly regretted asking that question. (Y/N) and Ritchie were telling him all sorts of stories and gossip about local women, drunkards, policemen, priests, divorces and marriages, new children getting born... He wouldn’t mind that itself but the way they interacted with each other made his heart sink deep in his chest.

(Y/N) was mostly looking at Ritchie and her eyes were sparkling whenever he said something funny. She would often touch his wrist when she was laughing and they had a ton of inside jokes that Buck didn’t even want to ask about.

“Oh, you tell that story. You tell it the best!” She would say often and then she would interrupt Ritchie all the time to add her own details. But Ritchie didn’t seem to mind.

Buck couldn’t handle it anymore. He stood up suddenly and they looked up at him, questioningly.

“Are you alright, darling?” (Y/N) asked him, worryingly.

“Yes, I just… I want water…” Buck said and she nodded her head.

He went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass before leaning on the counter and watching his wife still talking to Ritchie. They looked so natural together, so comfortable around each other.

In fact, she looked more relaxed around Ritchie than around Buck. The truth was that things had been awkward between them. When they were alone, they would sit in silence most of the time. And she didn’t look as relaxed as she did now.

Buck clenched his jaw and joined them by the table again, even though he felt as if he was a third wheel.

“Oh, Buck, baby, I forgot to tell you,” (Y/N) grabbed his arm and then she pointed at Ritchie. “Ritchie used to be a model.”

Fucking wonderful, Buck thought. But he pretended to be surprised as he laid his eyes at the other man.

“Oh, please,” Ritchie rolled his eyes and chuckled.

The worst part of Ritchie was that he was not mean. He wasn’t teasing Buck or trying to show off. He really was a nice man... who just happened to have a good relationship with Buck’s wife.

“I mean it! Back in the 30s. He was on the cover of the magazine!” (Y/N) finished the story. “I mean, look at him,” she laid her eyes on Ritchie. “40 this year and face so smooth,” her voice sounded almost dreamy.

Buck moved uncomfortably in his seat. His face was far from smooth now with a few scars scattered on his cheeks. They were not deep but he could see them every time he looked in the mirror. A painful reminder of what he had been through. He would never have a face like Ritchie fucking Nelson. He had already been uncomfortable with the scars but now he hated them.

He took a better look at his wife. God, she was so pretty. So full of life. She deserved someone like her. Not a man broken by the war like him.

“I actually could sign a contract and go to Hollywood,” Ritchie confessed, a little shyly.

“But he chose to refuse and become a doctor,” (Y/N) shook her head and looked at Buck. “Can you believe that? I’d choose Hollywood,” she joked and Ritchie laughed.

Buck forced a chuckle. He couldn’t focus on her words anymore anyway.

“It’s getting late,” Ritchie took a glance at his watch. “I’m opening my cabinet tomorrow in the early morning. I should be going now.”

“Of course,” (Y/N) nodded and stood up to walk him to the front door. Buck remained in the dining room and waited for her to be back.

It took her quite a long time to say goodbye to her friend. He almost stood up himself to check on them but that was when she finally joined him and sat back by that table.

An awkward silence occurred between them.

“Isn’t he lovely?” (Y/N) started as she played with the food on her plate.

“Yes,” Buck nodded. “Damn, I forgot to thank him.”

“It’s alright. He doesn’t really expect that. You can do that next time, too,” she took his hand in hers and caressed it gently.

He hated to see her more stiff and awkward around him than she had been around Ritchie.

“I’ll wash the dishes,” she sighed and stood up, taking the plates from the table.

Buck stood in front of the mirror in the morning and looked at his freshly shaven face. Last night he had a nightmare again and he didn’t get a lot of sleep. His eyes missed the spark he had had before his departure to Europe. They were tired now and sadder, no matter how much he tried to be the same man as before. There were a few new wrinkles on his forehead, too. And those awful scars on his cheeks. His face was definitely not smooth.

“Knock, knock, baby,” (Y/N) opened the door gently. “What is taking you so long? I thought you were shaving,” she smiled softly at him. “I started to worry.”

“I got distracted, sorry,” he reached out for the towel to wipe the remaining shaving cream off of his face but (Y/N) approached him to do it herself.

“Aw, look at you, my handsome husband,” she gave him a warm and loving smile.

He hated that little voice in his head telling him that she had said that out of pity.

“Not anymore,” Buck chuckled nervously and put an aftershave on.

“What are you talking about?” (Y/N) furrowed her brows as she stared at his reflection in the mirror.

He only shook his head, scared that he would start crying if he said something now.

“Gale?” She asked softly as she delicately put her hand on his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, look at my face now,” he turned around to face her as his voice trembled.

“I am looking, baby,” she bit on her lower lip and placed her hands on his cheeks to caress them gently with her thumbs. “Do you mean those scars, love?” She asked, nervously.

Buck only nodded as his eyes filled with tears.

“Can I be honest with you, my darling?” She asked and he nodded again. “Well, I didn’t want to mention them when you came back home. I didn’t know if I could, I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or sad… But I wanted to tell you…” she hesitated for a moment and his heart skipped a beat.

He expected her to tell him now that they were indeed ugly or making him less attractive. Of course, she would later tell him she loves him despite them and all that jazz. What else would she say?

“I know that they’re on your face because you’ve been hurt and in pain, so I don’t feel good saying this but… Well, I think they make you look even more handsome,” she admitted and Buck’s eyes widened a little. “Am I a bad wife for thinking that?” She asked, nervously. “I’m sorry if I am. But you look so brave, my darling. And so handsome. They make me feel so proud to be your wife when I see them,” she leaned in to place small kisses up and down one of his cheeks and then the other.

“I thought you liked Ritchie’s soft face…” Buck muttered out.

“Wh-what?” (Y/N) took a step back to look deep into his eyes, her hands still caressing his cheeks. “Oh, you’re jealous?”

“Well, how can I not be?” Buck held her wrists gently and moved them out of his face to place soft kisses upon her knuckles. One at the time. “He spent more time with you than me. You’re so comfortable around him. I’m glad you had a friend when I was gone. But I can’t help not to be jealous,” he confessed. “He’s not as broken as me.”

“Gale,” (Y/N) shook her head. “You’re the only man for me. I’ve been waiting for you here, each day and night. And those silly scars you’re so bothered about? Goddamit, I was praying to all the gods in the world to bring you back to me, even without arms or legs, so what do they even matter? They’re nothing. I just wanted my husband back with me!” She began to tear up.

“I know,” Buck brought her closer to hug her. “I’m not accusing you of anything, I know.”

“Oh, you’d be an idiot if you accused me,” she chuckled through the tears.

“Why?” He asked and rubbed her back.

“Because Ritchie… He…” She tried to find the right words. “Well, he doesn’t like women, if you know what I mean.”

Oh.

What a burden had just left Buck’s heart. He chuckled out of relief.

“Yeah, I should have… I should have known. There was something about him,” he admitted.

“He’ll be flattered that you thought of him as competition. It means you find him attractive,” (Y/N) giggled and Buck rolled his eyes before hugging her even tighter. “I love you, Major Cleven,” she squeezed him tighter too. “All of you, all the scars and all the breaks you claim to have.”

Buck was left speechless for a moment. He just kept holding her and kissed her temple before finally speaking up.

“I love you, too, Mrs. Cleven.”

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[limethefirst]

Void Runners Pt. 3

pairings: Deadpool x Wolverine x teen!reader

warnings: heavy Deadpool and Wolverine spoilers, crude humor, violence, swearing

summary: Since being saved by Wade after your encounter with Cassandra, Logan makes you lead the way in the wasteland in hopes you know where they are.

Part 1 / Part 2

a/n: Per-chance I may have disappeared but that doesn't mean I won't finish this story, sorry for being gone so long, please forgive me with this 2000 word update! Enjoy the long awaited part 3

Currently the three of you were all walking through a grassy field, Wade was annoying Logan like usual as you walked in front of them—to be completely honest you were exactly sure where you were going but you knew you’d get there.

It was like the blind leading the blind but they didn't know that.

As they continued to discuss whatever...dumb things Wade could produce, a loud bark rang in the distance, seemingly catching everyone's attention.

You looked forward, as a strange little dog began to run into view. It was ugly, in an oddly cute way, it's tongue jumping up and down with each step it took.

Logan had a disgusted look on his face, while Wade seemed star struck. Wade began to take his mask off, his mouth agape; as the dog got closer the man fell to his knees, and opened his arms, letting the creature jump up on him and lick his face.

"Look at you!" Wade exclaimed, clearly excited, "She's coming with us,"

"No she's not," The man in yellow protested, obviously not wanting the extra company.

While they bickered you took the opportunity to get a closer look at the dog, it made a strange noise as you did. Although you could tell it enjoyed the affection it was being given.

"Sorry, sorry about that girl!" A voice rang, the group turning to look, saw a, what seemed to be more attractive Deadpool with long hair.

You looked between both men, confused at seeing two Deadpool's at once, more so one that said 'sorry' upon first interaction, "Who are you?" Wade asked, noticeably confused.

The other man stopped for a second to catch his breath, "Oh, I'm Deadpool, and I guess you're Deadpool too," He gestured to the Wade you've been traveling with, "But in here, everybody calls me 'Nicepool'."

You snickered at the name, the thought of a nice Deadpool now in your mind.

"Oh my goodness, wait till you see Ladypool. She is gorgeous," Nicepool began to ramble on, "She just had a baby too and.. woosh. Can't even tell." He told you guys, making a gesture with his hands to show you guys what he meant.

Logan gave him a confused face, while Wade added on, "I don't think you're supposed to say that."

"That's okay," Nicepool told you three, as his right hand went over his heart, "I identify as a feminist."

No longer being able to hold in your laughter from this entire interaction you let out an audible snort/chuckle.

All three men looked at you, Wade had a subtle hint of amusement within his eyes, Logan was just confused and Nicepool looked disappointed you'd laugh at the fact he's a feminist.

"Right," Wade said, deadpanning. Before he suddenly perked up, his attention caught by something, "Are those gold-plated 50 caliber Desert Eagle pistoleros?"

" 'Course, to match my ear huggie," Nicepool responded, a smile on his face while he showed off his gold.

"Can I have 'em?" Wade asked, sounding like a child wanting to open their birthday gifts early.

Nicepool laughed at him, "Over my dead body!" He responded still smiling.

You grimaced at the man, "You're gonna regret saying that to him.." you said, knowing Wade would take it seriously.

"You're fun!" He said looking between you and Wade, "And I guess you've already met Mary Puppins, AKA Dogpool. Careful where you touch her, she's 90% g-spot and she'll let you know it."

You looked back at the dog as Wade adjusted her in his arms.

"You let this little flirt out of your sight for one second and she starts shopping for a new papa!" Nicepool exclaimed, still smiling throughout the whole interaction.

You looked back towards Wade only to see Mary Puppins licking his lips and mouth, slightly disturbed by the strange sight.

"If you can't be a responsible pet owner then maybe you don't deserve this little unicorn!" Wade spoke as if a dog wasn't literally eating at his face.

Nicepool only smiled at him and put his hands together, "Guilty on all charges your honor. Shan't happen again" Nicepool bowed to Wade.

"Why are you so nice?" Wade asked, confused why this alternative version of him was so strange.

Nicepool once again smiled at him, "It cost nothing to be kind."

"Shutting the fuck up is also free," Logan added on, seemingly annoyed at the fact he was surrounded by technically three Deadpool's.

"Caliente!"

"This is Logan, he's usually shirtless but he let himself go since the divorce." Wade introduced as he tilted his head towards Logan, "And this little thing right here is Y/N, they're our little time jumper!" You wave a small wave, not wanting to be rude. Nicepool gave you a smile.

"Where's your mask?" Wade asked, a look of suspicion and maybe even a hint of envy on his face.

Nicepool, although still smiling, gave a confused look before regaining his happy demeanor, "Come on guys," He pointed at his face, a knowing look on his face.

Logan just looked disgusted and Wade was annoyed, "Ugh this guy, we're looking for a group of survivors."

"Oh they're out there, but merc to merc, you better hope you don't run into the Deadpool corp, yeah they're crazy!" Nicepool began to explain who they were and what they do, you've been in the void long enough to know who they were, fortunate enough to have never come face to face with them.

You didn't listen much after that conversation, only being asked by Nicepool if these hooligans were bothering you and if you'd like to go with him instead but you declined, more interested in leaving this place then having to be stuck with another Deadpool for the rest of eternity.

As you three were led through what seemed to be a corn maze you stumbled upon a car, that Wade did not seem to like one bit.

"No, no, no. Absolutely not, nu-uh what the- No, no" Wade continued to protest.

"Just get in the car" Logan told him, his tone already showing how he was getting annoyed.

"What's wrong with the car?" You asked Wade confused on why he didn't want to get in.

Wade looked offended when you asked him that, "This isn't a car, this is a Honda fuckin' Odyssey, throttle response sucks a cock, dated infotainment system. When Honda saw that the untreated chlamydia was makin' a comeback, they invented the Honda Odyssey to compete."

You looked at Wade, shocked at how much hate he held for the Honda Odyssey and at the relation he was able to make between chlamydia and a car.

"Get in the fucking car."

Nicepool smiled, his creepy little happy smile, "She'll get you there safe and sound, old Besty always does." Both you and Logan walked up to the car, getting ready to leave as soon as possible, "You're gonna have to give me my dog back though."

"I know. Listen, yes child.." Wade spoke to Mary Puppin's, as he pet her, showing his strange attachment to the furball, "If you ever wanna give her up, or if she needs a new home or if something should.. happen to you, I'd love to be her papa."

Nicepool laughed at Wade's subtle threat, "What would ever happen to me?"

Casually Wade replied, "Lots of stuff," This time the threat didn't seem to go over Nicepool's head.

He gave both you and Logan a nervous look, you could only reply with a sigh before you nudged Logan with your elbow, nodding towards Wade and the dog.

He sighed before standing up and walking towards the two, "Jesus" He muttered under his breathe.

Wade catching on quickly turned away, trying to run into the corn maze, being met with clear failure. "No! We're running away!"

You shook your head in disapproval still leaning on the car, "Give me that." Logan said grabbing the small dog from Wade's arms.

"We were so close girl" He tells Mary Puppins before she is given back to her rightful owner.

Logan handed Mary Puppins back to Nicepool, which then let him get into the car, while Wade slowly entered as well, clearly upset he wasn't able to take her with him. You got in as well, in the backseat of the car, giving a small wave to the little dog and her weird happy owner.

Logan started the car and began the long drive, giving you a little time to rest. Shockingly Wade didn't really speak much, until Logan got to the forest.

"Okay, I'm just gonna ask," Wade started off with, you slowly opened your eyes, still leaning against the window, your arms crossed as you listened in, "What's with the suit? First thing I did when I flamed out I took mine off."

"Drop it," Logan warned him.

"It's not that ugly,"

"Stop talking about my suit."

"Did you make it yourself? Been there."

"Quit. Now."

"The X-Men make you wear it? Those sons of fuckin' bitches. They are not your friends I'll tell you that!" Wade was not getting the hint at all, Logan looked as if he was about to burst, "Friends don't let friends leave the house looking like they fight crime for the Los Angeles Rams."

Logan replied snappily, not even looking away from the road for a second, "Shut the fuck up about this"

"Woah woah woah, watch your frown lines, angel baby, I'm just trying to bond a little bit."

"Yeah, well then talk about somethin' else," Logan let out an annoyed scoff.

"Fine!" Wade hesitantly said, you let out a quick sigh, thankful that Wade realized he should keep his mouth shut. Slowly you began to close your eyes again, hoping to get a little nap in during this ride.

Slowly but surely you drifted off to sleep, the exhaustion of today finally catching up with you. Although the peace wouldn't last long.

You had at least 15 seconds of nap time before the cars sudden stop made you hit your head against the back of Wade's seat.

"Ow!" You exclaimed, grabbing your forehead in your hands, Logan glanced at you, a glint of what you could only assume was worry evident on his face, before he turned back towards Wade.

"What do you mean if?" Logan's voice was raised, mad at whatever Wade had told him during your 15 second nap.

"I mean-"

"You lied to me, you don't have a fucking clue of they can help me fix things do you?"

"No I mean-" Before Wade could even finish his sentence Logan had let out his metal claws, digging them into Wade's leg.

You jumped back, a look of fear on your face, not worried that'd they attack you but that you'd get caught in the cross fire.

"Kid, get out of the car, now" Logan said, not even looking at you, his eyes stilled fixed on Wade. You knew you didn't have to listen twice, you quickly unlocked the door and jogged over to the thickest tree, hopping to use it as protection as the two men fought.

You thought the worst of it was over, you'd heard them yell a bit and assumed it was over once it went quiet but before you could walk back up to the car you saw Logan get thrown out of the car, that right there was your sign this would be an even longer day then it already was.

You watched for a bit before ultimately sitting down against a nearby tree and deciding you might as well take that nap now. You covered your ears and slowly drifted off to sleep.

You began to stir awake when you felt some arms around you and you heard the car turning on, but you assumed it was just one of them men thinking it was best to keep going on with the journey, so you put aside that thought and went back to sleep.

Until you suddenly were jolted awake by the sudden voice and quick movement of Wade, yelling what you assume was Thor.

[hyuckswoman]

« i’m so stupid to have believed you when you said you would only take a minute  to get ready » your friend hanbin says

the both of you were currently heading towards the gymnasium, actually going to see the basketball match instead of changing your plans last minute like the both of you usually do 

« what can I say? a lady must take her time upon preparing herself » you answer slightly shoving your friend as yes, technically he did have every right to complain but he had been doing so for the past half an hour. 

« lady my ass, you still look just as ugly » your friend says as you gasp and before you could even respond, somebody had beat you to it 

« y/n is not ugly how dare you say that » your friend jaemin (whom you had not seen) accompanied by his 5 friends greeted you 

« yea listen to jaemin i am not ugly » you retorted as hanbin just rolled his eyes and sighed

« what brings you here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at a game before » jisung asks, curious and lowkey surprised to see you in an athletic vicinity (the man did not think of you as highly athletic you presume)

« some guy tried to ask her out and since she wasn’t down he also asked me to go to the game with her so we’re here now » hanbin replies all too nonchalantly, you’re low key appalled at the twisted version of the events your friend is telling. 

« that is quite literally not what happened, the guy you see over there just told me i should come to the game and invite hanbin too » you reply clarifying 

« sooo, it’s exactly as hanbin described it » mark said. 

you couldn’t have your man think that he has any competition when it comes to you (not that he cares anyway, this is very much a one sided relationship and you know it). but still, upon seeing the five other men nod you truly start to wonder if all of them are just collectively stupid because they’re men or if you’re the one that’s being dense 

« OH! you’ll get to meet chenle, he’s been wanting to meet you for awhile- speak of the devil there he is! » your friend jaemin starts then waves at a man that is currently running towards all of you 

« you guys actually came -» chenle starts before being cut off by hyuck « yea we did » . while all of the guys sigh and shake their heads you’re snickering as that is 100% a joke you could’ve made yourself, and meeting eyes with your friend hanbin that’s giving you a look that screams ‘this is a joke you could’ve made’ gives you all the reassurance you would need. 

the loud noises erupting from the stadium managed to drown out the voices of the friend group in front of you. it isn’t until you hear your name being said that you realize not only where you are but who you’re with 

« it’s good to meet you, i was feeling left out as i was the only one who hadn’t met you yet. I wish i could speak more but i need to go back to stretch a bit before the match, talk to you after? » chenle asks, to which you only nod before he scurries back to his team

that’s right, chenle IS a basketball player of course his friends would be there.. 

« cmon guys, let’s go sit » jeno hurries all of you as he wants to get good seats before ‘the fangirls arrive’ (you secretly thank god the man doesn’t know about your little mark obsession seeing how he feels towards the basketball groupies)

« dude what if during the game a basketball comes flying to your head and your man catches it going like ‘you alright’ tryna rizz you up just like the meme you posted on twitter yesterday » hanbin whispers, still all too loudly for your liking tho 

« i beg of you to shut the fuck up the man is quite literally three people away from you » you whisper back slightly pinching his arm as he winces in pain.

 you can’t have mark know about your delusions. ever. 

and even though the seating system (hanbin, you, jaemin, jisung, mark, haechan and jeno) would make it difficult for mark to hear the whispers you share about him you don’t want to take any chances. you are practically surrounded by his friends after all. 

and two hours later the match was done, chenle’s team winning of course and you were heading out when the guys stopped both you and hanbin 

« we’re going to celebrate, not sure how yet but you guys wanna join? » jeno asks and hanbin agrees without even caring if you wanted to join them or not. when confronting him the only thing he replied was «what? we’ll probably get free food or drinks outta this, you should thank me ». the audacity of a bitch. 

25. the game

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notes: i'm back with another (written chapter) hope you guys don't mind the written bits cause there are more coming lol (also sorry to user @jising-jisang-jisung i really tried to make mark say it but i couldn't so.. sorry)

also to the anon that requested the jaehyun or huyk fic i am working on that i'm sorry to be so slow i'll try to publish it asap!

as always, requests/reaction/anything are open and appreciated!! hope you guys have/had a lovely day!

taglist (open): @imsiriuslyreal @iscocohere @simpforarmihn @replayenthusiast @lovm4rk @youreintheclubb @polarisjisung @sour-chaos @jising-jisang-jisung @aerivrs @multifandomania @tiddygang2020 @roseangelxfuma @skepvids @morkiee @yangasm @artstaeh @pussyslayerhd @bacons-thighs @bugcattie @leefullsun @jkslvsnella @alethea-moon @marvelahsobx @haechansbbg

[mrandmrssnowbaird]

very submissive kept-boy coryo, but you're a soft dom and you just wanna take care of him forever when you realize how badly he needs you. dacryphilia, begging, coryo on his knees and loving it.

You blink rapidly in shock, your heart pounding in your chest at the sight of Coriolanus Snow down on his knees. For you. You're usually so good with your words but you're speechless. Your face flushes. Coriolanus moves forward on his knees a bit, eyes still filled with tears. The sight is odd for so many reasons. One being of course the situation itself, the second being - usually, you find men crying to be kind of funny. The way their face crumpled instantly, like they'd been holding back far too long and the sudden release of emotion was so great that they can't help but look so ugly you could hardly stand it. But not Coriolanus. No, he's quite pretty with tears in his eyes, bottom lip trembling. You swallow hard. "What can I do? Please, tell me." He begs, almost whining.

Your heart skips a beat, and you sigh. "Come here." Coriolanus does, not bothering to get up off of his knees and instead shuffling forward towards you til he's right in front of you, hands still clasped. When he reaches you, you place your hands on his shoulders. The second you touch him, his tears start to fall. He starts to lower his head to hide, but you won't let him, placing your fingers under his chin for a moment. Your heart is pounding so hard in your chest you think he might be able to hear it, and the sight of his tears falling sends a rush of heat through you. "Please...please just tell me what I can do." He continues, definitely whining now. It's sweet, you think. Maybe you're making a mistake trying to end things. "Well...this is a good start." You say, a little breathless. "I like you on your knees.” Coriolanus blinks, and looks around a bit, up at you, down at himself, as if he just notices now that he's on his knees. He swallows hard, a few more tears falling. He nods. He'll stay on his knees, if that's what you want. And it is what you want. You still want him - you just want him to crawl on his knees for you, give himself more fully. Til he has nothing left. That's what's missing. Coriolanus was still holding back, sweet as he was to you these past weeks. You're beyond aroused. The tension had been building between you these last weeks, but nothing had been done about it. Coriolanus has been a near perfect gentleman, and you’re starting to understand why. You don’t necessarily know what you’re doing, but with Coriolanus on his knees in front of you, it seems nearly instinctual. You touch his cheek. Tears are still coming, though slowly. Your thumb brushes along his wet skin, not wiping the tears away but rather caressing them into his pale skin. “It’s okay,” You tell him softly. “Y-you’re not gunna leave me?” Coriolanus asks, looking up into your face, his own full of hope. “No…I’m not gonna leave you.” You tell him, and he releases almost a dramatically relieved sigh, tilting his cheek into your hand, eyes closed. “Not when you asked so nicely.” You add, watching his face for a reaction. Coriolanus sighs again, enjoying the compliments. 

You lean in to whisper in his ear, “You like this, don’t you? Being on your knees for me?”

Your breath in his ear causes him to let out a whimper and you fully understand, as he nods his head, why Coriolanus was so hesitant to fully open up. It was bad enough the Snows were broke - even worse if the entire student body found out he gets off on being made to get down on his knees. 

The house of Snow had fallen so hard and so far that now, he was down on his knees in front of you, crying and begging you not to leave with an erection tenting his black slacks. Just a little bit pathetic. 

And you love it. 

This somehow only makes Coriolanus more appealing, endearing. 

“Are you hard for me, Coryo….? You love begging on you knees that much?” You ask him, voice a mixture of amazed, soothing, and teasing as you continue to whisper in his ear. He groans at the feel of your breath in his ear again, at the little bit of degradation. His hands unclasp and he grasps your waist, holding onto you as he nods. 

This isn’t good enough for you.

“Use your words, Coriolanus. Tell me.” 

He releases a frustrated whine, turning red. This isn’t easy for him, but that’s part of what’s making it so arousing. 

“Say it.” You don’t even have to threaten him. He says it. 

“Okay, okay, I-…I love…I love being on my knees for you.”

Both of you are breathing a little faster at the discovery of a new aspect of a relationship you thought was very nearly over. 

How wrong you were. 

“What do you want, Coryo?” You ask, because you genuinely want to know. Does he even fully know himself? 

You pull away to look at his face. He does look confused, uncertain. You know he’s a virgin - he knows you’re not. You’re not incredibly experienced, but more so than he is. 

But he manages to shock you again. 

“I wanna…I wanna make you cum. Will you show me how? Please?” 

[huramuna]

beware the sapphire peak - chapter 1.

aemond targaryen x wife reader x alys rivers a period piece, set in 1902.

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wordcount: 2.6k

you're a young, american lady who is an aspiring author. you are wooed by a mysterious and charming savant from england. swept off your feet, you're whisked away to his family's ancient estate, Dragonstone Hall. but with all stories, secrets are hiding around every corner, and your suitor is no different. a crimson peak inspired mini series. (this will likely be about 3 parts)

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings!

content: smut, angst, gaslighting, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, alys in her girlboss gatekeep gaslight era, no use of y/n, afab reader, pre-established alysmond, this isn't going where you think it is (it might be), infidelity-ish, polyamory

to death we dance - salem's heir • the flower duet - sabine devieilhe & marianne crebassa

“You were nearly late, miss,” one of the butlers murmured in your ear. “The music’s just started.” 

“There is a quote about being fashionably late, isn’t there?” you mused, taking his gloved hand as he helped you up the steps. 

It was a banquet for your father’s business, a celebration of having struck gold (oil) and turning a huge profit. Or, in your words, an excuse for the high and mighty to get plastered and dance the night away. Your fist clenched upon the train of your dress– a lovely evening gown in eggshell white, with hand embroidered lilacs and lavender petals on it, spindling up your bodice like a trellis. Your usually somewhat unruly hair was tamed into a braided and pinned up-do, with an expensive broach poked into the bun of hair in the shape of a falling wisteria branch. 

Your father was the first to greet you, peeling away from the gaggle of portly oil barons. He kissed your cheek. “You look lovely tonight, my dear. A vision in purple, I must say.”

You smiled back at him. “Yes, well, you all but wringed my arm to get me to attend– and you shall hold up your end of the bargain… right?” you hummed softly, batting your eyelashes. 

He let out a small sigh, nodding. “I will send your manuscript to the publisher– the editor in chief is here tonight, if you’d care to mingle. Amongst… many other eligible bachelors, I might add.” 

Your father had spent the better part of the last three years gently trying to pair you up with a suitor for marriage. He was a patient man, as he had droned on about so many times before, but his patience was waning. You were twenty-one years old, and apparently, that was a ghastly sight– to be twenty-one and unmarried with no promising prospects. 

Of course, you couldn’t care less. You were more focused on finishing your manuscript in that time– you had a knack for writing and reveled in works of fiction that tended to lean to the darker sides of things. It had finally reached a point you were somewhat happy with, and had convinced your father to chat up his well connected colleagues so you may be able to send the first draft to a publisher.

The price for that, however, was to entertain suitors. At a gala. Dressed and primped like a Thanksgiving turkey. It was all so dreary to you– the ladies stared at you and whispered, citing you as the dreary one. 

Breaking away from your father with a tiny smile, you began to mingle– as well as you could, anyhow. You were awkward and a bit sheltered and it showed. However, once you said who your father was, dollar signs would flash in the eyes of the men you were speaking with, and they would push forward in the conversation. You weren’t ugly by any means and could become a good wife to some young entrepreneur– but you didn’t want that.

You were about fed up with it all three hours later, your nails clinking against the glass of champagne you were nursing for the better part of thirty minutes. Your look of slight annoyance managed to stave off any other wanton suitors– until another man approached you. You had exchanged some glances with him during the night, but you didn’t recognize him. He was tall, exceedingly taller than any of the other men there. His blonde hair, so pale it was almost white in hue, was cinched at the nape of his neck in a clean ponytail, falling between his shoulder blades. He was in a custom-fitted three piece black and green suit– you could tell from how perfectly it was hugging him, in all the right places.

A familiar heat came to your cheeks as you watched him saunter over to you with an intent in his pale blue eyes– eye? One of them, you noted as he came closer, was slightly off-color from the other and moved a bit slower. Likely fake, you thought. The light casted over the planes of his face, chiseled as it was, illuminating the slightly raised, puckered skin near the fake eye in a distinctual scar. He looked just like the perfect inspiration for a protagonist in one of your novels– or mayhaps an antagonist. He seemed to skim the line between the two in appearance alone.

Curious.

“My lady,” he greeted as he finally broke the air of silence between you, his arms placed behind him in a very calculated manner. “Are you enjoying yourself this evening?” he asked then, a brow perked. His accent wasn’t American– that you knew for certain– likely something European. 

“As much as I can, sir,” you responded coolly, despite being caught slightly off guard by his sudden and overwhelming presence– a dark cloud in a perfectly tailored suit. “I hope that the…” you cleared your throat, trying to sound a little more confident than you likely were. “The… event is to your liking.” you mustered a smile, diverting your gaze to your champagne, hoping there may be the secrets to being a good conversationalist somewhere within the bubbles.

He chuckled, the sound low and husky. It caused a shiver to go up your spine. “The event is well and fine, my lady. Are you… the proprietor of the gala tonight? I wouldn’t expect a beautiful thing such as yourself to plan something like this.”

You glanced up at him beneath fettered lashes. He was complimenting you and insulting the party at the same time. “No– I am not. I’d never choose such… dreary musicians for an event like this. They’re playing for a wake rather than a party– that would be my father’s doing.” you slipped it into the conversation, that this was your father’s party, trying to gauge if this handsome stranger was after what all of the others were.

Surprisingly, his expression, smooth and cool with the barest hint of a smile perking at his naturally upturned lips, didn’t change. “Dreary,” he repeated, “Melancholic, gloomy, monotonous, vapid– all good words to describe the state of affairs.”

“You have quite the expansive vocabulary, Mister…” your voice trailed off, an inadvertent way to ask for his name.

“Targaryen– Aemond Targaryen. And you?” he reached his hand out to shake yours – how incredibly formal– as you returned your own name with a wide-eyed stare.

“Targaryen. As in… the ancient bloodline? Descended from dragons, close to royalty, Dragonstone estate Targaryen?” you asked, mouth slightly agape. From what you knew of them, they were as close to the height of English royalty, real royalty, as there was in the current year, 1902. Their wealth alone, minus all of the titles, made your father’s look like a pissant trust fund. 

“The very same. You’re familiar with my family?”

“Ehm– familiar, more so I’ve heard of you all. Your family’s name comes up quite often in my father’s social circles. And I am quite nosy.”

“And what do you think?”

“About… your family? Mr. Targaryen–” 

“Call me Aemond.”

“Aemond– I don’t really know much besides the height of your prestige– and your family’s estate, Dragonstone. My father brought me back some photographs of it from his trips over the pond. It’s quite beautiful.”

“Your father brought you pictures of our home?”

“N-not just yours! I collect photographs of old estates, mostly ones from Europe. I like to use them for inspiration for my… stories. I’m a writer– a novice, mostly.”

“A writer? Have you published anything I might know?” 

“Oh, God no–” you laughed, covering your face slightly with your hand. “I’ve not yet been published. I actually sent my manuscript to… or will be sending one to a publisher soon. Hopefully.”

“What do you like to write?” he asked then, leaning a bit closer to you as if he was actually enjoying conversing with you. “Romance? Children’s fables?” he teased softly, his one eye gleaming. He was quite handsome, you thought.

“I like horror– mysteries, gothic fiction. I’m quite enamored with the… macabre and weird,” you admit. “I hope that doesn’t frighten you.” 

Aemond grinned, his teeth shining, canines pronounced against his thin lips. “Oh, yes, it does frighten me. But, all good horror stories should frighten their readers, yes? I expect you’re a fan of Vampyre? Perhaps Dracula?” 

“Both are good. My favorite, however, is Frankenstein. Mary Shelley is a genius. The Castle of Otranto is also wonderful and the pioneer of the genre. I remember trying to read it when I was younger and being scared of the dark hallways at night. Later on in life, those dark hallways enthused me enough to write about them– hence my… fascination with old houses.”

“Old homes certainly do have their fair share of secrets, don’t they?” he paused, straightening his lapel slightly before leaning back in towards you. “And do you believe what they say? That Mary’s husband wrote it and published it under her name?”

Your brows knit together in slight irritation. “Of course not. Why would he need to do such a thing? I hope you don’t mind me saying, but men already have enough advantages as is– publishing under a woman’s name instead might be considered a disadvantage.”

“Will you be publishing under your own name?” 

You blinked, taking a sip from your champagne. It was something you considered and went back and forth upon. “I haven’t decided. I have a pseudonym ready just in case.”

“Do tell– so I know what name to look for on the shelves within a year.” 

God, was he ever charming– and without even trying, really. He was well-spoken with a voice that was soft and almost whispery. It made butterflies bubble in the pit of your stomach– now that was a feeling you weren’t familiar with. “Dorian Gray.”

“Cheeky woman.” he mused. “Fancy a dance, Miss Gray?”

“... I suppose I could be swayed.”

–

Your dance together, to say the least, was a success– it started month’s worth of courting after. Aemond took you on the most splendid nights out, wining and dining you like you were a gorgeous, interesting debutante. It was exhilarating to say the least and made you feel… truly wanted– especially since his family was exceedingly wealthy, your father’s wealth couldn’t have attracted him. 

He took you to the theater, out to wondrous restaurants, and bought you various gifts like jewelry, writing supplies and outfits to wear when you went out.

It all felt very much like a dream to you– something beyond your usual, weary routine that had hardly ever changed since your mother died when you were eight years old. You’d recused into yourself then, the dark hallways that scared you so fiercely just before her death now seemed welcoming. You thrived in the dark, like a moth. 

But now, you felt something more akin to a butterfly, bathing in the sun’s light. 

It wasn’t a great surprise when Aemond asked your father for his blessing to marry you. Your father, who had harped you for years to get married, was suddenly apprehensive. 

He pulled you aside, arm around you. “Do you like this boy, dear?”

“Y-yes, father– very much so.”

“I’ll be honest, sweetheart. I’m not exactly keen on letting my only daughter go off with… some man–” 

“He isn’t just some man, father! He’s a Targ–” 

“Don’t interrupt,” he chastised firmly. “I’ve had my people look into his family further– it’s a whole mess, issues with succession, backstabbing, incest, the whole nine yards,” he took a measured breath. “But I’ve heard nothing but good things about… Aemond. But… you’d be so far away. You’d be off living in the annals of England, a whole boat’s ride away.”

“This is what you wanted, father! For me to marry, for me to be happy! This is the happiest I’ve been in… so long. You must see that?”

The creases in your father’s forehead relaxed as he regarded you for a long moment, before turning to Aemond, who was waiting patiently off to the side. He let go of your shoulder and walked to your beau, staring at him sternly. “Will you treat her right? Give her everything she deserves and more?”

Aemond perked up slightly, rubbing the side of his forefinger with his thumb in a seemingly nervous gesture. “Of course, sir. I’ll give her everything I have and more. She will be regarded as a Lady– the Lady Targaryen of Dragonstone Hall, and she wouldn’t be treated with any less respect than a Lady deserves.”

Your father’s gaze narrowed, taking it all into careful thought. “... very well. You have my blessing, son. But, one whiff of even a tear from her eye on your account, and your nads are forfeit. I may not be as well-off as your family, but I’ve got a lot of friends in a lot of places.”

– 

The marriage was a quick affair, as your father, and now Aemond, knew you had no patience for pomp and frills. Aemond gave you a beautiful ring with an absolutely gigantic sapphire inlaid in the center, citing it as a family heirloom from centuries past. Your father saw you off onto the boat, bawling his eyes out. You’d never seen your father cry– not once. 

As husband and wife, you both agreed to wait to celebrate your wedding night until you arrived in England at his family’s estate to your marital bed.

The trip overall was a little under a week’s time upon a luxurious liner, where you both enjoyed champagne and each other’s company. You craved your husband, and he craved you in the same, but you each wished to keep your agreement intact. But it was increasingly hard, as you held one another close each night and his need for you was clearly pressed to your lower back.

Dragonstone Hall was a few hours' carriage ride north of the port and was nestled upon a high-ridged cliff. It was as gorgeous as the pictures had depicted, even moreso. It was ancient, imposing against the skyline and mingling to the clouds, where sea birds and ravens alike swirled above the towering watch towers that were supported by stone walls with vines grasping to them like lifelines. 

It was gorgeous, gothic and most definitely haunted– a perfect place for a woman of horror such as yourself. 

Aemond helped you out of the carriage, a hand placed upon your waist as he guided you beyond the gates. Your eyes were wide with wonder, taking in the scenery like a breath of fresh air. Tears threatened to spill over suddenly, as you were just overwhelmed with everything going on. You were married to someone you loved, who loved you– and were the Lady Targaryen of Dragonstone Hall. 

“Something wrong, my love?” Aemond whispered into your ear, his lips tickling your lobe.

“N-no– I’m just… very happy.”

He wiped the tears away with the pad of his thumb, clearing your vision. You glanced up at one of the windows on the third story of the castle. Someone was staring back at you.

A lady. Her hair was red, her skin almost translucent. 

You must’ve been imagining it, surely. Looking to another window, another visage appeared.

Another– this time with dirty blonde hair, her blue eyes ghastly and bloodshot. She was practically see through. 

You pressed closer to Aemond, blinking profusely– it must’ve been the exhaustion from the nights on the boat catching up to you. Once you rubbed your eyes, you looked back; the figures were gone. 

As you approached the main door of the estate, another face caught your eye. 

Another woman– with dark hair and sullen, emerald eyes. They pierced through you like two heavy jewels, making goosebumps prickle atop your arms. She wasn’t ghastly or undeathly like the other two, and when you rubbed your eyes, she was still there.

She was still there, very much a living person in the flesh, with flowing blood and a beating heart. And she was beautiful.

[enden-k]

in response to this

kaveh if he breaks smth by accident is just this chibi like, all of it:

(just with some additional tears in his eyes if it rlly was smth bad AKJBKJ baby)

also agree. kaveh is an architect, an artist, someone who creates so seeing himself being like an evil (or corrupted as the anon said) version to take smth away, erasing existence...........ngl its interesting concept but he would be devastated fr 😭 using kaveh of all ppl for this aughh

unless u wanna think of it more comical and less angsty, and have him go like nah this thing ugly im just gonna unmake you *deletes offending monument* akhsjcbkj but he wouldnt simply go through this in someone elses world, especially if it manipulates/influences their game in a bad way

but!! imagine if kaveh had this skill fr (not only bursting dendro cores but simply making objects vanish after changing their traits), he would simply delete all the ugly furniture in haithams house that truly insults his eyes AKJSBCKJ can you imagine it go like:

"well, al haitham, i got rid of your entire bedroom because it was just too ugly. thank me later." ....suddenly, later in the evening, kaveh finds himself squished in his own bed between haitham and the wall - his own bed that is way too narrow for two grown men, especially one of haithams size and mass. all because haitham is like "considering this is my house, your bedroom is also mine so i will simply take it until you put every single piece of furniture back to where it belonged."

(this turned into a full, usual youn ramble lol rest is UTC)

kaveh is too proud and refuses to simply give up on his bed to sleep on the divan so he stubbornly stays, which comes back at him to bite his ass when hes in bed and gets a faceful of haithams bare chest and when he turns to face the wall hes too aware of the scribes warm body against his back - its like his dreams came true a nightmare

still too proud to admit defeat and let haitham have his bed, kaveh continues sharing his bed even though he barely gets any sleep with haitham right there. he also starts actually crafting haithams furniture by himself, at first all annoyed with him and simply wanting to finish this as fast as he can no matter how ugly, so he can have his own room for himself again before smth stupid happens (like kaveh giving in and kissing him or confessing)

but as soon as he learns from first hand that haitham is quite the cuddler in his sleep (the first time a sleeping haithams arms wrapped around his waist to pull him into him got him so flustered he didnt sleep at all that night), them getting closer everytime theyre sleeping (the amount of times theyre spooning or lying on top of each other all cuddled up is increasing)............haitham growing more soft now that they spend their nights together, having more of kaveh................his work turns from simply trying to replace what he made disappear to more thoughtful, loving pieces

a bed that resembles haithams older one, but big enough for two people to comfortably sleep in there (not that he designed it with himself in mind, its just....well.....a big bed is always nice and haitham takes up quite a lot of place right? totally not designed for both of them) with curtains in this soothing teal shade he knows haitham is fond of and nice patterns to block out the sun falling through the stained windows if he wants to sleep in; a closet with pretty, geometrical carvings matching his bed that haitham probably doesnt even care about; a nightstand with even a holder for his headset to place on, etc etc

its haithams bedroom but with small changes and improvements regarding design and comfort that kaveh did just for haitham. and he notices. of course he does

however, they got so used and comfortable to this whole (awkward at first) sleeping situation (bc it wasnt just kaveh loving to fall asleep in a sleeping, cuddly haithams arms, it was also haitham loving to wake up to the sight of a sleeping kaveh too) that every now and then kaveh slips into haithams (way too comfortable) bed ("well, i designed it so technically its also my bed") and even though its way bigger than kavehs bed, they somehow still seek each other out and find their way to cuddle up to each other

it doesnt take long until its not just their bodies seeking each other out but also their lips

not longer until the first utters a confession against the others skin, asking him to stay as their fingers intertwine and more kisses are exchanged

and not even longer for them to turn haithams bedroom, all designed and crafted by kaveh with love and care, into their bedroom

tl;dr: not only are they roommates, theres also only one bed (no clickbait)

[seth-burroughs]

I think many fanfics or other works featuring Yomi depict him as like Way Too Serious than he actually is like. That's the guy who mastered the skill to ugly cry on command just so he can mock pretend to be distraught at Seth's heinous atrocities (pointed out by his gf of course) before sending him to the chopper this is the only scene where he did so they even gave him like three unique sprites just for that. This is the man that upon watching the liveleak footage of the submarine explosion (whilst using his gf as a seat) exclaimed in the most enthusiastic voice "KABOOM!! It sank all right! Haha!" in front of tens of his men completely unbothered, minutes later after the woman cube incident he says "alllll right now let's go and find the corpses of those detectives that got blown up :)" with his hand up in the air. And that is after his cube scene. And I cannot state this enough, the Cube Machine was not specifically just made as a one time thing for Martina, the weirdly passionate way he speaks about The Cube, stating he's gonna carry the woman flesh cube on his form at all times in front of tens of his men once a-fucking-gain, the goddamn "even humans can be turned into pretty (highlighted in game.) little cubes" line that even I can't fucking decipher is just... he's just really obsessed with the Cube object. There is no normal (well, as normal as attempting to turn your gf into a cube can be) explanation for this. Plus, invented detectivephobia, according to some people. Even if he claims to Makoto, he can easily also be just... gently coaxed by him just politely saying "please🥺" once, into letting an alleged terrorist completely off the hook, that he wanted to capture and torture so bad before that point. He fumbles his insults so fucking tragically "that's even more impossible than a chance meeting between an umbrella and a sewing machine on an operating table" "empty headed balloon boy" so far I can name only one (1) that actually landed, and that's debatable too. After momentarily getting rid of Makoto resulting in him being alone in the room with Yuma (the goons don't count as people), literally after 2 seconds with the tiny wretch his first question is "what even are you. why do you exist. you aren't from this city. you aren't a detective. so what point is there in your existence :/ not like i care anyway... take him away girls" (what was he on about, how did he know yuma is and isn't a detective, guess you will never know). The "YUOUR IN NO POSITION TO ORDER AROUND THE GREAT YOMI!!1!11". His honest reaction to Makoto getting those documents is to start screeching "CAPTURE HIM EXECUTE HIM CHOP HIS HEAD OFF CRUSH HIS SKULL!!!!!!!!". That was my hopefully comprehensive Yomi moment scene list. Let Yomi be silly and deeply, incredibly unserious. Cringe, even. I am begging. While he can absolutely act intimidating when he wants to, he usually fucks it up like, 3 minutes in with his uncontrollable desire to be the goofiest guy in the room. Genuinely tragic

[gallafics]

𝙶𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚌'𝚜 𝚁𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚠

Title: Wipe You Clean With Dirty Hands

Author: @livinginsunnyhell/@marzgaperez (Ao3)

Rating: Explicit Series: N/A

Chapters: 3/3 Word Count: 43.6k

Archive Warnings: No Warnings Used

Favorite Character: Ian and Mickey of course. And this fic has my favorite version of Mickey!! There’s also a few great side characters!

Least Favorite Character: Ford and his “gang” of losers.

Ao3 Summary: The door opened behind him and Ian closed his eyes, bracing himself for what was to come next. He took a deep breath in. Steadily, he let it out as he prepared himself to face his new cellmate. Mickey and Ian meet in prison. AU.

Review: This is a lovely quick read, packed with detailed writing, sexy prison smut and slight angst. We’ve got fluff. We’ve got a meet-ugly. We’ve got sexual tension mixed with mutual pining. We got my beloved, protective!mickey. I adore Ian in this fic as well, our lovable dopey boy.

I’ve always been obsessed with the “mickey is a dick to Ian at first but is pining for him, becomes his personal protector and then falls in love” trope! What I love about this fic is that both boys are mutually pining for one another, and then get together in a very strangers-to-friends-to-lovers way. Mickey opening up to Ian is a great scene and them finally breaking the sexual tension is 1000/10, *chefs kiss*, sexy scene. Their dynamic in this is fantastic!

Spoilers Below↓

Favorite Moment(s): As I said above, my absolute favorite scene is when they finally break the sexual tension…

He saw Gallagher’s eyes dart down to his mouth and freeze there. Mickey subconsciously licked his lips and he eyed Ian’s hungrily. One taste…just once…

I also love when Mickey is trying to be all tough, like he’s indifferent to being intimate with Ian but then he just…

The juxtaposition of hot against his back and cold against his front, made him shiver. Or maybe it was Ian’s soft lips mouthing against his neck. He tilted his head so that Gallagher could have more access to the skin right under his ear. He just needed him to move slightly to the—like that. “Fuck,” Mickey whimpered.

Soft moments during sex always get me too…

Against Mickey’s skin, he choked out a whispered promise that they’d find each other again. They’d always find their way back to each other.

One of my favorite moments, a small part where Mickey shows some vulnerability around Ian

He ducked his head, so Ian couldn’t see his face. He watched as Mickey taped his finger against his knee.“Did you ever meet a kid who couldn’t be saved?”

And the ending…it holds a special place in my heart

They could be headed back to the Gallagher house or stopping at a diner for breakfast. Maybe Mickey would drive a few miles and pull over in a secluded area so they could fuck. Or they could continue driving until they ran out of gas and started a new life together wherever they ended up. Whatever it was, Ian didn’t care. He was with Mickey. What he did know was that he was about to be far, far away from Beckman. It might be the place where their relationship started, but it definitely wasn’t where it was ending. 

The story has many moments that brought me joy and excitement and occasionally even made me a bit emotional. It's a great read, despite the mature content, and can be enjoyed quickly while still offering a detailed plot. *I keep mentioning "quickly," and although 43k may not seem short, I mean the fic is written in a way that doesn't feel like a lot!*

Favorite quote(s):

Usually, people feared him. They cowered when he was around. But Ian was fighting back. He was coming closer. Not pulling away.

Or maybe he was a masochist and tended to be into men who wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.

“He and his last cellmate got into it. Milkovich stabbed him with a plastic fork.”

I wonder what his red hair feels like… Mickey shook his head and ran a hand through his own dark hair as he tried to brush those weird thoughts away. His hair probably felt like fucking hair.

He wanted Ian to read him, to understand exactly what he needed without Mickey having to say anything.

Mickey honestly wasn’t sure what he wanted. But he knew what he didn’t want. And that was to wake up in a cell without Ian. To go about his day without Ian.

I could go on and on about how many moments in this fic caught and held my attention. The plot and dialogue are fantastic. I don't want to spoil too much—just read it and see for yourself. You won't be disappointed!

Final thoughts: I was really intrigued by this fic right from the start. It it’s set during the prison era, canon compliant or AU, I'm into it. The way Mickey and Ian's characters are portrayed is so true to their original versions, even in this AU. The way Mickey's longing for Ian is written is beautiful, and it's different from Ian's own pining. I could really feel Mickey's desperation and desire so clearly that it felt like my own emotions on the page! The plot is great, the smut is hot, and the chemistry between the two characters doesn't hit you over the head right away; it builds up gradually, making you want to keep reading. But it doesn't leave you unsatisfied as it wraps up in the best way. I highly recommend it. It's short and to the point, giving everything you need in a fic!

Thank you so much, ProstheticLoVe, for blessing us with this fic!!

— Harley, Gallafics Reviews

*Note that you do need an Ao3 account to read this fic!*

[baldurs-gape]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤️

Oh crikey. Five?! I'm usually shy to yell about one, let alone five. How about a compromise? I'll say I'm proud of Shores as a finished fic and Adopt, Don't Shop! as a WIP and then write something a little silly to make up for the fact I am but a socially awkward worm on a string.

All's Fair In War, Not Love

Breaking up had been rough. Initially Gale hadn't been able to afford to move out and the divorce was taking so long to finalise, all assets and funds were tied up in that. Mystra was the breadwinner in their relationship so he had picked up the housework, making sure there was a good meal on the table each evening, the house was neat, tidy and presentable. All while still working where he could. It used to be that he'd be at the university, lecturing and pushing the limits of research but Mystra had trashed those dreams, wrecked his career. Without money, he couldn't move out. Without moving he couldn't get a job in his field again. So he was stuck, working in a gaming cafe. It was how he met his new friends.

Quite how Gale got adopted into the odd bunch who came to play boardgames once a week was beyond him. Somehow though they went from 'oh it's that lot' to 'I am so glad they're here' which was unusual in and of itself. Even more so when they started inviting him out for other forays in their world. Karlach was definitely the most enthusiastic and welcoming of the lot, thrilled at the smallest of things. She had all but squeezed the life out of Gale when he finally accepted an invite for drinks one evening. However, it wasn't actually Karlach who had convinced Gale to go along. It was Astarion who gave Gale one look and smirked.

"Dress to impress and your drinks will be on me for the night, I can't imagine it happening though."

Never one to not rise to a challenge, Gale did his best. Mostly because his wages were just about enough to cover rent of the shitty little flat he'd found but he didn't have a night out factored into his budget. True to his word, Astarion footed the bill for his drinks for the whole night and Gale couldn't remember getting home.

Perhaps he should have been more careful around his new friends. The next time they saw him, they were much more subdued, almost respectful but in the way one is quiet around the bereaved.

"Darling, you live in a shithole," Astarion informed him none too gently.

Words were frozen in Gale's throat, tray with drinks trembling in his hands. Shame coursed through him. He hadn't thought the others would judge which made it sting all the more.

"Gale." Minthara's voice drew him back to the table. "We simply wish to understand better. A man of your education is wasted in an establishment like this."

Clearing his throat, Wyll added, "What we're trying to say is, are you okay?"

"We looked you up," Lae'zel butted in. "You had a career, a future, then you didn't. Why?"

"It's all there in the articles. What more do you want me to say?"

It was Astarion who leaned forward with a cold, calculating smile.

"You forget, I'm a lawyer, Shadowheart a journalist, Wyll has a career in politics. And that's just scratching the surface. Do you really want Lae'zel to go all PI on you? Or Halsin to put his therapy hat on? Maybe Karlach could sit on you while she does all the paperwork for her gym."

"It's an ugly divorce."

Minthara regarded him with renewed interest.

"You say that in present tense. Are the courts looking to rule in her favour for assets?"

The ugly truth came tumbling out. How Gale couldn't bear to live with Mystra when she was already bringing home a string of new men before the divorce was finalised, before they had fully separated. How everything was still an intertwined mess and he was too worried to take anything in fear of being accused to trying to steal. Lips pursed, Minthara listened before nodding.

"It is a story I have heard before, at the women's shelter. We will sort this out. Meet us on the next Sunday."

Whatever it was that took over Gale in that moment, he was both grateful and mortified as he agreed to it. Come Sunday, he was greeted by the eclectic mix of Halsin, Karlach, Minthara and Astarion. They took two cars to his old house and Gale almost lost his nerve. Especially when it wasn't even Mystra who opened the door but some random man.

"Who is it, Lor?" Mystra's voice drifted through.

"I think they're, hm, either Mormons or JWs?"

"Lor, was it?" Astarion pulled his sunglasses off and tucked them into a pocket, pulling out a business card. "We're here on behalf of my client, Mr. Dekarios. There has been some miscommunication about the divorce proceedings which we're here to set right. My valued colleague is here to talk to Mystra about it while the others will help Mr. Dekarios retrieve his belongings."

Lor's eyes widened and he glanced over his shoulder towards the living room door. Nervously, he ran a hand over his long hair, twisting the ends a little.

"Look, I knew nothing about this. You can go in if you let me leave."

"You have yourself a deal, Mr-" Astarion looked far too smug and stepped in, making way.

"Lorroakan. But you don't need to remember that, do you?"

"Not at all, Mr. Lorikeet."

Only once the man disappeared did Karlach let out a snort and punched Astarion in the shoulder playfully. However, before either could say anything, Mystra appeared.

"Lorroakan?" Eyes narrowing, she glared at Gale. "What are you doing here? I took your keys."

"I assume you're Mystra." Minthara strode to meet her, looking imposing despite being a whole head shorter. "I'm here to help clarify the law's standing on divorce proceedings with you. Meanwhile, Mr. Dekarios will retrieve what is rightfully his in this household with my associates."

"Fine. Take whatever's yours. The courts will only rule you return it all anyway."

"Allow me to disillusion you," Minthara rasped with bloodthirsty glee.

As they disappeared into the room, it left Gale with the other three. He had no idea where to start. Thankfully, Halsin clasped a warm hand on his shoulder.

"We'll get you through this, it's not our first rodeo."

"Halsin and Karlach can to the heavy lifting. It wouldn't do for me to pull a muscle or break a nail hefting things around," Astarion announced breezily and pulled out a carefull folded bag from his pocket. "I'll meet you at the cars."

Just like that, he was off. It was easier to forget about him when faced with the insurmountable task of moving essentialy his whole life with the help of friends. Clothes were bundled into bags, books piled and carefully balanced as they were carried downstairs. It all went surprisingly quickly. All too soon, Gale was back in Karlach's truck which was stuffed with his belongings, similar to Halsin's car in front of them. Last to get in was Astarion with his mysterious bag that was bulging. He held onto it until they were back at Gale's house.

"She said take whatever's yours," he announced and grandly passed the bag to Gale.

Pulling out items from it, confusion sat heavier and heavier on Gale's chest. First was a roll of toiletpaper. Then another. And another. In fact, he would have guessed it was all the toiletpaper in the house. Under those was a pile of lightbulbs. All carefully wrapped in mismatched socks to keep them from breaking. At the bottom of the bag was quite the collection of batteries.

"Why?" Gale was at a loss for more words.

"You said you'd been in charge of housekeeping so technically those are all yours. But I wasn't sure about the socks, half of them were yours but I didn't know which half. One of each pair seemed like a sensible compromise."

Behind Gale, Karlach began snickering. It evolved into a full on snorting laugh.

"What?"

"Just imagine her this evening. It goes dark. The lights don't work. Can't turn the TV on because the remote is dead. And when she goes to the loo, there's no toiletpaper." Another giggle left Karlach. "She'll curse and grumble but think it's over. Until tomorrow morning when she tries to find a pair of socks to wear."

Slowly, a grin formed on Gale's lips. It was quite the image to consider. He turned to Astarion. "Remind me to never get on your bad side."

"Darling, I'm wonderful from all sides, thank you."

Annoyingly, he was right.

[bxst4r]

ive been seeing Trump and Elon content on here lately and oh goodness. where do i start (warning: Trump and Elon 💔 this is not my usual mouthwashing post)

im not even living anywhere near America but everything about Elon and Trump gives me the ICK. like, genuinely, irrefutably, DISGUSTED. let's start with Elon. first off, he's freaking ugly. have you seen a side view of him? but that's the LEAST of his crimes. addressing the HUGE elephant in the room, he's a nazi. A NAZI. let that sink in. oh but of course it was a Roman salute, he was throwing his heart out– THEN YOU DO IT. i DARE you. heck, if it's so harmless, why don't you take your pants off and flounce around your boss doing it? Elon did the nazi salute. that's final. none of this crap about salutes that probably didn't exist, and if they did then that doesn't change ANYTHING about what it means. hitler used the salute. and ain't NOBODY out here randomly giving their loved ones salutes from a lost, undiscovered island on another planet on the regular. elon has also funded nazi things. open your eyes you actual pathetic slugs. "but he's autistic!!" there are MILLIONS, BILLIONS, of autistics. very little to none of them are pulling 💩 like this.

and Trump. ohh, Trump. the humble, oh-so-great leader of america. he's good for the economy! he fears God! good for the economy, huh? well i hope you're enjoying your cheap eggs knowing thousands of families are being torn apart because they just wanted a home. they didn't want to hurt anybody. these "dangerous aliens" just wanted to be safe. free. and look where that got them. and about fearing God? im a Catholic myself, so i know a lot about that. and i know damn well trump refused to put his right hand on the bible, despite all his religious yadda yadda yadda. no God-fearing man would do what he did. no God-fearing man would take away basic human rights. Jesus himself ate with sinners (not saying theyre sinners for loving who they want). if a man wanting to become a woman affects you THAT bad, should you be President? hmm? should you be President if you don't know basic science and your rainbow-phobia clouds your judgment so much to the point you made everybody legally a female? should you be president if you brought tiktok back after banning it to suck up to the youths? let me tell you this, it's not working. their voices are louder than ever, and boy do they have some cute winter boots. but apparently they were too loud, so loud that trump blocked any videos about the nazi salute and his admittance to rigging the election. that's right folks. he rigged the election. (and it says a lot about Trump and MAGA supporters that 15 year olds on a social media platform have more emotional intelligence, empathy, experience and morality than them)

oh, and we're just gonna ignore that Trump is a felon. a rapist. he said he'd RAPE his OWN DAUGHTER. and also we should look past the fact he's actively FOR segregation and against women. who else would make abortion illegal? in his eyes, a 10 year old is suitable to bear children because they're "too young for abortion" don't even get me started on the segregation. history really does repeat itself doesn't it

but he's a good businessman, so who cares right?

it ticks me off. and don't you trump/elon-supporters– or nazis for a better word, come crying when your loved ones are deported. when your eggs are suddenly double the price. when you're homeless because mortgage shot up. when ICE come knocking at your door and kick you out of your own country because you LEGALLY immigrated there. because let's be real, Trump doesn't care whether you're legal or not. all he wants is a sea of white skinned, cis-het men ruling America.

if you're a trump-supporter, get off tumblr. this isn't where your people are. run back to X, where all the "agreeable", racist, misogynistic billionaires are. you don't have a place here, as im sure many tumblr ogs have said (im not one, but that doesn't stop me from having morals)

the only good nazi is a dead one. so next time you try to assassinate Trump, make sure your aim is true. the good half of America would be better for it.

and sure it's not my problem. im halfway across the world, what does it matter to me? im far from perfect, but im not heartless. i have empathy. i have a voice, sure it's small and incoherent but it's still one. and ill shout for the people who can only exchange fearful whispers in the nooks and crannys of what was once a great country.

[neptuniadoesstuff]

Abecias Malice Ref (God OC Ref Sheet Remake)

(Edit: Had to pic the drawings a bit bcs I FORGOR I HAD THE FACIAL HAIR AT 30% OF OPACITY LIKE THE MORON I AM!)

AND HES DONE!

After a few days this gae bacon-haired moron is finished & tbh I like this new ver of him more than his original design. (If you wanna see his original design the link is here- (Plz remember the post is pretty old on here as well as the pic bcs originally this fella was actually a Early b-Day gift for my frend back when this year just frikin started.)

& yes that is some wine coming out of his mouth. (He loves his wine) & of course.... Bro is flipping u off. (But it's censored, also I originally was gonna draw a bird crossed out but then I forgor SO LETS PRETEND ME FORGETTING WAS INTENTIONAL & NOT SOME GOOF I COMMITED!) Look we a bit of somewhat vulgarity even if I'm not the person who would just curse. (But I do say byastord, which this guy is, so its fitting.)

Also Lil rewrite of his bio bcs frik u:

|| Name: Abecias Malice (aka Adder'Synn Malkovich) | Gender: Male (Trans), He/Him | Age: ?? (Died at the age of 22-23) | Sexuality: Gae | Height: ??'?? ft (Possibly was 6'2 ft tall when alive) | Enithcity: ?? (Possibly was a Rozokeen/Osmort mix when still alive) | Personality: A very unhinged & crazed individual who seem to have a unhealthy obsession with men & himself?? Seems to really like seeing oeppel die yet despises getting himself dirty to the point that he will literally start avoiding anything that has a SINGLE speck of dirt! What im saying is, hes narcissistic, sadistic, & also very lazy & wants others to do stuff for him. (Also is very racist to bird ppl idk, why though) I Occupation: The King of his kingdom of Vallenfholt (This is Godhome's hew name) | Family: ?? (When alive he had a older brother, a younger sister, & 2 parent but one of them was ded) | Species: Bloopmo (Halflett type) (Formally), Ascended God | Other: Can't seem to get drunk from the wine he always drinks EVERY SINGLE FRIKIN DAY! Is literally a rich pompous a-hole who despises the porr, homeless, & ugly ppl. Also thinks the mailmen are coming for him /hj ||

(A lot of the info here is not filled on purpose bcs gods... dont really care about mortal nonsense.)

Extras: Was originally a college student (or whatever he was when he was still alive) pretty much dealing with a pretty ab*sive father who would not respect his identity & was basically a complete snake. Although one Adder just.. snapped & ran off the campus to drive to his father's house &... kill him... But that was not the end of it, by the next day he had murdered around 12 people & injuring 2 (that being his now ex- bf & his now rival) only to be killed by his once best friend, Hugo.. When he died his soul was sent into the ring of Wrath but over the years, the regret he had turned into pride... He enjoyed what he had become... Not only that but his personality had started to shift, become extremely lustful & abnormally greedy to also having his appearance be shifted also, this was normal for a Sinner, but this Sinner was different... He risen up the rank & eventually became a God, not a well known god but a God nonetheless. Eventually going up into Vallenfholt & making a kingdom there which suited his needs. He however became so obsessed with himself that he pretty much just lost it & became the thing he originally despised the most... A rich, greedy, & selfish monster like his father was. Not only that anyone was below him was eventually killed instantly in the arena that he built for prisoners (Usually bcs he didn't like bcs of their appearance) to fight to the death in. Now as for how the hell he became obsessed with men & started to h8 on bird ppl (+ the whole thing about the mailmen coming for him... idk bro-). Now keep in might he was BoRN in a time humans (the morons from earth) did NOT come to Eeross.

Also if you wanna see the uncensored puc of the guy flipping u goofs off then here- (plz click read more but if u are offended by ppl flipping u off plz don't.)

Yeh no body pic bcs this is a friend's oc (that I made for em) but it would be VERY WEIRD OF ME TO POST THAT! (Even if we are AroAce & its a *full body ref* but plz don't ask me to post it in respect of MY FRIEND!)

ANYWAYS CREDITS BCS I H8 MYSELF! (Not really but I sorta do.... I need help-)

Character: Created by ne but belongs to a frend of mine who I'm gonna keep anonymous but they are on here (I ain't gonna say who BCS THEY ARE MEANT TO BE ANONYMOUS!)

Art: MinE

Program: IbisPaint x.

Bubs' TOS: Plz don't repost/steal, trace, or recolor my art WITHOUT MY PERMISSION! If you do, I'll take yur femur and pelvis.. SO, DON'T THINK ABOUT IT! (The PNS on my blog's pinned post clearly means "Please No Steal" plz follow that rule.) If you do post my art on anything like yur blog or somewhere else (With my permission) PLEASE CREDIT ME!

[caffeineandsociety]

Also I feel a huge reason that a lot of debates over whether trans men or trans women Have Male Privilege/Experience REAL Misogyny fall flat in a lot of regards is that they assume that misogyny is EITHER about Femaleness/Womanhood as an identity, OR the simultaneous idealization and demonization of, and possessiveness over, the presumed-"female" body, when in reality it's very much a matter of both in complex and intersecting ways.

Which ends up meaning that trans women are subjected to the body factor, especially the possessiveness thereof, in ways that are definitely unique - phallocentrism, an aspect of patriarchy and usually tied to male privilege, becomes at LEAST as much of a detriment as a benefit (on the one hand, at least medicine for the "male" reproductive system is pretty well understood and taken seriously; it's not just a matter of biological logistics that make prostate cancer one of the most treatable cancers out there, but that sure as hell doesn't take away the fact that people get fucking creepy and invasive and obsessive over women's dicks - sometimes even when they're trying to be affirming - with obsession with and terror of The Dreaded Penis being a major motive behind arguably the majority of transmisogynistic violence), and trans women are held to an even higher standard of "if you're not a flawless supermodel goddess you shouldn't be breathing my air, let alone outside in public being an eyesore" than cis women - but trans men are ALSO subjected to the possessiveness of it, as well as the neglect, in ways that trans women, save for some intersex ones, are often straight up biologically incapable of being primary victims of (see: the erosion of abortion rights, doctors prioritizing preserving one's ability to become pregnant over anything else in their care, forced pregnancy as an explicit goal of corrective rape, etc. - though notably, the sorry state of the way medically significant period distress is treated is NOT a case of this, as hormone fluctuations can cause everything but the bleeding even in the absence of a uterus!), and it's not like lacking a "natal" penis makes someone inherently immune to being harmed by phallocentrism - treating someone like a lesser person over the lack of a penis where one is expected, or a penis that doesn't function "normally", is very much a manifestation of phallocentrism! Never mind the way vaginas are treated as essentially a gaping void in the brain, or the disgust with which they're so frequently spoken of - that impacts pre- and non-op trans men, AND post-op trans women, both in similar yet slightly distinct ways!

The intersection of these factors also means there are unique ways trans men and trans women experience the identity factor. Trans men experience misogyny for moving away from a female identity being forced upon them; trans women experience it for trying to actively claim that identity for themselves. That identity is seen as lesser, as a Property role, so as far as society sees trans men of COURSE anyone would want to escape it...but you have to stop ~playing pretend~ eventually, right? Alternately, it's traitorous, it's an "I got mine so screw you", it's prolonging the pretend game with roid rage, it's any number of horrible predatory ugly things - because to society, a trans man can never be a real man; his core identity is still A Woman, whether he knows it or not; the closest he can ever come is a disfigured caricature, acting out a rough approximation of an ideal that of COURSE is all the violent parts of that ideal and nothing else. Meanwhile, as far as society is concerned about trans women, no one would EVER opt INTO such a lesser identity without ulterior motives, so it MUST be a predatory thing, right? In many cases, these have similar narratives, but very different overtones.

So, who has it worse? Who experiences more Real Misogyny? Who experiences More Transphobia? Well, that depends on way too many individual factors; there is no constant answer and, critically, there doesn't need to be! It's not about keeping score, it's about making the problems get better! We're not going to do that by denying that people other than us have unique experiences with this shit!

[princesspastel8]

Chapter 74

Third POV

"She's okay, right? You fixed her, right?"

EJ gulps, not knowing how to break the news to him. Not only is Jeff possibly going to lose Eboni...but another life has been lost that no one even knew existed. The eyeless male looks at Jeff, a look of sorrow taking the smiling killer by surprise.

"Jeff, we...I tried the best I could, but -"

"But what EJ!? How is she!?" He shouts, feeling his heart grow heavier.

"The bullet...went straight through her head. It was...almost near impossible to stabilize her Jeff. But during operation...Nurse Ann found something and..." EJ trails off, noticing the crowd in the hall.

"And what!? FUCKING TALK!" Jeff shouts, voice in distress.

"She was pregnant, Jeff. We couldn't save the baby. The first bullet went straight through her sack, carrying the underdeveloped fetus. She was a month and a half along....to far off for us to identify the gender."

Jeff feels his heart drop to his stomach, and his eyes grow wide. There's no way. How could Eboni be pregnant? She showed no signs, not even morning sickness. If anything, she suddenly began to consume more than usual, but Jeff never paid much mind to it. A month and a half....that means they conceived on Christmas.

The smiling killer shakes his head, letting out a breathy laugh of disbelief. ".....no fucking way."

"You're the only Male here who never had your procedure done. It was only a matter of time until you two conceived....but Jeff, there's more. Maybe you should si-"

"Fucking get on with it Jack!"

"She won't be able to have children. We had to remove her uterus. The bullet damaged it beyond fixable." EJ explains, tensing that the dismay clouding Jeff's face.

He laughs, placing a hand over his eyes as his laughs become more painful. Jeff never wanted kids. That was the furthest from his mind. He had to admit, he didn't bother having protective sex. When brought to the mansion, Slenderman tried to explain that he'd have to have a procedure to ensure that no children would suddenly produce if he were to break the rule of no sleeping around.

Most, if not all, the male proxies didn't mind. No one favored children other than sally nor have the desire to make any. To them, it meant nothing - but Jeff, it meant everything. It wasn't about not having children. It was about him losing more control. If he had control over anything in this mansion, it would be his damn body. So he fought and fought, sent to the white room many times, but still fought. Slenderman grew tired and eventually gave in. The faceless ceature didn't think he'd sleep with any of the female proxies anyway.

Jeff is a loner, always has been.

Then Eboni came along.

Eboni....

"How is my girl?" He questions, looking at EJ with dread. "How is Eboni?"

Jeff did feel a sense of loss for his unborn child. As stated before, he didn't care about children- but he doesn't hate them. In fact, he always found them entertaining. How they're born manipulative, crying just to held even after getting feed, burped, diaper changed, and their brutal honesty. If you were ugly, they'd call you ugly with a smile on their face. Children lack filter, so whatever was on their minds, they'd say it or ask it.

The thought of Eboni carrying his child... the image of her stuffing her face with food with her stomach poking out. No doubt the baby would do backflips, considering how Jeff's mother struggled through her pregnancy with him. Liu, of course, was the easy one. But despite the heavy loss of his child, he can live with it. Despite Eboni no longer having children. He can handle that. What he can't live nor handle is losing Eboni.

"Th.. the bullet to her head did... significant damage. We were able to stop the bleeding, and with the healing serum, repatch her brain, but..."

"But what!?"

"She can't breathe on her own. Her heart is beating, and her other organs are functioning thanks to the serum flowing through her bloodstream, but....her brain... she has zero brain activity.."

Jeff's eyes widen, shaking his head in disbelief. He can't be saying what he thinks he's saying, "But...the serum...its fixing her right? It's healing her, right?! I-I mean, how can her heart still beat and her brain not work!? The serum will fix her!"

"No, it won't, Jeff!" EJ shouts, his voice shaky from grief and hurt. "The serum healed her brain, yes, but we had to stop the bleeding long enough for it to do that. But during that time...her brain activity became less and less active. Her brain is the only way for her to breathe on her own. The serum comes with limitations....this is one of them...Medically speaking... there's no life in Eboni if I were to pull the plug on her breathing machine and the healing serum. She's just....a vegetable now, Jeff. She....she won't ever wake up. She's..she's dead."

His words cut deeper than any blade he owns. His breathing hitched, feeling his knees become weak. "No... no, no, you promised... I made you promise me, Jack!" Jeff shouts, voice cracking in between his words as tears build in his eyes once again.

"I needed you to leave so I could foucs on saving her! I tried everything, Jeff....I promise you I tried to save her....but her injuries were to grave... she was too fair gone.....I'm so sorry...Jeff...I'm truly sorry.."

Despite his craved smile, Jeff feels nothing but pure anguish inside. He places his heart over his chest as if trying to stop his heart from crumbling to pieces. She can't leave him. She isn't allowed to. She can't leave him alone here, in this place - in this hell. Eboni can't be dead!

Nurse Ann & X Virus walk out, nurse Ann holding the door open. "BEN, Helen, Dina, and Jeff are the only ones allowed to see Eboni at this time." The male explains.

All of them step forward, except for Jeff. As Nurse Ann pushes the metal door wider, Jeff catches a short yet painfully gut punching view of Eboni. Her laying motionless, wires upon wires connect her to the healing & breathing machine, a small glimpse of a breathing mask over her mouth - but the sight of her motionless face makes his blood run cold.

All eyes are now on Jeff, waiting for him to walk in- but he can't. He can't face this, he refuse to believe that there's no saving her. He can't handle this. He can't. He can't. He can't! The killer stumbles backward, the loud sound of thunder brings him back to his senses - his ears ringing.

He doesn't hear them call out to him. The only sound in his ears is the beating of his heart. Jeff forces his way through the crowd, shaking off anyone who tries to grab him. He runs out of the hospital ward, he runs out of the mansion, he runs through the woods. He ran and ran and ran under heavy rain. He eventually comes to a stopping point, the pain of his burning lungs becoming too much.

The distraught killer leans against a tree, not having a clue where he is - and not caring. He can't get that sneak peek of Eboni's damaged state out of his head. His knees finally give out, his lungs restricting against his ribcage, and his heart hammering against his chest.

She can't be dead....she promised him.

This pain...is unlike anything he had every experience. No amount of physical pain could prepare him for this. Why is this happening to him? Jeff finally gained someone to care about, someone that gets him, someone that genuinely enjoys his company - longs for it, someone so real - so open.

Why is this happening to him? To her? To them? After everything they have gone through, this is how it ends? A word curse that once took the life of her parents now takes the life of their daughter? Why them? Why Eboni?

She doesn't deserve this.

She's been through hell, far worse than Jeff. Her life has been filled with endless torment since the moment of her parents' death. She deserves peace, happiness, and love. Instead, she's given death, laying in a hospital bed lifeless.

The smiling killer begins punching the tree repeatedly, the cold rain no longer bothering him. The tears stopped, his rage consuming his mind in place of any grief that's trying to settle in. He can't accept the possibility of her never waking up. He finally grows attached, cares for someone more than him - only for her to slip through his fingers & out of his grip.

Jeff truly does destory every and anything he touches.

He allows his mind to stay deeply rooted in denial. This isn't his new reality - it's not allowed to be. This will not become his new normal, his new world. A world without Eboni Brown. It's not possible. It won't ever be possible for Jeff.

As he let his thoughts wonder in denial, a thought in particular stands out to him. What if she did all of this on purpose for selfish reasons? Those bullets were meant for him, not Eboni. That girl was seconds away from firing until Eboni ran towards him. It was a major flaw for him to souly foucs on one human when two were still alive. He underestimated them.

But none of those thoughts take away from the possibility of Eboni sacrificing herself for selfish reasons. This should be her grieving. This should be her losing her mind over this unbearable pain, so painful that it makes his whole body ache. This should be her punching a tree, bloody running down his fingertips. Jeff should be the one lying on that hospital bed, not her.

All of this should be the other way around..

With this new sudden need to see her, he stands, ignoring how soaking wet he is from the rain. He begins his walk aimlessly, hoping his feet would guild him back to the mansion. They do, luckily. He isn't sure what time it is, thanks to the darken clouds still lingering and him not bothering to bring his phone.

No one is in the living room, and no one is in the kitchen. On his way through the medical ward, no one is there either. The killer stares at the metal door, reaching for the handle until it opens by whoever is on the other side.

EJ looks up, darken bags under his hollowed eyes. His eyes appear to be puffy. He had been crying, too. The cannibal steps aside, letting Jeff in. He sighs softly before speaking to Jeff.

"She....needs to be under twenty four-seven surveillance." He explains to which Jeff nods his head slowly. He gives Jeff a small button. "If her vitals suddenly drop... just press that, and it'll shock me awake. I'll be in here less than five minutes. Understand?"

Jeff once again nods his head as he makes his closer to Eboni, each step causing his chest to ache. The killer gulps, gripping the handrail tightly as he feels his eyes begin to fill with tears again. Just being this close to her, taking everything in is openly hard to accpet.

Her once beautiful bright face stuck into a permanent blank expression, so lifeless. Her once glowing smile, now blank - unmoving. Her breathtaking honey brown eyes forever shield by her eyelids. Eboni's normally warm body, smooth skin covered in white splotches - each shaped differently, is cold. Everything about her is now cold.

How could she do this to him?

"You stood in front...to protect me? Bullshit! I know you, princess, better than anyone. You took those bullets...so you wouldn't have to face the shit you're putting me through - YOU SELFISH BITCH!" he cries, smiling through the tears- eyes unblinking.

Jeff laughs, leaning forward - his tears falling onto her face. "You went on and on about how I broke my promise, but look at you - breaking yours to me! TO ME! you lied to me...fuck you, LIED TO ME!" he shouts, feeling himself crumble more - his voice cracking.

"You said you wouldn't die. You said you wouldn't leave me. You promised me that shit princess....I gave you my time, and I gave you so much of my shit! And this is how you repay me? REALLY?! YOU BITCH!" he sobs, grabbing her cold hand and squeezes it.

"You except me to move on in this shit hole!? How!? You're all that matters, you asshole! I gave my all for this...to protect you- FUCK! I should've...I should've locked you up, kept you away from everyone. Or maybe...haha... maybe I should've fucking killed you a looooong ass time ago huh?"

Jeff's on his knees at this point, sobbing heavily over Eboni. "If I just did what that faceless fucker said....if I hadn't gotten excited over you knowing I was watching you...if I hadn't found joy in you fighting back. If I... so many what ifs! My life would've been peachy without you! But... but....FUCK!"

What is he feeling? Why is he saying such hurtful things? He doesn't regret meeting Eboni. He doesn't regret every moment they've shared together. He cherishes them, and he cherishes her. He loves Eboni, more than anything - in his own sick way. These hurtful words are nothing more but just a shell of a small boy not knowing how to healthily express his anger, emptiness, frustration, agony, and sorrow - all felt towards Eboni.

"Wake up... just wake up, and I'll forgive you. I won't punish you. I won't do a damn thing, so just wake up!"

He stares, squeezing her hand tightly - hoping to see those honey brown eyes he fell so hard for.

But nothing-

"Please, Eboni! Wake up! Say something! I can't move past this! You know that! You know....You wouldn't be able to go on in this shit hole...so how can I!?"

"But it'll be okay! If you just open your fucking eyes and speak to me! PLEASE EBONI!"

He cries out, not caring who sees - not caring who hears. He doesn't care how pathetic he looks. Jeff just wants Eboni back.

"Please....please I can't start over with anyone else...why the fuck would I!? DAMNIT EBONI PLEASE! I love you! Fuck! Is that what you wanted to hear!? That's it right!? SO COME BACK ALREADY!"

Nothing. Just sounds of the many machines keeping her as lifelike as possible.

"Eboni....Eboni...Eboni..." Jeff cries, voice horse and dry as he heaves in between is gut wrenching sobs.

Slenderman, Kate, Toby, Hoodie, and even Masky all stand outside the metal door, taking in the sounds of Jeff's broken state. BEN, Helen, Dina, and Eyeless Jack stand a few feet away - hearing Jeff's screams as well.

No one knew just how deeply Jeff cared for Eboni Brown until now. Even after all they saw, they still held their doubts. But hearing his cries, his broken pleas for Eboni to wake up - stirred a sadness within them that isn't like any other.

Regardless of what most proxies might think of Jeff, whether they hate him or not- all feel empathy towards the smiling killer.

Losing someone you love, truly love , is something you can never recover from. No matter who you are.

Obsession.

Control.

Desires.

Love.

Are all on the same thin line. Stretching between all things sane & all things hellish.

Though their connection wasn't formed in a proper, more socially accepting manner- it doesn't take away the love they held for each other.

Both one of a kind.

A love that should've been kept secret.

A love that should've never taken place.

For the sake of one life being spared.

A love that may forever be lost in time

In memory.