#but one thing that is certain is that i am just discarded and forgotten to 'respawn' when the need arises again.

[katyspersonal]

Speaking of "something intimate touched by dirty hands", I'll be real, I kinda do still need someone to "cleanse" image of Mic0lash for me. Ever since the grand fandom rift I've of course fallen onto the better side where fans are trying their best, I just can tell my Mic mutuals are trying their best with the guy. But something so incredibly bad is connected with the character- You guys know how negative experiences with people can ruin a character (and you're in luck if not the whole piece of media)? This character for me is a manifestation that if someone claims to really love and need me, I should keep in mind that it is a lie I should not trust.

I should know by now that when something sounds too good to be true - it IS, but he is like... an "avatar" of that realization. Someone I could just look at at be reminded without the words that yes, I should remember that I'll never be happy or valued like I want to. That my "ability" to see something good even in the darkest people or to listen to the intention of even the most distorted message is reserved for someone else. For something else. I am just not built for things like long friendships, celebrating holidays, exploring the world together, just being loved, just being able to trust, just being cared about, just sharing life with someone. My role in this world is to be a "tutorial enemy". Someone people would have a negative experience with but in exchange, understand who they are and what they really want in life, and let go of their struggles and wishes that tormented them. But I feel like I can only fulfill my purpose in this world for as long as I am ignorant about it. If I stop trusting people and seeking the type of love I need - I won't get attached, so I won't get hurt when people hurt me, so I won't be slain. Because this is what I am in - a videogame enemy that people need to defeat to level up and proceed to their own games. And if I stop respawning - how I can be what I am?

I just should not learn a thing, because people better off after they "murder" me. More cruel and reclused, but better off - more self-sufficient, more confident, more.. secure of how much good they deserve. It would just help them to be more cautious when someone actually toxic appears. Like, someone who is not even self-aware, not struggling and not remorseful. So they won't take chances, to the better.

But I just need to blind myself to the truth, because I've got nothing better to offer to this world than being that "tutorial enemy". People are better after slaying me. I drop Insight points upon being stabbed, and it happened so many times. I guess this character is just cursed with being associated with a truth so horrible that it is better off not realizing it and just be moved like a pawn.

[inkblot22]

Give You Something To Cry About

Yay, my time management skills continue to be straight ass. Sorry to the anon who has waited so patiently for this, and thank you so much for giving me an excuse to write this depraved ball of snot. Headers by @/cafekitsune. Also don't believe everything you see on the internet, there's no scientific proof that certain things work for your skin. I think Vil would know that, considering.

This Fic Is For: Anyone who can handle it! Once again, I tried to make it as gn as possible, considering Rook's use of Franglais, but I'm delusional and will say I did exactly that. Reader is referred to with they/them pronouns, and no real allusions to specific body parts are made for them.

TW for DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT, forced dieting, non/dubcon, mentions of death, questionable use of magic, captivity, someone has a case of dacryphilia and a strong sadist streak, won't say who, Rook Hunt because he freaks me out, unhealthy relationship dynamics, abuse, forced BDSM if you squint, I feel so bad for the reader in this one, toxic relationships, possibly OOC characters.

“I am not going to tell you again, my love.” Vil bends down to get in your face, already wearing his ceremonial robe and heels. He points a finger in your face, like you’re a small child or a dog, “If you continue to pick at your skin, I am going to let Rook punish you this time.”

You swallow and look away, and Vil pinches your cheeks between his thumb and fingers, pulling your head so you’re looking at him again. His violet eyes bore into you, and you swallow again.

He looks offended, almost, “Well? Have you forgotten basic manners? Speak.”

Your voice sounds dry and weak, “Yes, Vil. I understand.”

He seems satisfied enough with that, moving around as he continues to prepare for whatever school-wide assembly is happening today. He elegantly tucks his hair behind his ear and sighs, scrolling through some page on his phone.

You remain standing where you are, turning your head to look out the window. It’s so pretty outside, but you only get to leave this room whenever Rook is watching you or Vil sends you on an errand. It’s always spring, never too hot, never too cold, but you’re sweating anyway.

Vil approaches you again and tilts your face back so you’re looking at him with a hand on your cheek. His eyes narrow a fraction.

“Your skin doesn’t seem to like this foundation. Make sure you discard it today; I’ll get you a new one.” He bends down again, this time to press a chaste kiss to your lips. He rubs his own together after pulling away and smudges his thumb over your bottom lip, “Hmm. What lipgloss is this?”

Your voice doesn’t sound so dry, but it still doesn’t sound like you, “Uh… The dark red one with the metallic purple? ‘Electric Berry’?

He’s silent for a second, just staring down at your lips as he cups your chin, and then he sighs and turns away, “It’s sticky. I’d tell you to wash your face and reapply your makeup, but that’d be a waste. Make sure you put on lip balm next time.”

You swallow, “Yes, Vil. I understand.”

“I have to get going now. You’d better be at least halfway done with that list by the time I return.” He breezes towards the door and gives you a last, long look. He’s completely silent before he leaves, closing the door behind him.

Your palms ache. You stiltedly wander towards the list pinned in the closet, glad to see it’s not insane today. All you need to do is tidy the bathroom and skim through Vil’s mail to see if it’s anything but hate mail or advertisements. Tack on getting rid of that foundation and that’s it, at least until he returns at lunch.

You relished this time to yourself, even if it was just cleaning or whatever else. Vil always said that motion is good for you, a structure does the mind good. You didn’t care much anymore. As you sat down to search through his mail, finding nothing but the usual hate mail and what appears to be a poem from Rook (why did he even mail that? He’s not even down the hall from this room,) you catch yourself craving something sweet.

The diet Vil has you on sucks. He has assured you that your body is lovely, and he is having you eat like this to help clear your skin, but really you just want something. Anything, you’d even take a breath mint over this lack of junk food. You’re young, what young person doesn’t enjoy gratuitously unhealthy food? A basket of french fries? Ice cream? 

You frown to yourself and toss the last of the mail into the recycle bin. You know he’s just going to check it over again anyway, but at least you’re moving around. That’s what he would say.

By the time you’re almost done scrubbing the tub, you hear the door open. You don’t want to go greet him, so you pretend you didn’t hear anything and keep cleaning, making sure to disinfect the non-slip mat that resembles a bunch of ugly gems glued together. 

You hear him clicking towards you, and his hand rests on your shoulder, “Going above and beyond today? I have lunch, come eat.”

You school your expression and stand up, pulling off your cleaning gloves and hanging them on the rim of the tub before you follow Vil. He ensconces himself in his desk chair, leaving you to awkwardly lift the stool near his vanity. He hates it when you push the furniture.

He clucks his tongue, not even looking at you, “Lift with your knees, darling. As much as I’d love to massage your back if you pull something, I simply don’t have the time.”

You can’t help it. You shoot him the nastiest glare you can muster as you lift with your knees, right as his eyes flick up to meet yours. You nearly drop the chair as his lips curl into a cold smirk.

“Do you have something to say?”

You hastily shake your head, “No, Vil-”

“Then don’t allow me to see that expression on your face again.” He bites, “Come sit down.”

You put the stool down a little harder than you mean to and take a seat beside Vil at his desk. He passes you your nice little container containing one of several things he gets you- a pile of leafy greens and chopped veggies on a bed of quinoa, fresh fruit, and a murky green smoothie topped with chia seeds.

 You don’t like chia seeds. They remind you of frog eggs- a bunch of slimy lumps, sliding down your throat. You accept the straw Vil passes to you and stir the smoothie before eating in silence.

Vil doesn’t mind if you don’t thank him for feeding you. Since he’s keeping you here, it’s pretty much the least he could do. Still, it doesn’t make up for hearing about his boring day.

“This morning’s assembly was complete and utter chaos, as usual.” He muses, sipping his own smoothie. It’s a soft purple. “It’s ridiculous. Those brutes never wear their robes correctly.”

You don’t respond. There’s two reasons: first of all, you don’t care, and secondly, there’s a knock at the door. Vil hums, as though he’s been waiting for someone, and turns to face the door.

“Who is it?”

That boisterous voice you are so used to hearing echoes past the door, “‘Tis I, Roi du Poison. I have come to join you for lunch.”

You can hear the smile in Vil’s voice, “Oh, of course. Come in.”

As Rook walks in, you feel a stab of jealousy in your chest. He takes a breezy seat on the loveseat in front of Vil’s bed and glances at you. You break eye contact and dully pick at your salad.

Vil treats Rook so nicely. He considers his feelings and opinions, although he doesn’t always listen. He speaks to him as though he’s a person. You suppose Vil’s obvious care for Rook trickles down to you in some capacity, but it hurts. Vil claims that the two of you are lovers, but really you’re more like a doll.

“Do you mind meeting me in the lab later on, Rook?”

Rook chuckles from where he is and you cast another glance at him. His eyes meet yours, again, and you look away, again.

“I can always make time for you, beautiful Vil.”

You lamely pick at the fruit, having finished the salad, before you decide to save it for last. You take a sip of your smoothie after stirring it again and openly recoil, trying not to cough. You didn’t smell it, but there must be ginger in there, because there’s a mellow burn alongside the bitterness from the kale. It makes your eyes water and settles in behind your nose.

“Mmm. Something wrong?” Vil smiles at you.

You shake your head, blinking rapidly so you don’t start crying. There’s not enough tears to fall, but taking your chances is stupid, “No, Vil. The ginger just caught me off guard.”

“Oh. My apologies, I should have warned you. I don’t want you catching a cold, and you’ve been a little irregular. The smoothie also has spinach, kale, avocado, chia seeds, and, of course, a little mango.”

You nod and force yourself to smile, taking another sip and soldiering past the rush of that aromatic pain in your sinuses. “Oh, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, darling.” Vil turns away from you to speak to Rook again, “What else did you have planned?”

“I thought I might take a walk. It is a wonderful day, non?” There’s a slight mocking tone to Rook’s voice, “Hardly the type of day to be cooped up all day, hmm?”

Vil furrows his eyebrows as you choke down the last of the smoothie. His voice is curt, “You can say what you mean.”

“Est-ce que je peux? You are not very open to suggestion.”

Vil narrows his eyes at Rook, taking a deep sip of his smoothie before he places it on the coaster sitting upon his desk. He uncrosses his long legs and stands, walking over to sit with Rook on the loveseat. Rook watches him approach with a smile, the same pleasant one he usually wears before he shoots you a beaming grin and turns to look at Vil.

Their conversation is hushed, and you can’t really make out all of what they say. You can hear someone say your name, Vil’s tone swiftly turns vitriolic, then sweetens once more, and Rook chuckles under his breath. When their little meeting is over, Vil walks back over and finishes his smoothie before petting your head like you’re some kind of cat.

His hand strokes the crown of your head, then smooths over your cheek, he cups your jaw and thumbs over the swell of your lip, all while staring at you with a look you cannot read. And then he tilts his head, and smiles.

“Make sure you thank Rook. And you mistook a letter from my father as garbage.”

“Yes, Vil.” You reply obediently, “Sorry, Vil.”

He smiles. Your palms ache, and you have to bite back the urge to move, to peel at your cuticles or scratch the sides of your fingers.

“I’ll see you in class, Rook.” Vil says politely before he tilts your face up and pecks you on the lips.

You’re left alone with Rook. He doesn’t get up, not yet. You remain where you are, looking at your slippers. You hear Rook stand up and discard his garbage. You can feel him come up to stand behind you. 

“Has today been particulièrement difficile? My poor dear… You seem so sad today.” His arms wrap around you, looping them around your shoulders so they warm your collarbones like a scarf and he can rest his cheek against the back of your head. You hear him take a deep breath in.

With Vil, you don’t even try to speak anymore. You know he won’t really listen to you, because he knows better than you… But with Rook, as long as you wait a moment to make sure he is done speaking, he welcomes and even encourages you to speak your mind.

Your breath hitches and you swallow, “Uh, I mean… I guess I’m just having a bad day. It’s really been the same as usual.”

“Hmm.” Rook hums, completely devoid of emotion. You feel him turn his face so his nose is buried in your hair. He presses a kiss against your hair and sighs, “Ah, yes, the monotony of life is très épuisant, mmm?”

You wait for a second, then deliberately don’t answer the question in favor of asking your own, “Um, he said I should thank you?”

“Perhaps you should ask why more clearly. I have convinced our very own Vil to allow me to arrange a surprise for you.” Rook removes himself from your back and turns you around to face him, “And thus, I believe I have earned a kiss from you.”

“Wait, what?” You don’t get time to really back away or tell him to explain, as Rook squishes your cheeks with one of his gloved hands until your lips part.

His grip isn’t as harsh as Vil’s, but this is still something that only happens when you’re in more trouble than usual, so you involuntarily wince and close your eyes, cowering away from Rook as he dips his tongue into your mouth and slithers it between your teeth.

It is very easy to like Rook. He is passionate, and he’s far more kind to you than your supposed lover is. He’s intelligent and has an adonis-like form, and if not for the taste of blood on his tongue from whatever he ate for lunch or the grip he has on your face, maybe you would enjoy this kiss. But the big issue is that Rook honestly frightens you a little.

It’s absolutely not his fault, not entirely. Upon first meeting him, it was hard to tell if he was being genuine. He’s difficult to read, as he is often wearing the same set of expressions and his tone is always a bit melodramatic.

His hand releases your face to clamp around the base of your head, his tongue twisting in your mouth, pressing against the crevices in your teeth.

Not only is Rook hard to read, he is also uncannily observant and will not hesitate to ask somewhat invasive questions about his observations. The fact that he dresses in a way that conceals his mass is also disconcerting, as you were unaware that he had such a build until you saw him roll up his sleeve one time. You were aware Vil could do a lot of damage, but that was the day you realized that Rook was capable of doing about as much as Vil, if not more.

He purrs into your mouth, the vibrations feeling oh-so-wrong, and his other hand clamps down on your shoulder. He sucks your tongue into his mouth. It’s not a good feeling, as he is literally stealing what little air is in your mouth. When you feel something feather light flutter against your lashes and cheek, you feel a bit confused for just a moment, not even a second, before you realize that Rook just blinked. His eyes are open. 

He pulls away and sighs, almost dreamily. You suppress your distressed sputtering, holding your breath as Rook stares at you.

“Ah, enough time has passed. I will need to leave you, mon lapin. Thank you for indulging me; your kiss was divine and tasted sweeter than the finest fruits!” He presses something into your palm and adjusts his hat before he casts you a wave and shuts the door.

You stand there, your lips drying out from the saliva left on them and your cheeks feeling a little odd from the way he was holding your face. You’re processing, because, ever as always, Rook is simulated spontaneity. So many things just happened, and you don’t… 

You blink a few times and look down at your aching palm stupidly. The crimson cellophane crinkles as you unclench your fist. He gave you a piece of candy.

Just looking at it makes you start crying. One second you’re staring wide-eyed at the little lump of sugar, and the next your vision is blurring and you’re crying off your makeup, plump tears cascading down your face. Your nose begins to run and you sniffle. You can’t find it in yourself to sob, because you’re mostly certain that these are happy tears. 

Unfortunately, you can’t eat the candy now. If you threw the wrapper away, Vil would notice it in the garbage and you’d get in trouble for “breaking your diet plan.” So you hide it in the very back corner of the drawer of Vil’s armoire. You’ll be tidying it on your own anyway, and Vil never reaches all the way into the back of it.

Once your tears have stopped, you stand up and go back to cleaning the bathroom. It’s spotless and smells like lavender and lemons about an hour before Vil gets back, so you decide to skim one of the books on the shelves. 

It’s not long before you’re bored with that as well. You carefully put the book back and wander over to the lattice window, staring out of it. The window, paired with your usual low mood, made you sort of feel like a bird in a very ornate cage. 

From where you are, about three stories up, you notice a familiar figure notching an arrow before he unnotches it and takes a knee. You blandly spectate as he fiddles with the bow.

Partway through him notching the arrow again, you see his hat tilt. He’s far away enough that you can’t see his eyes, but you can feel his stare. His gloved hand bends his brim and you jerk away from the window, only to bump into someone.

You don’t get to shriek, as a hand clamps over your mouth. It’s just Vil, but you don’t relax yet as he drags you towards the bed and deposits you there.

“How many times must I tell you to stay away from the window?”

He’s never once told you to stay away from the window. Not as far as you can recall, at least. Your lips tremble and you decide it’d be more wise to keep silent.

Vil glares down at you and you feel the rest of your body start to tremble. His lips curl into a displeased sneer, “You didn’t wash your face after crying?”

“N-no, Vil-”

“We do not stutter.” Vil hisses, bending to get in your face. He stares at you for a moment before standing straight again, “Speak up.”

You swallow and clench your hands into fists, “No… Vil. I… got rid of the foundation like you, um… asked me to. I wouldn’t have been able to redo-”

“Alright. Go wash your face.” Vil interrupts you again.

You jump up and rush into the bathroom, going through your skincare routine. You can feel Vil staring at you, your skin crawling under his gaze. As you rub moisturizer into your skin, Vil finally says something.

“Did Rook do something to you, darling?” His tone is soft, tentative.

You glance at him, blinking a few times. What does he mean by ‘something’? He did do something, but it wasn’t bad, or particularly different.

“Um… Not exactly.” You say, massaging your forehead.

“I see. What did he do?” 

You look down at the sink. You’re not saying anything about the candy. “Rook kissed me?”

“That should not be a question.” Vil says. You see him shake his head through your peripheral, “Would you like to change your clothes before I redo your makeup?”

You’d like to ask what he’s talking about, but instead, you look down at your clothing. You don’t have a proper Pomefiore uniform because you’re not a part of this dorm. You’re an interloper- or a caged bird.

You don’t know what to do here. You don’t want to say something wrong and unintentionally offend Vil. Your palms ache. You give him a confused look from where you are.

He doesn’t look impressed, but before he can say anything about you gaping at him, you speak up, “What… am I supposed to do?”

You’ve only seen Vil surprised a few times. He raises his eyebrows and looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads, then sighs, “Well, I suppose I’d like to see you in something else. I’ll choose your outfit.”

That’s nothing new, he always does that. You wait in the bathroom for him to return. He strolls back in with a mockery of the Pomefiore uniform. There’s a deep purple cloak and capelet, which Vil drapes on the bed before handing you the actual clothes. It’s a very ruffled dress shirt, the long, puffy sleeves cinched into more ruffles at the wrist paired with a pair of black bloomer-style shorts. The buttons are all white and gold, marbled together. 

Vil leaves the bathroom and you change, neatly tucking your previous clothing away in the hamper. When you leave, as usual, Vil picks at your clothing, making sure it looks as good on you as he pleases, and then he steers you to sit down.

For however vicious he can be, Vil can be oddly gentle. For every time he grabs you roughly, his touch is feather-light ten more times. He hums a soft tune as he puts light makeup on you, just your eyes and lips, and then he drapes the cloak around your shoulders and places his hands on his hips.

“You look lovely. Go put on the pair of gold boots with the black decals.”

You do as told. He very likely wants to just take pictures of you or something so he can ask that Mira app about it.

Except when you stop in front of him, he doesn’t tell you to go sit in the loveseat or on the table near his window, no, he scoops you up and presses his forehead against your jaw.

“Oh, when did you put on this cologne? What a ravishing smell on you.” He presses a kiss on the column of your throat and breezes out of his dorm room's door.

Almost immediately, you go limp in his arms, like a doll. He never gave you explicit verbal permission to leave this room, so the curse he placed on you when he decided you should be his smashes into you like a giant wave at the beach.

Vil carries you all the way outside and looks at your face, then happily struts along the path behind the dorm. Since you can’t turn your head, you can only go off of the view of Vil’s neck and chin, the sky, and whatever you can hear.

“Ah, I am glad to see you did not change your mind, Roi du Poison. J'aurais été très déçue et triste pour notre chéri.” You hear Rook say. 

You can almost feel Vil get a mite warmer, “Yes, well. Hand me the basket. Since you want to make out with them and make them cry, you get to carry them as an apology.”

Rook happily scoops you out of Vil’s arms, giving you a cloying look as he strolls along. He and Vil chat as they walk, something not really worth listening in on, just boring musings about class and “this teacher did x” or “that student did y”. An insect lands on your cheek and you are incapable of batting it away or expressing your discomfort. Its legs tickle the peach fuzz on your face and you remain still, like a corpse.

Rook slides you into a seated position, posing you like a toy before shooing the bug off of your face. Now you can see that you’re in a clearing in the woods, seated on a picnic blanket. There’s a few lanterns staked into the ground, and Rook and Vil are busy with whatever is on the floor. You can’t look down, so your best guess is that it’s a picnic.

Vil leans over and snaps in your face, smiling kindly at you, “Now. If I release you, you are not going to run. You are not going to so much as consider running. We are going to have a nice picnic with no shenanigans from you.”

You can’t nod, so you just stare at him, trying to telepathically communicate.

He looks pleased enough, “Wonderful. I give you permission to leave our room.”

Your muscles relax and you look back, finding that you’re leaned against a log. The picnic spread is very nice, as well. It looks like finger sandwiches. You’re not expecting to get to eat one, as you haven’t had bread since Vil switched up your diet. Vil passes something to you.

“Oh.” You mumble, staring at the plate Vil hands you. 

It’s a sandwich. A very wonderful looking sandwich, cut into triangles and with the crusts still on. You blink at it a few times and look back up at Vil.

“Don’t expect this to be a pattern. This is a treat for good behavior.”

You look back down, “Yes, Vil.”

“There’s no need to remind them. They’re being obedient.” Rook’s voice is more firm than you expected to hear him ever speak. Usually his tone is buoyant, and you’ve never seen him outright pick a fight with Vil like this.

“Please. You give anyone an inch, they’ll take a mile.” Vil cuts back, then turns to you and pets your head like a dog or a cat again, “Eat your food, beautiful.”

You take a bite. Bread is just as good as you remember it. The air feels thick, like you’re in a bubble as Vil and Rook communicate through eye contact alone. Before you know it, your sandwich is gone and your hands are covered in crumbs. Rook, still staring at Vil with that happy little smile, wipes your hands and places a glass in your hands. Whatever is in it smells sweet. You take a tentative sip.

Were it Vil, you would have never drank whatever this is. It kind of tastes like a mellow mixed berry juice. It’s very pleasant, actually. Better than the potion Vil used to lace your food and drinks with. You smile into the cup and Vil snatches it from you.

He takes a sip and frowns, handing it back, “Mmm. I have an even better surprise.”

Rook pulls your legs into his lap and gently kneads your calves as you watch Vil rifle through the picnic basket. What is happening? You sip your juice and Vil produces a triangular container. He places a fork on top and hands it to you.

You finish the last of your juice and accept the box, looking conspiratorially at Rook. Something you can’t put your finger on dances in his eyes and he digs his thumb into your shin a little strongly. You flinch and cautiously open the box. It’s a piece of fluffy white cake, with even fluffier meringue and an uncannily perfect cherry wedged into it.

You look at Vil, expecting some kind of trick. Not that he’s ever done that before, usually he’d just take it from you or make some snide comment, things like that, but he and Rook are acting really strange today, 

“I know how much you long for junk food, so I spent some time after club activities today whipping up some angel food cake. It’s got agave instead of sugar so it won’t completely break your diet and your skin won’t suffer as much.”

Yeah, this is weird. The cake is good, though, it’s fluffy and sweet. You pace your bites so that Vil won’t make a comment and you can savor this. You can feel both of their eyes on you and it makes your skin crawl.

You lower the cake box and look at Vil, who looks a bit offended for just a second. The fleeting expression is replaced by a pleased little grin, the mauve lipstick making the curve of his lips all the more sinister in the dimming light.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, Vil.” You glance at the cake and then back at him, “I’m… I’m sorry, I’m a little confused.”

“Why?” Rook asks.

Your shoulders jerk as you turn your head to look at him. You weren’t expecting him to say anything. His chest swells in what appears to be a suppressed chuckle as he squeezes your knee. It seems his hands have climbed.

“Uh…” You swallow, “This is just… not what I’m used to.”

“The cake?” Vil looks hurt. Why does he look hurt?

You shake your head rapidly, “No! Oh- No, Vil. I… It’s just been so long since I’ve been out here…”

“Do you want to go inside, chéri?” Rook murmurs.

You do, but you also don’t really want to risk sounding ungrateful. Being outside has stressed you out more than you’d like to admit. You’re not really sure what to do because Vil has you trained like a dog, and none of what he’s hammered into you involves picnics. You’re scared.

Rooks eyes narrow as you just stare at him. Your chest hurts from how hard your heart is throbbing, and on the other side of you, Vil sighs.

“Well, I’ll start cleaning up, then. When we get back, I expect you to take a seat on the bed.”

That sounds like what happens every time you get in trouble. A terror shudders through you and your eyes water a bit as you gnaw on your lip. Your palms ache as you fight to keep from picking at your cuticles. Vil packs up everything and Rook offers you a princely hand to help you up.

You can feel the calluses on his hands through his gloves as he essentially lifts you to your feet. You keep between Rook and Vil as you walk back to the dorm.

It’s quiet, since everyone else is winding down for bed. For a moment, you think you spot Epel, but you’re not sure. It doesn’t matter anyway. None of your old friends talk to you anymore. Not since Vil started having eyes for you.

Just as you were told, after taking off your boots you take a seat on the bed and retrieve the silver ruler from the side-table’s drawer. You place it beside you as you look down at your feet. You look down at the streaky bruises on the lighter skin on your palms and try not to start crying. It’s always worse when you cry.

He adds smacks by twos. Depending on what you did, you start with four or six, and then any time you flinch or pull away or make a loud noise, he adds two more. Last time, you spilled one of his nail polishes, and after watching you clean it up, you ended up getting ten lashes.

At least Rook didn’t do it then. He tries to make it quick but that just makes it hurt more. A tear slips down your cheek.

You don’t even know what you did. You tap the tear track dry with one fingertip and Vil and Rook fully enter the room.

“Why is the ruler out?” Vil asks, and then his voice goes sharp, “Are you crying?”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Vil.” You sob.

“I don’t know why.” He grabs the ruler and shoves it away before you can raise your hands, “Go wash your face.”

You stand up and shakily do as told, returning to sit on the bed. Vil goes into the bathroom after you and Rook takes a seat next to you, his hand on your shoulder.

He smiles at you, rubbing your shoulder, “You are très précieux, chéri.”

You look at him in a state of hollow bewilderment as he brushes his cheek against yours and presses a soft kiss to the shell of your ear.

You hear the bathroom door close and a tired sigh from Vil, “Do you have no patience?”

Your head jerks to look at VIl, “Rook is…?”

“Yes, he’s joining us tonight.” Vil plucks the loop of his sleeve from his middle finger and loosens his belt. You get the feeling that the next words he says aren’t for you, “Well, go ahead.”

You feel Rook’s chuckle more than you hear it. With his lips against your neck, his hands begin to slide. The hand on your shoulder rests on the nape of your neck and his other hand slides down to your thigh, then up to your waist. You try not to cringe against his touch, but it’s difficult.

His hand slides down again as he trails his teeth against the back of your ear. His thumb hooks in your pants and starts yanking them down. You outright flinch.

“Wait-”

“Relax, darling.” Vil mumbles, hanging his clothing in the armoire.

You try. You absolutely try. Rook throws your bloomers aside and rests his hand on your lower belly for a moment. He sighs into your ear and reaches up to unclasp your buttons.

You feel stiff. You want to push him away but you can’t move. It’s as though your body is frozen. It’s not due to a curse, so the only possible solution is that you’re quite literally scared stiff. 

He pulls away your shirt and glances at Vil, “Are you prepared?”

“Please.” You can hear the smile on Vil’s lips as Rook turns back and kisses you again, his hand smoothing along your collarbone and shoulders.

Your underwear is the next to go. Of course it is. You fight to keep from breathing oddly, because you’re aware that if you pass out, Vil will get annoyed.

“Mmm.” The devil’s hand glides up your back and you fight back a shudder as Rook leans you backwards into his arms. “How are you feeling, darling?”

You’re honest, “I’m scared.”

“I thought you would say that.” Vil freely manhandles you, shifting you so you’re leaned chest to chest. He slides something off of the side table and passes it behind you, then cups your cheek, “You would save a lot of time and stress if you’d just learn to trust me.”

“I…” You hate him. You hate him so much. He keeps you here like a pet, and you don’t know how he’s supposed to expect you to treat him like a lover when he treats you the way he does. 

Before you can articulate an answer that pleases Vil, a wicked burn besets your sphincter and you clench your jaw. 

Vil’s voice is sharp, “Rook, please.”

You hear Rook make a noise underneath the harsh sound of blood rushing in your ears and your own heavy panting. Something cool oozes around the ring of your ass and you press your face against Vil’s chest. His robe is lazily tied, which is not particularly like him, and you can see his cock poking out where the fabric separates. You let out a strangled noise and Vil shushes you, rubbing your back soothingly.

“Relax. I know, you weren’t prepared. Relax.” Vil soothes.

“I don’t mind if you remain tense, chéri. Mon plaisir n'en est que plus grand. And your little cries and whimpers sont terriblement mignons.” Rook mumbles behind you.

Rook is better than Vil in most areas, but once he gets his dick inside of you, it’s as though he forgets to be caring and kind. The tables flip, with Vil acting the part of a caring lover and Rook becoming a sadistic bully. You let out a ragged sob as Rook rolls his hips and Vil hisses something that you don’t quite catch.

It almost sounded like he was telling Rook to slow down. That very well could have been the case, as Rook eases back a bit and only shallowly thrusts.

Vil continues petting you, coaxing you so your cheek is pressed against his thigh. He is always a perfect warm. He is always perfect, so it sort of makes sense, but his skin is a pleasant temperature. He feels alive, a perfectly human temperature that tells you he’s breathing and his heart is beating. As he fingers through your hair, Rook gives a harsher than usual thrust and you cry out.

“Rook, if you’re impatient then you’re going to hurt them, and neither of us have the time to take care of them all day.” Vil chides, and then his tone softens as he rubs the space between your shoulders, “Are you ready for me as well, darling?” “What…?” You ask, blearily. Somewhere in the back of your awareness, you know what he wants, but you can feel Rook’s thrusts growing impatient and seeing as you weren’t given any prep, you’re in a bit too much shock to think straight.

“Mmm… You’re awfully cute but I need you to be a bit more lucid.” Vil snaps in your ear and resumes his petting, “This isn’t the first time, sweetheart. I’m not going to hold your hand.”

The soft tip of his member spreads his pre like lipgloss against your lips. As you shakily open your mouth, you figure you’re lucky that Vil doesn’t have a chaotic, unhealthy diet like Leona or Ace, that he doesn’t drink coffee for fun or often like Deuce does. The taste of his skin is lightly floral and dominantly human, likely thanks to the body lotion he applies daily. 

He hisses and presses against your forehead, “Ah-ah. You’re taking enough from Rook. Just the tip for me is fine.”

From behind, you hear Rook grumble under his breath, “Je n'en peux plus de cette merde…”

“Watch your- unf- watch your language, Rook.” Vil snarls, massaging the nape of your neck as you carefully lave your tongue over his glans.

Rook’s patience breaks, his hands clamping down on your waist, just above your hips. You have the sense to pull Vil’s cock out of your mouth as Rook begins battering into you.

As much as you feel okay about Rook, he is not a doting lover by nature. He’s mean and brutal, chasing his climax, and only after he cums does he bother to think about you or your needs. Your palms ache as you grab Vil’s member and gently tug on it. Vil flinches and snaps at you to get your attention.

You look to the side and for a second, as the pain ebbs, you assume you’re having an out of body experience, and then you realize that you’re staring into his vanity mirror. Rook’s hair exaggeratedly sways with his motion. He removed his hat but just haphazardly displaced the rest of his clothing. He’s not smiling, he’s making some sort of smug expression.

It’s funny. As Vil is satisfied with you weakly jerking him off, his touch gentle, Rook is wild on your other end. Every time you just barely begin to relax, he thrusts harder, which makes you tense and a spike of pain batters through you. 

You endure as best you can. You endure every day, enduring through eating the same unfulfilling food, enduring through walking on eggshells around Vil, enduring getting your palms beaten to hell for the most human of errors, so what’s getting sodomized in the face of everything else you can handle?

You bite back a shriek as a harsh pinch on your bottom, followed by a smack administered by Rook. He leans down and blows in your ear, snickering as he leans back, “I thought you had given up the ghost for a second there.”

Vil sucks in a breath and you quietly mumble against his thigh.

“Hmm? I didn’t hear you, mon chou.” Rook’s voice is almost mocking, like before.

“P-please… Rook, I can’t-”

“You can. You’ll live.” He grunts, the steady clap of your ass against his body punctuating his statement.

“It hurts.” You sniffle. You’re not particularly prone to crying, but, then again, Rook and Vil usually prepare you before deciding to fuck your ass.

You sob and Rook’s grasp tightens on your waist, a ragged moan punching out of his chest. He pulls your body flush to his and jerks his hips into you, drilling a bit harder for all of four or five thrusts. And then he’s no longer on you, and you feel your body getting shifted so your head is still in Vil’s lap but you’re lying prone.

You tilt Vil’s dick down to massage the head with your tongue and something warm drips on your back. You hear a noise of disgust from Vil, capped by a quiet moan.

“Absolutely not. All three of us are getting in the tub if you don’t clean that up right now.”

Rook chuckles and coos, “Hmm, but it looks so lovely. My alabaster essence creates a wonderful contrast with their soft and supple skin.”

A flush of humiliation crawls up the back of your neck and you hide your face against Vil’s belly, using your own arm to hide the other half. Vil shudders as he pushes your head down a bit, but his voice sounds incredulous.

“That’s vile. It doesn’t have any proven health benefits, you know that.”

You felt Rook’s hands spreading his semen into the skin on your back and your palms ache as Vil cums in your mouth. He doesn’t do that often, so it hits you like a shock.

You gag but force it down and Vil shoots up, fretting over you.

“Did you just swallow that?” He bends down to look into your eyes.

“Yes, Vil.”

“You didn’t need to do that.” Vil snips, sounding much harsher than he might intend, “I’m going to run us a bath, alright, darling? I’ll make sure you can brush that icky stuff out of your mouth.”

It didn’t taste bad. Vil usually cums on your face as an incentive for you to wash your face very well after a day of wearing makeup, or he has you jerk him off until he cums, but the few other times you did taste it, it was the same as this time. It was mostly salty, not too bitter, likely from his good diet. Regardless, he breezes away and Rook gives your bottom a light tap. You stand up and glance at Rook, who is looking a bit disheveled but pretty pleased with himself.

“How are you feeling, cheri?”

“That hurt.” Your voice is quiet, and your throat is still lined with tears.

“Does it still hurt?” He smiles and tilts his head.

The sound of the tub running is thunderous even where you are. Vil would never tolerate you complaining, but Rook is amicable, “A little.”

“The bath will do you good, then. Come.”

You let Rook guide you into the bathroom, his hand on your elbow. As he undresses and joins Vil on the edge of the tub, you look down at your bruised hands and glance at the slowly closing bathroom door, then at Rook and Vil where they stand near the tub.

You can’t say you prefer either of them, really, but you don't get an opinion. Do dolls at tea parties get to ask for a different kind of tea?

[hyenahunt]

Obbligato: The Punishment of Kaname Tojo - 11

Writer: Akira

Season: Spring, two years ago

Characters: ???, Ibara

Proofreading: Remi + 310mc (JP) & Skyress (ENG)

Translation: Peace & hyenahunt

Ibara: Oh, are you ignoring me? Well, no matter. I'll continue to talk nonetheless.

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

???: ( — What are you doing, Kaname?)

(What on Earth are you thinking...?)

(Who told you to say any of that?! You're to do exactly as we ordered you to do! That was the agreement, don't just do as you'd like!)

(When you lost your esteemed title of Special Student, who was it that saved you?)

(Was it Tatsumi Kazehaya, the man you’re standing side-by-side with right now who has such a saintly smile on his face?)

???: (It wasn't! I did! I'm the one who helped you! No one else but me!)

(And yet here you are! Have you forgotten the debt you owe me...?!)

Ibara: Hmm~? My, what's this, whoever could this be~?

???: ...?!

Ibara: How strange! No matter how I look at you, you appear to be the renowned top idol of Reimei Academy — Mr. HiMERU, correct?

But right now, isn't Mr. HiMERU standing on the stage and making a speech? In that case, who is this observer over here?

???: ......

Ibara: Oh, are you ignoring me? Well, no matter. I'll continue to talk nonetheless.

My apologies if it grates on your ears! But you see, running my mouth like this is precisely how I conduct my business!

???: Who are you?

Ibara: That would be my line, but here, my card — this is who I am.

???: Ibara Saegusa, is it? You seem to be a manager affiliated with CosPro's company and institutions such as Reimei Academy and the like.

Ibara: Indeed. I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance, nameless stranger.

It's been you all along, hasn't it? You're the mysterious stranger who's been providing Mr. HiMERU with support from the shadows.

At first, I thought it was that person — the man who dwells within Reimei Academy, a monstrous existence who must not even be named.

The man whose very name is taboo within this industry...

That man has taken to residing on the school grounds, living and doing as he pleases. He's been fending for himself and doing things such as starting bonfires and grilling meat, it seems.

But it must be known that this man is no ordinary vagrant who has made the school into his home. The truth is that he's a legend of the industry — a lingering reminder of the original Super Idols.

He's a monster who built up the idol world on his own.

Well, that monster bore children left and right, and that is nothing unusual about him if that’s truly all he had to him. For the record, I, Ibara Saegusa, am one of that man's descendants as well.

But unlike me, that vagrant of Reimei Academy is a most untouchable existence.

Of course, I don't need to explain any of this to you, do I? Tojo —

???: I discarded that name.

I had no intention of ever being involved with the likes of you.

Afterwards, I left everything behind and sought a place abroad.

Ibara: Certainly, you have. I gathered similarly from the investigations I've conducted.

You discarded both your name and your face, becoming a disciple of a certain someone and mastering the art of disguise. In that way, you've lived on wearing many different faces, taking the place of others and acting on their behalf.

???: I only bought the technique to do so off of that man.

He approached me simply because I happened to have a slight blood relation to the original Super Idol.

He more forced the technique onto me than anything, though. While it's convenient, I don't feel any debt towards him for it.

I cast everything away. My name, my heart. My connections to others.

???: (Or I was supposed to, at least.)

(I received a letter from my father, who I hadn't heard from for the longest time.)

(Even now I haven't a clue of how he obtained my address, but I have a hunch that that man — the Priest — was involved.)

(Naturally, I immediately crumpled that letter into a ball and tossed it away without reading a word. He and I are strangers now, and it's annoying to be contacted out of the blue.)

(That's what I thought. But I found myself unsettled by my lack of knowledge of what it said, and so I read it.)

(Within, he wrote of a younger brother I had. And it just so happened that my brother was in a difficult situation, asking to be helped out.)

(Until that moment, I hadn't known I had a brother at all.)

(Without knowing anything at all, my younger sibling — Kaname Tojo — thoughtlessly became an idol.)

???: (What an idiot. A descendent from such a sinful family, tainted to the core by taboo—)

(Who, without knowing anything at all, became an idol.)

[ ☆ ]

✦✦✦✦✦

← prev ✦ all ✦ next →

[autumnalwalker]

A Dream About A Doll And A Dog

I am a doll, wandering empty dirt roads.  Long, long ago, I think I may have been a weapon.  Long enough ago that I can barely imagine, I might have been human.  Or at least something that looked the part.

Remembering is hard these days.

I am looking for my witch, that much I am certain of.  

There was a war, I think.  Or maybe some other disaster.  Something bad that had gone on for longer than anyone could remember and all believed would go on forever.

Until one day it didn’t.

Everything is broken and empty now, except for the bits of green that have started to grow.  None of the scattered and hungry people I’ve met on the roads have known what to do about it.  No one knows how to put things back together after so long breaking things apart.

My witch would know.

I was shattered, discarded, and bereft of self.  Useless and forgotten until my witch found what was left of me.  She made me new.  She made me durable enough that nothing could ever hurt me again.  She made me weak enough that I could never hurt anyone else again.  She made me whole.  She allowed me to just be without needing to be useful.

If she could put me back together, then surely she must be able to put everything else back together.

It took time for me to appreciate what she did to me.  Now that I am thinking about it again, those memories come back in flashes.  I would flail, and scratch, and bite, but my hands could not tear cloth and my teeth could not break skin.  Once I rent apart steel and ceramic and flesh and bone and circuitry and cables and graphene and glass and helmets and skulls and armor and weapons and ships and cannons and pipelines and spines and clouds and earth and cities and hearts and -

And now I stop and take deep breaths I don’t need until those memories I need even less fade again.

Maybe that’s what those people over there are doing as they harass the tall one in the red and black helmet shaped like a dog’s head.  Maybe they are just flailing about in misplaced aggression because they haven’t learned to do anything else yet.  I approach them.  I tell them I am looking for my witch.  I ask them if they’ve seen her.  All of them flee except for the tall one with a dog’s head who growls from beneath his unmoving metal features.

Why does that always happen when I ask?

The tall one with a dog’s head asks me to describe my witch.  I do so as much as my failing memory will allow.  The dog remembers her.  It was my witch who made this one in front of me now into her dog.  The dog had been searching for her for a long time as well, and while the dog was very good at tracking, the dog had eventually given up, believing her to be dead.  

Did we have a dog?  I must have forgotten about that.

I tell the dog that she is not dead.  She can’t be dead.  I am her doll and she is my witch.  I would know.  I would feel it.

Why aren’t we together anymore?  I don’t remember her leaving, only that one day she was gone, I wasn’t home anymore, and everything outside was different.

The dog says that we should travel together.  With the dog’s ability to track in conjunction my ability to feel my witch we might finally find her.  The hunt can begin again and when it finishes everything will be made right.

Why does the word "hunt" make me feel uneasy?

The dog has contacts that can supposedly help us get started.  I am led to a mostly-forgotten ruin of hangars and bunkers.  I don’t remember if I’ve been to this one before but I know that I have been to many just like it.  The last time I was in a place like it though, my witch lied to everyone there and said that I hadn’t.  I remember being grateful for that lie.  It made me less scared of going back.

My witch isn’t here to lie for me this time.

The dog takes me far below ground to untouched vaults.  In that dim place, gaunt mechanics scurry about, eyeing me with fear and hunger.  Favors are called in and the dog barks orders.  I am left standing alone in the middle of a wide open floor as crates are retrieved, dusted off, and opened.  I have never worn the armor whose pieces are being unpacked, but I’ve intimately known its like.  The sight of it thrills me.

I want to run away.

The dog tells me this is the best way to find my witch.

The last piece of armor is fastened into place.  Long-dormant systems activate and sync.  Long-drowned connections sputter to life and I remember how to fly, how to rend, and how to hunt.

[in-faithwe-conquer]

Shepard: [This doesn't feel right]: No matter what kind of technology we might find, it's not worth it. Illusive Man: Shepard. You died fighting for what you believed. I brought you back so you could keep fighting. Some would say what we did to you was going too far. But look what you've accomplished. I didn't discard you because I knew your value. Don't be so quick to discard this facility. Think of the potential. Shepard: [No. We don't need it]: We'll fight and win without it. I won't let fear compromise who I am.

[ Full transcript ⇩ ] [part one, part two]

EDI: The tubes are feeding into some kind of super-structure, It is emitting both organic and non-organic energy signatures. Given these readings, it must be massive. Shepard. If my calculations are correct, the super-structure... is a Reaper. Shepard: Not just any Reaper -- a human Reaper. EDI: Precisely. It appears the Collectors have processed tens of thousands of humans. Significantly more will be required to complete the Reaper. Shepard: [Why does it look human?]: They're building it to look like a human. Why? EDI: It appears that a Reaper's shape is based upon the species used to create it. Shepard: [Why use organics?]: Reapers are machines -- why do they need humans at all? EDI: Incorrect. Reapers are sapient constructs. A hybrid of organic and inorganic material. The exact construction methods are unclear, but it seems probable that the Reapers absorb the essence of a species; utilizing it in the reproduction process. Shepard: [Significantly more?]: How many more humans do you think they'd try to take? EDI: Millions. Perhaps more. Impossible to know for certain. This Reaper appears to be in a very early stage of development. An embryo in human terms. Shepard: [Is it alive?] So it's not alive yet? We can still stop it from being... created? EDI: The process can be stopped, but it's unclear exactly how much it has been developed. I cannot, for example, tell you if it has awareness. Shepard: [Why would they do this?]: What do the Collectors gain by turning humans into this... Reaper shell? EDI: They may be facilitating the Reaper's equivalent of reproduction, or it may serve another purpose, I do not have the data to speculate further. However, it is clear the Collectors are merely pawns. The technology and ability needed to create this Reaper is not their own. It is likely that different species construct each Reaper. In this case, the Collectors provided the labor. Shepard: [But they're Protheans]: The Collectors are just Protheans. Why would they help the Reapers? EDI: The Reapers subdued the Protheans long ago. Probabilities suggest they attempted to create a Prothean Reaper. And failed. Overtime, they adapted the Protheans to suit their needs. Changed them. Turned them into workers. Tools for the Reapers. Shepard: [We can't let it survive]: This thing is an abomination, EDI, how do we destroy it? EDI: The large tubes injecting the fluid are a weak structural link. Destroying them should cause the supports to collapse, and the Reaper to fall.

Shepard: Shepard to ground team. Status report. Jack: Jack here. I'm tagging them as they come, but feel free to call for an exit anytime! Shepard: Head to the Normandy. Joker --- prep the engines. I'm about to overload this place and blow it sky high. Joker: Roger that, Commander. Uh, Commander? I've got an incoming signal from the Illusive Man, EDI's patching it through.

Illusive Man: Shepard. You've done the impossible. Shepard: [I didn't do it alone]: I was part of a team. Some of them gave their lives for this mission. Illusive Man: I know. Their sacrifices will not be forgotten. You did what you had to do, and you acquired the Collector base. I'm looking at the schematic's EDI uploaded. A timed radiation pulse would kill the remaining Collectors, but leave the machinery and the technology intact. This is our chance, Shepard. They were building a Reaper. That knowledge --- that framework -- could save us. Shepard: [This place is an abomination]: They liquified people. Turned them into something horrible. We have to destroy the vase. Illusive Man: Don't be short-sighted. Our best chance against the Reapers is to turn their own resources against them. They were working directly with the Collectors. Who knows what information is buried there. This base is a gift. We can't just destroy it.

Shepard: [How can I trust you?]: You're completely ruthless. The next thing I know, you'll be wanting to grow your own Reaper. Illusive Man: My goal is to save humanity from the Reapers. At any cost. I've never hidden that from you. Imagine how many lives could be saved if we keep this base intact and use its knowledge to thwart the Reapers. Imagine the lives that will be lost if we don't. Shepard: [This doesn't feel right]: No matter what kind of technology we might find, it's not worth it. Illusive Man: Shepard. You died fighting for what you believed. I brought you back so you could keep fighting. Some would say what we did to you was going too far. But look what you've accomplished. I didn't discard you because I knew your value. Don't be so quick to discard this facility. Think of the potential. Shepard: [No. We don't need it]: We'll fight and win without it. I won't let fear compromise who I am. Illusive Man: Shepard. Think about what's at stake. About everything Cerberus has done for you. You --

Shepard: Let's move. We've got ten minutes before the reactor overloads and blows this whole station apart.

[purrassicjet]

Future DnD character idea:

Azrea Lowfeather has never been quite the daughter her parents wanted, not even in the slightest, really.

First she was an unplanned pregnancy, a surprise to the young couple who barely had time to get married before their first daughter was born. She should've been a son, really. At least then she would provide her father an heir.

Then came her siblings, nearly 7 years after her. All six of them, so much closer in age with each other than with her. She was expected to look after them, to assist in raising the son her parents had wished for when they had their first child. Azrea had no interest in raising her siblings, so she escaped to the garden. How selfish she is, to refuse to care for the boy that would one day lead the small town she lived in.

Oh that garden, the stem of the biggest disappointment of all. She had always been cautioned not to stray to far away from the house, a sturdy fence blocking off the area she was not allowed to set foot on. It was unsafe for a Tiefling to step onto Holy ground, and she couldn't have her younger siblings learning it was okay to hop the fence.

But, like all forgotten children, a certain rebeliousness is sown from a young age, a desire to step away from the parents.

Azrea is quite the quick witted 12 year old. She puzzles through unimaginable challenges, but her younger brother just learned how to write, and her sister to walk, so why should she be looked at?

When nobody looks, things are passed over, left in blissful ignorance. When Azrea takes her first step over the fence, the pain is blinding, but she takes the step anyway. What does she have to lose? Maybe if she could just find what was making the ground so Holy, to stop it, maybe then she would gain the recognition she deserved.

So, she fashions shoes. Shoes made of only the thickest leaves, shoes so thick, that it doesn't hurt to walk anymore, really. As long as she doesn't think about it, she can hop the fence as she pleases. Who knows if her shoes work, or if an unseen force is letting the Tiefling child explore her deepest curiosities.

Azrea knows the best ways to resist Holy things by the age of 16, but her parents have a 9 year old son to nurture into a true leader, and five other children to raise with care. When they are asked of the names of their children, Azrea is listed last, an afterthought. Nearly forgotten.

By 17 she reaches the heart of the Holy place, and the temple in the middle. She doesn't fear the magic, but doubt rustles in her mind. How does she dispel the force? She worked so hard to get through the Holy force, how does she destroy it?

A voice speaks,

"Oh dear child, why have they forsaken you?"

And Azrea listens, all hope of destroying the shrine forgotten. She does not answer, because she does not know.

Azrea visits the shrine often until she's 20. This time is different. She collapses to her knees, ignoring the blinding pain it causes. Her brother is 13, and already a great leader. Her parents praise him as the oldest, and don't bat an eyelid when she walks into the house.

"I am forgotten."

She cries out. For the first time, she speaks instead of listens.

Her hand burns as she cries, a necklace with a coin on the end, a sythe engraved into the metal, appearing in her hand.

"You are not forgotten. You are mine. My gifts may burn your hands, but they will heal. You sought me out though my presence harmed you. You are mine, Paladin."

Azrea has never stolen from her parents, no matter how they tossed her aside, but now she does. A sythe long since dulled by disuse, sharpened by a glimmering coin, robes barely thick enough to keep out the cold, protecting from the burning coin, and a childhood lost to another, to one better.

Azrea steals their child away. Their real oldest, the one discarded, forgotten. She steals the child off and into the night, a contradiction.

A Tiefling Paladin, too disappointing to even express.

[spiritumantophila]

IF UR STILL DOIN THE ASK MEME: Twp eri foor 25, 30, 33.. C for 47, 17, 2 ANNDD sk for 19, 54, and 24 (feel free 2 skip questions if u wanna I am just staring w/big eyes)

HI YEAS THANK U FOR ASKING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :D

What subject / topic do they know a lot about that’s completely useless to the direct plot?

Being completely honest Princess Eri's bug knowledge has NOTHING to do with the direct plot and just the symbolism. at least their medical freak still has some story relevance but theyre really just cutie crawlie obsessed for no reason. and we love them for it idc!

When they make a mistake and feel bad, does the guilt differ when it’s personal versus when it’s professional?

Princess Eri takes all failures personally and hard, unfortunately ..!!!! I'd say since their job is being a princess and they feel their existence is so linked to that, the line between "personal" and "professional" mistakes is kinda blurred when it comes to them. A failure as the princess is a failure as a person in their eyes.

How do they greet someone they dislike / hate?

Princess Eri has a bit more tact and knows to not let every emotion slip through, so they become overly polite (if not slightly condescending) to people they dislike (you can thank a certain someone for that!). A great example would be when Eri meets Prince Mortimer (OC by @/nilovalentine) and is so annoyed by his attitude they have to force a smile every time they greet each other out of etiquette. Since the arc in which they meet each other is through Administrator Chun Tao's POV, she's quick to notice Eri's face immediately dropping to a sneer when they're out of view.

Who have they forgotten about that remembers them very well?

(This is for Seekers C i assume) C's family (particularly her parents) were known for being loyal to the Sumulongs, and C herself was a well-performing student at her school. While C spent most of her school years attached at Parz's hip and shy to anyone else, there was probably a student or two that was envious of her status, intelligence, and proximity to a member of a House. Some of them probably recognized her name after she received acclaim as a member of GADA.

What do they notice first in the mirror versus what most people first notice looking at them?

For the longest time, C was overly conscious of the vampire bites on his neck, worried someone would question where exactly he lies between the boundary of the dead and the living. While he used to cover his neck up, he's become less worried these days, but his eyes are still drawn to the two small puncture wounds when he sees himself in the mirror. Others are more likely to notice how.. desaturated? she looks compared to other tieflings, which is also linked to her dhampir status. Also her god-awful posture. Shrimp thang.

How loosely or strictly do they use the word ‘friend’?

Pretty strictly. C is used to having professional and impersonal relationships with people being a detective, so they're the type to only call you a friend if you've called them a friend first and they feel that title was "earned" through trust or enjoyment of companionship.

What would they do if stuck in a room with the person they’ve been avoiding?

Funnily enough, The Storykeeper would pretend it HASN'T been avoiding them. Playing games, teasing as always, asking them how they've been. It'd be terribly hard to tell its blood is running cold.

What’s their instinct in a fight / flight / freeze / fawn situation?

The Storykeeper would probably freeze, but in a 'I'm not gonna try to defend myself bc this is probably what was meant to happen to me' way.

Did they take a cookie from the cookie jar? What kind of cookie was it?

Sure they did, but it was the cookie no one wanted anyway! It was probably some discard experimental flavor cookie that no one liked the taste of. But The Storykeeper loves to eat weird things! Like dryad bloo(gets impaled with a seam ripper)

[more-than-a-princess]

@dcviated asked: 29. ❌ing

Munday RP topics meme - Accepting!

Well, let's get the obvious out of the way: the bots are blocked as soon as I see them. I like to think Sonia is denying their visas for Novoselic herself.

But otherwise, there's really only a few things that make me want, or need, to hardblock someone. Mostly, I tend to just use filters as much as I can to weed out what I don't want to see. Mainly, certain ships I don't care for, excessive OOC (the OOC tag itself and some specific OOC tags on blogs because there's so much of it!), and some blogs I just prefer not to see on my dash but I don't really have a need to block. Just a personal preference.

More often, I'm just fine with unfollowing someone I either am not writing with or don't see myself writing with, usually due to inactivity or they've ignored asks and threads I've sent repeatedly. Only if there's a request to soft or hardblock in their rules will I do that: sometimes muns just want to read interactions I think, and I try to keep that in mind.

What makes me hardblock though? Usually one of these things:

Someone has pushed content, plots, or dynamics on me that I don't like or agree with, and I've brought it up to them that I'm not comfortable with the idea and it's ignored.

I've been sent hate, anonymously or by a specific blog. Whenever I'm sent hate to my inbox, I will just block the sender. When that's anonymous but they follow me anyway, that blog is blocked.

Someone has broken a rule that doesn't sit well with me, I've messaged them directly that 'hey, this isn't okay, maybe you could not do this in the future?' and it's still persisting.

But perhaps the most specific or petty, depending on how you look at it?

I tend to block chronic blog remakers/hoppers. And it's nothing wrong with a writing style, or content, or anything else. I just get annoyed when I see the same muns make and remake the same blog over and over again when it's due to the fact that they take on more threads and interactions than they can reasonably handle, get overwhelmed and/or find a new fandom they're into, discard everything, jump to a new blog, rinse and repeat.

It's understandable when it happens the first few times, especially when you're new to RP and/or tumblr. No one's perfect and it's easy to get really eager at first, wanting to write with every blog you can. But it can be hard to keep up with all of those interactions at a time. For some muns, that's fine: they like smaller, quicker threads and don't mind things being constantly dropped or deleted.

But I know my roleplay and writing style (and on tumblr, with this muse? it's been almost four years!): I prefer longer threads with a developed plot over a period of time. I may not be the fastest with replies, but I'll do my best to include plenty of detail and dialogue in them to, hopefully, give my writing partner something to work with and something enjoyable to write.

However, that approach just doesn't work with the chronic blog hoppers/remakers and after awhile, I just have to block them for my own peace of mind. There's only so many times I can send starters or asks hoping to build a storyline with them, only to have them be ignored or forgotten for a new blog/remade blog every few weeks/months.

[ian-twatkins]

Allow Me To Introduce Myself

Hello there! You guys can call me Kaye. As I'm sure you can tell by the looks of this blog, I am a Lostprophets fan. Now, you may be thinking to yourself, "Really? A Lostprophets fan account?? In the year 2023??? Who even remembers that band anymore, much less cares about their music after everything that happened?"

To be fair, I get it. A band once heralded as one of the biggest rock bands in the UK (with even some sizable overseas success) was ultimately left in shambles once the unthinkable crimes of their frontman were revealed to the world. Since then, their reputation has been severely tarnished, leaving many feeling very hesitant to even mention their name, much less speak highly of them these days. Those who were once ardent fans ultimately left the fandom behind, with many of them even destroying or selling their old merch & CD's.

Taking all of that into consideration, it's still in my controversial opinion that it's unfair to completely discard the work of Lostprophets due to one individual's actions. Lostprophets were far from a one-man act; aside from Ian, there were 5+ other hard-working & passionate men who put their heart & soul into their music. With all the blood, sweat, & tears that was put into their art, it pains me to think that all of that could be lost to the sands of time. That's why I've decided to make it my mission to keep the memory of Lostprophets alive.

However, with that being said, I am understanding of those that may disagree with my mission. The sad reality is that separating the art from the artist is often easier said than done. Many still struggle to dissociate the crimes of Ian Watkins from the music of Lostprophets; considering the fact that he was essentially the face of the band. To put it simply, most people don't want to listen to a man who s*xually abused children sing about rooftops (or really anything, for that matter). Hell, even the ex-members of Lostprophets have gone to great lengths to distance themselves from their old catalog.

That being said, there remains a small minority of people who still feel deeply connected to the music in spite of their bad reputation; some being old fans, & (in my case) new fans. Even as someone who wasn't part of the fandom when Lostprophets were still together, I've grown very attached to their discography. While I've enjoyed deep-diving into the music & lore of the band over this past year, it still saddens me that I wasn't there to witness their glory days firsthand like other elder emos.

On a final note, I would just like to finish this post by saying this; despite the fact that the legacy of Lostprophets has been irreversibly destroyed, one thing is for certain; the music & memories made listening to them will last forever. Although these things have sadly been permanently tainted for many, on the other hand, it is still something that others hold near & dear to their hearts.

While I don't expect to gain much traction with this blog, I hope at least a few of you can join me on this journey of restoring the memory of Lostprophets & paying our respects to a once remarkable band. My philosophy has always been that in spite of the bad times, the good times should never be forgotten.

[anniekoh]

I've also reading lots of books and blogs about hoarding and clutter as mildly productive procrastination. The writers often contemplate the role of physical objects/spaces in our memories. In no particular order...

Year of No Clutter by Eve Schaub (2017)

Eve has a problem with clutter. Too much stuff and too easily acquired, it confronts her in every corner and on every surface in her house. When she pledges to tackle the worst offender, her horror of a "Hell Room," she anticipates finally being able to throw away all of the unnecessary things she can't bring herself to part with: her fifth-grade report card, dried-up art supplies, an old vinyl raincoat. But what Eve discovers isn't just old CDs and outdated clothing, but a fierce desire within herself to hold on to her identity. Our things represent our memories, our history, a million tiny reference points in our lives. If we throw our stuff in the trash, where does that leave us?

I especially appreciated this passage titled nostalgia by Schaub

First and foremost, I am afraid of losing the past. Logically, my line of thinking usually unfolds like this” in large part, our memories make us who we are. The thing is, I have a terrible memory. Truly. I’d like to take this moment to apologize to every person whose name I’ve ever forgotten, which is pretty much everybody. Other ridiculous things I have been known upon occasion to forget include by own phone number, zip code, and time zone. It’s bad. Consequently objects have become my crutch of choice, helping me to recall things I never would otherwise. I’m always shocked by the things that objects can bring back into my mind with vivid clarity, which I otherwise am certain would have been forgotten entirely. As if they never even happened. Without my memories, who am I? If I equate memories and objects, then to discard an object is to lose a piece of myself forever. This is why I keep souvenirs even of negative occurrences in my life, for fear that without them I would forget that event and even any lesson I may have learned from that event. … Sometimes I feel like that guy [in Memento] — sending notes to my future self in the form of objects. I fear that I am dangerously close to saying that somehow, without my objects, I cease to exist; however, I know with my rational mind that this is not true.

The blog Tetanus Burger is riveting.

Documenting our frustrations and triumphs as we clean up after a compulsive hoarder, our dad. He saved forty years worth of junk including old cars, piles of lumber, refrigerator drawers full of rusty bolts, bent nails, shingles, transmissions, broken power tools, &c., &c., &c.; so basically we grew up in a junkyard. At one point there were 78 cars on this acre and a half (residential) lot.

Keep the Memories, Lose the Stuff: Declutter, Downsize, and Move Forward with Your Life by Matt Paxton

What Your Clutter Is Trying to Tell You: Uncover the Message in the Mess and Reclaim Your Life by Kerri L. Richardson

1 What have I dreamed about doing but haven’t taken any or enough action on? 2 What is stopping me from giving that dream more time or attention? 3 What kinds of clutter showed up in my answer to question 2? (Remember, anything that stands in your way is clutter, so think about options for clearing whatever it is.)

[dollmother]

5/15

there are certain things i fear gravely like the rejection of love. something she does to push my hand away each time i try to reach her heart. to touch her fleeing soul. i think sometimes i could hold her back ..oh please stop running so i can embrace your cold skin.

i think about my dysphoria, love and how they are the same. obsessive like an impulse. they say when you mix those together, they’re called compulsions. how helpless i feel to be tossed around by the waves of banal instincts. currents of hatred, anger, joy, lust in the same ocean of love overwhelms me until my senses become overloaded —shut down and become numb. sometimes the holes on my forearm throb and tinge. a sensation, an invasion to the once serene peace of emptiness. something to remind me to not be tangled up in numbness. wound in a web of unconsciousness

all my worst woes have all been self inflicted. my very own thoughts are complex methods of emotional self flagellation. the marks they leave on my skin are real, unlike the knotted ropes tucked in my brain. these wires are stuck together. they only separate properly when i pull it out to hurt myself again and again. how else would i cope with what i have to live with? everything becomes so clear to me whenever there is pain involved. it’s intoxicating.

i could not stop at one. i wanted to understand what it really felt like again, then again. each time the feeling became more euphoric. because each instant my nerves were destroyed and i became more numb. i realize i’ll never achieve the same agony as the first self flagellated burn wound.

i’m scavenging for bits to mend, but that’s too difficult to piece together. it’s so much easier to find another whole. someone not so fragmented like me. someone with all my light and none of the darkness. that’s always the first thing you see, but it always disappoints in the end.

every step i place into the muddy soil, every second i spend eyes fixated on the movement of my boot. each moment i avert them and miss beauty surrounding my skin. every glimpse of new light passes me by. then, i remember everyone who could see that light and how i shoved them into the corners of my mind. i believe i am undeserving of that type of love, the genuine kind. i have you (myself) so maybe i won’t need to speak anymore to anyone. i should just shut up.

we stay in another girl’s room. her scent smells just like yours and each breath clutches my chest tightly. your smell is the thorns in my lungs desperately suffocating to beat.

i think now it’s time to let it go. after watching that footage it’s what i must do. or else the thought would consume my being until i forget who i was again.

god forbid a girl has prying eyes i said. to the girl who’s gaze was glued onto my skin.

i loved all i could, and she was taken from me in a moment. is this the gratitude i get for trying to look out for her? i feel as if i lost everything good going in my life in just a day. i feel lost yet i am still myself in the end. i took her away from myself in that blind lapse of rage. sometimes i never realize what i’ve done until it’s much too late.

all i would have is myself and no one else. she doesn’t understand me at all, the golden boy. she does not listen for my words, does not watch for the slight change in my gait … i feel almost a regret for loving the wrong one, then guilt for having caused this unbearable mess.

she only wants me when she cannot stand to endure the pangs of loneliness. while she has anyone else, i am but discarded plastic forgotten in another dusty corner.

[dragonfly0808]

An Incredibly Long and Wholly Unnecessary Disection of How Fate: The Winx Saga Missed the Mark on What Made the Winx Club Special

So, I decided to make this cause I have way too many feelings on this and I saw someone make something similar about a different franchise and loved it so here goes.

DISCLAIMER: If you’re a fan of the Winx Club and enjoyed Fate, I have nothing against you, these are just my feelings and I 1) am really glad you were able to enjoy it and 2) genuienely sorry a show you loved got canceled cause I know how much that sucks

SPOILERS FOR FATE AND THE FIRST 3 SEASONS OF THE WINX CLUB (AND A BIT OF SEASON 4)

One more thing: I’ve only watched Fate once since I’m not about to make myself rewatch it for this so if I forget any certain scene I apologize.

With that out of the way, the themes I will be discussing in this essay will be divided into 4 categories: The Problems I Have In General. Questions That Will Never Be Answered. Character Deep Dives/Character Rants. And finally, How Fate failed to capture the Essence of Winx Club.

These will be the themes of every category (feel free to skip any that may not interest you).

The Problems I Have In General:

The Abandonment of an Amazing World and Dimension for a Hogwarts Rip-Off.

The Erasure of Good Adoptive Parents

Polyamorous My Ass (Srsly What the Fuck was that?)

Fake Feminism and Pitting Women Against Each Other

The Love Triangle Took Years From My Life and I’m Tired

Why Glitter and Love was Essential to the Feminism of the Winx Club

Questions That Will Never Be Answered

What Makes the Specialist Special?

Where are the Witches?

Why are Riven and Sky friends?

Character Deep Dives/Character Rants

From Naive but Loyal and Heroic to Boring and Annoying (A Bloom Deep Dive)

How Stella Became Everything She Stood Against (A Stella Deep Dive)

Why Musa Kinda Works but Really Doesn’t (A Musa Deep Dive)

Was Terra Necessary? What made her unique? (A Terra Deep Dive)

From Hero to Zero (An Aisha Deep Dive/Rant)

Why Sky Somehow was the Most Interesting One but Still Boring (A Sky Deep Dive)

Why Riven will Always Get the Short End of the Stick (A Riven Deep Dive/Rant)

Bea Could’ve Saved the Show, BUT- (A Beatrix Rant)

Why Flora Mattered (A Flora Deep Dive/Rant)

A Retrospective Look at Soft Boys (A Helia and Timmy Deep Dive/Rant)

The Forgotten Protectors (A Brandon and Nabu Rant)

Why Tecna is Often Discarded and Why She Shouldn’t Be (A Tecna Deep Dive/Rant)

How Fate Failed To Capture the Essence of the Winx Club

How Fate Forgot the Most Important Aspect of the Winx Club: Friendship Amongst Young Women

Now with that out of the way, let’s get to it, cause this is gonna be a long one.

The Problems I Have In General

The Abandonment of an Amazing World and Dimension for a Hogwarts Rip-Off

So. I think we can all agree that the world of Winx Club is one that is not only aesthetically pleasing but also very unique and magical.

We have Magix, where the three schools of magic are, all with very different but equally interesting aesthetics and designs that make sense for what the schools teach. We also have the city of Magix, where we have magical ships and a cool toned color pallet that makes us feel like we’re in a futuristic world, Red Fountain also feels right out of a sci-fi movie, whilst the clothing, stores, Cloud Tower and Alfea remind us of the magical aspects of the world.

Further into the series, we see the girls’s home planets, which are all very different, creative and fit the girls perfectly. We have Solaria with two suns, Lynphea as an ecologists utopia with hollow trees for houses and giant ladybugs for transport, Zenith as a sci-fi dream, Melody with its glittering oceans and singing whales, etc.

Watching Winx Club, just looking at the world adds so much to the feeling of magic, the setting just helps the story so much. Also it’s just fucking gorgeous.

Now compare that to Fate… where we get a dark forest… and an old Mansion, that serves as both Red Fountain and Alfea…

I would just like to say, I’m a sucker for dark academia, I love this aesthetic, for other shows, but this is supposed to be an adaptation of Winx Club, where there already was an amazing world where the story was set in, so why didn’t they even try to use that? I don’t know, but it really bothers me that they didn’t try even one bit.

Especially when the vibrant colors and fantastical environment were such a big part of what made the Winx Club stand out.

The Erasure of Good Adoptive Parents

I remember watching Winx Club for the first time and when it was revealed that Bloom was adopted I literally was like… but… her parents love her…

Yep.

We very rarely get good adoptive parents in stories (it’s getting a bit better but still, at least as a kid this was pretty much the only time I ever saw fictional adoptive parents that actually loved their child).

So, the fact that in Fate we get Vanessa (the sweetest mom ever in the cartoon) be a maniac who takes away Bloom’s privacy and tries to live vicariously through Bloom just really fucking pissed me off.

Like… what was the need for that? You didn’t need Bloom to be pissed for her to lose control of her powers and accidentally burn her parents.

In fact, I think it would’ve been even more traumatic and dramatic if Bloom had a good relationship with her parents (like she did in the cartoon) but still lost control, maybe in her sleep, and burned the people she loves most in the world, that would’ve been so angsty it would’ve been great. 

But no, let’s continue the narrative that adoptive parents can’t be good parents.

Polyamorous My Ass (Srsly What the Fuck was that?)

This just… I’m so tired.

We pretty much never get Polyamorous relationships in shows like this and then we get… whatever the fuck this was.

So… Bea is obvs just using both Riven and Dane (it is Dane right? I don’t care enough to check). Riven, only likes Bea and is very biphobic towards Dane and Dane seems to be in love with Riven and kinda like Bea.

This relationship (if you can even call it that) is weird. Sometimes it’s portrayed as toxic, other times it isn’t and it’s just weird.

This also really fucking pissed me off. Because… why? You could’ve had Dane as a separate character, in the original we already had the Darcy/Riven plotline so why did you have to add Dane?

Honestly, Dane could’ve just had a crush on Riven and become genuienly friends with Terra or smth, he didn’t have to be involved with Riven and Bea, that should’ve been a separate plotline. If you wanted a bi character so badly you could’ve just made one of the girls (Flora- sorry Terra, Musa and Aisha are already largely headcannoned to be bi, they could’ve used that) be bi. You didn’t need to introduce a new character for the sake of diversity, especially if you were going to screw it up that badly.

Cause Riven and Bea are already dramatic enough on their own, we didn’t need this poor, horrible attempt at a polyamorous relationship.

Fake Feminism and Pitting Women Against Each Other

Next up… oh dear…

Where can I even start? Okay, one of the first things we see in the series is Bloom telling Sky he is mansplaining… when he’s very clearly not…

The desire to come across as feminist and be an #womenempowerment show is so obvious it almost hurts. But they never do anything to actually show this.

From the very first conversation between Bloom and Stella in the show, it was very obvious to me that they would be competitors, not best friends like in the show.

Throughout the show, we see the girls berate each other, compete and insult one another, and I don’t see how any of that can be seen as feminism.

Stella literally almost causes Bloom’s death out of jealousy over Sky.

How is this anything like the Winx Club?

The closest bond in the group is probably between Musa and Terra. And even then, a lot of the time I feel like Musa only tolerates Terra, and they feel like roommates, not best friends who would die for each other like they were in the Winx Club.

There is very little support amongst the women of Fate, there are few instances when we aren’t being told to compare them or to see who is best. That is not feminism.

Now, it would’ve worked very well if the girls got off on the wrong foot but we got to see them slowly bond and slowly trust each other and become good friends, but I never felt that. The only time that they join forces is to clean up the mess that they made, and even then it never feels like all 5 of them are on the same page, it’s more like the world (and story) is forcing them together.

This was a tad bit better in season 2 but there were mostly moments between 2 Winx not all of them (the only moments I liked were the sleepover and Terra coming out) in season 2 the strongest bond was clearly that of Stella and Bea.

So yeah, with constant competition, fights and very few moments of actual friendship, almost all of which feel forced, I can say that Fate does not feel like a Feminist show at all.

From the moment I saw they were going to ignore the gem that was Bloom and Stella’s bond in the original I knew they weren’t going to try to actually make the girls friends and support one another.

The Love Triangle Took Years From My Life And I’m Tired

Why? Why? WWHHHHYYYYYYY?!?!??!??

What was the reason? What was the fucking reason?!

There was none.

There was not a single reason why the love triangle between Bloom, Sky and Stella should’ve happened or was needed.

They could’ve easily introduced Diaspro, a character we already know and a character whose only purpose in the cartoon was to create drama and tension between Bloom and Sky.

Love triangles are dead. We all know that. You will never be Jem/Tessa/Will, stop fucking trying.

Okay so, first off, I would’ve honestly been okay if we’d seen Sky and Stella be exes and they like ‘Yeah we tried that was a huge mistake but now we’re friends’ and then Bloom comes in and Sky isn’t sure cause she’s Stella’s bestie but Stella is encouraging, that could’ve been cool. But that is obviously not what we got.

Why do we always pit women against each other over a man? I think we all know the answer to that.

The Love Triangle was bland, boring and useless. Nothing came out of it.

We apparently got Stella and Sky realizing they were codependent and toxic which… duh. But nothing comes from this, we never see them get closer and have a healthy friendship, we get 1 scene in season 2 that is never expanded upon and that’s it.

They threw Stella and Bloom’s friendship to the trash for a Love Triangle that absolutely nobody wanted. And even in season 2, Stella and Bloom? They’re not friends. They’re barely cordial with one another and that pisses me of so fucking much I can’t even describe it.

In the cartoon the girls NEVER fought over a man, if there were moments of jealousy they were passing (I can remember exactly 1 with Aisha and Bloom in season 2. That’s literally it). There could be drama with other girls and even that was very little mostly Diaspro and the messes with Mitzi and Crystal in later seasons but the cartoon almost never relied on that to create drama against the girls because they knew it wasn’t really needed.

This triangle did nothing for any of the characters and the drama was petty and stupid. I just… I honestly don’t think I’m really saying anything of substance here but this particular topic just makes me sooooo mad that I can’t even describe the particulars of how this Love Triangle makes me just so mad cause it was FUCKING USELESS, IT DID NOTHING FOR THE CHARACTERS OR THE STORY IT WASN’T NEEDED, IT WASN’T WANTED AND IT WASN’T…. UUUGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!

Why Glitter and Love was Essential to the Feminism of the Winx Club

The feminism of the original Winx Club (especially the first 4 seasons) was honestly very simple. It wasn’t in your face or even really ever called out.

To me, the feminism in the original Winx Club was just… the girls themselves.

We had six very different young women, who were all portrayed as strong, funny, beautiful and just awesome.

We have Bloom, who’s a bit of a girl next door. She can be a bit hotheaded, but she’s crazy loyal and incredibly strong. We see her be naive sometimes and be really nervous and attempting to find her place and we also get to see her step up to the occasion when it’s time for blows.

We have Stella, a fashionista who I will talk a lot about in her section cause I am pissed of what they did to her. We see her be a kind person and try to grow and be dedicated to her passions.

We have Flora who is the girliest of girls but still portrayed as strong and smart. Her softness doesn’t erase her strength. And she doesn’t have these big stand up moments of ‘I’m strong and I will prove it to you!’ She just is strong.

We have Musa, who’s a bit of a tomboy and slightly more rough around the edges but who has a lot of emotional depth.

We have Tecna, who can come across as cold but who we see literally almost die for her friends and who has such a big heart.

We have Aisha, who’s very sporty and who has to seek out her place in the group and kinda learn how the whole friend group works and who we see grow in season 2.

We have a hotheaded girl next door, a kind fashionista, a girly girl, a musical tomboy, a tech girl and a sporty girl who are all portrayed as different and unique but are also all portrayed as strong.

Yes, we see them occasionally butting heads (if I remember correctly Musa/Flora and Stella are the ones that butt heads most often) and fight sometimes, but we see that their friendship is stronger than all of that.

We see them support each other in so many different ways and be the definition of ride or die.

Something I really like is that they don’t really make fun of each other’s interests despite having vastly different personalities. And they also don’t compare themselves and understand that they’re all awesome in their own ways.

The girls are united in friendship in such a deep way that they could probably never stop being friends even if they tried.

And… none of that is included in Fate.

Which is a fucking shame.

We don’t really see the girls’ interests in Fate, we just see them all acting like angsty teenagers who are either lashing out at pretty much everybody or being a bit of a doormat. They’re not really portrayed as strong either.

I can’t see the uniqueness that was there in the cartoon. The girls aren’t really… they’re just not interesting. Especially when compared to their cartoon counterparts.

Also, this part is a bit more petty and something personal to me but I think a lot of you can relate so… 

Seeing girls that were fashionable, girly and weren’t afraid to show off their girlie side was awesome. Especially in a world of ‘I’m Not Like Other Girls’ protagoinsts that just hate dresses and only wear them once.

As a girlie girl myself, looking back on the Winx Club, I love that they didn’t try to make the girls more masculine to make them seem stronger. Even Musa, Aisha and Tecna who are arguably the least ‘girly’ show off their more feminine side in a way that feels natural.

So yeah… that last part doesn’t have to do that much with Fate I just wanted to add that.

Questions That Will Never Be Answered 

What Makes the Specialists Special?

First off, I would like to say that I loved that in Fate women could be Specialists and guys could be fairies, I just thought that was really neat. So kudos to you for that Fate. Enjoy it, I won’t give you many.

Now on to the question. What makes the Specialists special?

In the cartoon, the reason I really liked the Specialists was their weapons, they were colorful, creative and straight out of a sci-fi movie. Brandon’s sword, Sky’s boomerang, Riven’s bolas, Timmy’s gun, Helia’s gloves etc.

It always felt like the Winx got magic and fantasy while the Specialists got technology and sci-fi.

And that is, once again, gone in Fate. The Specialists are now generic warrior driving Jeeps and wearing leather.

Where are the capes? The Owls and Wind Riders? Everything that made the Specialists cool even when they didn’t do much in a fight?

Where did that all go?

This one was more of an aesthetic thing but I still feel like it took a lot away from the Specialists and what made them low-key iconic.

Where are the Witches?

Where are they? Seriously I wanna know where my girlies are?

I get that, since they got rid of the transformation and gave us half assed CGI wings it might’ve been hard to differentiate the witches from the fairies but still… you can’t just not have freaking witches!

I like getting to see evil fairies but still. I don’t like this! 

I just feel like it takes away so much not having the witches. Can you imagine getting Lucy and Mirta in Fate?… actually no, they would’ve been screwed over but you know what I mean.

Yet another topic that makes me so mad and petty that I can’t quite describe it.

Why are Riven and Sky friends?

Okay so, this is actually a genuine question.

Most of the boys were excluded from Fate (which I’m lowkey grateful for cause if they’d done my boys Helia and Timmy dirty there would’ve been blood) so they kinda had to smush Riven and Sky into bestie status.

Now, looking at this objectively, we know that in the cartoon, Sky’s bestie is Brandon. And Brandon and Riven have more things in common than you’d expect.

They’re both good fighters and work hard at Red Fountain, they’re kinda ladies men, they can be jokesters from time to time but take their duty seriously. They’re also pretty competitive.

I think Brandon is what Riven would’ve been if he had a normal childhood.

The main difference is that Riven has walls. He shuts people out and can be a bit of a jerk sometimes. The Riven in Fate is a straight up asshole.

So… why is he friends with Sky?

I’ll be honest, I really wanted to see more of these two, I think the dynamic could’ve been really interesting and cool to explore but… we got… pretty much crumbs.

With the like… two moments we have with them I don’t see why they’re friends and it ruins my sense of disbelief just that much more.

Character Deep Dives/Character Rants

From Naive but Loyal and Heroic to Boring and Annoying (A Bloom Deep Dive)

Let’s talk about our favorite hotheaded redhead shall we?

I’ll be honest, Bloom was always my least favorite Winx and I actually grew to dislike her post season 3, but… she didn’t deserve this.

I’m honestly not sure how to describe why the Bloom from Fate is just… so fucking boring… I don’t really feel many emotions coming from her.

In the original (at least the first 3 seasons) Bloom has quite a bit of personality, she’s a bit naive and impulsive but also THE ride or die bestie.

She’s fun to watch even if I would sometimes get frustrated when she acted a bit stupid or when she was impulsive.

Bloom worked as a protagonist partially due to her impulsive habits (since they make her take the lead/initiative in many occasions) but I feel like with Fate Bloom that impulsive nature comes across as more annoying since Fate Bloom isn’t as friendly as OG Bloom and doesn’t really have anyone to bounce her impulsiveness off of like she did in the OG.

I don’t know, I just never really felt any connection with her but overall I think she’s still the one that was done the least dirty. And the one I’m the least furious about.

I think the main problem I have with Fate Bloom is that she’s got that ‘I have to do this alone’ attitude and it never really changed, so she doesn’t really have anyone to bounce off of to make her impulsive and stupid moments less annoying.

How Stella Became Everything She Stood Against (A Stella Deep Dive)

Welp… I am fucking furious now.

I think most of us will be able to agree that one of Stella’s main purposes in the original show was to break the Dumb Blonde/Mean Blonde stereotype that was much more prevalent in the 2010′s.

Stella could come across as a bit full of herself and could be mean since she didn’t really have a brain-to-mouth filter but she was never mean on purpose and always made up for her mistakes.

We see that Stella is at her core a kind person and soft-hearted individual when we see that after knowing Bloom for a whole of one day and Bloom helping her once, Stella is willing to risk getting herself expelled to give Bloom the chance to go to Alfea. 

We also see there’s more to her than just superficial stuff when, after the Sky-Brandon reveal she tells Brandon that she cares more about the face that he lied than the fact that he isn’t a prince. The quote was along the lines of: ‘My parents are the King and Queen of Solaria, didn’t do them much good.’

And of course in season 3 we learn that Stella is actually very insecure and believes people like her just because of her looks and get one of the best moments/episodes of the entire series.

Yes. Stella cares about her appearance and loves fashion, but there is so much more to her character than that. She is a loyal friend, incredibly kind person and willing to do anything for those she loves.

Now let’s look at Fate’s Stella

………..

I am just… Fate turned our Stella into a bitchy mean girl. That is all Stella really is.

Even in season 2 she still acts like a mean girl to the rest of the girls most of the time. I never felt her bond with any of the girls or even Sky for that matter, her best scenes were easily with Bea.

I just don’t understand how they missed the entire fucking point of Stella’s character and made her exactly into the stereotype she was supposed to subvert. How do you fuck up that much?!?!!?!?!

She tried to fucking KILL BLOOM OVER A GUY!!! The original Stella would’ve killed her with her staff for even laying a FINGER on her bestie.

Stella’s character in Fate might just be the one that pisses me off the most because of how much they missed the fucking mark with her.

They made her literally everything she stood against and then acted like they did something when she did the bare minimum for her ‘friends’.

And I cannot bring myself to care about the drama with her mom because of how fucking pissed I am about this.

Okay let’s think about it. This could’ve worked if Stella was only acting like a bitch because her mom expected that but, in the rare instances when she was sure no one was watching and no one would noticed, she revealed her soft side to the girls and they were like ‘Oh, this is the real Stella, bitchy Stella is just a mask’ but it doesn’t go like that.

Even after the reveal of her mom, she’s still a bitch!

Our Stella would never and I hate whoever thought this was a good idea, you sir or ma’am  are stupid and the whole point of Stella’s character flew right over your fucking head! (No hate to the actress or any actors in the series though)

Why Musa Kinda Works But Really Doesn’t (A Musa Deep Dive)

I was wrong before. Musa is actually the one I’m least pissed off about because I actually kinda enjoyed her character in Fate, especially in the second season. (Doesn’t excuse the fucking white washing though).

I think out of the girls Musa would’ve probably been the easiest to adapt into a more ‘mature’ setting cause she is kinda the ‘angstiest’ of the girls due to her mom’s death and being the tomboy of the group. However… the Musa we know can be a little sassy and get annoyed with the girls from time to time but with Fate Musa, it’s a lot more prevalent.

Which makes sense with the change to a mind fairy (which I hate, can you imagine all the cool visuals we could’ve gotten if they’d kept her as the fairy of music? Also they still could’ve had the empath thing with her being able to ‘hear the songs in people’s hearts’ and just cranking that up to eleven).

I actually don’t have that much to say about Musa. I enjoyed her character, especially in the second season, I feel like she’s the only one that’s reasonably lashing out and it makes sense when she’s annoyed and I feel like we got to see her soft side in a few moments and she was involved with all of my favorite moments of Fate.

The only issue is that she’s angstier than the original Musa but again, it actually makes sense this time.

The only thing I am actually pissed off at is that we lost her dynamics with Tecna and Aisha cause there is no Fate Tecna and Fate Musa doesn’t really interact with Aisha and when she does it’s a far cry from their cool original dynamic and her chemistry with Terra isn’t enough to make up for it.

Was Terra Necessary? What Made her Unique? (A Terra Deep Dive)

So, we all know what happened with Terra. They white washed half the cast realized that we would obviously be pissed and tried to save it by changing Flora’s name to Terra and saying she was a new character… nice try.

Also as a latina myself, fuck you. If you’re going to claim you were going for plus-size diversity you do realize you could’ve just gotten a plus-size latina right? Anyways, fuck you.

So Terra… I don’t really care about her and kinda dislike her. I’ll admit that I am very much biased due to Flora being my fave and my latina rage but I just don’t find Terra interesting.

I don’t know what it is about her that makes her rambling annoying instead of endearing or whatever it is they were going for. They didn’t really give her anything interesting to do, she literally just had the ‘I’m fat self-confidence’ arc. I think I might’ve kinda liked Terra if she’d had something interesting to do.

The only scenes I genuienly enjoyed with her were her conversation with Riven (right before the final fight if I remember correctly) and her talk with Musa while Sam is dying... Coincidentally the moments she reminded me more of Flora…

Then in the second season she had a super weird attitude with Flora, I wasn’t sure if she was jealous or angry or what it just made her that much weirder to me, like, what the fuck was going on there? I don’t really think we ever got an answer for her weird behavior with Flora, cause I’m not buying it was just cause of Riven. That was weird.

The only girl she really bounces off of is Musa, and even then it mostly feels like Terra is following Musa around hoping for some love. None of her friendships really feel reciprocal. And her behavior with Stella is also weird as fuck. Like… you like it when she insults you? What?

Yeah she’s just weird and I don’t really like her. I feel like she brings nothing to the table. There is no real reason for her to be there. If they were going to try and replace Flora, they should’ve at least tried to make her cool and iconic.

From Hero to Zero (An Aisha Deep Dive/Rant)

Pffftttttt… okay let me get this straight. You took Aisha. Icon Aisha who climbed a fortress for her pixy friends, was a Princess that was pretty much a runaway and a sports goddess who challenged the boys and easily had the most depth/cool backstory from the Winx.

You took that Aisha… and gave us *checks notes* ‘Oh yeah, I flooded a hall in my school with literal shit once’ as her backstory.

Okay cool, I see how it is.

But seriously though. They made Aisha into an annoying teacher’s pet who kinda felt a little full of herself from time to time but was also constantly ignored as the voice of reason and had no arc of her own, instead acting as a therapist/scapegoat for the other girls.

Why is that? I think we all know the answer to that…

But yeah, I just… I am so tired. They reduced her to… to nothing really. She doesn’t feel interesting or compelling at all. I felt no connection to her and most of the time it felt like the other girls only spoke to her when they needed something from her.

In season 2 we get a little more about how she feels pressured by her parents to be perfect (which kinda alines with the cartoon) and she talks about not being experienced at relationships, which also makes sense with the cartoon, but it honestly still doesn’t feel like enough.

It still doesn’t feel like she’s actual friends with any of the girls.

They took away a lot… most of what made Aisha into one of the most well-developed Winx. She doesn’t feel fun like cartoon Aisha did, she’s uptight which just doesn’t make sense if she’s supposed to be Aisha.

She was just done dirty. Our Aisha was never so much as implied to be a teacher’s pet. She was more into dancing and sports and exploring. 

Winx Aisha was a girl who’d been trapped most of her life, excited to finally get to be a a free soul and explore the world. Fate Aisha is stripped of all of that and we don’t really see why she’s so uptight outside of that one conversation about her parents where we still don’t get any real depth.

My girl deserved so much more and I will die pissed.

Why Sky Somehow was the Most Interesting One but Still Boring (A Sky Deep Dive)

Sky makes me feel conflicted. I think he (along with Musa) was the only one I genuienely liked and enjoyed watching but at the same time he annoys me.

I loved his dynamic with Silva but I just… I don’t even know how to describe what it is exactly that annoys me about him but he’s just not interesting enough. I’ve literally forgotten almost any scene that he is in.

I’m trying to remember right now and the only scenes I can remember are the mansplaining scene, when Bloom drugs him, when he comforts Stella, one or two scenes with Silva… and when he beats Dane’s ass… and that’s literally it.

He’s not that bad, he’s got interesting dynamics and a cool story behind him and with the revelations in the series, he is one of the most affected, so in paper that should get you to be invested but… he’s just not memorable.

Why Riven will Always Get the Short End of the Stick (A Riven Deep Dive/Rant)

One of the things that annoys me the most from the original Winx Club is how Riven is pretty much reset every season to learn the same lesson over and over and over again.

This is because his scene in the Cloud Tower dungeons when he sees himself as a monster and decides to change is one of my fave in the series and probably my fave scene in all of season 1. So having him be reset was just… such a disservice to that awesome scene and to his character as a whole.

I think we can all agree that Riven could’ve been such an amazing and iconic character if he’d been allowed to slowly grow and if we’d seen him mature over the seasons.

So in this aspect… a part of me really likes Fate Riven. He’s an absolute ass and a bit biphobic but I like the possibility of taking this and allowing him to grow after his whole mess with Beatrix (I kinda loved the chaos of their relationship up until they got Dane involved).

The set up is there and we really see him try to move on in season 2 which I love. He still has his moments of being an ass, but through a few conversations with Sky and his bond with Musa we do see him trying to grow.

However, I would’ve loved to see him be more vulnerable. Sometimes it feels like instead of his own character he’s there to bounce off of Bea, Sky or Musa. I don’t know I just feel like he has a lot of potential but for some reason he just doesn’t feel like a complete character to me. Maybe this would’ve been fixed in season 3 but we’ll never know.

All in all he was one of my fave parts of Fate, especially in season 2. Whether he would’ve been allowed to keep his progress unlike his cartoon counterpart, we’ll never know.

I feel like the more mature setting actually kinda fits Riven. Though I’ll be the first to admit that the writers occasionally tried too hard to maintain his ‘bad boy’ image in season 1 and I cringed a few times at his lines.

But he was one of my fave parts of season 2. So overall I’d say that, in a way, Fate actually improved Riven ever so slightly.

Bea Could’ve Saved the Show, BUT- (A Beatrix Rant)

So, I love Bea. She was my fave character in Fate, she’s just a chaotic gremlin and quite frankly she deserved better.

Her dynamics with Riven, Stella and Bloom were excellent. I love how manipulative she is, it makes her vulnerable moments all the better. When she goes to the Winx dorm crying to ask Stella to hang out but gets rejected and she just looks on at the group having fun like an outsider… That scene got me.

It’s a little confusing how she goes from menace in season 1 to kinda a teacher’s pet in season 2 but it kinda makes sense and she does become a menace again so it’s cool.

I both love and hate her ending. I love her constantly switching sides, being unpredictable, turning around last minute and going ‘I just saved the world, feels pretty great to be a fucking hero’, I love that concept but I hate her just being thrown away and killed like she hadn’t been carrying the show.

I don’t think they saw the amount of potential that Bea had, personally I would watch an entire show all about Bea. Them just killing her shows me that she was only really a plot device to the writers, a way to introduce her mysterious sisters. And I hate that.

Bea was the wildcard of Fate, the character plenty of us thought we’d hate but that ended up being a diamond in the rust. She was cunning and had the best of all the Trix, Darcy’s plot line with Riven and her manipulation, Stormy’s powers and chaotic energy, Icy’s ambition, personality and charisma. 

Quite frankly, she’s probably the character with the most depth and motivations. She’s the most interesting. 

And they killed her off for shock value.

I hate that we lost the Trix’s dynamic and different personalities but for me personally Bea was worth it, she was an awesome character who deserved to be in a better series. But yeah… I love Bea but even she wasn’t enough to save this shit show.

Why Flora Mattered (A Flora Deep Dive/Rant)

Disclaimer, I am very much biased here, even more than before cause Flora was always my favorite Winx. Now with that out of the way…

I think one of the reasons that Flora mattered so much is that she was never shamed for being very feminine. Flora was a cottage core, soft hearted, kind, soft spoken young girl who was still allowed to be strong and a badass. She was never made more ‘masculine’ to show her being strong. Her transformations always involved skirts and dresses, bright pinks, long flowy hair, bracelets and necklaces and cute tiaras. 

She was never shamed for her girlieness nor stereotyped as someone overly shy. Flora could have a few shy moments but they were pretty rare in the large scheme of things.

She was shown to be incredibly smart, especially in seasons 1 and 2 with her love of potions. Flora gives the girls a lot of support and a safe place but we also see her be vulnerable and insecure, but she never changes her girliness nor does she feel the need to ‘grow out of her girly traits’ to gain confidence or confront her fears, she also doesn’t feel the need to ‘toughen up’ keeping her soft heart throughout the entire series.

I love this. I loved that Flora was so soft but never shamed or considered ‘weak’ for it. She mattered cause she was there for the more sensitive girls. The more introverted, soft spoken girls.

The girly girls that can still be just as strong and confident as any other woman despite loving pink and flowers and skirts. 

I think that’s a big part of why Flora matters. She’s allowed to be a heroine with a soft heart that is never forced into an angsty personality because of the events that occur around her. She’s a special kind of softness. She’s not the kindness that comes from naivety but the kindness that is forged in steel from tough experiences.

We eventually got Fate Flora but I don’t think she really captured the essence of OG Flora, she just doesn’t feel like the soft, introverted, gentle soul we know. 

She feels a little… full of herself? In a way?

I won’t talk much about Fate Flora cause I can’t truly put my finger on what it is that just throws me off about her.

But I’m pissed that they truly thought they could get away with tossing Flora to the side, cause we all know they only included her in season 2 to try and save their asses.

Because soft, sensitive girls deserve to see themselves represented without the whole ‘break-out-of-your-shell-and-become-more-wild arc’. Because soft girls can be complete and happy without becoming party animals. That was what Flora was to me. That’s why she mattered so much to me personally growing up.

That is why Flora mattered.

Why Helia and Timmy Mattered: A Retrospective Look at Soft Boys (A Helia and Timmy Deep Dive/Rant)

Now, I am honestly glad that Helia and Timmy weren’t included because they would’ve botched it.

So, I always adored Helia but, looking back on him and Timmy now I almost find them surprising that these two were incorporated into the show the way that they were.

Helia was the definition of a soft boy, he was into poetry and art, he wore loose shirts, had long hair, was soft spoken, loved to meditate and was introduced as a pacifist, but he was also a Specialist. Something I really liked was that instead of a sword he had his strings which incorporated his way of being a pacifist into his Specialist gear.

There were never jokes about him being Helia being gay and he was portrayed as attractive, the second Flora meets him she’s already blushing and giggling. Helia is a poet, a sensitive boy in a school filled with soldiers and warriors, but they rarely make fun of him for it, and when they do it clearly is meant to be in a teaseful way amongst friends. And we see the boys go to him for advise.

And then we have Timmy. Timmy is a nerd. He has a laser gun instead of a sword and is more of a pilot and tech guy. He’s shy and socially awkward, lanky, and his portrayl is very dorky.

In season 2 we see him doubt himself as a Specialist when he can’t stop the Trix, the same happens in season 4 when he is chasing Anagan.

But we see that at his core, Timmy is an incredibly courageous person. He goes after Anagan even when he’s doubting himself. The boys may tease him occasionally but they never treat him as an outsider and in fact try to help him, even when it backfires, it’s done from a desire to help their friend.

Timmy may consider himself as the weak one, but he is never portrayed as the weak link in the Specialists. We see that his role is a crutial one. 

In season 3 we see him break down when he thinks that Tecna is dead, but his tears and despair are never considered to be ‘weak’ or ‘exaggerated’.

We see all the boys break down at the end of season 4.

And that is something important. Especially for a cartoon  in the 2010′s.

Seeing soft and dorky boys be portrayed as heroes was a great thing that we shouldn’t forget.

The Winx Club never revolved around the Specialists, they could’ve all been just the generic hero, but we see the small difference between Sky, Riven and Brandon and then we get Timmy and Helia who are completely different and not what you’d first think off when you think ‘heroes in training’.

This is an extension of Flora’s softness and kindness never being something that she is ashamed of or for.

Helia is allowed to be a poet and to love meditating and to be a bit of a pacifist whilst still being strong and a hero in his own right. Saving Flora in his introduction and Sky later in season 2. He is never shamed for being the sensitive one.

Timmy has a lot of self-doubt. But he is allowed to grow, he is allowed to be a nerd and dorky and socially awkward whilst still being a fundamental part of the group. His intelligence is portrayed as an advantage not a freak trait. He may be teased for being the nerdy one from time to time but he is never bullied or shamed for it.

And they are both allowed to have good love stories. Helia and Flora, two gentle souls that find each other and are like Snow on the Beach, falling for each other at the first time.

Then we have Timmy and Tecna, where it seems that Timmy falls first but doesn’t know how to act and Tecna always cares about him but seems to catch feelings a bit later on. That it takes them a long time to officially become something because they are both unconventional in their own way. And when they go on a date and feel stressed they decide ‘Screw doing this the traditional and ‘normal’ way, we’re doing it our own way’.

From what we see in Fate, I can tell they much prefer angsty characters. And Helia and Timmy would never have been allowed to be soft.

We saw 2 kinda soft boys in Fate. Dane who was just… a bit of a train wreck to me. He was an ass to Terra and was just super weird with Bea and Riven and was just willing to go along with whatever Bea said and then we have Sam who I wouldn’t exactly describe as a soft boy and well… he almost killed someone in season 2 so… yeah. He’s just boring and with zero depth to me.

If they’d been in Fate Helia would probably be emo or very angsty and Timmy would probably have been bullied a lot more. So I’m glad they weren’t included at all.

Because soft and sensitive boys shouldn’t be erased. They are important, especially when the stigma against them is still kinda strong. 

We need this in the media, we need to see boys loving poetry and being proud to be a bit dorky and nerdy. We need to see boys crying and breaking down and not being ashamed or shamed for it. We need boys that are absolutely in love and not be teased for it.

Angsty boys can be fun to watch, but soft boys are also important. We need more of them.

The Forgotten Protectors (A Brandon and Nabu Rant)

When I think about it, I think that Brandon as a character, at his core, is a protector. He is Sky’s squire and is willing to trade places to keep him safe. He tries to keep Stella safe, is willing to risk his life to get Sky back in season 3 and well… he’s a Specialist so this is clearly what he loves.

Brandon was always a support character, he’s never really given a lot of backstory or traits outside of being a dedicated Specialist, being charismatic and sometimes flirty and caring deeply about his friends and Stella.

Brandon is a fun character not because of his depth but because he’s just a great guy. He’s charismatic, definitely an optimist and cracks jokes in the middle of a fight. When Timmy struggles over why Tecna is mad at him, Brandon is randomly punching the air and offers him hair product.

I would classify him as a himbo. 

Brandon worked as this protector character, especially since not many of the Specialists had a lot of depth. And I always loved him,

So I’m glad he wasn’t in Fate cause, again, they would have erased his optimism and just, slightly goofy instances for an angstier attitude.

To me, Brandon’s main purpose in the show was to be a protector and a friend. He was the voice of reasons amongst the boys, especially in seasons 1 and 2. He’s there for his friends and would do anything for them.

I think Brandon could have perhaps benefitted from a more mature setting, mainly to get more depth but I think the Fate writers would’ve fucked it up. I don’t think they could handle having a non-angst, let alone an optimistic character.

Then we have Nabu, our second forgotten protector. I call him a protector mainly due to his sacrifice in season 4. All I have to say is… Nabu was a fun character. He was a bit weird in the beginning but we got to see he was calm, had extreme trust in Aisha.

We only had him for a season so I really don’t have much to say about him other than… I cannot see any iteration of Nabu working with Fate Aisha. I just don’t.

I can’t see either of them in Fate not just because they’d be fucked over but also just because I can’t see their characters fitting the ambience.

I don’t know why but to me Brandon and Nabu just emanate happy calm vibes and I can’t see that working with Fate’s desperate need for shitty angst.

Why Tecna is Often Discarded and Why She Shouldn’t Be (A Tecna Deep Dive/Rant)

I think most of us can agree that Tecna is neurodivergent coded. Most consider her to be autistic.

In the OG, Tecna rarely gets to be the center of attention, but when she does, man does she shine. I love Tecna because her arc throughout the seasons isn’t necessarily about changing to fit in, but it’s more about growing into yourself if that makes sense.

Tecna doesn’t change her personality or who she is, she doesn’t try to mask how she is. The only thing she really does is working on expressing her emotions and showing that she cares about her friends, but this doesn’t equal her changing or suppressing her quirks and more neurodivergent tendencies, which I think is just beautiful.

I think that’s a great example on how to write an autistic character growing into themselves (though I myself am not autistic so feel free to correct me on that if you have feelings about Tecna being seen as autistic),

In season 3, we see the way the club literally falls apart when they think she’s dead. We see that they love her and when Tecna reunites with Bloom in Omega, she is crying cause she knew that her friends would find her.

This is the moment that cemented for me that these girls would truly go to the end of the world for each other.

Those episodes in season 3 may be some of the best, and my favorites, in the entire series. 

Tecna is the character that is underrated, and who some may believe doesn’t add much to the story, but when she’s gone it hits you like holy shit, in a way she is the glue of the group.

She may not always be the voice of reason but the girls know to always listen to her cause when she’s determined to figure something out, she will do just that. They know that they can count on her.

She is a pillar in the group, just as much as the other girls, even if the show doesn’t always give her a spotlight, we know that it’s true.

And… Fate just threw her out the window.

The fucking disrespect.

I personally think they just didn’t want to be bother with a complex character like Tecna.

I just… I hate that they couldn’t even be bothered to try while another part of me is glad that they didn’t ruin her with an angsty hacker take on her.

But my girl deserved better.

Anyways, on to the final section…

How Fate Failed To Capture the Essence of the Winx Club

How Fate Forgot the Most Important Aspect of the Winx Club: Friendship Amongst Young Women

The final section is something I’ve already touched on a bit but, in Fate, the girls aren’t friends. They barely feel like decent roommates.

I will never forgive the way they disregarded Stella and Bloom’s beautiful bond. They were each other’s person, they were bonded for life and truly they were just THE besties ya know?

And Fate just made them into competitors. There is not a single moment in the entire two seasons that they felt like friends, let alone besties. I cannot picture OG Bloom and Stella EVER acting like their Fate counterparts. Like my girls would rather die than do each other dirty like that.

Then we have Aisha. In the OG Aisha had 2 amazing bonds, Musa and Flora. We all know how big SonicWave is. Musa and Aisha immediately connected, they went clubbing and got into a bit of trouble together and Musa was the first to really understand Aisha’s backstory, and we see Musa trust Aisha with her boy problems.

Aisha and Flora feel like besties, they’re there for each other and have casual chats in the middle of the night.

With Stella, especially in season 4, Aisha and Stella can but heads from time to time but they know that their friendship will always prevail because all the girls are bonded for life.

None of that is present in Fate. In Fate when they butted heads I couldn’t care less. I just wanted to slap Stella because she was being a bitch and I was annoyed by Aisha. She doesn’t really interact with Musa and Terra isn’t Flora so it doesn’t work. And she and Bloom don’t feel like friends. Not really.

There is no Fate Tecna so we have no chance to get the amazing chemistry between Musa and Tecna, those two were perfect as besties, they just worked so well. 

It’s just… so many amazing bonds and friendships and dynamics all thrown away for the sake of angst, drama and useless conflict. 

The event that sets into motion the entire story of the Winx Club is Bloom running into Stella and choosing to help her. It’s Stella deciding to help this girl she just met get into Alfea because they just immediately bond and that’s who Stella is.

The very first time the girls hang out, when Bloom is attacked, the other girls don’t hesitate to join in on the fight to save Bloom, not necessarily because they’re close at this point but because all these girls would never just stand back when something like this is going on. But as their friendships and bonds grow, we quickly see that they are all ride or die.

They don’t fight over boys, if they tease or take things too far, they apologize. They may but heads and get into fights but they know (and we know) that their friendship will always prevail.

In Fate… they’re not even friends, let alone besties, let alone ride or die besties that would go to the ends of the world for each other.

All of those bonds and friendships are just… nonexistent .

How can Fate claim to be an adaptation of the Winx Club when they throw away the most important aspect of the show?

In the show, friendships always take center stage, romances always felt like sideplots or add ons, not the main drama, or they were rarely the main drama. And when romance was the main drama, there would be an inevitable scene of the girls comforting each other. (Stella comforting Bloom. Tecna, Bloom and Stella comforting Flora about Crystal. Musa letting out her frustrations about Riven with Aisha. The girls helping prepare Tecna for a date, etc.)

Friendship was the bloodline of Winx Club. And Fate somehow… missed that.

I’m too tired and frustrated to make an actual outro and I’ve been working on this for literal weeks so… that… is the end.

[planetsano]

xbox or playstation? 🎮

SYNOPSIS ✰ eren finds more interest in gaming than you, his horny girlfriend.

WARNINGS ✰ nsfw/18+, gamer au, streamer/gamer eren, very needy and horny reader, humping, sex in a gaming chair, blowjob, dirty talk, eren is kinda mean but he lets you use him to get off.

PAIRING ✰ eren yeager x female reader.

The uncomfortable throbbing and heat coming from between your legs were enough to pull you from your sleep. The dream you experienced before waking up was the cause— your boyfriend fucking you into the mattress while his large hand your face hard-pressed into the sheets as he pounded into you from behind. It was expected, Eren’s been streaming and gaming for most of the day, leaving you to fend for yourself to find your own entertainment. Usually, you didn’t mind. It was his job and how he paid rent but on this particular day you were feeling very needy and your advances were met with a dismissive ‘I’m working.’ or ‘I’m busy right now. Can’t you wait later?’

A tiny whine escaped your lips as you sat up, wiping the sleep from your hazy eyes to an empty bed. The orange light from the sunset was bleeding through the window, entering the room and coloring the walls a warm apricot color.

5:15 pm is what the digital clock sitting on the nightstand on his side of the bed read. He should be finished streaming.

The soft pitter-patter of your soft feet sounded again the cold hardwood flooring throughout the hallway as you made your way to what you like to call ‘the homewrecking room’, it’s just his workroom but maybe you’re a little bit of a drama queen. The door was halfway open, so you stuck your head in. It was rather dark, his LEDs turned off and the blinds from the window closed. His face was illuminated by the computer monitors in front of his face. He wasn’t on stream right now that was a fact but you still knocked on the twice before stepping in.

“Eren,” You called for him.

Your soft voice grabs Eren’s attention, making him do a double-take. He takes his hand to push one side of his headset behind his ear, eyes locked on you for a moment. He’s not sure if you want to tell him something but he couldn’t lie, you looked cute right now— dressed in nothing but his hoodie and your cute panties. You were wearing the cotton ones that had the teeny ribbon bow at the waistband. You had a sleepy look on your face, rubbing your eyes with one of your sweater paws.

“Took a nap?” He asks— his eyes darting back to the main computer monitor out of the three in front of him.

“Mhm.” You hum in response, walking over to him and standing at the armrest of his chair.

Eren looks pretty right now. He always does but you especially love when he wears his hair down. He’s so invested in the game— brows furrowed in concentration while his fingers skillfully mashed the controller’s buttons. The game controller looks so small in his hands compared to when you’re holding it.

“Can we cuddle?” You ask softly, wiggling your sweater paw on his forearm.

Eren leans back further in his gaming chair, lifting his arms as an invitation for you to come climb into his lap. So you did— settling yourself onto his thighs with both your legs on either side of his waist. Your body melts into his with your face buried in his neck, taking in his scent. He smelled faintly of his favorite cologne, a sultry mixture of amber and cedarwood. Eren’s arms wrap around your frame, his slender hands still pressing the buttons on his controller rapidly. You can hear his friends’ yelling, profanities, and jokes spill through his headset. To be frank, you were getting a little jealous because you wanted his attention. You’ve been asking for it the entire day nearly.

“Miss you, Eren..” You whine quietly into his skin.

“Flank to your right, Jean-” Eren mutes his mic. “I’m right here, pumpkin.” He rubs yours back a couple of times before his hand is back on the controller. Eren isn’t really there and definitely not paying attention either, you can tell. There's a clear difference in tone— disinterest, and dismissiveness when speaking to you and the lighthearted words and chuckles his friends get.

“Pay attention to me.” You mumble.

“I am.” He deadpans.

“You’re not, you jerk.” Your shirt balls up into your fist.

You just want him— and you’re not exactly picky with how either.

One of your hands finds its way to your clothed pussy, lodging itself in between his crotch and yours before you begin to hump it, adding pressure on your clit from your middle and ring finger.

“What are you doing?” Eren asks quietly enough for his headset not to pick up his words.

“Nothing.” You whimper, continuing to rut yourself against your hand and taking in your boyfriend’s scent.

It’s not enough though, you know it’s not enough. In a way, you almost hate how Eren conditioned you to want his cock and his only. It’s so fucking big and pretty, he knows it too. The way you can feel that thick vein that protrudes angrily along his length rub against your g spot with every thrust. God, and how he splits you open is almost scary but you can’t get enough of it. Fingers, pillows, toys just don’t do it for you anymore— and your hand right now certainly wasn’t.

“C’n I put you inside?” You lift yourself lazily from his shoulder to look at him, pouting and flushed in the face. Eren sighs, before muting his mic once again.

“Will you behave? I’m serious, (Name). I’m not fucking you right now. Jean is recording for his channel.” He says.

“s’okay!” You perk up a bit. “Just wanna feel you.” You say.

“You say that then we end up fucking..” He sighs when he sees the sad puppy eyes you were putting on for him.

“Go on then, Get me hard.”

It’s been thirty minutes— thirty aching minutes of being stuffed full of Eren’s fat cock. Your panties have long since been discarded somewhere on the floor while his shorts and boxers are pulled halfway down his thighs. You know he can feel your walls fluttering around him every time one of you shifts even the slightest bit, and the most frustrating thing about it is: he doesn’t seem to be affected by any of this. Still ignoring you with his dick buried balls deep into your cunt. Every time you attempted to grind your hips down onto his, he would pinch your thigh hard enough to sting.

“Rennie,” You had tears pricking at your eyes at this point, all you wanted to do was cum but your boyfriend was being a jerk.

“Are you this insatiable? My god.” Eren asks.

“Please, Eren. I miss you.” You rolled your hips onto his.

“Fine. Use it, get yourself off. But I’m not helping you.”

Eren doesn’t have to tell you twice before you’re fucking yourself on his cock— quite literally using him as your own personal dildo. Your arms are wrapped snug around his neck, muffling your moans in his neck as you bounce yourself up and down on his shaft. The head of his cock hitting your cervix every time your hips slammed down onto his. The chair creaking underneath you both with your rapid movements was paired with soft sounds of skin slapping, your labored breathing, and whines. You’re almost certain his teammates can hear you, but it doesn’t matter to you. The only thing on your mind right now was using your boyfriend to get yourself off.

You feel your high form in the pit of your tummy, erupting like a volcano when you reach its peak. Your walls clamp around your boyfriend’s big cock— walls fluttering and clenching in erratic rhythms around his shaft. Your thighs are burning and shaking as you tried your best to silence your moans by biting down on his shoulder. Eren feels it all, he knows you just came but he’s still unbothered, his eyes locked on the screen. His body only moves slightly when you tug on his neck a little too hard. You’re limp in his lap, catching your breath when you hear Eren’s team call for a 10-minute break before resuming another session.

“Satisfied?” He asks, pulling back his headphones so they lay around his neck.

“You didn’t cum.” You say, your cheek slightly squished from his shoulder. Eren only shrugs and ushers you to get up by tapping on your thighs and you followed suit— lifting yourself off his cock. It falls heavy out of you, slapping softly onto his shirt glistening from your juices.

“Clean it.” He says.

You drop to your knees taking his shaft into your palm, dragging your tongue along his length making sure to flatten your muscle to cover more area. You look up through your lashes at Eren to see he’s on his phone— body relaxed with his arm rested behind his head, scrolling through Twitter. Ignoring you, again.

Your hand wraps around the base of his cock as you swirl your tongue around the flushed red tip— then taking as much as you possibly could into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks to create a sucking sensation. The rest that couldn’t fit was being fisted by your hand.

“I said clean up your mess, not get me off,” Eren says, looking down at you instead of at his phone. You released him from your mouth with an explicit ‘pop.’

“Will you feed me, Eren?” You ask, eyes never leaving his. “‘m hungry.” Your hand continues to pump him lazily.

“Fuck- Yeah, I got something for you. Hold still.” Eren’s phone is long forgotten, his hand grabbing a fist full of your hair pulling your head back.

“Use both hands, yeah- stroke my cock, baby.” Eren’s moans sound breathless and pretty. You’re moving your hands up and down his dick at a rapid pace.

“Open your mouth. Said you were hungry, right?” Eren shoots his load onto your tongue unannounced— his thick ropes painting your pretty pink tongue white, some of it dripping down your chin. He’s looking down at you with lidded eyes and his bottom lip nursed between his teeth as he rides out his high with a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. Your hands come to an eventual stop and you roll your tongue back into your mouth, swallowing your snack. Eren takes a finger, swiping it along your chin to gather the excess that didn’t make it into your tummy. You gladly taking his finger into your mouth sucking it clean.

“Now get out. I’m working.”

© all content belongs to rekiri 2021. do not modify or repost.

[cerebrumrott]

Obey Me! Shall we Date?

Brothers x MC

Synopsis: Demon Form Head Canons

Lucifer

Is not shy about sharing his demon form in the slightest.

More than happy to show off his wings for you and every compliment and awed look you give him just strokes his pride.

He gets taller in his demon form, not by more than a few inches but its enough to have you craning your neck to look him in the eyes.

His horns are not nearly as sensitive as some of his brothers but he still quite enjoys when you pet them.

Specifically likes it when the base of his horns are scratched, he could just melt into your hands.

His wings are prone to molting when he is stressed and seeing as he is stressed almost all the time. It's fairly common to find black feathers around the house.

When Lucifer later finds out that you had been collecting his discarded feathers in a small vase in your room he can’t help the blush on his cheeks having forgotten the entire reason he went into your room in the first place.

Seeing as you are so entranced by his feathers you might as well help him preen when he is molting.

It is totally cause he wants you to just have a nice collection, not because its a massive boost to his ego to have you doting over him.

Straighten his tie and flatten out his collar. Even if it doesn't need it. These little gestures will leave him flustered and blushing.

Mammon

His horns, due to their peculiar shape, are extremely sensitive. To the point where just blowing on them sends a tremble racing down his spine.

Pressing a finger between the grooves or into the center of the horn's spiral will have him practically howling from the sensation or more accurately leave him a stuttering and flustered mess.

Despite being essentially shirtless in his demon form. Mammon is like a walking heater. Just standing next to him for too long can cause you to break into a sweat.

If you were to ever trace the white lines that cover his torso he would just stop functioning entirely.

He would of course vehemently deny any such claims stating that, he was simply… thinking… about things… shut up.

Mammon is also extremely ticklish and with so much exposed skin from his questionable choice in a shirt. Do with that what you will ;)

His wings are restless, always flickering, fluttering or some variation of the two.

The only time they had ever truly stilled was when Mammon had agreed to let you touch them for the first time. In that moment as you ever so carefully ran your hands over the thin membrane of the wings, they didn't so much as twitch under the touch.

While his wings aren't necessarily sensitive to touch they are slightly delicate, being as they are made from a thin leathery membrane.

Leviathan

He also gets taller in his demon form by a few inches. Though due to his terrible posture you are likely to not notice.

He regularly sheds his antlers each year and grows back new ones.

He used to be extremely self conscious while his antlers regrew due to teasing from his brothers but after hearing how much you liked them they were now a point of pride for him.

I can also totally see an MC who collects his shed antlers like, it's 2 am and Levi texts them like ""Hey normie you want my old antlers I know you asked about them before so...""

Leviathan would get such an ego boost from it though. His face growing reed each time he walks into your room to see his old antlers nestled about the shelves like decor.

His tail also sheds its skin every so often (like a reptile would) another reason as to why he is always showering or taking a bath.

On that same thought, Levi has to take daily soaks in either the shower or tub to keep his skin from drying out or getting irritated. Being in the sun for too long can also irritate his skin.

Uses this as an excuse to not go outside despite there being no sun in the Devildom.

Both his horns and his tail are rather sensitive to touch. Though he loves the idea of you petting them his self consciousness prevents him from ever initiating such a thing.

The markings on the side of his neck are also highly sensitive. Running a hand or dragging your nails over them sends shivers down his spine every time.

Satan

Not only does he get taller but he also physically bulks up in his demon form. Its hardly noticeable under the sweater and boa he wears but on close inspection you can see the defined lines of his muscles straining under the fabric.

Similar to Lucifer, his horns are not all that sensitive. Though the area where they connect to his head are very mush so.

Satan is not shy in the slightest about asking MC to pet his head when he is in a bad mood and needs someone to stop him from doing something potentially stupid.

Satan often subconsciously purrs when he is happy or content.

This habit may have stemmed from his obsession with cats

His tail for the most part is hard and senseless, though the green end is softer and more pliable like cartilage. It is also extremely sensitive to both touch and temperature.

This is why he keeps his tail wrapped around his leg to protect it from being accidentally trampled on or whacked.

Since his tail extends from his lower back rather than the base of his spine the exposed skin surrounding the base of his tail is extremely sensitive and ticklish.

Asmodeus

Asmo of course loves any kind of affection, especially if it is coming from you of all people.

The tips of his horns that are pink in hue are extremely sensitive to touch. He is not shy about asking you to touch him obviously but you would note that he does get extremely flustered when you do so without having to be asked.

Asmo will just melt into your touch if you walk up to him and just randomly cup his face or pet his horns.

When he is especially flustered the pink hue of his horns will even darken

His wings are velvety and soft to the touch. He loves to have kisses pressed to the soft membrane of the wings.

The easiest way to turn him to putty in your hands is to go straight for his wings. They are his weak spot.

It's really little affectionate things that get him going. Adjusting the metal chain of his scorpion brooch, pushing a stray piece of his bangs back into place, even something as simple as picking a piece of lint off of his jacket has him beaming with affection.

I don't see Asmo as getting to experience these little things as often as the more prominent things that come with his sin. So when you go out of your way to make sure he does get to experience these little things he falls hard and fast.

Beelzebub

He physically bulks up when he transforms. If you thought he was shredded normally wait till you see him in demon form.

His horns are extremely sensitive, almost like little antennas. Turns into the biggest puppy when you rubs his horns. Just all smiles and happiness from him.

Sometimes he will even rub your cheeks together so his horns brush against your hair.

He is a bit hesitant when it comes to his wings being touched just because of their nature. It's not that he doesn't trust you it’s just when he gets excited he unconsciously buzzes his wings.

If he were to catch his wing on your hand and rip it he would feel bad for making you think you hurt him. In reality it does not hurt him all that much, akin to like a paper cut or bad scratch.

Beel is really just a big push over for you, scratch him behind the horns and he will just become the biggest lap dog.

Belphegor

His horns and tail are not sensitive but that doesn't mean he doesn't want you to pet him.

After he falls asleep to you petting his horns one afternoon he now demands that you do this at least once a week. If you don't he will bother you until you cave to his wishes.

Also loves to have the fluff of his tail brushed / petted, although he would never admit it outright. His brothers already think he is spoiled so how would they react to knowing he has you pampering him each week? Braiding his tail hair and brushing out the tangles while he snoozes.

On the rare occasions he can’t sleep or when he is awakened from a nightmare he will seek you out and ask you to pet him so he can get to sleep. There are many mornings you will wake up and just find Belphie in bed next to you curled around his pillow with his face buried in your shoulder.

He promises to pay you back later though. Totally...

The cow spots on his neck are extremely ticklish, to the point he borderline passes out from wheezing so hard when Beel tickles him there.

Bonus:

Diavolo

He is much, much larger in his demon form than he is when he appears as human. He is normally tall but like this he is borderline massive.

He tends to keep his wings folded into his sides due to their large span. Though is more than happy to show them off to you when prompted.

They are thick and velvety to the touch, the metallic jewelry that covers the tops of them a cold contrast to the warm skin.

He adores any kind of attention from you, more than content to sit and chatter about whatever comes to his mind as you sit beside him or stop him petting his wings.

He bent down once so you could see his horns and as a joke lifted you off the ground while you were holding onto them. He laughed so hard you thought he was going to drop you on your ass.

His horns are not sensitive in the slightest, hence why he has no problems with decorating them with tight metal pieces akin to a piercing on a person.

Diavolo is a super loving guy normally and this holds true to when he is in his demon form. So whenever he gives you a hug you end up smothered in his pecs. Not that your complaining.

Barbatos

Barbatos would never say it aloud but he very much enjoys when you spend time just running your fingers ever so softly over his horns. Their unique shape and varied textures can leave you entertained for what feels like hours but in reality you love the soft expressions you can pull out of the normally stoic butler.

Loves having soft kisses pressed to the joints of his horns.

His tail is his one weak spot as once one learns what certain movements mean. You can always tell how he is feeling.

The unbridled joy you feel well in your heart when his tail begins to curl up upon seeing you letting you know he is feeling the same way has you biting your lip to hold yourself back from running into his arms.

[scara-meow-che]

If requests are open perhaps you could write something for Kaeya for the camboy au?

Reader discovers their friend's little secret, he doesn't know that they know, and takes great pleasure in seeing him being reduced to a slutty subby mess.

I'm just feral for this smug man being reduced to a mess.

i am honestly speechless about this req 😳 please, let me offer myself to you because i love this idea so much, i am 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

kaeya has been your best friend since birth. you two were inseperable, basically like soulmates. you trust him, a lot, sharing him all your stories, crying to him whenever some asshole broke your heart, he would even treat you like a fucking queen, give you what you deserve yet you two never crossed the boundaries, staying in the label as "friends".

but some things had changed right when you two entered college. kaeya became arrogant, overwhelmingly cocky in ways that you can't handle. he changed, a lot, and you hated him for that.

yet fate always keep you two together.

right in the middle of your second semester in university, one of your dorm mates had left. it wasn't like you were affected but it is a problem when you don't have enough funds to keep the apartment to yourself. so you needed to have someone to live with you.

as if the heavens and earth were against your very being, kaeya was looking for another place that can cater to his certain "hobbies" as he called it. and as it goes, he was referred to you and you called him up for a meet up.

and that meet up means you need to face how much of a cocky bastard he is.

but it all worked out, god, you're thankful that he decided to mind his own business and let you do yours. yet living with him feels different, trying to live with how bossy and how prideful he is, everyday was so fucking stressful for you. the fact that you have to deal with your professors bs every minute of the day in university grounds, kaeya makes your apartment a living hell.

until one day, you just had enough.

you knew he was hiding something. there was something that doesn't make sense to you ever since he moved in. there's always a package being delivered weekly, his room reinforced with sound proofing, lights beaming from a set-up of his 3 computer screens the day you caught a glimpse of his room.

and that's when the cat's finally out of the box.

you were going to tell him off, stomping from the kitchen to his room. he may have forgotten to clean up for himself and arriving from university after a very hectic day, you just wanted to rest and you came back home to such a mess?

who wouldn't be mad?

and that's when you saw him, that's when you caught him the act. wearing these blue bunny ears, a collar wrapped around his neck and a dildo shoved inside his hole while moaning in front of the screen. he looks so pretty, making such a fuckin' mess on his bed, his dick twitching in his abdomen as he's close to coming undone. you were shocked, of course, who would've thought that your childhood friend was a camboy?

but at that moment, you were struck by epiphany and immediately knew how to get back to him.

"you sure act so high and cocky out in the streets yet you're a slutty mess behind the screens, huh?" you whispered in his ear, hands sliding down his chest, fingers leaving feather-touches on his nipples.

kaeya trembles in surprise, his cock twitches as he stutters out your name. that sounds so good, unlike the condescending tone he often use on you.

he's such a mess, looking down and saw how much precum had accumulated on the top of his dick, the lube shimmering under the light as he has the dildo shoved deep inside his hole, legs shaking from how close he was to coming but your presence had stopped him.

"aw, you're gonna come? wanna come with just that toy of yours?" you asked, taking in the way his eyes practically begged for you.

"i am, wanna come so badly." you chuckled at how low his voice was, so vulnerable, so cute below you. you sighed, looking at the screen and saw every comment flooding this little box and one had suggested something that caught your full attention.

"what do you say on being my little bunny?"

the question caught him off guard, face flushing darker and that was honestly so adorable, you wanna make him cry soon, wanna break him, reduce him to nothing but a sobbing little whore.

"do you want to be my good boy?"

he nodded, looking at you, showing you the secrets he had been keeping. kaeya had always liked you, he does but this was something that he can't afford for you to see and yet the way you already knew what to do, how to handle him, how to control him with those eyes he loves so damn much, he follows like your good little bunny.

"i do, please, let me be your good little bunny?" he pleaded and that made you desire him in more ways than one.

you started to move around him, going straight to his front and removed the dildo that was keeping his hole full. he whimpered, hands griping on your arms, thighs closing and lips trembling.

"f-f/n," he whispered but you had him groaning when you shoved it back in. he tilted his head back, his whole body electrified at the feeling of the toy perfectly hitting the very spot that had him melting.

"i think i should always fuck you like this," you declared and started your relentless thrusting, keeping the same angle just to hit his g-spot over and over again. "just to stop your mouth saying bullshit every now and then."

your words had him moaning out your name.

"what a masochist," you spat without a hint of care, roughly pummeling on his hole. to pull out more reactions from him, your free hand started jerking him off, thumb swirling at the tip, spreading all the precum on the side, kneeling down to show how much kaeya was writhing in pleasure, all because he's being fucked by you.

"c-close, 'm close, gonna cum for you." he could barely make out those words, toes curling, hips shaking, body folding back as the waves of his orgasm crashes him down before you. he spills so much on your hand, covering your skin with his load. you drive him mad, barely stopping from ramming the dildo on his spasming hole.

"fuckㅡhahㅡtoo much! too much!" you can now see him cry, head shaking that the bunny ears fell down to the side.

and you didn't stop.

"give me one more. i wanna see you come once more." the oversensitivity filling in every nerve on his body took him to a fast paced bliss, his cock barely stopping from shooting so much cum.

he was a mess and so were you.

"f-f/n, hold me, please." he breathed out, his whole form close to collapsing on the bed but you held him. you have him in your arm, brushing away the hair covering his face, smiling at him because of how proud you are for him.

"my sweet bunny. so good for me, huh?" you said while eyeing your other hand smothered with cum. "will you lick my hand clean for me?"

being the good boy that he is, he grabs your wrist and licked you from your palm and suckled on every finger that you have.

"do you know what this means?" with doe eyes, kaeya focuses on you and waited for you to finish your statement. "good boys get their rewards."

you didn't even let him finish cleaning you up as you push him down the bed. you immediately discarded your clothes, leaving yourself bare. kaeya was speechless yet the sight of you naked had him humming in delight.

you placed both your legs besides his thighs, reaching out for his throbbing cock and slowly slides it from your clit all the way to your hole. he was shaking, still sensitive from his orgasm but he's still hard, still craving to be fucked and you'd make sure to milk his balls dry.

"now, hump on me bunny."

[sandorcentral]

Welcome Home (Sandor x Reader, NSFW)

Pairing: Sandor Clegane x F!Reader

Summary:  It was requested I write a fic in an AU where Sandor survives Season 8 and is married to Sansa's seamstress, in which Sandor is reunited with his wife and things get..spicey. 

Wordcount:  2435

Rating:  Explicit

Warnings: canon divergence, swearing, explicit language, Sandor being mildly sexually aggressive, Sandor fucking BITES and I do not take criticism on this, me not writing dialogue for Sandor very well, size kink, cunnilingus, penetrative sex, unprotected sex. 

A/N:  I suck at writing for Sandor but this is only my first attempt.  Be kind, and comment if you feel so inclined. (:

Also I'll be reblogging this later with the AO3 link.

You'd tossed and turned all night.   Every night without Sandor by your side was fitful.  A generous quantity of wine before bed helped, just not enough. You had spent so many years comforted by your husband's warmth and sheer size that it just didn't feel right trying to find slumber without Sandor's arms wrapped around you, his warm breath and soft snores in your ear.  The burly mastiff that the Clegane house had provided as a wedding gift those years ago huffed and curled up behind your knees, attempting to provide you with the company you were so sorely lacking.  The pressure of the massive dog leaning into you was all that encouraged you to somnolence, as you imagined a much more substantial hound was providing you the warmth needed for rest.

***

The sharp clank of your door's lock shifting roused you instantly.  The mastiff sprang to its paws and a growl rose from deep in its chest, but a heavy gauntleted hand patted the creature's head and calmed it instantly.  "All right, you bloody mutt.  That's a good dog."  

It felt like a dream, hearing that deep rasp.  It had been a dream on so many occasions since Sandor left to accompany Queen Sansa on her visit to consult Bran in the Crownlands.  You'd slept so little the entire time he had been absent that it felt like a vision, suddenly seeing your husband's towering visage before you. 

After shoeing your mastiff into the hall, Sandor sat down heavily before you on the bed, and discarded his gauntlets upon the floor.  The moment you sat up he captured your face in large, calloused hands and kissed you with a ferocity that took your breath away.  His kisses could be harsh but his lips were soft, save for the fur around his mouth that tickled you.  For a lingering moment you wondered if this perfect moment was indeed just another dream.

With a low rumble under his breath Sandor pulled away, planting the softest kiss upon your forehead, before wrapping huge arms around you and folding you against his chest.  If there were seven heavens then this was indubitably one of them, surrounded by your husband's warmth, the light musk of his skin, and his fingers absent-mindedly stroking your bed-befuddled hair.  

  

"I was wondering if you were ever coming back," you jested quietly, turning your face up to meet Sandor's gaze.  Your chiding words were immediately punished by sharp teeth nipping at your lips, followed by a tender kiss where he'd now left a light red mark.  You clutched his thickly furred jaw in both hands, thumbs occasionally ghosting over his cheekbones, almost trying to convince yourself he was real.  

Sandor leaned back, suddenly looking lost.  He got like this sometimes, especially following any significant absence of you.  Originally you only saw this reaction out of him when you'd stroke or kiss the marred half of his face; you'd always loved pressing your lips to that downward-drooping brow.  It had bewildered Sandor for the longest, the fact that not only did you have no qualms about looking at him, you had no apprehensions about touching his melted skin.  An almost tranced expression overcame his face, his thumb stroking your cheek absent-mindedly as you moved closer to him.  

"I missed you," Sandor rumbled hoarsely, his wolfish gaze of his good eye dropping to your lips.  

"And I love you."

"Mm. Daft as always," Sandor grunted, with his tiny quirk of a smile, before kissing you once more with fervor.    

"I was going to offer you wine but you already taste like it," you chuckled against his mouth.  You had long since begun to associate the deep sugary flavor of red wine with Sandor's coarsely furred lips, and you were perfectly fine with that.  

"What the fuck else am I supposed to do on that ride back?  Besides.  The Broken King can afford Dornish red." 

"Don't call him that."  You gave Sandor the same puppy eyes you did when he casually insulted any of your acquaintances in the Stark family.  

Sandor snorted and suddenly you were being pushed back onto the bed.  "Quit your talking," he rasped.  "We've got lost time to make up for."   

You weren't about to argue with the huge man as his lips found your neck and he deftly undid the lacing of your dress until it loosened from your shoulders, revealing your chest and stomach to him.  Looking you up and down, Sandor absent-mindedly drew his lower lip between his teeth.  He looked hungry, not unlike the way he appeared when he was itching for a fight to start.  

More lacings came undone and more harsh kisses and bites ensued.  Sandor worked his way down your body, nipping at your collarbone then showing delicacy to your nipples - swirling his tongue around them until you shivered and tightened your fingers' grip in his hair.  You loved the fact that his hands were more than large enough to entirely encompass each of your breasts in his palms, and that his mouth was deft in his exploration of your body. 

It was not long before Sandor was wriggling your dress over your hips and discarding it upon the floor, before taking a moment to admire the form of his wife, drinking in your visage.  He had this way of smiling at you that didn't quite reach his mouth but the crinkles around his eyes betrayed that he was pleased.  He ran one large, rough hand down your side and over the sharp curve of your hip, before taking your knee and spreading you open before him.  

He kissed your inner thighs delicately, starting near your knees and moving closer and closer to your core.  His beard tickled you here and there but that was soon forgotten when his warm mouth reached your nub, his large tongue languidly lapping up and down your folds.  One calloused hand gripped the junction where your thigh met your hip, while the other tentatively stroked your entrance, gauging how ready you were.  

"Sandor, please," you breathed, and that was all he needed.  Two long, thick fingers slid into you, before curving upward in a come-hither motion, stroking the spot inside you that made your eyes roll back immediately.  His talented tongue swirling around your nub had you shuddering uncontrollably and tightening around his fingers, making Sandor sigh against you in satisfaction - a low noise that reverberated through your core and had your thighs quivering on either side of his head.  

Your fingers twisted in his hair, attempting to gather long locks away from his face the way he would for you when your mouth was full of his cock.  Gasps and mutters of his name fell from your lips as you felt shocks snaking up through your body.  His fingers quickened their pace, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, as he suckled at your nub like his life depended on it.  

For a moment you looked down at the tantalizing man between your legs, overcome with the fact that it was him you had managed to marry and that was pleasuring you, the Hound, that was exploring you so intimately.  Years of being together had never dulled this exhilaration; had never lessened the inherent excitement of being ravished by this notoriously huge, powerful man.  For a moment his "good" eye met your gaze; the other eye was too weighed down by his maimed, melted brow to see you at such an angle. 

"Sandor, I'm -"  Your voice cut off suddenly, unable to process the amount of sensation coursing through you. 

In response he slipped a third finger into you, at which point you were certain he was not simply enjoying playing with you, he was getting you ready.  "Go ahead."  His rasping voice rumbling against you, and the sudden crook of his fingers inside you against that special spot was all you needed.  You tightened your grip in Sandor's hair and cried out as stars burst behind your eyelids, your back arching up off the bed.  

A fewmioments and Sandor sat up as you lay quivering and spent, wiping your moisture from his lips and beard.  His eyes were dark with lust, and he was breathing nearly as hard as you were.  

As you slowly came down from the high that his ministrations provided, you had the pleasure of watching Sandor stand and shed his layers.  He was quite adept at undoing his own armor, the result of having never accepted a squire, swiftly leaving him in the loose small-clothes that were your honor to remove.  You sat up, still remarkably shaky in the legs, and took the hem of his tunic in your hands.  You laid a kiss upon each section of your husband's flesh that you revealed, savoring the soft tickle of the dark hair that covered the expanse of his broad chest and abdomen.  

Tunic removed, you graduated down to the buttons of his trousers, teasingly avoiding the swelling you encountered.  Your husband's arousal was no small thing to avoid - to your original intrigue and dismay, you had discovered Sandor was exactly as well-endowed as one would assume a man of his stature might be. You kissed the deep brown fur from his collarbone to his navel, while your hands worked on freeing him from the confines of his trousers.  

Cloth slipped over his hips and Sandor sighed in relief, his stiffened length no longer uncomfortably restrained.  You began laying adoring kisses on your husband's stomach, following the thick trail of brown curls from his navel to his root.  A low rumble worked its way out of the huge man as you placed more kisses on either side of his cock, his warm shaft just barely grazing your cheek.  

"Enough," Sandor growled, taking a handful of your hair, and once again you found yourself being gripped by the shoulder and pushed back onto the bed, though with more fervor this time.  He crawled onto the bed after you, a hungry, predatory gleam in his eyes as he moved atop you.  

Sandor clutched your face in both large hands, resting his forehead against yours.  His breath was hot on your face and his  warm member slid back and forth over your entrance, his leaking length heavy and rubbing against your nub.  You squirmed a little in anticipation beneath Sandor as his tip sought your entrance.

Sandor's lips found yours again before he leaned into you, the weight of his body driving his cock home.  You gasped sharply, all of you tensing as he filled you suddenly and nearly to the hilt, your fingers tangling frantically in your husband's llong hair. You couldn't blame him - he was desperate, he needed to be one with his wife after all this time, but that didn't change the fact that in his urgency Sandor was forgetting you might need some extra time to adjust to him after all these moons of his absence.  

Sandor drew back, his lips exploring from your jaw to your ear. Your nails dug into his shoulders and you yelped as he bottomed out in you with the next thrust; he still wasn't even buried to the hilt.  With a few insistent strokes the burn of him stretching you began to fade, or it became easier to ignore when Sandor filling you to the brim was sending shocks resonating through your core.  

If you really needed convincing to ignore the short-lived pain of his entrance, Sandor sank his teeth into the side of your neck, distracting you with a sensation he knew you responded well to.  The bite was sharp but sent a delicious, dull ache resonating through you as he held on, like a dog mounting its bitch.  You were fully aware that this would be a blue or purple bruise tomorrow, the way his teeth were baring into you, but you didn't care.  In fact the prospect excited you particularly.  Few things satisfied you as much as visible reminders that you belonged to the Hound - it was your honor to wear the marks of the Clegane dog claiming you, branded in your own misplaced blood.  Perhaps one day that honor would be worn as a swollen belly full of Sandor's pups.  

You wrapped your legs snugly around his midsection, allowing a less overwhelming angle as his pace began to pick up rapidly.  What had been relatively methodical strokes were now frantic and restless, eliciting gasps and shrill moans from you every time Sandor's cock came up against that wall deep inside you, sending tendrils of sharp pleasure up through you.  Your eyes rolled back in your head and the rest of the world began to drop away, nothing existing in that moment but your union with Sandor; the musk of his skin surrounding you, the tickle of his dark helical strands falling around your face, the breath-taking sensation of him filling you relentlessly.  He was absolutely intoxicating.  

The force of his rutting eventually sent you over the edge again, and you cried out frantically enough that you stuffed your own fist into your mouth with celerity.  Sandor immediately grasped your wrist, holding your hand captive above your head.  "No," he snarled, gripping the hair of the back of your head, "let them hear what I'm doing to you."  Undoubtedly referring to adjacent rooms in the castle.  You whimpered against Sandor's furred lips, unable to control your body tightening around him convulsively, drawing from him his own climax.  Sandor took your throat between his teeth with a low snarl as he suddenly spilled into you, his warm seed filling you to the point of overflowing.  

You kept your legs tightened around your husband's waist as he loosened his teeth on your flesh and rested his damp forehead against the swoop of your shoulder. You were unwilling to experience the absence of him within your body just yet.  Sandor's cock still pulsed and twitched, his breath ragged on your neck, as your insides milked the last few drops out of him. 

A small whine escaped you as Sandor withdrew slowly, settling beside you on the bed and collecting you to his chest.  You nuzzled against the soft curls of his collarbone and gently entwined your legs with his.  "I love you," Sandor rumbled sleepily, resting his chin atop your head.  

"Welcome home, love."  You laid a languid series of tender kisses beneath his jaw, though Sandor was already snoring softly, arms still clasped solidly around you.  You smiled against his chest, and it wasn't long until you fell into the only peaceful sleep you'd found in fortnights.