#but unfortunately for you feelings are never ration or technical

[roselensedeyes]

celeana/aelin and chaol ceased to exist as a couple the moment she was unable to forgive him for his part in nehemia's assassination. he didn't kill nehemia, but he trusted his kingdom more than he did celeana. in her eyes, he was as responsible as the person who held the weapon.

elain and lucien ceased to exist as a couple the moment she looked him in the eyes and told him "you were there. you betrayed us." he didn't kidnap nesta and elain and forced them into the cauldron, but in her eyes he's as responsible as ianthe, tamlin and he king of hybern.

[lenaellsi]

“Crowley is still an angel deep down” “Crowley is more of an angel than any of the archangels” “Crowley was only cast out because he needed to play his part in Armageddon, he's not a real demon” “Aziraphale wants to rebuild Heaven to be more like Crowley because he’s what an angel should be” no. Stop it. This is exactly where Aziraphale went wrong.

Crowley is 100% a demon. He's not actually a bit of an angel, and he's not cosmically better than any of the other demons we see in the series. He's much less vicious than most of them, yeah, but he's also much less vicious than most of the angels, because how “nice” a celestial being is has nothing to do with which side they're technically on. Crowley's kindness comes from him doing his best to help people despite the hurt he's suffered himself, not any sort of inherent residual or earned holiness. He was cast out just like the rest of the demons, and that's an important part of his history that shouldn't be minimized, excused, or, critically, 'corrected.'

Being angelic is not a positive or negative trait in the Good Omens universe. It's a species descriptor. Saying that Crowley is still an angel deep down because he helps people is an in-character thing for Aziraphale to think, certainly--Job and the final fifteen showed that in the worst possible way--but it's not something Crowley would ever react well to, and it's the main source of conflict in the entire "appoint you to be an angel" fiasco.

We know that Aziraphale thinks Crowley's fall was an injustice, but why? Well, because Crowley is actually Good, which means his fall was a mistake, or a test, or a regrettable error in judgment, or…something. Ineffable. Etc. The point is, he’s special, much better than those other demons, and if they can fix him and make him an angel again, everything will be fine! (So once Job's trials are over, everything will be restored to him? Praise be!) Aziraphale has to believe that Crowley's better traits come from traces of the angel he used to know and not the demon he's known for 6,000 years, because that’s how he can rationalize his incorrect view of Heaven as The Source Of Truth And Light And Good with his complicated feelings about Crowley's fall.

But Crowley's fall was not an injustice because he's actually a Good Person who didn't deserve it. Crowley's fall was an injustice because the entire system of dividing people into Good (obedient) and Bad (rebellious) is bullshit. Crowley is not an unfortunate exception to God's benevolence, he is a particularly sympathetic example of God's cruelty.

And really, Crowley doesn't behave at all like an angel, especially when he's at his best. All of the things that he's done that we as the audience consider Good are things that Heaven has directly opposed. (See: saving the goats and children in defiance of God in S2E2, convincing Aziraphale to give money to Elspeth despite Heaven's views on the "virtues of poverty" in S2E3, speaking out against the flood and the crucifixion in S1E3, tempting Aziraphale to enjoy earthly pleasures because he thinks they'll make him happy, stopping Armageddon.)

Heaven as an institution has never been about helping humanity. And that's not an issue of leadership, as Aziraphale seems to think--it's by design. Aziraphale's first official act as an angel toward humanity was to literally throw them to the lions. Giving them the sword wasn't him acting like an angel, it was just him being himself. Heaven doesn't care about humans. It's not supposed to. It's supposed to win the war against Hell, with humans as chess pieces at best and collateral damage at worst.

Yes, it's easier to think that there are forces that are supposed to be fundamentally good. It's easier to think that Aziraphale is going to show those mean archangels and the Metatron what’s coming to them and reform Heaven into what it "should" be, and that God is actually super chill and watching all of this while shipping ineffable husbands and cheering for them the whole way. And of course it's easier to take Crowley, who Aziraphale (and the audience) adores, and say that he deserves to be on the Good team much more than all those angels and demons that we don’t like. But that's not how it works. People are more complicated than that, even celestial beings.

Crowley is a demon, and the tragedy of his character is not that he's secretly a good guy who is being forced to be evil; the tragedy is that he's lived his whole life stuck between two institutional forces that are both equally hostile to the love he feels for the universe and the beings in it. There are no good and bad guys. There are no "right people." Every angel, demon, and human is capable of hurting or helping others based on their choices. That is, in fact, the entire fucking point.

[enluv]

bewitched

pairing: anton x mentioned gn reader! (pls lmk if there are any gendered terms I may have missed)

synopsis: in which anton has a not so tiny actually really big crush on reader.

genre: fluff that made me smile to myself so hard that I had to remind myself this was just a fic, idol!anton & idol!reader, angst if you squint, pouty anton & his hyungs love to tease him for it!

coco’s <3 note: this was something I wrote up after a really long day of studying for finals last week so if you hate it lie to me (I’m sensitive) and it’s completely self indulgent 😭 + not edited well…

small but important a/n: I am so happy people love this fic as much as I do but I unfortunately will not be making a part two for it! originally I didn’t plan one and still in my heart feel like it doesn’t really need one!! sorry my loves, ty for the understanding 🤍

anton who smiles to himself as he watches you do his groups dance challenge, he’s seen you backstage countless times now with your group and he swears you’re his soulmate.

loud and energetic, your personality compliments his usually timid and introverted one.

the first one to notice is seunghan, always the one with the keenest eye, he teases anton throughly when you walk past them in the music show halls, pushing his shoulders and tugging at the boys pink cheeks.

the next two to notice are wonbin and shotaro, having caught their youngest replaying your groups music video just after briefly being introduced to you, he claims it’s so he can learn your dance challenge but the boys can tell from the way his voice raises an octave, that he’s lying.

eunseok and sungchan take note as they watch his eyes sparkle up at the screen in their room backstage, there’s no hiding the proud smile he wears as he watches you move about on stage smiling and enjoying the time you have with fans, they can see just how much he admires you.

sohee is the last to know as he walks right up to you, laughing and joking like old friends do, anton goes through the five stages of grief so quickly the rest of the members laugh loudly at him.

first, he denies what’s taking place in front of his eyes, he can’t fathom how you know his friend, or why you two seem so close.

second, he’s angry. not at sohee or you, never you of course, but at himself for not seeing the obvious signs. you’d done their dance because you knew his friend, not just because you were interested in him them.

third, anton tries rationalizing with himself. this was okay, it’d be okay, and if you ended up with sohee it would be fine because technically he’d never admitted to liking you, and so technically you weren’t anyone to him, so really if he thought about it, he’d be fine, especially if you made his best friend happy.

fourth, he’s pouting, and not even on purpose in a cute way, he’s full on pouting at the scene taking place in front of him. he’s sad you’re so close to sohee, sad he isn’t the one making you laugh loudly or putting a smile on your face, sad that he has absolutely no chance with you at all. this isn’t fair, but he can’t do anything so he resorts to pouting and clinging onto his older brothers for comfort (as they laugh and tease his current state).

finally, anton thinks he’s over it. he’s been watching you and sohee giggle about back and forth for what seems like hours now (it’s been less than five minutes) and he thinks he can finally accept this reality. you’re into his friend and he’s chopped liver. yeah that’s totally fine, he’s totally okay with this outcome.

the older boys smile at one another as they watch anton bury his head deeper into eunseoks broad shoulders, seemingly shielding himself from the scene in front of him. they know when their maknae is upset and it’s a million times clear just how much he is right now.

“anton, are you okay? I want to introduce you to my friend.” sohee’s soft voice pulls him out of his depression, slowly rising his head he’s met with a pair of eyes he knows too well, and his ears turn red.

“this is my roommate, he’s the one I told you about, the one that’s a big fan of you,” his friend laughs after his words and anton isn’t sure what’s worse: you being madly in love with sohee or you knowing he’s madly in love with you.

“anton right? I’m also a big fan of you, if that’s not totally embarrassing to admit to you.”

and just like that he’s swooning again, all the thoughts and feelings from before melt away as he pushes past eunseok to stand in front of you. now this, this is just perfect.

sohee shoots him a smile and a thumbs up, and it all clicks, anton is almost ashamed of how he’s acted.

sohee knew about his crush, how could he not? they shared a room together, of course he’d caught him watching your content, laughing at things you’d said, and bashfully liking your pictures from his spam account, he’d done this on purpose, he’d introduce you to one another on purpose.

“do you want to maybe grab some lunch with me?”

so maybe that wasn’t what he’d planned to say to you first but at least he’d spoken…right? even if it was straightforward and not like him at all.

your laugh makes his ears even redder, and he’s instantly smiling as you nod, taking his hand and leading him to “a really good cafe” as you put it. anton isn’t listening fully, he’s just happy he can finally admire you in person.

yeah he’s definitely too far gone. he thinks he might be in love.

coco’s <3 note x2: I love love love writing for riize they’re honestly my favorite boys ahhh I love them!! hopefully now that I am on break I can write more for them :) thinking of opening requests for them too maybe? and like if you know me you know I don’t do that often so !!! hope you enjoyed this fic, feedback & reblogs are always appreciated <3

riize taglist — @palajae @txtlyn @rllymark @soheekisser @luvbinnies (can’t tag those in bold 😕)

Want to join the taglist? Find the forms here!

[pedgito]

MILLER'S GIRL ✎ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter Four: Under Your Skin

Chapter Summary: An implosion that changes everything, leaving results devastating but unseen. [5k]

[student/teacher relationship, age gap, no outbreak, power dynamic]

Chapter Warnings: fem!reader, professor!joel miller, inappropriate behavior, reader is delusional lol, background tess/joel (mentions of infidelity), technical infidelity on joel's behalf, unprotected piv, f!oral, angry sex, lack of aftercare, belt as restraints, inappropriate use of a tie & desk, semi-public sex (sorta), angst at the end i'm sorry.

— AO3 | PLAYLIST | PINTEREST

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec

There’s a deep ache in your body and between your legs as you toss in bed that morning, rousing from a less than relaxing sleep, the faint smell of Joel still lingering on the clothes you fell asleep in, not bothering to change. Licking at chapped lips he’d kissed you so feverishly the night before, you recollect the night in flashes, rubbing sleep from your eyes and feeling riddled with anxiety. 

You reach for your phone blindly, stuffed under your covers as you scroll through your phone, expecting some type of change—an updated grade, a note or two on your follow-up essay. But, there’s nothing. The big, glaring fucking zero staring you back in the face. And for a moment, you feel guilty. You wonder just how badly you screwed things up by doubling down and approaching him so boldly in his office. In his space.

You threatened him and he attacked. Not you.

You never intended for things to unfold the way they did, but you wanted to get your feelings across clearly, even if that meant getting under his skin. 

Joel. Not Mr. Miller. 

Those were two entirely different entities now.

You take your morning slow, enjoying the relaxation of the weekend and taking your time—researching and looking into things you definitely should not be. First, it’s his name. 

Unfortunately, it doesn’t bring up much. His job history was fairly public, no local or national awards, nothing note-worthy and only a few small non-fiction pieces to his name, though you knew there were more—there had to be. With his taste in poetry and fiction you expected something, but came up with nothing. He’s so inexplicably boring to the naked eye and maybe that’s what he wanted. He wanted to blend and disappear.

Curiously, you do more digging on his wife. Who—yeah, it was definitely his wife. A few links later and you stumble upon the marriage certificate, nearly ten years strong. No kids, either.

It was impressive, more than what a lot of people could be prideful about. But Joel, he wasn’t prideful about Tess. He was secretive, dismissive, and shot a look of disgust at his phone every time he received a text, whether purposefully or not.

You find that she works at a law firm, relatively small and headed by two partners. One significantly older than the other—father and son? You squint slightly, searching through the website carefully but not coming up with much. She was a lawyer, that much was obvious.

Still, it didn’t explain the rift. 

What happened?

You try and struggle to find anything rational or tangible, feeling like you might drive yourself insane trying to find out and you spend most of the weekend trudging through the obscurity of things you could find online, very little compared to what you could find out by just asking him.

There’s a tinge of dread in attending class that Monday knowing that no matter how hard you tried, Mr. Miller would never see you the same. He wouldn’t treat you as he had, pedestaling you up above the rest and, though he’d never admit openly, admiring you.

But, god, it ails you. Sickens your mind and keeps you from focusing on anything else.

You needed more answers, more clarification. But, more importantly, you still needed him.

That deep, gnawing feeling of desire in your gut had only grown stronger since your encounter in his office and you feared—knew, it would only worsen as time went on.

-

Joel knew that night that he needed to follow through on his plans.

His lack of trust in Tess, his instability in his life now, and how he couldn’t get you out of his head. The three were a volatile mix and he knew if he didn’t start somewhere that things would quickly grow out of control.

He makes the call to his lawyer the following morning, hungover and tired. Nursing a headache in his open palm as he conversed quietly over the phone. Tess was home, far off and distant in another room but he can hear her shifting around, moving about, and he feels like he’s betraying her. He doesn’t know why he’s filled with guilt and shame—maybe that was partly because of you, his willingness to cross that line for just a moment and kiss you.

It was a momentary slip, his want clouding out his sense of rationality.

You were conniving and manipulative, using his own selfish thoughts against him, his eagerness to aid you in your progress but also allowed a level of vulnerability between you both. Joel should’ve known, he should’ve seen it in the way you looked at him. 

It was admiration and obsession and he fed into it. 

It was something he never had, not even with Tess.

He loved her, sure. Cared about her, absolutely. But the physical connection—sexual or not, had never truly been there. And Joel figures that was why she did what she did, despite how badly it hurt him. He felt at fault for a while, like he had caused it. 

Maybe he did—but he would never have betrayed Tess like she did so easily, even if she swore it meant nothing at the time. Late nights for her were fickle, but they still happened. And that’s when Joel allowed the doubt to seep in and eat away.

But, he just couldn’t do it anymore. He felt like an intruder in his own home.

Tess would be served the papers on Monday evening and Joel would face the wrath when he arrived home, but there was still time. Time to prepare and settle, commit through his day and do his job, even if you lingered in his peripheral as class went on.

Your lack of reaction and response to his unchangingness of your grade gives him a false sign of relief—had you finally moved on from the idea? Joel was clueless to how preoccupied you actually were, chewing on the end of a pen as you sifted through tabs as he droned on at the front of class. Discussion days were always long and dreadful, and as most of the class was discussing the troubled assignment Mr. Miller had given you the week prior, your silence was…required. He avoided you like the plague and you were thankful, to some degree.

Still filled with frustration and simmering rage, you can’t ignore how despite everything—Joel still glances your way. And where his looks before were restrained, subtle and less driven…these were not. Like he was replaying the events in his head every time he looked at you, wondering if he’d tossed your panties out or kept them, if he still tasted you on his lips—at this point, fucking you was the least he could do.

And you know it’s in poor taste, but you approach him at the end of class with a revered look on things—hopeful, even. Apologize, fix your grade, and move on like things never happened.

He straightens a stack of files on his desk as you approach, jaw tense as he swallows and his gaze follows the last few lingering students as you neared on him, like prey. But, your face softens when he looks at you and whatever retort he has on standby dissipates for the moment.

“Um,” You start, unsure of how he would react, “I—can we talk?”

“I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Joel offers logically, “not…now.”

End of day, he thinks. In his office. Privacy. Secrecy. He didn’t feel like airing things out in the middle of the day, not with his divorce on the forefront of his mind.

“I just…I wanted to apologize.” You tell him quietly, “For everything.”

Was it genuine? Not really.

“I can’t change your grade,” He admits, “I’m not going to and it’s beyond the deadline for that assignment.”

You breath sharply through your nostrils and intertwine your fingers in front of you—Joel can see from the way your grip tightens that you’re holding back and nothing has changed.

Unstable and volatile, you both stared at each other for too long, an eerie silence settling.

“That’s—”

He interrupts without much care, “Unfair? Unethical? Don’t start with this. Not now.”

He doesn’t have any leverage here either, but you quiet down under his gaze slightly.

You begin to speak again, but he holds up a careful finger. Like scolding a child for their actions and you bite back a venomous retort as he talks over you, “Meet me in my office at six. Fifteen minutes. That’s all you get.”

He’s on edge, jaw flexing around a tense swallow that feels impossible to get down. He turns back to his desk, ignoring you and ultimately ending whatever conversation you were hoping to have.

He wants you to wait and despite your stubbornness to address the situation now, you settle with his words and nod, a quiet “Okay.” in response.

“Don’t be late.” He stresses, eyes flicking up towards you briefly.

Your insides twist ominously in anticipation, but you feel yourself throbbing with need.

“Yes,” You respond, “Of course, Mr. Miller.”

There’s an urge for praise that Joel bites back.

-

Joel is already opening the door as your footsteps approach later that day, anticipating your arrival and eyes glancing over your figure in the darkened lights of the classroom, the warm glow of his office blanketing you both as he welcomes you in with a gesture, moving out of your way slightly and closing the door to his office as you trailed toward his desk, lingering quietly.

“You can sit.” He directs, thumbs digging into the waistband of his slacks as he adjusts them slightly, the uncomfortable press of his belt pressing into his stomach. Normally he’d undress a little, relax, but he couldn’t allow that. Not with how anxious he felt, knowing what he faced at home, sure that the divorce papers had already been delivered to Tess.

He’s tried to ignore it—and he doesn’t know why he’s worried, but her refusal to cooperate is always an option and that isn’t something Joel thinks he can handle calmly.

“Okay,” You listen, taking a seat in one of the two leather chairs placed in front of his desk, watching as he leaned against the edge of his desk a few inches away, hands clasped in his lap as he looked down, unsure of how to begin, or where, “Um, I can—”

“You need to understand something,” Joel begins suddenly, interrupting you again—it really, really fucking bothered you. He did it on purpose, as a way to assert himself over you, and you felt it in the way he looked at you, down and scrutinizing, “this—whatever this is, or was—it’s inappropriate.”

As if he had a proper moral compass to explain his actions.

“I don’t need a lesson in appropriate behavior,” You counter, “if that’s what you’re leading into.”

“No—”

It’s your turn to interrupt, sitting up straighter in your chair.

“And truthfully, it’s a little unprofessional of you to continue to fail me after I did the make-up assignment.” You respond, a tinge of condescension in your tone, “and you kissed me, if I remember correctly. So—if this is because you’re upset, then I’m allowed to be too. I want a fair grade. Not what you’re punishing me with now because you—for whatever fucking reason, can’t get passed the idea that you had those thoughts too, but can’t accept it.”

“I’m not punishing you.” Joel responds lamely and you squint your eyes slightly as you look at him before huffing out a breath of defeat, chuckling softly under your breath.

“You know—we talked for weeks. Back and forth. And you reached out to me first. So, if you want to deny that then let’s talk about you abusing your power and holding it over my head now after all of that. Genuine talks. You had to care, to some degree.”

“You’re not the first student I’ve talked to outside of class—”

You roll your eyes, feeling the conversation stalling out quickly.

“Do you still have them?” You ask curiously.

Joel doesn’t need to be told. He knows what you’re referring to.

And the guilt on his face as he looks away briefly, tongue pressing into his cheek as he glances at his watch, avoiding your question.

“Am I out of time already?” You ask patronizingly, leaning over in the chair slightly as you struggle to meet his gaze, his eyes pointed elsewhere. “Tight schedule today?”

“What are you expecting out of this?” Joel asks, arms crossing over his chest, biceps stretching under the dark button-up, licking at his bottom lip anxiously. “Are you that fucking stubborn that you think this is somehow going to work in your favor?”

Your face twitches in frustration and you cock your head slightly, rising from the chair and into his space, close enough that you can smell the faint waft of his cologne, looking him over slowly as his eyes fall on you.

“Where are they?” You ask curiously, squeezing yourself between the small space, thighs rubbing against his own as you walk around him, trailing by his desk. “Here?” You point toward the stack of closed drawers nestled in the wood and Joel glances over his shoulder, quick to move as he pushes you away gently, palm flat against your chest.

“The fuck are you doing?” He asks, “You came here to talk. So talk.”

You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth and test your limits once more, “Oh, so they are in there? Kept them for yourself? You know, this whole moral high ground thing is really fucking annoying, Joel.”

He speaks your name as a warning, but it only makes you feel more at ease.

“What?” You ask innocently, “Do you have somewhere to be?”

Joel chews at his bottom lip and removes his hand from the center of your chest, feeling it sting like a hot brand as his fingers curl around the edge of his desk, feeling oddly small as your eyes track him and watch like he’s some type of prey, a devilish smile pulling at your lips.

He made a mistake underestimating you—or even allowing you back into his office. He was screwed.

“Stop.” He warns, watching as you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth and reach behind him quickly, yanking at the drawer but he draws your hand up, tight in his grip and forcing you against his chest, your unrestrained hand falling against the desk to catch yourself.

“What’s going on?” You ask softly, feigning genuine emotion. The crease between his brow growing deeper—you’ve spent enough time with him to know when something is bothering him, someone, and it’s written all over his face. “Come on, I won’t say anything.”

“It’s not your business.” Joel offers lamely, feeling you create a small amount of distance as you push away, your wrist still held firmly in his grip, but lower by his waist.

“Is it her?” You ask carefully, “It’s her, isn’t it?”

Another breath of your name—stop here, stop now.

“Did you tell her?” You ask suddenly, eyes widening. “God, are you really that much of a —”

“No, fuck—” He interrupts, “I’m—not that it’s any of your goddamn business, I served her divorce papers today.”

“Oh…” It wasn’t what you expected, not by a longshot. “Was that—is that because of—”

“No,” His eyebrows quirk up slightly, amused that you thought you were the cause of his marriage's untimely dismantlement, “not at all, actually.”

He doesn’t know why it feels like a weight lifting on his chest, but talking about it with you feels…less imposing than he expected. And your eyes soften slightly at the mention, still beckoning something dark but he can see the genuine reaction that flashes momentarily.

He loosens his grip but doesn’t quite let go, thumb rubbing over the vein of your wrist. 

Joel doesn’t understand why he can’t just let go, like he’s weirdly tethered to you.

“Do you…want to talk about it?” You ask, feeling the need to reassure some comfort.

You didn’t really care, but he seemed so pathetically sad. It spilled over and flooded into you, that small tug at your heart. It quickly fades, his mouth opening to speak.

“Not really.” He doesn’t feel the need to bother, glancing at his watch briefly again.

The minutes were ticking down and he knew you were overstaying your welcome—and he was allowing it. But, you here—it feels good. 

“I can’t change your grade,” He reiterates again, “but if you promise to not do something like that again—I can offer some extra credit, something to help make up for it.”

And ultimately teach you a lesson and punish you in the process. Did you really have a choice?

“Extra credit,” You stress, saying slowly as you consider the word, the implication—you don’t think he means it in a nefarious way, it just feels ridiculous, “seriously?”

Joel nods, “Consider it a…lesson learned.”

A small laugh bubbles from your chest but you ignore it, staring down at his touch and speaking.

“You know—I did appreciate the recommendations you made,” You admit, “if that counts for anything.

Joel stares at you, despite your preoccupied gaze, speaking directly.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I care about that,” Joel says, “I give recommendations to students all the time. But, you seemed more interested so–I gave you more.”

“Right,” You say with finality, “and all those nights at the coffee shop?”

“I’m there quite a bit anyways,” He admits, only a half-truth, “you’re not the first student I’ve had meetings with outside of class.”

He’s trying to reiterate to himself that his actions are justified, but his body is saying otherwise.

“Mr. Miller,” You start softly, “can I ask you one more question?”

Silent, he nods again.

“Why are you still touching me?”

And he doesn’t know why, but something in him snaps. The quickening of your pulse under his fingertips, your eyes finally flicking up to him. He does have your panties tucked away in his desk, he doesn’t meet with students outside of his class like that, and he can try and convince himself all he wants, but him reaching out to you was a personal, selfish decision that had nothing to do with anything but his own curiosity. He sees the subtle catch of your breath and doesn’t stop you when he sees you moving closer, quick and determined.

Fuck his time limit, you think.

 If he wanted you to leave he would’ve forced you out by now.

Your lips are soft but forceful, pressing against his with fervor as you slip your wrist from his grip and bury your fingers into his shortened curls, trimmed down at the base of his neck but there’s still just enough to tug, swallowing down his soft grunt as you pull and bite as at his bottom lip.

Joel has the thought to stop you, but he can’t. 

He feels guilty, appreciating the touch that he’s lacked for so long. But, there’s a creeping sensation of frustration that fills him, vexed with you. And it snaps, completely.

His hands finally touch you, releasing a breath into his mouth you didn’t realize you were holding. One hand cradling the back of your head, the other wrapped firmly around your neck. Just a solid weight that he uses as leverage when you get too eager, nipping at his lip. 

Joel moves you easily, silently as he turns and presses you against his desk, mumbling a soft “Up.” as he aids in the lift of your thighs, taking a seat on his desk as it shakes with the movement and he slots himself between your open legs and kisses you fuller, selfishly.

He’s eager to slip his tongue into your mouth once more, like beforem and you welcome it with ease. Giggling into his open mouth as he squeezes at your throat, the sound breaking his focus.

“So, is this the extra credit?” You speak against his lips, a soft puff of his breath over your face as he keeps his eyes closed, face pressed against yours. “Because I think my fifteen minutes is up.”

Joel can’t do conversation right now, the noise grating in his ears as he blindly reaches for his tie and loosens it, yanking it away from his neck and balling up the material, his eyebrows shooting up slightly in response as he catches your gaze, momentarily confused until you quickly catch on.

Oh, he wants you to shut up. Noted.

He’s guiding the fabric to your mouth before you can properly speak and that’s what he wants, stuffing it between your teeth and forcing you to bite down, his eyes darkened as he squeezes your cheeks between his fingers, shifting a hand under the hem of your dress where it tickles your thighs and you legs widen instinctively, even more. There’s an obvious absence of fabric that Joel notes as his fingers dig into your hips, your eyes brightening at his realization.

And that’s how Joel knows—you never came here to talk. You always had some underlying intention or reason and it drove him insane, but he was a raging hypocrite, wanting it just as selfishly. His fingers drag over your pussy with intention, gliding through your slick and pressing a single digit inside of you with little resistance and you gasp, muffled by the fabric.

“You didn’t come here to talk,” Joel surmises, though it was obvious from the start, “did you?”

You shake your head weakly, eyes squeezing shut as he pumps his fingers and quickly adds another, hand flying to his wrist as he quirks his fingers inside of you and hits a spot that has your stomach coiling in anticipation.  

“What do you want?” He asks hotly, hand squeezing at the base of your neck while he uses his other hand to rub messy, slow circles over your clit. Your hands reach for his belt without question, palm flattening over his cock that was held tightly behind the stiff material of his slacks. “Yeah?” He questions, the subtle squeeze of your hand against his shaft in response.

And part of you really doesn’t think he has it in him to go through with it, but then he’s pulling his hand away from you to manipulate and manhandle, yanking you off the desk sloppily and pressing your front against the edge, fumbling with his belt behind you and pulling it off in a sharp snap, hand flattening against your back as he presses you down.

“Give me your hands.” He tells you, a soft whine of protest coming from your mouth, but then he’s pulling himself from his briefs, cock in hand as he tugs at himself slowly and glides along the center of your pussy, dragging through the wetness. “You want me to fuck you, right? Give me your hands.”

You had control on just about every aspect of his mind—he needed this, the physicality stripped from you.

You oblige silently, face resting against the cold wood as you offered up your hands and allowed him to constrain them tight and snug—he does it with ease. Practice and perfected and he uses it as leverage to pull you back toward him, “So, we have a caveat here. No condom.”

You nod deftly, eyes closing as he tightens his grip and ultimately squeezes the belt even tighter.

“But, something tells me you don’t care—” A shake of your head in response, “—don’t tell me you’re that fucking naive.”

You shrug lamely, wiggling your ass in an effort to move closer, eyebrow furrowing as he moves his hips away slightly. You growl in frustration and spit out the tie, “Fuck you, I’m on birth control. Do you really think I’m that irresponsible?”

His lack of answer is enough of one and he stuffs the fabric back into your mouth with a grimace, “Given your behavior, yes.” He fists himself tightly and slips inside of you with ease, a snug fit but you mold around him perfectly.

And it shouldn’t feel right, but it does. Joel breathes a soft breath of relief as he uses his free hand to fist into the fabric of your dress and use it as a perfect leverage to fuck into you with fervor, disregarding of your own pleasure for the time being—though the angle and the intensity of your thrust doesn’t have you far off, snapping his hips with a furiosity that strikes something inside of you with each harsh movement.

He’s huffing behind clenched teeth, a low growl emitting from his chest as he feels you tighten around him instinctively, sobbing brokenly around the fabric in your mouth, eventually allowing it to slip as you feel his grip shift, pulling you upright by your dress and pressing you back against his chest.

“Why the—sudden change of heart?” You tease, an underlying suspicion in your mind that you don’t speak aloud. He wanted a distraction and you were proving to be a great one. His hips slow suddenly, almost like he’s contemplating a response.

He huffs out a bitter laugh, snapping his hips sharply and forcing a gasp from your chest.

“Do you ever shut up?” He asks, “If I knew you’d be this annoying I would’ve just shoved my dick in your mouth—maybe that would do you some good. You’d like that, huh?”

You giggle softly but it falls off into a broken moan as Joel buries his face into your neck, biting roughly at your skin as he feels himself reaching his peak, knowing it’s been far too long for him—years of lacking sex that quickly divulged into nothing. “I think you would like that, Joel.”

You’re waiting for a chastise that never comes, knowing he hates when his name falls from your tongue—he makes a muffled sound as he loosens the belt with fluid, practiced fingers and discards it to the floor, relieving the growing ache in your shoulders as he crosses an arm over your chest, palm flat against it to hold you in place as he snaps his hips once, twice, before his other hand is digging into the flesh of your own hip as he comes, deep inside of you and with a muffled grunt, teeth leaving a faint impression in your skin—and you’re only slightly disappointed in his lack of attention in making you come, but then he’s pulling out and spinning you around, hands coming up under your thighs to spread you out over his desk, silently pressing for you to lean back, dropping to his knees with his pants pooling low on his thighs. Too impatient to redress fully.

You gasp when he dips a finger inside of you, catching the slow spend that slips out, stuffing it back in as he presses his tongue over your clit and groaning at how you clench tightly around his fingers, spasming at the pressure.

“Quiet,” He warns, “put the fucking tie back in your mouth if you can’t control yourself.”

You can admit defeat, pathetically stuffing the fabric back in your mouth—haphazardly as half of it drapes over your chest, eyes locking on Joel’s as he laps at your clit, fingers stuffed inside of you to keep his cum from dripping out. And it’s so overwhelming that when you do finally come, you feel your vision blacking out, biting down roughly on the silk tie as you claw at the hand he has braced against your stomach, desperately trying to keep your writhing body still.

The aftermath is quiet, jaded—shifting on his desk silently you watch as he redresses, tucking his shirt back into his pants as he slips his belt through the loops, the fingers that were just buried inside of you working so easily against the leather. 

“Satisfied?” He asks suddenly, into the silence as you both lock eyes.

He slips the tie from your fingers, placing it back around his neck and tying it diligently. 

“Are you going to try and convince me you did that for my benefit?” You retort in annoyance, despite how satisfied you actually may be, this wasn’t just on you, “How about you apologize for using me as an outlet for your troubled marriage?”

“You’re not an outlet–”

And as if you spoke it into existence, the knock comes a few moments later. The door opening.

This is the part where Joel’s life finally implodes.

You on his desk, compromising as he still stands halfway between your legs in the middle of shifting his tie and Tess is…stoic. Silent.

“This is what’s been keeping you so preoccupied?” Tess asks, the dooming stack of papers gripped tightly in her hand. “Fucking a student?” Her eyes flicking to you briefly but quickly back to Joel and he nods toward the door, beckoning for you to leave. 

You do, without question. 

 And the aftermath is abysmal.

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Cod With Monster!Reader

Requested: No

Warnings: Reader is described with some monster features depending on which character, blood drinking, Reader is dead in Ghost’s section, descriptions of blood and a slit throat, a decent amount of spice Soap’s along with some dub-con, also mentions of eating human flesh, Reader is described with a green dress in Soap’s part because it’s part of the mythology that I read, Reader remains Gn though.

A/N: This is the post I got way too into. Soap’s especially is….way too goddamn long.

Price - House Spirit

Price first met you when he moved into his new home. He was annoyed when he thought he had mice, what sounded like their little claws scurrying all under the floorboards and in the cellar, unaware that that was just you moving about. So preoccupied with his own worries, he never wondered how dust never seemed to collect in home, despite him being gone for months at a time, how his clothes and sheets always smelled clean and unwrinkled, or how his dressers were always full despite not actually having done his laundry since he moved in.

It all comes to a head one day when he was home on leave and decided to check his cellar for the first time in the whole 3 years he’d technically lived here. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t even know he’d come home that day and were too busy reorganizing your little nest in the back corner of the room to hear the door open or his heavy footsteps coming down the steps. Not until you could feel his bewildered gaze staring holes into the back of your head.

Things from there were….tense. He wanted to believe that you were some strange person who was either trying to rob him or maybe someone who was suffering mentally and was confused. Something that didn’t fuck up his entire concept of reality and what was real and myth. That was, until he got a good look at your little horns, your long and floppy, almost bunny like, ears, and the swishing tail behind you. He promptly backed himself up the stairs and slammed the door to the cellar shut.

It took another week or so before he went back into the cellar, but this time you were hidden away from his eyes. It took some coaxing from him to get you to reveal yourself, promises that he wouldn’t hurt you or try and force you to leave. Once you did come out, he was all questions, what you were, why you were here, why you were staying in the fucking cellar of all places when he had a bed he didn’t even sleep in when he was home.

After that, things were a bit rocky but….almost domestic. He enjoyed coming home and seeing your ears perk up so cutely when he walked through the door, or how your tail swished a bit faster when he greeted you kindly. Overall, he enjoys your presence and it’s no skin off his back if you want to do all the cleaning that he can’t be bothered with on his few lazy days. Or if you feel like cooking for him when he comes home. Or if you wake him from his ptsd induced nightmares, touching his face and holding his hand, making him warm tea and something to eat to help stop his shaking.

The only thing he insists on is that you move out of the cellar and into an actual room.

Gaz - Dullahan

Gaz met you when he was lost in the woods, a chopper having crashed and left him stranded in the middle of nowhere. He was thirsty and hungry, having run out of emergency rations and water days ago, with nothing nearby to help him. He was on Death’s door, his eyes heavy, his stomach long since having stopped it’s rumbling, body weak and feeling like lead. But, as his eyes began to close, he heard the strangest thing just before he lost consciousness.

The beating of hooves on the ground beside him.

When he came to, Gaz was feeling significantly less thirsty and weak, but still very much tired. The warmth of whatever he was laying on brought him a sense of ease and relaxation.

Until he registered that what he was laying on was ever so subtly moving up and down. At the same time that he made this realization, something cold and wet nudged at the palm of his hand, making him shoot upright. Whatever it was startled at this and snorted almost angrily, making him lose his balance and fall back.

What he saw only confused him. A large black horse with a long mane and tail, it’s eyes completely white and leaving him feeling cold every time he looked into them.

And then a voice, your voice, calling out to the giant creature. “Dubhshláine, come.” You said, and it did, but not before sniffing at Gaz’s face one more time before it trotted over to your side. Then Gaz was pushing himself back up, eyes searching for the source of the voice, almost shouting when he saw the headless body that was petting the snout of the great beast.

It took….a while for you to calm him down, frantically trying to keep him from running, your voice shouting from somewhere that he needed to calm down and that he shouldn’t move when he was like this. But his struggle only ended when he was practically dry heaving in your arms, dizzy from trying to exert himself like that when he was recovering from dehydration and starvation.

Things went a bit smoother after that, at least, once you reattached your head and offered him some berries and meat that he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to eat, despite you insisting that it was just goose. He did end up eating it though, if only to stave off the incessant rumbling of his belly. And that night, as he let you guide him into a cave and helped him into a large pile of warm furs, you promised him that you’d help him get home.

But he couldn’t help but think that going home meant he’d never be able to hear your soothing voice again.

Ghost - Poltergeist

Ghost is someone who goes to thrift stores every once and a while. A habit of his, as he doesn’t like to spend too much money, and part of him likes to see what sort of things other people have collected and gotten rid of over the years. Priceless things and useless things alike. Normally he sticks to buying little, only things he needs, like a cheap and worn t-shirt because his last one finally became too ripped to wear in public.

But on that day, something else caught his eye. A simple and small Jade necklace tied on a black string. His fingers brush over it, running his thumb over the hole in the middle where the string was tied. Ghost should have known something was wrong then, as he never took interest in jewelry. Ever.

The owner seemed to take notice of his attention and told him to just take it, as it had been sitting on the rack for ages, longer than he could remember. What he didn’t tell Ghost was that people constantly avoided it, avoided even looking at it, even the owner himself. It instilled a sense of dread and fear, and made people’s hearts race. The owner had tried to simply throw it out but it ended up right back on that rack, time and time again. And if it wasn’t making this strange masked man uncomfortable then he was more then welcome to take the fucking thing off of his hands.

Ghost is surprised at the offer but accepts after a moment of hesitation. The necklace becomes sort of a good luck charm for him, and he rarely, if ever, takes it off. It’s always so warm against him (it grew almost scorching whenever he took off his clothes), making him feel a sense of security that he wasn’t sure that he ever felt before.

But soon things…changed. He noticed that if he neglected to touch the necklace for a certain length of time, things would happen around him. Things moving from where he left them, pictures falling from walls, objects jumping off of shelves. Like a brat throwing a temper tantrum after being denied attention. It was something that he brushed off time and time again as the wind or loose nails or whatever other thing he could think of. Ghost didn’t believe in the paranormal.

At least, he didn’t. But when he wakes up in the middle of the night to hands oh so gently petting his face and chest, an eerie and croaky sounding cry echoing quietly in the room, he starts to believe just a little bit. His eyes slowly peek open when your hand on his face drifts down to cup the back of his neck, your other hand going from his chest to his hip as you press soft and sweet kisses to his chest, focusing particularly around the necklace that laid in the center of his skin. He only got a good look at you when you started rubbing your cheek against his clavicle, that same noise as earlier coming from your mouth.

And god when he saw you.

Your throat was slit open, that much he could make out, wide and deep, so deep that it must have damaged your vocal cords, which explained why you sounded so croaky. The blood from the cut was all down your front, staining your once white t-shirt and the panties that adorned your body. And you looked almost see through, but Ghost could certainly feel how corporeal you were.

Ghost’s eyes quickly shut again when you started to move, straddling his hips as you pressed those same kisses to his face before curling yourself against him, burying your face into his neck. You seemed…..lonely, almost. And Ghost decided he could work with lonely, especially when he had been left feeling the same way for the longest time.

Soap - Baobhan sith

It was a stupid wish, made in the dead of night, when he was lonely and sleep deprived on a mission in the middle of nowhere, his comrades sleeping around him on the forest floor while he took the watch shift. It was a wish for companionship, to not be as lonely as he often felt. Sure, he had the 141, but the 141 were family. Not a lover that would hold him tight, press kisses to his lips, tell him that he was loved and cherished.

And that was when you appeared. He didn’t see you at first, too lost in his own thoughts. You only caught his attention when you shifted, your curious and mischievous eyes peeking out at him from behind a tree trunk. He was stunned for lack of a better word, especially when you came out fully, your long green dress dragging on the ground. What were you doing out here?

He called for you quietly, his voice full of concern. Were you hurt? Looking for help? Lost? He stepped closer but you stepped back, gesturing for him to follow you, to chase you. And it was stupid that he listened. He was a soldier and he was leaving his sleeping comrades defenseless. He shouldn’t have set his gun down and took off after you, no matter how worried he was. But something about you was clouding his judgment, making him lose his way.

He stumbled through brambles and branches, through bushes and mud, your giggling the only sign that he was even going the right way. And then finally, a break in the darkness. A little homey cottage, the sudden light almost feeling blinding to his retinas. But when he opened his eyes again, you were there, excitedly beckoning him again, coaxing him into what was supposedly your house.

Soap knew he should turn back, should wake away, but his body only moved forward, his mind a fog of confused desire as you pulled him in for a kiss, your back pressed against the door. He was putty under your touch, just waiting to be molded into whatever shape you wished for, whatever shape pleased you best.

And apparently what pleased you was having him under you on your soft bed, riding his cock for your pleasure and your pleasure only, batting away his hands every time he tried to touch you. He was desperate for it, for more of you, like you were a drug he’d never be able to come back from, that he’d never stop craving.

And then you came and all he could think of was how you were pulling away, how wanting he was, how he couldn’t let you leave him like this. He didn’t notice the red in your eyes or how sharp your teeth became, how you started to go for his wide open neck, his blood pumping so deliciously fast for you.

And then you were flipped, so distracted by the thought of your own meal that you didn’t notice that he’d grabbed you until it was too late. He pushed your face into the pillows as you started to wiggle, his other hand clenching the meat of your hip tightly to keep you still as he plowed back into you, making you cry out in surprise and pleasure.

He’s overcome with the need for his own pleasure. With the need to drown himself in the pleasure your body gave him. His cock was twitching, he was so close. So so close. He needed it, needed it more than he needed the air in his lungs. He leaned in-

And you screamed.

Your cry was loud and sharp, like a banshee’s wail ringing in his ears. It shattered the haze in his mind, sent the wool flying from his eyes. He looked down and he saw your skin steaming from where his dog tags had touched your back. You seemed relieved with them gone, your body shaking under him, snarling at him over your shoulder.

It clicked for him suddenly, everythinh falling into place like one horrible puzzle that was missing its final piece. He’d grown up on old stories and legends of creatures that harmed humans, ate them down to their bones but were repelled by iron. His tags were steel, so he supposed they were close enough to iron to merit their effect on you.

You watched him. He watched you.

And then all at once he was moving again, finding your little squeak of surprise both amusing and cute. You were confused but he had never been more certain in his life. As he used you like his own personal whore, his mind was made up. You were his now. You couldn’t leave him. You were the first person in so long to take away the loneliness, the pain.

He flipped you onto your back, holding your hands above your head with one hand as the other whipped his dog tags over his head, wrapping them around your wrists as you hissed at him, bucking wildly. It only served to impale you further on his cock, making him groan with delight before his mouth was on your skin, nails raking down your sides now that you were successfully restrained. And he didn’t stop til you were a drooling whimpering mess on his cock, his cream dripping from your sore hole as he pressed kisses along your face and hands. Showing you how good he could please you and take care of you.

And then, you’d come with him, right? You chose him that night in the woods, and he chose you right back. Except instead of a quick meal, you ended up with a Sergeant who was head over heels for you and refused to leave you out in your woods all alone.

At least he was cute.

[pianostarinwonderland]

maybe skully isnt dead 🤯 [half copium half srs]

listen. ik ive been on copium for a while. ik we all are, ive seen twitter, tumblr, and everyone’s tags on my posts when they reblog

BUT PLS HEAR ME OUT. IM SO SERIOUS RN WHEN I SAY: if u wanna be technical about it, if u wanna stretch it out somehow, you can argue that the game never outright states that skully is dead, only that the skully we met was from hundreds of years ago.

“but mamsir pianostarinwonderland, how in the fuck can that be???? we HEARD that invisible kiss” LET ME COOKKKKKK 🔥🔥🔥 I SWEAR EVERYONE, I AM COOKING U JUST HAVE TO HEAR ME OUUUUUUUUUUUUUT— knocked out

Ok serious time, let me mansplain to you all the possibility of Skully being alive

Establishing first of all, Twst has kept Skully's nature vague

Simply put: we don't know if Skully is human. In his live 2D, Skully's ears are completely covered. Even in his illustration, we can barely see his ears. It's an interesting design choice. However, in his chibi (which wasn't revealed until Episode 5), we can see his ears aren't shaped like a fae, but are round like that of a human.

However, it's pretty hard to think he's human either, when we consider his "moshi, ne moshi" greeting in Episode 1 and its connection to the supernatural. Voiced, to be noted. Exactly what kind of creature he could be is currently unknown, but because this part was voiced, it's something we need to pay attention to at the very least.

In regards to his mortality, the only clue we're really given is Skully himself saying that he may never meet us except through Halloween, which implies a lifespan similar to a human or something similar. But Skully doesn't know how far into the future that the cast is from. Heck, does he even know of his nature?

Now, addressing that invisible kiss...

I feel like this is the main thing that told all of us that Skully is long gone. Heck, if you catch me in my right mind, I might just tell you that yeah, that should be enough proof that Skully is dead! Little signs from the dead such can manifest in similar ways to what Jamil and Leona sensed: hearing a kiss and feeling a kiss on your hand.

(unfortunately i'm not in my right mind so you're getting my dumb reasons why i'm arguing for otherwise)

However, if Skully is gone, I find it interesting that this is the way they decide to show it. We already know from the very first Halloween event that ghosts can manifest all year round in Night Raven College due to the high concentration of magical power in the area. Outside of that, they cannot be seen. If they really wanted to confirm with the audience that Skully is a ghost, they could have had him appear as such at the end, when they all returned to Night Raven College.

But they chose a scenario where people can draw a lot of conclusions from it: Is their senses getting fucked over as they wake up? Are they still reeling from the magic of the book? (though rationally, we know that Leona is not one to be easily stunned, so the first question is at the very least easy to dismiss)

I've also seen some people theorize that he's using invisibility magic during the invisible kiss scene. And well, while I find that funny, it makes me wonder if he could be some other kind of spirit that's not dead. Like an undead of some sort, which the residents of Halloween Town are. Heck, Azul's card line about Skully talks about how he seems to fit right at home with the Halloween Town residents. Again, we don't know Skully's true nature, but the possibility of him being a species that can turn invisible is interesting.

Moving on, we have what Dire Crowley stated about Skully

At the end of the event, Crowley tells us that he found Skully’s portrait while rummaging through the storage and shows it to us and the 11 boys who went inside the book

What he tells us is that Skully J. Graves is a NRC graduate from hundreds of years ago, before Crowley was Headmage. Note that he only was appointed for the position 100 years ago; the Skully we met is at least from around 200 years ago. During his NRC years, Skully got to share Halloween to NRC. It was a hit, and when he graduated, he spread Halloween all over the world in his travels.

I'd like to take a little detour first to discuss something that's been weighing on my mind: Some people have thought that Crowley is lying to us when he speaks about Skully and his achievements, but... I don't see why he would lie. For one, there is a decent chance that Crowley might not have gotten to see Skully. Even if he did, it's even more unsure if he was involved in Skully's affairs.

However, there's one main reason why I do think that Skully got to live a fulfilling life instead of facing an overblot that killed him or some other tragedy. I'd like to dedicate a longer post to this matter, but to make it concise, I think through Skully, Twst is starting to establish something new regarding their history. I think that historical teachings, folktales and stories, and rumors that are well-known tend to be lies or twisted truths. Whereas those that are obscure and not known are actually what occurred. Skully is called the King of Halloween who's done so much to spread the holiday to the world, yet not even NRC students, who should be the first to know considering that Skully is an alumna, know of him. Although there may be other reasons why that's the case, I like to think that at the very least, Skully's obscurity indicates that he did live the life he wanted and succeeded in working for a future that generations after him can enjoy.

Anyway, that actually isn't the main point of this section of the post, but I kind of want to air that out first. The main point is that Crowley only really said that Skully is a former NRC student from hundreds of years ago who traveled around the world to spread Halloween. But he never told us where he was buried or whether he saw his ghost roaming NRC. He never said anything about Skully being dead.

He probably said the hundreds of years ago bit, carrying the assumption that of course, Skully may have passed away. But we have to remember that we have long-living species in Twisted Wonderland. Fae that were students 200 years ago are very likely to be alive now. Crowley himself is a long-living creature, having been Headmage for 100 years. I think with that in mind, it's important for him to emphasize that Skully's gone if he really is. But he never mentioned it. Therefore, there is a good chance that Skully might just be somewhere else. That or Crowley just doesn't give a fuck where his alumni go, and I might be thinking too deeply about the absence of certain words. Honestly, that's a pretty good chance too.

Lastly, we have the scene where Jack Skellington gets shot down but survives it

Here's where it gets a bit more into speculation, but you're going to have to hear me out.

In the movie, Jack Skellington gets shot down by the military for impersonating Santa Claus. When the Halloween Townspeople watched it, they all despaired, and the mayor started declaring to all that Jack has been blown to smithereens and proclaimed him dead.

But that's not what happened: we find Jack landing on an angel's statue, alive and definitely not blown to smithereens.

And considering that Skully is still very much twisted from Jack Skellington... do you think the writers are pulling a similar move? Making us think that he's dead, just as the townspeople thought he was dead, only for us to learn eventually that he's alive.

This of course depends on what happens eventually in the sequel. From the way things are proceeding, what happened in the Lost in the Book with TNBC is events prior to the movie, and we could very well have the sequel be set during the movie events. (If you ask me, I kind of doubt that actually. I feel like Skellington got inspired by Skully's love for Halloween, enough to stay true to his identity as the Pumpkin King, which would mean the movie wouldn't happen the way we know it. So if anything, I feel like TNBC 2 would focus less on the actual movie and more on the side games where Oogie takes over Halloween Town and even kidnaps Santa and other people, but I admit, that's a stretch, especially considering that we will get Santa giving Halloween Town a taste of Christmas)

Of course, this post is really just to let some of my copium out. Rn, it's still safe to assume that yea, Skully's dead. And though I am coping hard for Skully to be alive, with the way Twst treats the dead, it's not exactly a bad thing. Ghosts continue to stay in NRC like they're living people. They honor the dead, and let the dead live among them. And even if he is in the afterlife and not stuck in the mortal plane, I have faith that Skully did live a fulfilling life that may have been forgotten but clearly changed the world. :'D

[itsnotmyfaultsomepeoplecantread]

Autism is so frustrating because sometimes I just have a severe disconnect between my feelings/reactions/cognition.

"Go to therapy," they said. "It'll help you understand your emotions." Well I did. And in theory, I do.

It never quite worked the same way for me, though, because I can actually rationalize quite well. And that was exhausting because it meant that I had to find a therapist who genuinely understood that. I am very empathetic and very rational. Sometimes, though, my brain doesn't want to be empathetic and rational. Sometimes it's just too many feelings to manage. And I never even knew the reason because I was just labeled as anxious and depressed and probably "crazy" with air quotes around it.

But unfortunately, now that I've gone through lots of therapy and spent a very long time trying to figure out why I was feeling a certain way, I discovered that I still have physical emotional reactions, I'm now just frustrated as shit that I'm having them. Like... I AM rationalizing. I KNOW that my feelings are not valid. But I'm still crying???? I don't want to be crying??? I know what needs to happen and I'm still physically upset. It's frustrating as sh*t. The tears are streaming down my face but that's not what's happening in my head.

I know, technically, that I'm allowed to have feelings. But it feels like such a burden? I'm absolutely terrified about becoming my (very reactive) parents, and that does not help. I don't want to traumatize others with my own anxiety.

BUT on the other hand, sometimes my brain cells just completely stop working. It's like the loading screen on a computer. And that's frustrating because I have STUFF TO DO. I need thoughts!! On some level, I need to be able to cognate. Instead, it just feels sort of blank, and that makes me panic in a totally different way. It's anxiety about being unable to speak. Unable to fully express myself.

And sometimes I express myself and it's just ~anxiety~.

My brain just feels like it's broken into separate spaces that can't seem to align on anything. And that's really what autism is, a lot of times. There is a lot of gray and white matter, but not quite in the right places.

And I have to just accept it, because there isn't a "cure" for autism.

Unfortunately, my ADHD somewhat keeps this in check, because it says "do things! Socialize! HAVE EVERY EMOTION" except then I can't focus on shit, and I'm slightly irritable, and still kinda useless.

[avastrasposts]

I loved writing the other Triple Frontier boys in The Pilot and his Girl, and my favourite to write was always Benny. He would always get away with funny lines. These two below the cut were my favourite passages with him.

“So let me get this straight,” Benny says, pointing his beer bottle at Frankie, “you manage to get her number, thanks to Pope’s bet, and you had a great date on Sunday.” “Impressing her with my flying skills,” Frankie interrupts, grinning.  “Right, if you say so,” Benny smirks, “then you meet up on Friday and go for drinks, you think some guy slaps her in a bar so you beat up the guy, she freaks and dumps you.” “Technically she didn’t dump me, we were never officially together, just one date,” Frankie interrupts again.  “Fine, but she freaks out and you freak out because she freaked out, Pope has to slap you around, get you to text her. She, by some miracle of god, agrees to see you again. You tell her all the shit you’ve been through and she still wants to be with you?” “I’m seeing her on Friday, she’s cooking dinner for me.”  “Fish, you are the luckiest son of a bitch I have ever met.”

“You two were way too fucking loud this morning,” he growls, Santi’s morning temper isn’t great and today he seems to have woken up on the wrong side. Unfortunately Frankie and you were probably the reason behind that and you feel a bit guilty.  “Sorry, Santi,” you say, handing him your coffee as a peace offering, which he accepts, still frowning, “we were trying to be quiet.”  “Hermana, I love you, and I love Frankie, but please…” his frown melts into a pleading look, “I do not need to hear him make those noises.”  You bite your lip to stop from grinning and Frankie shuffles behind you, “Lo siento, Pope,” he mumbles and as he passes you to grab the freeze dried rations, you see the deep flush of his neck.  “It won’t happen again, Santi,” you say, your grin is definitely breaking through again but you can hear Benny snickering by the camping stove and his mirth is making it very difficult to suppress your own giggles.  “Oh it will definitely happen again,” Santi says with an exasperated sigh, “Please just don’t do it with me sleeping next door.”  “I thought it was great!” Benny chirps, “took me like ten minutes to figure out where the noise was coming from, I thought it was maybe bear mating season or something.” 

[windsfavored]

anonymous &&. said... Who is the one who would clog the bed for himself? Is it Ren or Kazuha? or do they fall asleep in each other arms?

i  don't  feel  comfortable  saying  anything  about  kazuha  specifically  because  he  is  ultimately  milla's  muse.  (  and  you  should  totally  throw  any  questions  regarding  him  their  way!  )  however,  as  far  as  ren  is  concerned,  i  have  no  problem  whatsoever  answering!  unfortunately,  i  can't  promise  my  response  will  be  super  satisfactory  —  ren  more  or  less  DOESN'T  SLEEP.  he  is  technically  physically  capable  of  it,  but  it's  similar  to  eating  and  drinking  where  it's  something  he  can  choose  to  do  if  he  feels  so  inclined  —  but  neither  gains  nor  loses  anything  from  refusing  to  partake.  if  asked  directly,  he'll  probably  just  bluntly  say  that  it's  a  waste  of  time  and  he  doesn't  bother  with  it,  but  in  truth  he's  actually  AFRAID  of  falling  asleep.  it's  never  had  a  particularly  positive  connotation  in  his  mind.  he  always  cries  when  he  sleeps;  he  doesn't  have  any  control  over  it,  and  the  simple  act  of  doing  so  just  serves  as  a  reminder  of  everything  it's  cost  him.  on  the  less  rational  side,  ren  just  can't  shake  the  fear  that  he'll  never  wake  up  again.  (  or  sleeping  for  so  long  that  the  world  he  wakes  up  to  is  utterly  unrecognizable.  )  he's  terrified  by  the  thought  of  being  trapped  inside  his  own  head,  neither  able  to  truly  die  nor  regain  consciousness.

that  being  said,  he  and  kazuha  do  have  a  bed  in  their  teapot  home  —  and  even  prior  to  that,  they  spent  a  considerable  amount  of  time  sharing  a  room  in  an  inn  together.  (  hello  to  anyone  who  remembers  the  liyue  inn  kazuren  era.  )  most  nights,  ren  will  lay  down  with  kazuha  when  he's  feeling  tired  and  just  wait  for  him  to  fall  asleep.  he'll  pretend  to  be  sleeping,  himself  —  though  he's  really  just  closing  his  eyes.  in  any  case,  they  definitely  do  cuddle  because  these  two  have  historically  been  very  affectionate,  especially  when  they're  alone.  i  think  ren  usually  prefers  to  be  the  big  spoon  because  he  feels  more  comfortable  when  he's  shielding  kazuha  with  his  body  —  even  if  there's  no  logical  reason  he  would  need  to  PROTECT  HIM.  that  being  said,  he  isn't  entirely  opposed  to  being  the  little  spoon.  (  if  he's  had  a  particularly  terrible  day,  it's  usually  what  he  prefers.  )  he  likes  to  tuck  his  head  in  a  bit  so  he  can  listen  to  kazuha's  heartbeat;  it's  very  calming  to  him.

usually  once  kazuha  falls  asleep,  ren  will  slip  away  and  get  some  work  done.  he  never  really  strays  far  —  probably  just  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  room  so  whatever  light  he's  reading  or  writing  by  won't  bother  kazuha.  if  he's  feeling  particularly  ambitious,  he'll  prepare  breakfast  —  though  no  matter  what,  he  always  has  a  ritual  of  making  tea  and  watching  the  sunrise.

[hanszoe]

Idk if you answered this already, but if not, any thoughts on Moblit or his dynamic with Hansi? I like ur analyses

sadly isayama wrote very little on moblit. he's treated unfairly in my opinion, we almost never see him without hansi and don't learn anything about him as an individual outside of that.

i think that the dynamic he was going for between them is actually fun though, i guess because it's an inversion of an existing trope which is kind of uncommon, where moblit is the one going through comical levels of stress worrying over hansi who is constantly in danger. isym is not afraid to depict the common misogynistic stereotype here so i get a lot of fun seeing an inversion of it.

if the acwnr ova is to be believed moblit appeared in the sc by 844 and was already hansi's adjutant by then, so hansi knew moblit much longer than they knew levi. we can assume that he was also one of the veterans held to a high level of trust by erwin.

but unfortunately when i say "moblit treated unfairly" i also mean by hansi, they just aren't paying attention to him which i think contributes to perceptions of hansi as being inconsiderate of others. hansi is moblit's superior and in secondary material has some mentions of being tired he never gives them a break, which if we consider as valid characterization could come from feeling like he doesn't trust them despite their higher rank. moblit also appears to be deeply uncomfortable with hansi's recklessness, which is in contrast with my view of loving them requiring an understanding of their nature, trusting them to know their own limits and taking it seriously when they don't.

it's non canon material but in hansi's smartpass character interview there's also the single mention across any IP related material of suicidal ideation in relation to them and it's directly to do with moblit, i'm so sad i don't have original language for this but a translation presents it as if moblit bringing this up was something that they didn't respond seriously to but became very conscious of his doing so. more non manga canon material but we return to ilse's notebook ova and hansi being very aware that to be understood is to be vulnerable, and their holding onto this memory and trying to present it as something they don't understand why he asked i feel like comes from that

i would love so much to know the story of how moblit ended up in hansi's section and as their adjutant, was he hand picked by them and if so why. did he and hansi have such conversations about each other, just how strong was their working relationship

one of their short stories actually depicts how they internally rationalized his final choice, which i wrote once was technically insubordination. i started translating that one and will post it with an analysis later this week

moblit is one of the only two men i will drink with in the afterlife. i feel such a camaraderie with him. i want to ask him all the things the manga never depicted of him and for him to have a break for once. i want to thank him for all of the years he protected and took care of hansi the best he could. giving the ultimate sacrifice to protect them, what can i even say to that? he deserves everything. all of the kindness in the world wouldn't be enough to repay it.

[ndostairlyrium]

💌 LOVE LETTER

🎨 PALETTE

for all three?

Aw ;; thanks dear, these are super cute!!

💌 LOVE LETTER - do they like love letters? what kind of messages do they leave for their partner?

Elanor

She doesn't, but she does, but she doesn't, but in truth she really craves that kind of romanticism even though she'll never admit it. I picture both her and Alistair as two overgrown kids so their love language can be translated into showing each other gross stuff and laughing, or just saying "eww" whenever the other is being too cheesy. At the same time, they're just very serious about their feelings, they just don't talk about them. They're more actions >>> words, so the content of their letters can be summed up with "yeah dude I kinda miss you" and the reply is "Clingy much?" Absolutely horrible.

Hawke

He does, but he's more of a "I wanna know what you're up to" kind of writer. He wants to know the daily challenges, the happy and the sad, the "you had to be there!"s. He'd write about the weather in detail, the things he misses about being together, he writes down memories that he's sure would make Fenris smile... A total dork who thrives in normality.

Ankh

She never ever exchanged love letters before entering a relationship with Cullen, but when she received her first, heart wrenching, letter in Crestwood she completely fell in love with the idea. They weren't together together at that point, but there was some tension going on between them. Although he wasn't sure about the possibility of a romantic outcome, he wrote her anyway, because she was veeery missed in the war room and reports didn't really tell how she was feeling and such. And she replied instantly, sending him the most awkward letter she had ever written. Backstory of their correspondance aside, I think Cullen's writing is not flowery, but rather descriptive and pragmatic, besides when he tries his hand at metaphors they suck big time. Same goes for her. She does have a rational approach on letters too, but with some twists here and there when she physically needs to add some humor to mask her desperation towards long distance - or events that make her struggle emotionally. Oh, and she's a tease! Unfortunately, Cullen absorbed that trait so he's now a tease as well. Whereas she's a poker - as in she likes to drop hints - he's a finisher, raising the temperature of her threats to inhumane levels. It's not only like that tho. He finds the cutest, terrible, cheesiest nicknames for her, making her giggle like a teenager. During her time at the western deserts of Orlais, she was used to write small diaries to send him every four to five days, attaching souvenirs and various items that he could appreciate whenever the correspondance arrived. Also when it's risky to communicate in ordinary ways, they insert cryptic messages inside reports so to let the other know they're fine. I fucking hate these two, really.

🎨 PALETTE - can they draw? what do they like to draw?

Elanor

Absolutely not, even if she took painting classes - that she dreaded. I think that if abstract painting was a thing she'd be a pro. But she'd never try it, really, she's not interested <<

Hawke

Professional doodler of penises in the corner of textbooks pages. He needs to draw alchemic circles and plants in his grimoire for future reference, but he's not really good at it.

Ankh

She can and she's pretty amazing at technical drawing! Can draw straight lines and almost perfect circles. Anything else like portraits, flora and fauna, and all things slighty organic are a bit of a flop tho.

-

Emoji Ask Meme

[petitepatateuwu]

Forget about punctuality, I think I will never post on time (⁠╯⁠°⁠□⁠°⁠）⁠╯⁠︵⁠ ⁠┻⁠━⁠┻

But look, here is something pretty for you:

. . . I think it looked better on my sketchbook |⁠ ⁠･⁠ ⁠〰⁠ ⁠･⁠ '|

It is said at one point in the show that Mikey is a ballet master, so had the very spontaneous desire to represent it on paper…

… is something I really wanted to be true. Unfortunately, there is more backstory to this drawing than I'd want (⁠ ⁠；⁠∀⁠；⁠)

You see, I once had a strong traumatic experience affiliated with dance, and just the subject being brought makes my brain freeze, caught in a long war between my traumatized braincells who are readying various coping mechanisms and the ones who want to be rational and objective about it.

And if I don't do anything about it, it will haunt me and spoil my feelings towards a show or character.

And NOTHING will distract me from being a Rise fan nor from liking my sweet sweet Michaelangelo so much that I start giggling every time I think about him.

Instead of letting this idea live rent free in my brain and wither in it, I drew Mikey dancing. And it worked.

I have no idea of how the laws of physics work up here, but as long as I can maintain my addiction to TMNT alive, I will not ask any sarcastic questions. (⁠・-・⁠)

Anyway, that was the tragic backstory, now I can talk about the technicalities.

I drew this when I was still in my beginner phase of turtles drawings, but it is around the time when I caught a grasp of understanding about how to draw them. So it is an important step in my rottmnt journey. ✌️

I'll try to finish it when I have access to colour again.

And I think I have said enough. Thank you for stopping by, I hope you're doing well and you're not awoken by nightmares, and have a nice day ⊂⁠(⁠(⁠・⁠▽⁠・⁠)⁠)⁠⊃

[fate-inspiration]

Back with a few questions, if that's okay ^^ "some fools think that Gilart fans like violins" do you mean that they think we don't know it's actually not a super wholesome, uwu sorta ship (lol)? Also I'm very intrigued by your concept of a GilAlter- if I were to accept one (I think it's contrary to the essence of Gil's character for a GilAlter to exist,but.), I think I'd like your version best- "he turned to his divine blood and not his human side.".

Super last thing, if you still feel like answering questions. I'm curious: would you feel comfortable sharing your shipper story? Like why drew you to GilArt, which of these 2 characters do you resonate with more, etc? And what do you think of CasGil and Lion King Arturia (personally, I love that ship -so grateful for zoro's art- and any and all combos, like Casgil x default Arturia)? Thanks!

I just realized the mistake, but it's even worse than the violins, I was talking about the rape. They think that Gilart's fans like rapes because in fsn route fate, Gil plans to rape Arturia.

(Of course, for the connoisseurs, we all know Gilgamesh's state of mind in this route).

Thanks for choosing my version of Gilalter. I had already thought about him a long time ago and I can say that he will be horrible. But I didn't really think about if he will be interested in Arturia, maybe he will.

Aaaah, I fell in love with this ship. I already knew the name of the Fate license, but I never managed to watch the 2004 (2006?) anime version because it was ugly XD (I was a teenager at that time)

So I was convinced to watch Fate/Zero very late, in 2018. And I was not disappointed, it's a good way to discover the license. I fell in love with the ship at the end of the series when Gil proposes Arturia. It came out of nowhere and Gil didn't really put his best side forward and I didn't notice the moments where he praised Saber. Since I didn't know the stories of the fsn, I guess it was like an arrow in the heart XD. I think the most important thing was the sincerity of Gil in that moment. It seemed like a whim, but when you think about it, not at all and he was making the effort to force her to accept, when in principle, if it was insignificant, he wouldn't have even asked her.

So after that, I did some research and research. I never watched fsn, because I didn't want to see a SaberxShirou and I didn't have the opportunity to play the game yet, but I watched almost everything related to the license, just to have a little official moment between Gil and Arturia. (I was unfortunately very disappointed XD Arturia became a worldwide waifu, same for Gil, because even if he's an asshole, everybody loves him. So I concluded that they couldn't put them together to mix them. Probably because it would break the fantasy, I'm not sure). Then I turned to Fanfictions, I found my little happiness, even reading the most horrible stories XD, it was not serious, I had my dose. And I started to draw humans again just to be able to draw them, and I was very happy.

For the other versions... Arturia Lancer is a problem for me because of the Fanservice. It goes from a small flat woman to a big disproportionate woman, I don't like it at all. I mean, it's impossible XD. And she is presented as someone more mature and rational than Saber when Saber is this King Arthur at the end of his life in the license. So to see Lancer made my heart ache because it's like denying her true self.

After other people will probably not agree with me XD.

I have less of a problem with Gilcaster because it's just an older version of Archer, but technically they're still the same. It's just a shame that he references Lion King more than Saber. But I like that he loves Saber Lily in Carnival XD.

I love Saber Alter. But I modified it for myself and I think others like my version.

And Lily is cute. (With Ko-Gil it's the little extra)

I don't look too much at the other versions, for example the Caster version, I haven't had the chance to know it yet. But I don't think I like her, I think she's a distorted version of Saber, but I'll wait until I get a chance to read her story to be sure.

(but I'll gladly ship Arturia saber with all the Gil XD)

[butchciri]

(saw ur tags on the transwidow ask post, i'm the ask op) i was a libfem tra until my partner came out actually, it's what peaked me. always had trans friends growing up (ftms though) stringently believed trans women's identities had nothing to do with fetishes etc... yea. i'm 21 and bisexual so i think i fit into the younger, groomed into believing the ideology bill! unfortunately my experiences still mirror those of older women, tbh i think the only way it's slightly different is not having any other perspective i guess? as soon as i knew what 'trans' was, the ideology was already being fed to me, so i'd never had another view other than 'this should be celebrated!' i also have only ever been able to speak honestly about my experiences with people aged 35-70, which is quite alienating since my peers are all tra if not trans, which may be different for older women. i think that's what reinforces the peaking, whether women are my age or 30 or 50 or 70, our femalexmtf relationships and feelings all seem to mirror the same path. it's eery. there is literally a formula.

oh i’m soooo glad you came into my asks, i have been wondering for a long time what the femalexmtf relationship looks like for my demographic. i know you said in your ask that the experiences you outlined are all universal, i just couldn’t help but wonder what isnt. im sure there are nuances we cant see cause the younger women are just so scared to talk. theres one straight girl i know who just broke up with her trans id boyfriend and i can tell she’s terrified to speak honestly on her experience.

but isnt it crazy how being close to these people and observing their behavior is what peaks us? part of what peaked me was my tim roommate and noticing how much they downplay the fetish and objectification of women in general. i had never interacted with one irl before, just tifs irl. being familiar with tims through the positive social media portrayal sets you up to be blindsided by the porn addiction, misogyny, and complete ineptitude/refusal to do housework. older het women who aren’t already groomed will have an outsiders perspective like you said, and tims seem to have more cut out for them when it comes to selling the tra ideology (manipulation.)

it seems like if you already have the same belief system, it opens him up for some more insidious/sneaky forms of manipulation. i dont have any good examples of that its just a hunch. i feel like the trans doctrine gives them so much power through language to obfuscate the truth, which is what abusers do to keep you on the back foot. it gives them grounds to accuse you of transphobia, which might land harder for a younger groomed woman with only tra friends compared to an older non-indoctrinated woman. so i wonder if all the common female x mtf experiences you outlined in your original ask are more easily rationalized/normalized in the ideologically captured minds of women who are reaaaaallly severely manipulated by these men, causing them to stay silent longer.

i also know of a couple women who started dating a tim with knowledge upfront that he’s transitioning, but never interacted with tims outside of social media before that. i wonder if they would also count as trans widows after getting fed up with the disgusting behavior and eventually peaking? i know technically they dont fit the definition, but its still a similar experience. because the grooming starts so young, there are likely thousands of invisible young women with stories the trans movement doesn’t want to hear. thats why beyond the looking glass is such an important piece of media for the solidarity and class consciousness it generates for a group that’s so viciously silenced. and like you said the experiences are so formulaic and similar across cultures and demographics that its like a lightbulb moment to realize you’re not alone, its not just him, its this ideology.

[chilipowder9]

Oh no I do understand fitting the "technical" definition, though as someone who has seen one too many people who I've seen as rational and "neutral" shippers start interacting with more open proshippers suddenly do things like: Defending lolicon in servers to young teens were venting about feeling sexualized by such media, claiming that there's nothing wrong with real life incest, sending NSFW audios, fics, etc. of minors' F/Os to them and generally acting overly suggestive when giving them imagines, validation, etc... Believe me, I've seen it all firsthand, and even almost went down the road myself, and I firmly believe no matter how anti-harrassment you are the open proship side of Tumblr is no good of a place to stay in. I've been silently keeping up with ship discourse for a while now and what I've been seeing has only been getting worse, and progressively more toxic; Even if proshipping was originally built on anti-harrassment, I guess that doesn't mean anything to the ones who have been occasionally sending me anon hate for not associating with them anymore. Not to mention, to people who do know these things associating with proshipping or using any dogwhistles is a major red flag, so unfortunately that leaves a lot of people with nowhere else to turn, and that's how they're dragged down a rabbit hole. That's honestly why I simply call myself an anti even if I prefer to let sleeping dogs lie.

To get to the point, no matter the original definitions of pro and antiship, we're at the point where it's more akin to "likes immoral pairings or maybe worse" and "is against immoral pairings and actions." It's a very slippery slope and I don't want to see a mutual who brightens my day go down it the same way many of my old ones did. I know it may not mean much from someone who is too introverted to come off anon, but I do care for the safety and wellbeing of the silly little people I interact with online and I did not want to hesitate on bringing to your attention something that I fear could be a threat to that.

With all that said, I do hope you can get something useful from this message. Have a great day/night/week/anything! 😊💜

I apologize sincerely for your past experiences, though my own are that antiproshippers sent me actual real child porn and compared an adult in anime who was canonically mature on top of "oh yeah she's 30" (not literally I don't think) and a character who was about the same age to actual real child porn

this was not the first nor last experience I had with an antiproshipper during my childhood, showing me such things to try to scare me away from proshipper spaces, and when I went to proshippers as a scared 12 year old kid who had no idea what was going on? they were like "oh fuck you're a kid uh Block Them" and never did I even hear a dick joke using the actual word dick in it.

I appreciate your concern, dearly, but it is very clear to me that liking a very gross ship doesn't make you evil or deserving of literally existing, and for the dozens of proshippers who protected me against actual predators online I will die on this hill

none of this is to disrespect your experience, if that is the hill you will die on I will not be the one to kill you, you are my moot and I love you (platonically, probably) and I promise you, if I knew the proshippers who sent you hate for just Not Liking That I would kill them personally

and never feel bad for being afraid, my friend, I promise you I would never attack unless you were truly harming others, even then I would try to reason with you first.

(also if a proshipper says anything about IRL incest/pedophilia/zoophilia being okay they're not a proshipper they're a predator and likely hiding behind the proship banner, ESP if talking to a minor)

[grandmasickomode]

ok so I wanted to do something like @unmecha's oc pages for their ocs so here we go.

PAULINUS

TYPES: Poison and Dark predominantly but will keep any Mon that suits her fancy

CENTRAL STRATEGY: Depends on the upcoming fight but mostly focuses on disrupting existing strategies by any means.

ALLIGNMENT: Royale

Paulinus TECHNICALLY isnt a Pokemon Empire oc, shes from the Lobotomy corporation universe but im not gonna make a brand new oc for these games.

Paulinus is wrapped up with the royal family in ways she's willing to disclose... not that you can tell if she's lying. She will say shes an illegitimate heir one day, then say her family has worked with the royal family for generations.

The fact remains that Paulinus has internalized her role in the royal family's lives as the unofficial Official Black Ops unit and Evil (tm) Advisor to the crown. She's more than willing to step over the line if it means that the Royal family is put back where they belong. She personally will put the council's heads in pikes if she has to, and stand there and take the blame.

Ultimately, she isnt a total barbarian. Paulinus is a calm, supposedly unflappable young woman, who does her research. She doesnt like going in unprepared, and will always want at least SOME modicum of knowledge relating to what lies ahead before she takes a step forward.

While she seems charming and amicable, she also is not here to make friends. After all, friends are jettisoned once shit hits the fan, and she would prefer not to deal with the emotional fallout and ties. Unfortunately, life happens so the few people she marks as 'friends', she will personally move heaven and hell to make happy. Even if it conflicts with her morals, she rationalizes that its all part of the plan, that she can use this opportunity later. That they will owe her for this and that they will need to do things for her to repay their debt.

In Empire, the game gives you two childhood friends. Pauli likes neither of them and tolerates them for the sake of appearances. Well, with Alanah at least. Alanah is a good link to the Council's movements and rumblings, and North is... in Pauli's words, 'a simpering barking little Council pet who would lick their boots to feel some sort of satsifaction with his life." She DESPISES North and once he stops being useful, he's going to be stabbed in the back and burned to ashes.

And yet, she cannot help but have a fondness for Jeanne, @unmecha's oc.

Her non-Council, non-Royale mindset are 'adorable', and she would gladly assist her in her many endeavors... for favors, of course. She thinks that she's simply misguided, that her talents might do better on a more refined side. She also adores Jeanne to piss Taylor off, and doesnt hesitate to sneer and comment on everything taylor does. Never in a rude tone,just rude enough that the message gets across.

Pauli's battle strategies are what she calls 'run and gun', meaning she will generally opt for the typical strategies one uses in a pokemon game (stats up, baton pass, sweep, or hazards abd whirlwind strats). She also will use any strategy in order to handle whatever is in front of her, be they gym challenges or rivals. However, if she can get away with it, she prefers to deal with slow debilitating statuses, as well as changing pokemons type to remove stab, and expose them to adverse hazards.

Hwr naming schemes tend to be old timey names, usually inspired by greek or roman naming schemes. But she cannot help but get lazy naming her mons if she catches them at a late hour. Such examples include Euripedes (Poison/ice Boreaptor), Antigonus (Fire/Dragon Chemera) and Bart (Gulpin).