#everyone else can go fuck themselves so far as she is concerned

[dark-elf-writes]

Write more biblically accurate Hawks you coward

“I’m going to regret asking this? But how?”

For his part Hawks didn’t so much as look up at the question, still sitting cross legged on his desk happily munching away from the bucket of fried chicken resting in his lap like he belonged there. It was almost enough for Vlad King to decide to try his luck at strangling the new Number Two hero… almost.

“How am I so handsome? Genetically lottery.”

Vlad sighed, long and soul deep. “How did 1-A convince you to cover yourself in googly eyes and serve as their high priest.”

That actually got a laugh out of Hawks. Bright and sharp. As sunning as his frequent displays of falling feathers and twice as deadly. “Convinced? Vladdy baby, I offered.”

A million questions jumped to his tongue. Why? What did Hawks get out of it? Why those kids? How the hell did Hawks have the time to humor them when he should be patrolling? Why the fucking eyes? The only thing that managed to trip its way over his clumsy tongue, however was, “Don’t call me that.”

A scoff around another bite of chicken, a dismissal of he had ever heard one, but Vlad stayed rooted to where he was. It was his desk that Hawks had taken over if nothing else. After a minute, and once the chicken bones had been picked clean and tossed in a perfect arc into the garbage can across the room, Hawks sighed.

“Look, I don’t expect someone like you to get it and honestly I don’t care enough to try to put it into words that you might actually understand, so let me tell you everything you need to know: those kids are different. Special even. That’s why I offered.”

Vlad blinked. “That’s it?”

“As far as you need to be concerned, yes. I think they’re interesting. They think the eyes are funny. Everyone except you wins in the end.”

“And you expect me to just accept that?”

All at once the air in the room changed. Hawks didn’t move. Didn’t rustle a single feather or set the bucket of fried chicken to the side. Still, Vald could feel the danger pouring off of him in waves. Could all but taste it on his tongue. He remembered then who Hawks was other than the odd little man that broke into UA every other week or covered himself in plastic eyes for the apparent delight of children he found “interesting”. He was Japan’s Number Two Hero hand picked and trained by the Commission themselves to be the ultimate idea of a hero. He took the missions no one ever heard about, taking care of all of the Commission’s dirty little secrets, then washed the blood from his hands and came out to pose for the cameras, the perfect irreverent pretty boy once again.

When Hawks smiled at him that time, it was nothing short of a threat. “It’s the answer you’re being given. I don’t care if you accept it or not.”

Vlad couldn’t say a word if he wanted to. Couldn’t drag his eyes away from the man, the predator, in front of him either.

Behind him, the door opened. Hawks didn’t look away from him when he spoke. “How’s it hanging, Eraser? Miss me?”

Great. Now Vlad was stuck between two eldritch abominations that wanted him dead. This was exactly how he wanted his afternoon to go.

Something sailed through the air, and Hawks caught it without looking, causing a merry jingle. When those eyes finally did leave Vlad’s face, slowly like they were savoring every second of his discomfort and wanted to draw it out just a bit longer, all of the tension left with it. Hawks was just a man again, sitting and enjoying lunch on a desk that wasn’t his.

Hawks snorted at the pack of little plastic eyes in his hand. “I thought I didn’t count as supervision, Eraser.”

“You don’t. Fuyumi will also be there.”

“Oh? The Princess?” Hawks’ smile went sharp in a completely different way.

Behind him, Eraserhead snorted. “She will eat you alive.”

Hawks laughed, bright and easy and so at odds from the animal stillness mere moments before. “As fun as that sounds, I’m gunning for her big brother and nothing pisses him off more than someone flirting with his sister.”

Vlad was out of the room before Eraser could respond again, wisely deciding that the desk was well and truly no longer his.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

love poor Eomer floundering a little at how to Brother Properly. 

Eowyn: I am BoOoOrEd

Eomer: i .... am sorry?

Eothain: have you considered asking your sister if she’s doing alright? 

Eomer: I do! she always says she’s fine, so therefore she must be fine. 

Eothain: that’s not. that’s not always the case. you know that right? 

Eomer: i don’t understand people, i’m just going to hang with the horses and kill some orcs. 

[bxlladxnnabxtch]

Wiped Off the Map

Rhysand x Reader

❀​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​❀

Summary: You walk in on Rhysand and Morrigan talking about bringing a certain Cursebreaker back to the Night Court. When the destruction of your home started off in a similar situation - how far will you go to convince Rhysand it's a bad idea?

Read pt. 2 to Wiped Off the Map - HERE

Warnings: Profanity, angst.

“She’s not coming back to our court.” You said, your tone biting through any excuse Rhysand threw your way. “Her presence on Night Court soil will start a war.” You tapped your finger on the table to emphasize your point, your eyes narrowing as you saw Rhys’ harden in determination.

“She needs help.” He reasoned, your lips pursed, a pulse of frustration running through you. “She can get it somewhere else, she’s Cursebreaker, she has everyone falling at her feet.” You spat, feeling a spark of anger begin to roil through you. You took a deep, shuddering breath that had Cassian sending you a pointed look.

You had just come back from training, your chest heaving as you greedily sucked down mouthfuls of air, eager to soothe the burning in your lungs. You could still feel the sweat slide down your back, grimacing at the feeling as you brushed away a sweat soaked strand of hair from your vision.

Your eyes locked on Rhys and Morrigan talking about the girl in question, and a pang of fear had struck you so deep you felt your magic force the mountain to shudder beneath you. The event sending the pairs eyes shooting in your direction. They both knew your past, the destruction the same action they were debating right now had reaped on your family’s camp. But their concern for the girl seemed to trump their consideration for your past and by proxy, their entire fucking court.

“A war is going to happen either way.” Morrigan offered, her maroon dress shifting as she turned in her chair to regard you. Your eyebrows furrowed, your mouth coming to hang open as you looked at her incredulously. “So you decide to burn bridges now- are you two fucking with me right now? Do you even realize what this will do to our relations with the Spring Court? Not to mention- the entirety of fucking Prythian.” You waved your hands across the room, as if you could encompass the entirety of the continent in a single sweep. A bitter laugh escaped you, your body in complete disbelief that they were even considering this for a moment.

“She has abilities from every court, that may be worth sacrificing relations with Spring- they’re already strained enough as it is. She is more of an asset than anything.” Rhysand said, sending a look at Cassian. You had no doubt the two were talking amongst themselves, and it only sent more anger coursing through you.

Another tremble shook the mountain which had Rhys looking at you in warning. Morrigan looked between you two, her lips pursed. “You mean powers she doesn’t even know she has? Where are you going to put this girl? Are you going to keep leaving us here to clean up your messes while you go play house at Hewn City?” Morrigan bristled at the mention of the Court of Nightmares, her figure going tense. You noted Cassian steping closer to you two, ready to save the mountain from being destroyed should you start a brawl. You felt a slam against your mental shields so hard you physically recoiled, staggering a step. “Stay the fuck out of my head.” You growled, Morrigan looked at her cousin in shock, surprised at the fact he’d actually try to get past your mental shields. Your anger simmered into a rage, your expression twisting. “You better not think you’re bringing her anywhere near Velaris. You keep dropping everything for this girl as if she’s part of your duties or some shit. It’s a bargain Rhys- one that’s optional on your part. I’m beginning to think you prefer playing dad then spending time with your family- that in case you have forgotten- you’ve left here for half a century.”

Cassian sucked in a breath. Morrigan looked like you had just slapped her. Rhys’ eyebrows rose, but he stared at you silently. Your breaths and the soft ticking of the clock were the only sounds heard as you stared at him, your eyes conveying just how abandoned you’d felt since Under the Mountain.

Nobody dared to speak, nobody moved as you looked between them. You seemed to sag as you realized he wasn’t going to cave. You bit your lip, your head falling as you shook your head. You looked back up, seeing Cassian eyeing you in sympathy, and you felt your eyes begin to sting as your jaw clenched.

��Y’know what Rhysand? You may act like you know what you’re doing, but ever since we came back from Under the Mountain, your priorities have been severely out of line.” Your heart chipped a little bit as your memories flashed back to that dark, agonizing place. Your wings folded tightly to you, the action purely muscle memory from having to keep them tucked in to fit through the passageways.

A scowl grew on your face, and you sent Cassian and Morrigan a glance before turning toward the stairs. “Let me know when you get them back in order.” You said coldly. You didn’t look back at the trio as you came to the landing and took them two at a time. You thought about how Cassian hadn’t spoken the whole exchange, and another flood of anger rushed through you at his inability to back you up. You passed Azriel on the way up and ignored the way his shadows seemed to reach out to you, as if in comfort. You didn’t allow yourself to look up at him either, you knew his face would be blank and you didn’t think you could take more indifference.

You wanted nothing to do with anyone until they realized what this meant for Prythian. One stupid girl, and they were ready to go to war for her at the drop of a hat. Your scowl only grew as you made your way up to the roof, and didn’t think twice before you sent yourself soaring off it.

You knew this was partially immature, you knew they would send themselves into a frenzy when they found your room empty the next morning, though you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as you thought about how this one decision would bring the Night Court to its knees.

You would disappear. Until Rhys saw reason, and until the rest of them stopped following him so blindly. Just like Under the Mountain, you weren’t going to allow Rhys to make decisions for you. And just like after that tiny village on the border of the Winter Court was wiped from the map, you were alone.

[cyberrose2001]

Can we pretty please have some angsty fluff?

Maybe Optimus Prime from TFP returning to Earth because he missed his s/o. (Let's pretend RID never existed. Please.) Maybe he left on a bad note and they told him that they'd never forgive him. And once he's back, she's completely ignoring him and she's trying her best to avoid him at all costs

You can choose what to do in the end. I want to see your mind wander :DD

Unforgiven Goodbyes

TFP Optimus x human! gn! reader

whoops

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of injury/blood, mental struggles, just straight-up angst.

Word count: 2,475

You're pissed off. No, you're more than pissed off. A tangle of emotions that would take a lifetime to detangle in your mind. You are pissed off, heartbroken, angry, yet excruciatingly relieved to see him.

But you can't bring yourself to face him again. That beautiful, other-worldly sculpted face seems to torment you whenever you close your eyes. That moment when he looked back at you before he plunged himself into the Well of Allsparks, the look of apologetic heroicness. It burned into your brain and left a nasty scab that you can't help but pick at. But the scar has healed. You've disciplined yourself to stop scratching it, but watching him walk through the hangar doors ripped it open once again.

You've distracted yourself as much as you can. Doing pointless chores around the new base the bots have made themselves at home with, going for long walks outside by yourself, hiding around every corner when you hear that rumbling voice. You tried everything to keep the wound closed, to pretend that he's still dead, to justify all the mourning you've gone through all these years.

Another reason not to face him was how you reacted when he told you his plan. You were the first to know, and you've never felt your heart sink so fast. It was like he had struck a dagger to your stomach and kissed you as you were bleeding out. You had exploded with anger you couldn't control and stormed out before he could do anything about it. You screamed at him as he collapsed onto his knees that you would never forgive him, and so far, you've kept that promise. The next time you saw him was before he made his great sacrifice, and you had nothing else to say to him. You couldn't say anything else.

And you won't for a long time, not when you have headphones on to block out the world. You stand at the sink in the human kitchen. It's semi-exposed to the main base, with a half-wall shielding the stove and sink. You're not sure why it's exposed; it must be concerning the lack of rooms in this old military bunker. You don't care anyway. You only care about scrubbing the dishes beyond clean and slamming them onto the drying rack before you break the delicate ceramic plates from gripping them too hard.

While cleaning the dishes, you don't realise how much of a racket you're making with your music blasting and capture the attention of the one bot you were trying to avoid.

Optimus.

He looks at you curiously, a hint of longing in his optics. Optimus knows you're avoiding him, and it's so blatantly obvious that everyone notices, too, creating tension through the base you could cut with a sharp enough knife. He wants to talk to you. He needs to talk to you. And so far, this is the only opportunity he's stumbled upon that could make it possible. Though, he doesn't want to frighten you and scare you away. He needs to be gentle and cautious in his actions, but it's difficult when you can't hear or see him.

Optimus reaches out, his servo twitching at how gentle he's trying to be. He touches your shoulder with a single digit but retracts his servo quickly when you jump out of your skin and drop a plate on the floor, shattering the ceramic in all different directions.

You scream then seethe, ripping your headphones off to face whoever dares to lay a finger on you, "Why the fuck would you-"

Frozen in your tracks, you stare at Optimus, the longest you've looked at him in a long time. Your heart snaps in two again, and the wound in your mind festers with flashbacks before you try to make a run for it. You don't get far, though, before you step on a piece of broken ceramic and cry out in pain.

"Ah!" You fall back on the ground, clutching your lower leg, "Fuck it-"

"Y/n, I am so sorr-"

"N-No!" You practically spit in his face. You let go of your leg and scramble backwards into a corner. With nowhere else to go, you turn to face him again and watch how his grip tightens on the railing before him. If looks could kill, Optimus would still be dead. Maybe you secretly hoped it was possible, "Get away from me."

"Please, you're hurt," Optimus looks down at your bare foot, now bleeding heavily onto the floor from a deep gash.

You furrow your eyebrows at him, not giving a damn that you're bleeding. You've been through worse, after all, "Oh, so now you care?"

Optimus tilts his helm, "What? I have always cared-"

"Oh really? You're really going to do this, Optimus?" You growl, grabbing the bench above you to pull yourself up, "You didn't seem to care about me when you sacrificed yourself! No, scratch that," You point a bloody finger at him, "When you fucking abandoned me!"

Optimus's shoulders sink, his grip on the railing relaxing as he feels like you've plunged a knife into him, "I did not-" He sighs heavily, like he cannot find the words, "Please... let us get you to Ratchet."

"I don't need his or- or your help," You hobble on one foot, hissing in pain as you make your way to anywhere else on the planet. The blood smears on the floor with every misguided step as you pass by him with a cold shoulder, "I've managed just fine on my own, Prime." You sneer at him.

Optimus watches you hop down the stairs, and he slumps his frame down on the railing. His vocaliser rumbles with regret and pain at how you're treating him. And it's not like he can blame you. Optimus would probably be stricken with the same grief if a lover of his decided to sacrifice themselves; he'd be absolutely distraught. And all that distraught just for them to return like it was a mere week-long vacation? Well, he wasn't sure what he'd do. He thought you would be overjoyed and run up to him with that beautiful smile on your lips, perhaps even beg for one of those joyrides he always loved taking you on through the desert. He thought you would've missed him, the bare minimum for someone who has lost a loved one.

Optimus sighs and lifts his helm from the railing before turning on his pedes to look for something else to distract him from you. He looks down before he takes a step and sees your trail of smeared blood on the concrete. His optic ridges furrow, a look of determination and apprehension as he steps to follow your crimson breadcrumbs out of the hangar doors.

Before he reaches the hangar doors, a soft touch plants itself on his shoulder, and he jolts slightly. Optimus turns his helm down to see a gloomy look on Ratchet's face, his servo squeezing his shoulder comfortingly.

"Let them go, Optimus," He speaks softly, "They need some space."

Space is the only thing he's given them so far.

-

"Stupid fucking dishes. Stupid me. Stupid him."

Your fingers tremble as you rip some of your shirt off to wrap around the gash in your foot. The minor hit of adrenaline quickly left you like a hit of nic as soon as you slumped down on the other side of the hangar outside. The dull throbbing turns into sharp pain as you tighten the fabric, causing a small whimper to leave your throat. You relax your head against the concrete wall behind you, wishing you could slam it against it instead. But anger slowly drains from your frame, and you bury your face into your dirty hands, and you sob—a heartbreaking sight to anyone that were to stumble upon you.

But you find that the tears weren't mourning from him, but for yourself.

How selfish are you? Are you so dense in the head that you're blindsighted to how much he loves you? How much Optimus missed you that even after facing the hereafter, he came back for you? How awful must the afterlife be for him to want to come back to you, of all people? These questions come flooding into your mind with every tear-jerking sob that wracks your body. But the one question at the forefront of your mind terrifies you, making you want to slump further into the self-deprecating aura you've swallowed yourself in.

Do you still love him?

You bite your lip hard. Do you still love him? That's a stupid question to ask yourself. Of course you still love him. You wouldn't be the person you are today if you never did.

Then why the fuck do you push him away?

You don't know. Maybe it was how you spoke to him before he took his own spark, being so ashamed of yourself that you could barely look at him. Or perhaps you've become too comfortable in your new adjustment to life without him, and for that to all come crumbling down so suddenly with no warning has shaken you to your core.

That's very selfish of you.

You know that. You've always known that.

Maybe you just weren't ready to let go.

A deep, trembling breath leaves your parted lips.

...

Yeah, you know.

-

Optimus stealthily follows the trail once again after Ratchet leaves. He just can't walk away after that encounter. And as much as it hurts him to see your reaction, he must ensure you're okay despite whatever you spit in his face. Optimus did not beg at the throne of Primus himself for another chance at nothing. He needs to make amends, no matter how much of a fight you put up at your wishes to be left alone.

Soft steps of his pedes lead him on a wild goose chase. It seemed as if you had stumbled around in circles for quite some time, the trail of blood looping around before overlapping itself to follow the edge of the hangar. Optimus become increasingly concerned about your welfare, worried you have lost too much blood. But he knows that you are tough if all these years on your own have anything to show for it.

His pace replaces stealth for hastiness as he continues on the trail, rounding the next corner of the hanger. He stops in his tracks when he sees you, and his eyes soften with pure broken-heartness. His servos clenching in regret.

He carefully approaches your slumped frame and stands before you. He first notices your foot, half bandaged and leaking slightly. You weren't wrong after all. You could take care of yourself. He smiles softly to himself at this.

Optimus carefully kneels in front of you, still a fair distance away. All he wants to do is pick you up and tell you that everything is alright, that he's here and not ready to leave again anytime soon.

He keeps his servos to himself for now.

"Y/n," Optimus begins softly, "I know you are upset," This seems like an all too familiar conversation, "And you have every right to be."

No reaction from you so far, a few sobs and hiccups. His spark clenches.

"I did not get a chance to tell you how truly thankful I am for you," Optimus continues, fidgeting with a digit in his lap, "How I still reminisce on our long-forgotten time together, even whilst I was merged with the All Spark."

Optimus takes a chance. He shuffles closer to you and gently pries your hands from your face like you were a pretty piece of wrapping paper he wanted to keep. His optics drag over your sodden face, how your eyes begin to focus on his. It wasn't the fiery look of anger he had seen just earlier but one that looked of surrender; you had given up a fight he wished he could've helped you with.

Optimus moves one servo from your hands to gently caress your face, a gentle digit brushing over your cheeks, "My, just look at you," He cups your chin softly, tilting your head to look up at him, "You are still as beautiful as ever."

He watches as the tears well in your eyes again, a small glimmer in your eyes that's more familiar to him than the dull. You grip his servo and pull it into a hug, resting your forehead on his wrist, and you cry.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry...I-I'm stupid... I shouldn't have..." You sob, clutching onto him with every fibre of your being, "Oh god..."

Optimus's spark fizzles and cracks at your heart-breaking apology and the tears dripping onto his servo. He gives you a sombre look before carefully pulling you into his servos, picking you up to press you against his chassis to return his long-awaited affections.

"Shh," He hushes your cries, pressing a gentle kiss to your head as he rocks you softly like a slumbering sparkling, "It is alright; nothing you say could ever make me resent you."

You sniffle, burying your head into his chassis. His familiar scent of motor oil and fumes fills your senses and relaxes you deeper into him. You try to speak, to say anything other than hiccuping pathetically.

"I-" You stutter, ripping your face away from his chassis to stare up at him. A shaky hand reaches up to touch him, a tiny 'tink' as your fingernail grazes against his face plate. He's real, he's here, and he's not mad at you. And the best thing is, he forgives you.

And you forgive him.

"I missed you," You take a sharp breath, "I miss you so much."

Optimus' sombre frown turns into a small smile; a weight lifts off his frame at your admission. The worry he put himself through all seems to melt away as he presses a soft kiss to your lips, hoping to melt away your grief with the kiss along with his.

You gasp softly. Far too much time has passed since you've felt those gentle dermas meld into yours, and as much as the past you wanted to forget how his touches felt, you find yourself kissing him back with as much need and passion. A few fleeting moments pass before you're forced to part for a much-needed breath. It feels like life has returned to you, like after all this time without him you were holding your breath in fear of drowning.

Optimus closes his optics, softly pressing his forehead against yours, leaning into the warm touch of your hands that he oh so craved. He knows you still love him, he never once doubted that deep down inside you always did, even after he had regretfully abandoned you.

"I miss you too."

Finally. He felt good to say that.

[chaoticbardlady99]

Nobody's Fool Part 3 (Astarion x GN! Reader)

Synopsis: Astarion reflects on his plan and progress thus far. You and Karlach accidentally eat the wrong kind of mushrooms.

Content Warning: Dead Dove (Astarion), accidental drug use (btw, Mushrooms had a very emotional effect on me so that is my current frame of reference)

Part 2 : Part 4 : Master list

 Here’s the thing. 

  Astarion and Shadowheart had sex, but there was absolutely no chemistry between them. It was awkward in a weird way and they both just kinda ended up… lying there. They blamed it on the alcohol initially, but his brain wandered to you that night and how stupid he was to veer from his initial plan. Shadowheart had no loyalty to him, but you followed him around like an adorable pup.

 You are way too good and of course you would give him another chance. Certainly you can still go “walk along the beach” or whatever the hells you had asked. Astarion would give you a night you would never forget and you would forget about his rejection entirely.

 He figured he would use your little crush to get what he wanted- insured safety. Astarion would provide you with good sex and honeyed words for the duration of the journey and it would all be “peaches and crème” as Gale has said in the recent past. 

  Shadowheart and Astarion agreed that they could not attempt that with each other again and agreed to become temporary allies. She keeps Karlach away from you so Astarion can get back in your good graces and Shadowheart can eventually get into Karlach‘s bedroll. Only, how would he convince you that he actually cares for you when he still didn’t at all?

 Shadowheart obviously didn’t know he didn’t care, but he was a convincing enough liar that the queen of “deception” didn’t even notice his emotional fib. 

 So their next solution was to tell a big, fat white lie. 

 “He said their name during sex!” Shadowheart scoffed as Astarion eavesdropped nearby, “I am broken up about it- devastated.” 

 And how well did that fucking go?

 Piss. Fucking. Poor.

 Astarion and Shadowheart found themselves at a loss. You were still exceptionally distant and wouldn’t engage in a conversation at all and Karlach was too busy spending time with you. Fort Tavlach was becoming a very big annoyance to both of them. 

 So they proceeded to do what they had wanted you both to do. Shadowheart has had a bit easier of a time considering Karlach is more forgiving, outgoing, and confident. However, Astarion is unsure of where he stands with you. 

 At first it made him panic because he had had a plan. Astarion needs you on his side for safety reasons. 

 Why couldn’t you be like everyone else and just… not respect him? This is not how this is supposed to work. You are supposed to ignore his boundaries- insist he be with you. 

 Suddenly, he found himself beginning to genuinely miss your company at night. He wished he had invested a bit more time in your conversations together and the less he got to know you the more he wanted to know. 

 There were snippets here and there- any piece of information anyone seemed to have or whatever you were willing to give him. 

 He pushed the unwelcome warm thoughts away and refocused on his plan. Astarion knows he is going to have to really really work to get back in your good graces so he bought that damn necklace at full price (definitely not because he was actually concerned because that would be nonsense and this is all part of his very well thought out plan). 

 You looked so happy and he became caught up in the conversation with you. You were being less guarded like you had before. Astarion became very aware of how beautiful your eyes are and how expressive they are. Hells, he really noticed how beautiful you are and it hit him like you did the night before when he scared you. He honestly didn’t think you were capable of punching anyone in the stomach that hard and you felt so bad, but he was mostly turned on. Exceptionally impressed too. 

 Your laughter washed over him in waves and he truly felt calm for the first time in the last 200 years. He is safe with you without having to give you every piece of him right away. You have never wavered in your loyalty and support to him- merely just drew back to respect his space and to try to move on. 

 Astarion began hanging out with you every chance he could find- continuously convincing himself that this is all a part of his grand masterfully crafted  

 His trance had gripped him and he felt like he was back in Cazador’s palace. It was the night his scars were carved into his back. Astarion could still feel every single moment of Cazador branding him. 

 He was so grateful you let him spend time with you and that you didn’t kick him out. Astarion listened to your pulse the entire night until he was lulled into a trance- a much more peaceful and happy one. It had been one of the first days you were all traveling together and you fought all those disgusting Gnolls together. 

 You were so beautiful that day- covered in blood and adrenaline in your eyes. You were so protective of all of them and you had checked on each of them a million times. He only woke up again because the end of that memory was you passing out from a wound you hadn’t realized you had. It jolted him awake.

 He has spent every night since in your tent- he is too afraid to bring you to his because it’s not the cleanest and it feels like his very private space. Astarion wants to wait for whatever reason. 

 You have never pestered, asked, or forced your way in while he has pushed himself upon you. Astarion had tried to stay in his tent one night after a hunt and he ended up in your tent anyway. 

 You had been too warm and struggling to sleep. He quickly amended that issue. He hasn’t stayed away since. 

 Except for right now while you are busy. Astarion is trying to read this stupid, probably evil, powerful book and it won’t let him. 

  The thoughts are insane and wild- the spells on the pages and the dark magic calls out to him like a harpy’s song. One of the spells rings louder than the others- playing on his jealousy and new found relationships with promises of a powerful new spell that will dampen his hunger.

 He would if it wouldn’t upset you so much and this book is very convincing. It’s terrible, but he does not want to upset you. He rather likes being by your side lately and most importantly- he has a plan to tend to. 

“No… I won’t kill them!”

 Astarion pauses for a moment- the book coaxing a name out of him anyway.

“Well, maybe Wyll.”

 He has felt bitter towards the Warlock since you walked back into camp with him and then when you began talking to Wyll more than Astarion.

 No- it was not fair. He fucked up.

 It didn’t make him any less bitter though.

“Well if I have a say,” your melodic voice flows through his ears, “could you kill someone, I don’t know, maybe a little less useful?”

 Astarion slams the Necromancy of Thay with a start. He wasn’t expecting you to be back for a while- you had been talking to Wyll after you washed off and Astarion had opened a book about Necromancy to take his mind off of what it would be like to join you- A. At the river and B. Interjecting himself into the conversation. 

 It’s probably a good thing you came over when you did, but now his jealousy has decided to rear it’s ugly head. 

“How useful can he be when he won’t seem to stop talking to you every chance he gets?” He scowls, “hardly the quality of work I would expect from the mighty ‘Blade of Frontiers’!”

“A-“

“You know,” he interrupts, far too heated to notice your confused expression, “Wyll’s the sort of prince type I would have once dreamed of marrying. When I was about thirteen.”

 He realizes his tone is sharp and angry. Astarion also realizes this may not be fair, but his impulsivity seems to be outweighing better judgment. 

He crosses his arm, trying to avoid eye contact without making it too obvious (he actually manages to succeed somehow by staring just past your face).

“So will you be dedicating yourself entirely then to your new, true love? Should I be returning to my tent to-“

“Will you shut your blood hole for a minute and let me speak?” 

 Astarion is snapped back to reality and your eyebrows are furrowed- face screwed up as you search his features and he feels exceptionally vulnerable. Are you deciding if he is even worth spending time with? Maybe you are regretting letting him get close to you again.

 The idea makes his stomach turn. He really screwed up this time. Now he’s going to have to watch you with Wyll and probably hear the act of him ‘burying his blade’.

 Your features have softened significantly- whatever you found in Astarion’s features had been what you needed apparently. Again, he feels naked, vulnerable.

 Like being chained and forced to let Cazador carve into his back. Only, he doesn’t know what his punishment will be for speaking out of turn this time.

 Nothing, he thinks, because they would never do that to me. 

��Where is this coming from?” You ask slowly, “Wyll and I have always talked and it’s never bothered you before.”

 Astarion feels… frozen. He can’t tell you why it bothers him now. Well, he could and it would go along exceptionally well with his plan to reel you back in, but that would be crossing the threshold into reality. The feelings would be too real for that kind of connection and it could be what leaves him open to be blindsided or seriously hurt. 

 “I-I suppose I am just making sure I sleep in the right place tonight,” he chuckles awkwardly, “I would hate to stumble across you and Wyll ‘burying his blade’ if you catch my meaning.

“And I do mean sex, to be clear.” 

 You sigh heavily with a chuckle and an adorable roll of your eyes. He knows you can see right through him. You are exceptionally good at that and he doesn’t care for it a whole lot. 

 To his own surprise, you hug him and it’s probably the most gentle touch he has ever received from another in the last 200 years. 

 At first he is reluctant, but when you go to pull away, he unfreezes and returns it. 

 You smell like fresh laundry and a lovely spring evening. It feels right to have you this close to him and in such an intimate capacity. Astarion has to really keep himself from whining like a child when you pull away and begin your journey to your tent for the night.

 “I can assure you that if anyone is going to share my tent with me, I would choose you over everyone everywhere, anytime,” you say promptly, turning around and calling over your shoulder, “so if you are feeling up to it, you are welcome to join me in my tent for our usual chatting sessions and a cuddle. Otherwise, I will be sleeping alone.” 

 And there you go- leaving him absolutely speechless in your wake. You are much much sassier and sure of yourself than he remembers to give you credit for sometimes. He is trying to ignore the giddiness that lights up his nervous system at your words. 

 He used to thrive off of you being his little pup- following him around and waiting for his direction. Now he’s the hopeless fool in the situation and is quickly on your heels- following you to your tent. 

 You turn and seem surprised that he is there before you flash one of your brilliant smiles. 

 Speechless- you leave him speechless. Astarion wants to kiss you and he wants to ask.

 Yet, he can’t get himself to. He doesn’t want your companionship to turn into a sexual connection just yet- maybe before, but he actually has come to really enjoy your company. In spite of his better judgment and his plan, he does not want to jeopardize every last bit of hard work he put into fixing your relationship. 

 So instead you both sit and talk. Astarion finds himself asking you more questions than he had previously and he is filled with thousands of them. 

“I am excited to get out of the Underdark,” you yawn and stretch, “I miss the sun and the moon. Oh and not accidentally walking into some kind of spore that makes me laugh until I wish to keel over and die.” 

 Astarion grimaces in agreement. He had been the unfortunate victim of those stupid things today and he is very lucky he doesn’t need air. You were very very worried, but he gestured for you to stay back- the last thing anyone needed was for you to pass out. None of them would be organized without you and they would probably all fight over who gets to bring you back or who leads everyone back home. It sounded like too much effort and mental exhaustion for his liking. 

 “I really don’t care for it down here,” he sighs, “I want to enjoy my time in the sun for as long as I can and the lack of Minotaurs is a bonus.”

 You shudder, “those things are absolutely terrifying. I am glad we have been able to avoid them for the most part, but I don’t want to have to fight them head on.” 

 “Don’t worry, Darling, I am sure you can outwit them anyday. They are lucky they have been able to avoid you if I am being entirely honest.”

 Your grin is wonderful and you blush. Astarion can hear your heart kickstart and you are definitely smitten with him. His plan is working- he should be thrilled. He should make his move. 

 You may have become more important to him than a stupid plan and he isn’t happy about it (maybe he is a little). 

 You fall asleep shortly- your head is on his chest and his hand plays aimlessly with your hair. Astarion has noticed that this act helps you fall asleep and it also seems to help lull him into a trance too. 

  Sometimes memories blend together in a negative way. Other times, his trances, like his current one, is imagery of you both destroying Cazador and traveling together in the aftermath. 

 These trances may be his favorite guilty pleasure. Both of you are safe, happy, and definitely enamored with one another for eternity. 

**************************************************************

  You and Karlach keep staring at each other from across the fire, but it’s because you both made a truly terrible mistake. 

 You had both been searching for something to use for kindling and you were both giddily talking about your respective crushes. You have both considered that they may be using you to make each other jealous, but the more they compare notes, the less and less it appears to be the case. 

 It was supposed to be a harmless snack- Karlach insisted that the mushrooms were the “safe and non- magic” kind and that they were ‘delicious’.

 You both feel positively fucking insane. You barely made it back to camp and even then, Astarion walked up to you, said something, and you could only focus on how he kept changing color. Oh and he was speaking in a language you are certain isn’t real either. 

 You feel like you are underwater but your mind could not be more clear. Your eyes hurt from how bright everything is, but you feel like you are finally seeing the world. 

 This really, really needs to end soon. 

“What is with you two?!” Gale asks in exasperation, “it is not dinner time yet! Quit trying to bully me into feeding you. You lot are worse than Tara!”

 However- it sounds like botched common and neither one of you can understand a word he is saying. 

 The silly magic man says silly silly words.

 You giggle like a mad man at Karlach’s telepathic message. She begins to giggle too and Gale’s worry comes off of him in great waves.

 Literally- you are watching it ripple from his body.

 Gale says something again and you both begin laughing harder.

“Silly- silly magic man says silly words,” Karlach wipes away her tears, “what is his name again?”

 What… is his name again? It’s something silly right? 

 “GALE!” You scream, “LIKE THE WIND A MIGHTY EAGLE SOARS ON!”

 You gasp, looking at Gale before looking to Karlach, “HIS NAME IS ALSO A SPELL AND HE IS A WIZARD!!!!!” 

 You and Karlach are crying with laughter 

 You don’t remember standing on the log nor do you remember falling, but you feel Astarion’s delicate fingers on your hips and you bite your bottom lip so hard it bleeds. 

 His touch feels electric. You feel like you are really physically melting.

“Darling?” 

 Swimming, swimming, swimming, and yet he is clear as day. You blink up at him adoringly- awaiting his next words with a baited breath. 

Your mushroom addled mind is certain he is looking at you with equal amounts of adoration, but also a lot of concern. 

 Other people join and eventually you are being dragged to your tent- both you and Karlach screaming your “SEE YA LATER!”s as Shadowheart drags her off. 

 You lazily allow Astarion to guide you to your tent and when you collapse onto your bed roll- he quickly follows. You lay on your back and stare at the ceiling- lost in your silly little thoughts while he is looking at you like you have lost your mind. 

 You want to tell him what you are thinking, but instead, you become sad. Astarion is so beautiful in all the ways and you really wish he felt the way you feel about him. You would take him seashell hunting on every beach that exists. He would never know how it felt to be used or disrespected again and you would willingly be with him. In spite of all the baggage and emotional trauma- the things that “scared Shadowheart off” according to Karlach, you would choose him every time. 

 Technically, you already do. You may not be who he wants and one day you will watch him walk away from you forever, but at least he will know how he should be treated. 

 It doesn’t prevent your wistful and hopeless thinking any less. Your chest feels heavy and you feel burdened with your emotions. They hurt.

 You could fall asleep together every night and share goodnight kisses if you were together. You could talk while being entangled in each other’s embrace, bath together because you really love the idea of spoiling him in that way. 

 Hells, you could even envision yourself having sex with him (and you have envisioned it, but you ignore that). 

 You desire to connect with him on every level, but he will never want that with you and it becomes very hard for you to breathe or speak all of a sudden. 

“Darling?” His voice is soft, comforting, and heartbreaking in the same breath, “what’s wrong?” 

 You look back up at the ceiling and just imagine Selune reminding you that there will be others- trying to think of literally anything else. What happened to your happy mood? Why are you having emotional whiplash? 

 Cool fingers wipe away your tears and a whimper leaves your lips before you begin to cry even harder. 

 Why doesn’t he love you? Why can’t the one person you have fallen in love with love you back? It’s not his fault, but Gods it’s not fair that you will watch him be with other people for as long as you live and doomed to die without him, always wishing you could have at least walked on that damn beach together. At least then you would have that memory to hang on to. 

  You feel him hold you- the electricity rippling through you and you can hear him trying to ask you what is wrong. 

 Your head is spinning- you are so confused and emotionally not feeling well, but now you are beginning to feel better. Co-regulation or something like that. It’s common practice in Selunite Culture- it’s meant to help their youngest members get through uncomfortable emotions. You always loved the concept, but you never experienced it yourself until that one night with Wyll. You never anticipated Astarion being here for you like this. 

  His fingers running through your hair pulls you out of your despair and into a happier mood. Your tears begin to fade to mere sniffles and you swear you feel a soft pair of lips press a kiss to your forehead.

 “That’s it, Darling. Come back to me and out of your spiraling.” 

 You giggle, “spiralinggggggg is my specialty. Have you ever tried to watch Shadowheart read a map? No wonder she got kidnapped. If she had to keep me from spiralingggg I fear I would be lost forever.”

 Astarion pauses for a second out of shock alone before he begins to laugh along with you. The sound makes your heart feel so full. How wonderful it is to make someone else happy after they have been so miserable for so long. 

“I am guessing the ‘magic’ of the Underdark has consumed your mind?” 

 You nod enthusiastically and with a big yawn- your sadness was excruciatingly intense. You feel like you could nap for an eternity. 

 “Karlach thought they were the yummy kind, not the funny kind.” 

 He snorts and you swear you feel another kiss being placed on the side of your temple. You hum happily and curl up against him when he lays you both down. 

“I think this is my favorite place to be,” you say absentmindedly, no longer in a state of mind to be aware of your words.

“Your tent?” His voice is laced with confusion. 

 You laugh, in spite of yourself, “no! Laying here with you, silly.” 

 The quietness in the tent would bother you if you weren’t in la la land. 

“I- I think this may be my favorite place to be too.”

“In my tent?” You mimic.

 You can feel him roll his eyes, “very funny, Darling.

“I meant… laying here with you.” 

 Astarion’s voice is so coy and quiet. You prop yourself up and peer at his face. He looks conflicted and unsure about something. 

“What is it? Did I say something wrong?”

“Not at all,” he says with a smile, “in fact, you say all the right things the majority of the time.”

“Why thank you!” You beam, “I may not be a very wise cleric, but I am certainly a charismatic one!” 

“Hmm I would argue against your statement, but you are currently experiencing magic mushrooms and aren’t clerics supposed to know things like that?”

“I am good at the magic piece,” you grumble, “not so much the herbology shit or whatever. Too much to remember and now my HEAD HURTS TRYING TO REMEMBER!”

 Astarion laughs and shakes his head- you are far goofier than anyone else he has ever met and of course you would say that about herbology. You look like you want to commit a war crime anytime Gale begins talking about Alchemy. 

 “I am so sorry that I have caused you so much distress, Darling,” he says dramatically, “whatever can I do to make it up to you?”

 Your brain hits serious mode and you look at him with the most serious expression you can think of.

“Write to me sometimes when this journey ends?” Your voice strains, “don’t forget about me? Please? Or at least don’t forget about me until I’m long gone in the physical sense?”

 You chuckle awkwardly, but your tears betray you. Astarion is quick to wipe away your tears and he grabs your hand on his chest- kissing your knuckle.

“My Dear,” he says softly, “I have no intentions of forgetting about you and well, the details of after our little adventure can be discussed when you are a bit more clear minded. I don’t want you to suggest we go and ‘explore’ the Cloakwood or something insane like that.”

  You understand what he is saying, but you also don’t so you just grin and scoff.

“I would not say we should travel to the- okay, wait. That may actually be a good idea because all of the people getting trapped there by fey-“

 Astarion interrupts you with a finger on your lips and an unamused expression that makes you giggle.

“You are an insufferable hero and while I adore you for it- I must save you from yourself. No visiting the Cloakwoods.”

“Fineeeeeeeeeeeeee,” you lay your head back against his chest, smiling and the urge to sleep filling your body, “I will win eventually.”

 He snorts in response.

“We will see about that, Darling.”

Tag list: @preciouslittlebhaalbae @xxgrimripp3rxx @alice4wonderland2812 @therobishow @m1ster1e @tragicdruid @katsutoria @aristenfromwarsaw @avabjorna36 @frankie-mercury @golden-baby

[grahminradarin]

Hi hey hello. I've been watching Miraculous since September, and I just finished.

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THIS FANDOM?

That finale was amazingly well-made. I definitely get why people were disappointed, but there's no way that's everything. The writers who made the rest of the season so good are not capable of writing something this confusing and unsatisfying, unless it's on purpose. This story isn't done.

There has been a lot of focus in the season on class dynamics, but in the last couple of episodes they really start bringing this theme of how people deal with power to the forefront

With Ladybug and Chat deciding not to do anything against Chloe because it's not their responsibility even though they have the power to do it, everything with Lila, the increasingly reckless and harmful ways Gabriel is manipulating people because he thinks he gets to decide what is good for others, Gimmi complaining that no one ever summons them to tell them anything good and only summon Gimmi to use Gimmi's power.

And the thing that brings it together: Marinette's speech right at the end, just before Gabriel makes the wish, when she says the power is only valid when it's used for the greater good of other people.

And then the statue of Gabriel. Right after all of this, a statue commemorating the man who refuses to use his power for the good of others. The dissonance is on purpose. This story is thematically incomplete, and I think the London special will finally wrap it all up.

What does the fandom come away from this talking about? How interesting this all is and wondering how it gets resolved? No. The fandom on the subreddit (and some of them on Tumblr) say "The villain won without consequences! This is bad writing!" and "Why is Marinette not telling Adrien he's a sentimonster?".

I just. How do you watch that and come away with your biggest concern being "Marinette didn't tell Adrien the truth"? How do you not see that it's so much bigger than that? That's not one dangling plot thread, we're looking at an unfinished garment and complaining that the edges are fraying.

And a good portion of the fandom cannot for the life of themselves see the loom and the people working it still going. I don't know how to stretch this metaphor any further, but I cannot believe that anyone would look at something so blatantly incomplete and still treat it like it's the entire picture. It's a microcosm of a bigger issue with the fandom, which is, as far as I can tell, that this fandom wants to watch a different show. Seasons 4 and 5 are so vastly different from seasons 1 and 2, and I think the people that came here to enjoy the first two or three seasons but hated the later ones are angry with the show for not following the traditional kinds of stories in the genre.

This show isn't trying to be an episodic or somewhat serialized story about love squares and middle school nonsense. It's a deep and varied exploration of what being a magical girl does to a 14 year old (in addition to many other things), and it's not pretty. The show is trying to say "this was terrible for everyone, and it shouldn't have happened, but it did, and here's how". And most people didn't want that, which is fair. But it doesn't mean the show is badly written, nor does it mean the writers hate certain characters. It pisses me off that a show this well made, with so much time and effort and care, is constantly dismissed as a badly-written, disorganized piece of crap that people only like ironically. Something this well made deserves a more neutral presentation to let people form their own opinions, and it deserve appreciation for the innumerable things it does well, especially in later seasons and the specials.

In summary, Miraculous isn't bad. A vocal part, maybe even the majority, of the fandom just wanted something else based on the first 3 seasons, and hasn't realized it because they're so devoted to hating on the show. And it deserves a much better reputation than it has.

[the-empress-7]

Catherine had actually been unwell for some time in the run up to her initial abdominal surgery in January [...] As always she hid her suffering well, but those who know her are keen to emphasise just what a tough time it has been.

When you think you couldn't possibly loathe Harry and Meghan more, right?

I think KP is coaching it in very mild terms, but reading between the lines, it was bad enough that she had symptoms before it was discovered, and six months of adjuvant chemo haven't been enough, so I don't want to say that it's bad, but it's worse than they let on. Let's not expect her back to full time royalling before five years have passed, realistically.

I hate how careful they have to be to justify a bit of happiness during this time: like the haters will pounce if we learn that she had a nice bike ride with her kids, demanding she'd be back to work immediately.

I'm convinced that it was the Squad and their overlords that whipped up the hysteria last time, and I'm afraid they're just sadistically ready to stir the pot again.

I firmly believe that Catherine will be okay, but we have to remind ourselves that she has been going through the grinder for probably going on a year now.

I appreciate that KP is trying to temper expectations. It’s fucked up why they have to do it. All because Catherine can smile despite everything instead of presenting herself as a carcass for the vultures to feed on. It’s like she is being punished for being strong! Remember how after the TTC the SS went around saying that she lied about being sick cause she looked too good. The truth is shitty people will never stop being shitty.

William and Catherine should simply live their lives for themselves and on their own terms. Cause basically as far I am concerned, fuck everyone else.

[genericpuff]

don't you love how LO and its fanbase have a double standard when it comes to how minthe and persephone are portrayed in their relationship with hades

because i fucking don't, it's frustrating and goes to show how ironically far up persephone's ass everyone is

A lot of the things Minthe gets criticized for, Persephone is outright celebrated for.

Minthe is into glitzy fashion and expensive dinners and relies on Hades for all her financial help? She's materialistic and vapid and a gold digger taking advantage of Hades. When Persephone does those things? She's a confident go-getter who knows what she deserves and won't accept any less.

Minthe acts shitty and cold to the people around her? She's a cunt who doesn't deserve friends or any sort of empathy whatsoever. Persephone does it? She's a #bossbabe and the person she's snipping at "probably deserved it anyways."

Minthe displays blatant PDA with Hades? She's nasty and gross and disrespectful to the people around her. Persephone does it? The whole realm talks about it and cheers for it, with many of the side characters going so far as to try and hook them up every opportunity they can get.

Minthe acts petty to try and 'get back' at Persephone, she's seen as a petty bitch and even called out on her behavior BY THE CHARACTERS THEMSELVES. Persephone does the EXACT SAME SHIT, and people flat out encourage her.

Minthe sneaks around Hades back to hook up with Thanatos? She's a cheater and doesn't deserve him. Persephone literally flirts with and comes onto Hades when she knows Minthe is with Hades? It's fine, Minthe deserves what's coming to her and Persephone and Hades are 'meant to be'. Never mind the fact that as SOON as Minthe and Hades decided to be in an actual committed relationship, beyond just the terms of their original agreement (which was transactional) Minthe broke it off with Thanatos. What does Persephone do though when she admits to flirting with Hades knowing he's in a relationship? She acknowledges it's not fair to Minthe, but just asks to "slow down". She seems to be more concerned with breaking the terms of her TGOEM agreement than hurting Minthe or participating in an emotional affair.

Point is, Persephone is constantly being given a pass by the narrative, Rachel, and her own fanbase that she's allowed and justified to do whatever she wants, while everyone else "deserves" whatever shitty end of the stick they get so long as they're not "in the way" of Hades and Persephone's relationship. If RS ever swapped out these Persephone moments with Minthe, the narrative would spin it as a horrible, tasteless thing and the fanbase would throw eggs at her. It's wild how the narrative will try to convince us Minthe is the root of all Hades' suffering when, if anything, Minthe is a victim and Hades' relationship with Persephone has many of the same foundations as his relationship with Minthe.

Anyways, this turned into a way longer essay than I planned it to, but seriously, Minthe deserved better, and just because Rachel will bend over backwards to try and paint Minthe as the root of all evil doesn't mean she deserved to be cheated on or turned into a plant; on the flipside, just because Persephone is the main protagonist doesn't mean her actions are any more justifiable than Minthe's. You can't call Minthe a bitch for doing what she did when Persephone is given a free pass to do the same shit all the time. Context doesn't even matter in many of these cases, there is no context that makes it okay to have such double standards and almost blatantly obvious class/racial imbalances in your own narrative that claims to be 'feminist' and is being written for teenage girls.

Stop lecturing Minthe and start holding Persephone accountable.

[turbulentscrawl]

Teehee hello hello!

Can I request Norton Campbell with an s/o (preferably male but gender neutral is fine too) born from nobility that acts like the opposite of him. They've been through so much in life, almost at par with his or probably worse. And yet they still care about the others, putting everyone else first before them. They are also a little too reckless, often doing body blocks from the hunter. They know how people can be cruel but they're still generous and thoughtful, although knowing when to stop and prevent themselves from being trampled over.

This is the first request I ever received here!

Just to be totally transparent, this one took so long to fill because I honestly don’t like the noble/wealthy reader x Norton dynamic. (As I’ve said several times before, he hates the rich. And being “the exception” to hatred/bias is neither a safe nor a healthy relationship.)  I’m still willing to accept requests for it…but the time I spend filling them will be far between, and frankly they won’t be the sweetest things you’ve ever read.

“So what the fuck was that supposed to be?” Norton asks as he approaches you in the infirmary. You look at him quizzically, and it’s a welcome distraction from Emily’s aching efforts to remove the spikes lodged in your back.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Don’t,” Norton snaps, though a bit more quietly after a pointed look from Emily. “Don’t play dumb. I’m talking about your reckless behavior in that match. In ALL the matches. We already had a win. We were at. The. Gate. And you went back? Against the fastest Hunters possible, no less.” To be more precise, you, Norton, and Emma were at the gate. Three of your four-man team.

“I wasn’t going to leave Jose like that,” you explain, recalling how he’d struggled against the restraints of the rocket chair. People’s desperation in those moments always made your heart bleed. Jose didn’t want to die anymore than you or anyone else did. Regardless of the method.

“So you thought it was smart to go marching back out to try and collect him,” Norton says. Emily is trying very hard to look like she isn’t taking in any of your conversation. One of those spikes finally comes out, and you hiss at the sting. Emily applies a disinfectant, and presses hard on your back to staunch the flow of blood. Norton somehow scowls more at your pained expression, and you have to remind yourself it was mostly out of concern.

“I did collect him,” you correct through pain-clenched teeth.

“And nearly got yourself chaired in the process. Then what? We’d still have a three-man win, plus the injuries to attend to.”

“But I didn’t, and now we’ve a four-man win,” you express softly. Norton throws his hands in the air, looking about ready to toss the infirmary. You have to remind yourself, too, about all he’s been through. By himself. That the selfish mindsets he has are born of strategy and survival, and not empathy.

Norton pauses in his pacing and looks at Emily. She finishes applying the bandage to the wound she’d opened, saying, “Don’t take too long. I still have to dig out all the little broken pieces.” You almost tell her not to worry, that they’ll be gone and healed tomorrow, but suspect she runs this infirmary to keep her own skills sharp as much as for everyone’s comfort. When the door was shut, Norton dragged a chair in front of your bed and sat down, straddling it backwards.

“You have to stop assuming you’ll be able to accomplish every good deed your head conjures up,” he says, cutting to the point. You’ve had this conversation many times before, and it always hurts when he brings it up again.

“I can’t, Norton,” you say. “You know I can’t.”

“You can,” he insists. “If I can get over my distaste of you being rich, if I can work with people I don’t like, keep the hunters off them in the middle of matches, then you can stop trying to play knight-in-shining-armor. Everyone here knows what we’re in for and that sacrifices have to be made sometimes. Yeah, sometimes your little plans work out for you. Today it did. But your plans have gone ass-up sometimes, too, and it costs us. A draw is not a win, okay? And at the end of the day, we’re all still hoping for some kind of reward for these wins. So if we have a win already, take it. I already hate you gambling your own safety, but it’s more than that too.”

“I can’t just accept that,” you finally say to him after a long, thinking pause. “This place…is so awful. If we don’t try to look out for one another, we’ve got nothing. When I see the others hurt, or scared…I can’t just leave them to think they’re suffering that alone. And it’s not like I just let everyone walk all over me.” Norton grunts a bit and stands from his seat. He’s clearly annoyed, but he ruffles your hair a bit in spite of that. A sign that he just needs time to calm down.

“Looking out for people doesn’t just mean bleeding for them,” he says, turning to leave the room. “I’ll send the doc back in. Rest up, see you at dinner.”

He shuts the door behind himself, leaving you in a quiet, white room, with no solution in sight to this repeat disagreement.

[whoblewboobear]

In honor of iwtv!Rockstar Lestat I’m thinking about Rockstar Jace who takes a (honestly concerning) amount of interest in his new roadie/sound equipment manager Porter. After coming down from a month(s) long bender Jace is finally coherent enough to notice Porter during soundcheck. So he starts serenading him and getting super touchy feel-y. Porter kinda brushes it off, he’s toured with enough musicians to know they’re a special breed, ESPECIALLY the rockstars. But he’s a professional he would never-

That same night Jace is riding him in his dressing room and he does a bump of coke out of the dip of Porter’s clavicle and honestly? It shouldn’t be as hot as it is. Jace being this fucked up also shouldn’t be this hot either and Porter is spiraling a bit but Jace is so tight and so fucking batshit the entire night and Porter really cant resist fucking him 2(-4) more times that night. Next day, Jace goes on a little mission to bug Porter before his show and Porter is just so flustered. He’s trying so hard to do his job and make sure everything goes smoothly. He’s like “Mr. Stardiamond, we’re all working very hard to make sure you have a great show tonight so if you could just FUCK OFF for a moment that’d be great~” and Jace is like huh okay, no one but my manager Zara talks to me like this.. kinda a turn on. But he does as he’s told and fucks off until it’s time for the show. But he has plans for Porter. So many that involve throwing his money and drugs around and letting Porter put him in his place whenever he likes.

Once the tour wraps, he asks if Porter would like to help out while he records his album in his home studio because his last sound equipment manager didn’t make house calls (for reasons Jace doesn’t want to discuss. Maybe he’s done this before, no one needs to know he’s a walking HR nightmare, he’s a rockstar he can do what he wants.) Porter agrees because the pay is incredible and traveling is fun but it takes a lot out of him and honestly, the perks of him and a few of his industry friends helping Jace make another hit album seems like a fun gig. And maybe fucking Jace on every surface in his mansion is a very appealing idea. He can handle Stardiamond. He’s just like every other fucked up musician. But uh oh.. the more time he spends with Jace the more he realizes that he isn’t that bad. A fucking whirlwind, sure, but in the quiet moments when he’s writing songs at his piano or having a quiet smoke on the balcony or meticulously arranging audio and re-recording harmonies, Porter is so endeared with him. He didn’t start doing his job for nothing, he wanted to make music himself but never quite broke through. Jace is a wonder to him, he wanted to resent him for pissing away an opportunity.

But Jace cares about the music, he does. The drugs and the flashy clothes and the money are fun. Very fun, until they aren’t. When he’s not trying to numb himself to the fucking shithole the music industry is, he still has music to comfort him. He’s so meticulous and careful about what he puts out. Which his manager loves. She loves a lot about him but even Zara would admit there are days that she sees him and her heart just hurts because he’s so far from the Jace she grew up with and talked about their dreams with. All those late nights in college where they painstakingly put together his first ep going off nothing but Red Bull and sleep deprivation. She remembers the night they finally heard back from the label and she negotiated a contract that was less shitty and intrusive than what Jace would’ve signed had she not been there. She misses him and she does like how good of an influence Porter can be on him. She’s glad there’s someone else there that doesn’t enable him- not all the time anyway.

Porter’s glad Zara’s around when she can be because everyone else buzzing around Jace is a kiss up or an enabler, but not her. On the bad days, she’s the first one to show up for Jace when everyone else makes themselves scarce. Jace tries not to notice the minute people scatter when he’s not offering party favors or lavish nights out. When the dust settles it’s Zara and.. Porter. Much to his surprise. And he feels a little bad for how over the top he was with him. One night, Porter comes over when he’s putting the finishing touches on the melody of a song, really into it and lost in the way every key sounds together. When he finishes, Porter is clapping and maybe that’s the only applause he really cares about.

[minorisato]

nobori niisan is fucking jacked

pokemon / blankshipping / wc: 2278 / warnings: NSFT, inc.st / notes: takes place in a universe where ingo comes back after PLA. i'm coming out as a brocon enjoyer. / consider commissioning me!

Ingo coming back was… unexpected.

The first week or so was a strange, intense adjustment period. Ingo slowly remembering things, coming back to himself, and resuming his position as one of the two Subway Masters at Gear Station. Was he doing particularly well in battles? Well, relatively, with the occasional slip up when he would cross, say, a Lilligant or Sneasel. (Apparently, Pokemon typing was different, several hundred years ago.) For all intents and purposes, though, Ingo was the challenging Subway Master he had always been.

It was refreshing, for Emmet, to see him fall back into the role so easily. Subways didn’t even exist in ancient Sinnoh, so when he learned of his brother’s fate, he grew concerned that Ingo might never return to his position. Gear Station wasn’t the same without him, and Emmet couldn’t possibly run every line by himself. Ingo taking back over the single line, and both of them working together on the multi line– it was good. It was like nothing changed at all.

Things definitely did change, though. It was nice, while battling, to pretend that everything was the same as always, but in their personal lives, things were different.

Emmet still had bouts of paranoia, anxiety attacks wherein he shook and sobbed (and, sometimes, would even yell,) begging Ingo to not leave again. Ingo, occasionally, would forget he had come back at all– using the wrong move against a Sneasel, that’s one thing, one small thing. Sometimes, though, Ingo would wake far earlier than either typically would, and would dress himself to go out. When questioned, Ingo would always reply, “I must find Lady Sneasler.” And then Emmet, shaky, would calmly explain that no, no he does not need to find Lady Sneasler, and he would lead Ingo back to bed. Their personal lives were different. But that, that was all personal, things that only the two of them would ever notice.

There was, however, a difference which, to Emmet’s sheer frustration, everyone seemed to notice.

Ingo is fucking built now.

This is fantastic and great for Emmet. When Emmet saw this, it made him overjoyed– downright ecstatic, even. Ingo is built. He’s big and strong and tough, and it’s all for him. Ingo can come out of the shower and Emmet can see every muscle, clean and defined. No one else can really see that.

They can, however, see perfectly fine through his clothes.

The first time something happens, it’s a cold December evening, about three weeks after Ingo first got back. Unova was no stranger to cold weather, and no one was interested in walking or biking when there was clearly a snowstorm on the horizon. The subway was a preferable– and far warmer– option. So, naturally, the station was packed. Every worker was busy, with the twins being no exception.

Of course, it is the perfect time for something to go wrong. Wrong for Emmet, anyway.

Ingo and Emmet discuss quietly amongst themselves, or as quietly as they can, against the clamour of the busy station. It is during this that a woman taps on Ingo’s shoulder, drawing both his and Emmet’s attention. She’s a bit shorter than them both, rather slim, and frankly, quite pretty. A Boltund trots around her feet. “Excuse me,” she starts, thankfully polite, “I know now probably isn’t the best time, but would you be interested in getting dinner sometime?”

Emmet’s eyes widen. In the back of his mind, he can hear the sound of shattering glass.

“I’m very sorry,” Ingo apologizes simply, also sounding extremely polite (because when isn’t he, really,) “but we’re very busy this season. I’m afraid I’ll need to decline!”

The last bit is a little loud, which is likely a bit mortifying for the woman, but Emmet can’t feel very bad for her at the moment. He just got Ingo back, he is not letting some lady just steal him away again. He’s thankful for Ingo’s quick response, and the lady nods in understanding before she and her Boltund scuttle away. Simple, easy, done.

Surely this will not become a pattern, Emmet hoped.

The second time it happens, the snow has died down, and the station is a bit less busy than in the evenings of December. Valentine's day is around the corner, and advertisements with cute Pokemon, chocolate and flowers are plastered around the station. A woman makes a comment, as she is boarding, about how muscular Ingo is. Ingo, embarrassed, declines her as he did the woman prior, while Emmet glares at her from behind him the entire time.

When Valentine’s day actually rolls around, Ingo is propositioned again. And again. And again.

Emmet is losing his mind.

The last straw is when a drunk woman, after (as with others before her) commenting on Ingo’s muscularity, attempted to reach out and touch him. In that moment, Emmet decided he had had enough, doing the declining for Ingo, before grabbing his twin by the wrist and pulling him away from the scene. (And, also, releasing a Joltik to do whatever it may please [electrocute her.])

“You need to stop being muscular immediately,” Emmet hisses, pulling Ingo away. “Or we need to ban people who flirt with you.”

Ingo grimaces. “Emmet, we can’t ban people for harmless flirting. Were they to attempt to touch me, in any way–”

“She did,” Emmet spits, “that woman did try and touch you. And she is drunk. And she should be banned.”

Ingo glances off. “I did not notice, to be honest.” He pauses, clearing his throat. “Me losing muscle mass, also, would take some time. I would need to stop exercising completely to go back to how I was before, which is improbable if not impossible, considering our duties at the station.” Emmet continues to pull Ingo along as he explains this. After a moment of Emmet grumbling under his breath, Ingo tacks on, “where exactly are we going?”

“We are going to our office,” Emmet states simply.

“Emmet, we are busy!” Ingo shouts, growing a bit frustrated. “We don’t have time to–”

Emmet stops, turning in his tracks to face Ingo momentarily. He is still smiling, as he always is, but he’s also very clearly on-edge. “We. Are going. To our office.”

Ingo swallows. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Emmet continues dragging him along. “Would you rather I kiss you in front of everyone?”

“Emmet!” Ingo shouts, “is that what this is?!”

“Ingo is mine,” Emmet says quietly, as they reach their office. “Everyone keeps flirting with Ingo. They don’t know. I will make it known that Ingo is taken.”

The door swings open, and Ingo sighs, moving in to sit in his office chair as Emmet closes the door behind them. He, notably, does not turn on the lights. “Emmet, this is really–”

He’s cut off when Emmet quickly approaches and promptly plants his ass in Ingo’s lap. Ingo’s volume picks up a bit as he begins stammering, while Emmet begins to make work of undoing his tie. The office chair creaks under their combined weight, and distantly, Emmet wonders if maybe now, with Ingo’s muscle, if the chair will be able to handle it. He quickly shifts focus, however, throwing Ingo’s undone tie behind him, onto the floor.

“Em-Emmet,” Ingo just barely lets out, his brain finally seeming to catch up to his mouth. “This is– we’re at work.”

“People should not have flirted with Ingo at work,” is Emmet’s simple reply, as he begins to undo the buttons of Ingo’s shirt. Despite his slight attempts at protesting, Ingo does not move to remove Emmet from his lap, and instead moves his hand up to cover the bottom half of his face, both in attempt to muffle his moans and to hide the blush growing on his cheeks.

Emmet undoes just enough to reveal Ingo’s neck and his pectorals, the same fucking pecs that people keep flirting with him about. He moves forward, and carefully, gently bites at the spot where Ingo’s neck meets his shoulders, sucking on the skin there. Ingo lets out a whine at the feeling, not quiet enough to truly be muffled by his hand, and it encourages Emmet to suck a bit harder. After a moment, he gives that spot a lick, causing Ingo to shudder, and Emmet moves to a different spot.

“Em�� Emmet,” Ingo breathes, really trying to keep his voice down, as he moves his arms to wrap around the other, gripping at Emmet’s coat. “Emmet–”

“Ingo is mine,” Emmet says, between licks and bites. “He was mine before. He is mine now. Nothing will change this.”

“Ri-right,” Ingo says, “yours. Yours, Emmet. And you’re mine.”

“No one will take Ingo from me.”

“No one,” Ingo agrees. “No one, I– Emmet–”

Between his thighs, almost directly next to his crotch, Emmet can feel something gently poking him. He looks down, noticing a tent forming in Ingo’s slacks. “Oh,” Emmet lets out, and moves one hand to palm at the other’s member through the pants. “You like this.”

Ingo clears his throat. “Of course I do,” he lets out, a bit quieter than he had previously been. He’s embarrassed. “Emmet, please don’t tease me.”

Quickly, while pressing a kiss to Ingo’s chest, Emmet reaches both hands down, unbuckling his twins belt and removing it from each belt loop, throwing it aside, likely to wherever the tie ended up. Once it’s removed, he unbuttons Ingo’s pants, sliding them, as well as his boxers, down just enough to let the black-clad man’s cock hit the air of the shared office. Ingo shakes as it is suddenly freed, letting out a gasp, and then he bites down on his bottom lip, attempting (and only slightly failing) to muffle a loud moan as Emmet wraps a hand around it. The one part of Ingo that remains blessedly unchanged after years apart.

“You need to be quiet, Ingo,” Emmet starts, smirking against his skin. “We are at work.”

“Emmet,” Ingo grips his coat a bit tighter, “You are the one who insisted on us doing this during work hours!”

“You like it though,” Emmet states, and begins moving his hand up and down, setting a steady rhythm. It serves to draw more moans from Ingo, which said man desperately tries to muffle, biting his lips. “See? You like it verrrry much.”

Ingo doesn’t respond verbally, instead rolling his hips into Emmet’s touch as the twin moves to give him another hickey, right where his neck meets his chin. Through a fog of lust, Ingo recognizes that this is an awful spot for Emmet to put a hickey– in fact, it is the worst spot for Emmet to put a hickey. It’s the only area which is uncovered both by the collar of his shirt and the collar of his coat. Every other spot could easily be hidden, but this? This wouldn’t work. People could see. Ingo tries to voice this, but all that comes out is another broken moan, as he slowly but surely loses grip on his ability to keep quiet with what’s happening.

“So good,” Emmet breathes, right against that same spot, the breath so hot in contrast to the rather cool air of the office that it causes Ingo to jump. “You are doing so good.” He then licks it, and Ingo gasps as Emmet picks up his pace, up and down, up and down, as the white-clad man’s other hand caresses Ingo’s chest. “You’re twitching in my hand.”

Ingo shakes, hips bucking up against his control. Still, he grips Emmet’s coat. “Emmet,” he can just barely let out, “Emmet, I’m– I’m–”

“Are you close, Ingo?” Emmet asks, and his twin nods furiously. “Are you going to cum on my hand?”

“Yes,” Ingo breathes, “yes, yes, Emmet, Emmy, I’m– I’m–!”

Riiiip.

Emmet’s eyes widen, as do Ingo’s, as he fully loses control of himself, convulsing against the other, indeed, cumming into his hand, letting out what can only be defined as a yell as his whole body tenses, untenses, tenses, untenses. Emmet is so enraptured by this sight in front of him that it is almost enough to distract him from how cold his back suddenly feels.

With the hand that is not covered in his twin’s cum, Emmet reaches behind himself, feeling for– ah. Yup, there it is.

“My coat,” he lets out weakly.

Ingo’s eyes are still wide open, as even through his post-orgasmic haze, he seems entirely aware of what happened. “I am so sorry,” he starts. “I am– oh, Arceus. I am so sorry, I didn’t– I wasn’t trying to–”

“You’re strong,” Emmet lets out, a bit of mirth creeping into his voice. “Ingo is strong.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Ingo grimaces.

Emmet first removes his hand from Ingo’s dick, and then removes his cum-stained glove, and finally removes his coat, examining the rip. Ingo squirms a bit as he does this, straightening himself out (putting his dick away) before Emmet finally says, “I love it.”

Ingo blinks. “What?”

“I love it,” Emmet repeats. “I am going to hang it on our wall.”

Stern, Ingo replies, “you are not hanging it on our wall.”

“It is proof,” Emmet starts. “Proof that your muscles are mine and no one will steal you from me.”

Ingo looks up at Emmet, clearing his throat, and he glances around a bit before returning his gaze to the white-clad man. “That was already true,” he states. “No one is going to take you from me, or me from you. I love you.”

Emmet blushes, looking at Ingo, and then back down at the coat. “I still want to hang it on the wall.”

“Please don’t.”

[randomnameless]

Land 5 aka before the final boss done !

Albion...

Well, it has a city named Bordeaux !

Ça fait un bail que Bordeaux et l'Aquitaine ne sont plus aux mains de la perfide Albion !

What else can I say...

The final stage bgm was kickass, I loved the architecture and the "subquests" with goats and the character who turns ennemies green was... A thing lol. Still Nigel isn't a deadweight so that's something nice.

Plot wise...

Ugh.

If anyone got it better than I do then please help me lol, because from what I understood, the pope (hereditary title in this verse) got only one child (tfw your line is super special magical plot related but you only get one kid) and told both of his right arms, Nigel and Sanatio, that they should never speak of her to anyone, including themselves.

So... Nigel secured Scarlett far away (uh...) 6 years ago and didn't tell Sanatio, per the pope's orders, Sanatio knew Scarlett existed but since her existence must remain secret, per the pope's orders, he... Uh... Never knew where she was ?

So when the pope decided to fold against the evil empire, and subsequently later died (something Gharnef is pissed about, because the pope's line is the only one able to destroy mc guffins) Sanatio thought that he had to pretend the pope was still alive to make sure Albion and the Orthodoxy would not descend into chaos ?? Like, Nigel couldn't tell him that "I shipped Scarlett to parevia aka an island that is as far from Albion as the UK is from France, under her dad's orders some years ago, let's find her to both protect and mount a resistance against the empire ?"

I knew Albion was scrapped because bankruptcy and all, but damn if in a game where Gilbert, Virginia, hell Alain and to an extent Yunifi and Morad exist, this felt contrived as fuck.

Besides, I know you are technically able to go to Albion before doing bastorias, Drakengard or Elheim (Bastorias or Elheim must be done though) but damn if doing things in order paints Scarlett in a crap light, after Erigor and witnessing the elves zombies and learning about the occupation in both Cornia and Drakengard with mysterious plagues around, and we open Albion with Scarlett worrying about her dad (while she was there when Galerius told us he was dead !) and wanting to show Alain the place where she picked up flowers when she was younger.

Special mention to her former childhood friend Raelys (?) with whom she reunites and wants to go to their special flower field again... Only to be ambushed by Raelys because while childhood memories are nice and all, Raelys' younger brother was taken hostage and she wants to save him.

Then we have Fodoquia's backstory... And Scarlett looks like an ass, especially for someone who was basically supposed to inherit Albion, who never cared about her country and her people.

Still in the few subsequent chapters she expresses her desire to help the people of Albion and her care for them (with still the memetic "I always thought about you" to get childhood friend when a majority of her rapports so far where about Alain, her feelings for him and jealousy at the other female leads or fluff) so there's that.

Ultimately I believe this discrepency is both due to the game being short on money but also the writers having wrote Scarlett as the "ojou" archetype, when the elf twins, even with their 5 lines about the plot of their land, and to some extent, Virginia and Yunifi/Ramona are concerned about their homes and people and written as such.

Plot happens and it's revealed, the empire is actually full of body surfers who were banned to the shadow realm for having sacrificed an unicorn and their big plan is to transmigrate everyone in living bodies, Scarlett's line is special because her magical powers are the result of experiments on humans with blood/parts/powers (?) of an unicorn, the failed results were duds and gave birth to the feathered people (angels) but Scarlett's ancestor was a success, the Cornian royal line is also special because it was founded by a young woman who was the only one granted immortality and not banished to the shadow realm eons ago, so she got some magic powers but gave up her immortality, and the laguz were originally elves who decided to become laguz so their bodies couldn't be snatched, but they forgot how to turn back.

Anyhow, for all of the unicorn imagery Alain got, I found it cool that the "our line was founded by the Maiden in the Unicorn and Maiden duo" thing is/was referenced in Ilenia/Virginia's skillset, it sort of helped to lessen the "uwu Alain is the saviour and chosen one" thingie that hits especially hard after Drakengard and Gilbert's last convo where he confesses he and Drakengard in general have always been jealous of cornia, so learning only Cornia's king can be the "chosen one" to get rid of the evil ghost empire...

Also, since you can skip Drakengard to reach that point and ignore her existence, I guess the "Alain saviour bcs he descends from the Maiden and has the magic ring" feels even weirder when Virginia is also in the party, but she can't equip the magic ring (granted if Alain were to die, would Virginia be able to equip it plot wise ?)

Fwiw, even if Gerard's infinity +1 sword can be used by Alain, I gave his magic ring to Virginia, his other grandkid by beating his ass with the Tricorns, plot be damned.

I mean, I usually dgaf about chosen ones plots, but when the second arc was all about a potential claimant/heir accepting to stand down and let their sib/cousin run the show, the game saying "only sib/cousin can save the world" feels a bit like a slap lol

Alain gave the "totally not-engagement ring" to Joseph, his dad in all but blood, and I rounded up several rapport conversations (wtf was Fodoquia and Bryce's lol) and mini quests.

Units wise... Ramona works well with the angels who have their discharge skill lol, and Bertrand spinning with his hammer will never cease to be hilarious.

I'm sure I'm not using Berengeria well though, because now she keeps on dying (ffs you have a giant shield can you just use it for once ??)... But Bruno makes up by hitting like a truck.

[arc-misadventures]

Nora’s Codenames

Jaune: Hi, guys!

Nora: Jaune-Jaune!

Pyrrha: Hey, Jaune.

Ren: Hey, Jaune. How did your talk with your family go?

Jaune: Went pretty well…

Jaune walked over to his bed, and pulled out his scroll, and waved it before the others. Quickly typing out a message to them in their private group chat.

Jaune: We talked about how things were going; asked her how my nephew, Adrian was doing.

Jaune’s Text: False Signals everyone.

False Signals: At first it was this silly little thing, Nora made them do. Codenames for various tasks they wanted to do but, didn’t want anyone else to know that they were doing. Most of the codenames, Nora came up with were, Nora trying to clue them in on what kind of pancakes she wanted. But, Ironically sometimes that came in use.

Such as, False Signals: To talk about something, something seemingly random vocally, while their true conversation was being held over text.

The others moved themselves into various locations, and pulled out their scrolls. The lot of them gave, Jaune a concerned look as the looked at their scrolls.

Pyrrha: Adrian, who’s, Adrian?

Pyrrha Text: What’s wrong?

Jaune: As I said, Adrian’s my nephew.

J Text: I’m being followed.

Nora: You have a nephew?! Is he cute? I bet he’s adorable!

Nora Text: How can you be sure?

Jaune: Oh, he’s a little heart breaker in the making; Wants to see some photos?

NP: YES!

J Text: I smelt something when I went to the CCT Tower to talk to my sister.

Ren: May I see as well?

Ren Text: What makes you think you were being followed?

Jaune: Here you go.

NP: Nawwww~!

Nora: I want one~!

Pyrrha: I want four~!

Ren: Okay…?

J Text: I was all alone during my call to my sister, then I smelt something near the end. Smelt someone.

P Text: How concerned should we be about this?

Jaune: Haha! Told you he was a little heart breaker in the making.

J Text: Okay, I’ll tell you the truth: Adrian is actually my biological son.

Ren: I don’t see it.

R Text: Beg pardon?!

Pyrrha: H-He r-r-really is…?!

P Text: HE’S YOUR WHAT?!!

Nora: Settle down girl.

Nora: Does that mean I’m an aunt?!

Jaune: Yep! You are now, Adrian’s seventh aunt!

Nora: FUCK YEAH!

P Text: WHY DO YOU HAVE A SON?!!

Jaune: Settle down, Nora, you’ll upset our neighbours.

J Text: My sister, Saphron, and her wife, Terra wanted a child, so they asked me to be the donor. So, I did, and as far as anyone knows, he is my nephew, not my son.

Nora: What?! No I won’t!

Ren: Shall I show you the complaints we’ve received?

R Text: Oh, that’s why you panicked, and went to call your sister; You’re scared for him because of your new found faunas status.

Nora: Who’s complaining?!

J Text: Damn right I am.

Pyrrha: Weiss is, but she’s usually complaining about something anyway.

P Text: You’re worried that something may happen to him?

J Text: They see me as a king, or a god. If they found out about him being my son. Well, if they even think about touching him, I will kill them.

R Text: Noted.

Nora: That’s because she’s used to sleeping on a pile of money; She’s too soft, and weak for the world!

Ren: I doubt sleeping on a pile of, Lien Chips would be comfortable.

N Text: Do you think whoever was spying on you overheard your conversation with your sisters?

Pyrrha: They once made me lay on a pile of fake Lien chips for a commercial; It didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t comfortable either.

Jaune: What was the commercial for?

Pyrrha: Perfume I think?

Nora: Did it smell nice?

Pyrrha: I still have some if you want try?

Nora: Yes please!

J Text: Fraid so. They may go after him to get to me. The odds of that happening depends on whether, or not he displays any faunas traits. If he has any traits, he could be in big trouble, if he isn’t… Well, he won’t be in as much trouble.

R Text: That doesn’t sound good at all.

Pyrrha: Here you go, Nora.

Nora: Thank’s, Pyrrha!

P Text: What did you smell?

J Text: Mixed paint. Mixed oil paints to be precise. I was all alone in the room, then I smelt it all of a sudden. I got out of there as soon as I could. And, as I left, thought I saw someone out of the corner of my eye as I was leaving.

R Text: Oil paints? That’s oddly specific.

Nora: (Sniff sniff) Mmm~! This smells nice!

Pyrrha: You can have it if you want.

Nora: Can I?!

Pyrrha: Of course you can; I found the smell was too sweet for me.

Nora: Naww! Thanks, Pyrrha!

Pyrrha: My pleasure, Nora.

N Text: How did you know it was oil paints?

J Text: One of my sister likes to paint.

P Text: Ah.

R Text so what’s the plan then?

Jaune: (Sniff, sniff) That is a nice smell. But, yeah it’s too sweet for you, Pyrrha.

Pyrrha: Oh? Since your sense of smell is so strong, what is a nice smell for me then?

J Text: Nora: Can you come up with an attack name, please?

N Text: Yay~! Attack plan names~!

Jaune: Uhh… W-Well… I don’t know if I can answer that really…

Pyrrha: Why not?

Jaune: Well, to other humans, and faunas they may think you smell nice with some sort of perfume, or deodorant. But, I think your natural smell smells nice as is…

Pyrrha: Do you now~?

N Text: Art Strike!

R Text: No.

N Text: Painters gala!

R Text: Too long.

N Text: Lubed up~!

R Text: Too sexualized.

Jaune: I find your natural smell… appeasing.

Pyrrha: How appeasing?

N Text: Canvas?

R Text: Too plain.

N Text: Easel? Oh! Mobile easel! Hows that?

R Text: That works?

P Text: I like it.

J Text: Alright; I’ll sniff them out, then I’ll point, yell out Mobile easel, and you go get ‘em. Got it?

NPR Text: Got it.

J Text: Good. Signals out.

And, with that the main conversation ended, and their scrolls were put away.

Pyrrha: Come on, how appeasing do I smell?

Jaune: …

Jaune: Nora?

Nora: Yes fearless leader?

Jaune: You’ve been hanging around with mom, right?

Nora: Yep! And, it was amazing~!

Jaune: That’s nice to hear. So then… You over heard, Oobaleck talk to her, and Ms. Goodwitch then?

Nora: Yep!

Jaune: So you overhead all that stuff about my sense of smell then, eh?

Nora: Yep, weird stuff that was!

Jaune: Did you tell, Pyrrha about that as well?

Nora: N-No…

Jaune: Nora, don’t you go lying to your big brother now.

Nora: Big brother?! T-That’s not far!

Jaune: Nora, come on you can tell your big bro the truth.

Nora: Mmmm…! Fine! Fine, fine… Haaa… I told her…

Jaune: Thank you, Nora. And, don’t worry, you’ll use the little sister card on me eventually.

Jaune smiled as he ruffled, Nora’s hair who grew a wide smile in joy before he left his new, adorable little sister. He then walked over, and stood face to face with, Pyrrha.

Jaune: Pyrrha.

Pyrrha: Y-Yes…?

Jaune: Haa… You know this whole, Faunas harem crap I’ve been dealing with. That’s a stupid question; Of course you do, you’re the most vocal about it all.

Pyrrha: I-I haven’t said anything…

Jaune: “Hormonal faunas bitches.” Or, something like that, no?

Pyrrha: You heard that?!

Jaune: I have incredible hearing remember?

Pyrrha: Oh right…

Jaune: Haa… Pyrrha… Look… This whole faunas harem thing people are trying to make me make… I won’t lie I find the idea appealing… And, there are a few people I’m… interested in… So… I… Uhh…? If you don’t mind…

Pyrrha: Uhh…? I have a faint idea of what you may be talking about, but…? Start over again from the beginning I’m so confused.

Jaune: …

Jaune: Haa, fuck it.

Jaune grabbed, Pyrrha’s cheeks, and pulled her into a deep passion filled kiss, causing, Pyrrha’s eyes to widened in shock before she hummed in satisfaction as her eyelids slowly closed as she deepened the kiss, and wrapped her arms tightly around, Jaune.

As the two delved deeper into their lust filled kissed, Nora eyes shinned with stars as she squealed in unbridled delight. Violently shaking, Ren as she lost her mind.

Nora: Ren, Ren, Ren, Ren, REN!!!! It’s finally happening?!!!

Ren: Yes?! I see?! S-Stop shaking me?!!

The duo slowly broke apart, with seep blushes across their faces as they stared deeply into one another eyes.

Jaune: Wow…

Pyrrha: I wanted to do that for so long!

Jaune: Sorry I took so long.

Pyrrha: It was well worth the wait. Now, we’ll talk about that whole faunas harem thing later, but for now~! Nora?!

Nora: We’re already out the door! Have fun you two!

Ren: Remember to use protect… Ahh?!

(Slam!)

Pyrrha slowly started to undress as she laid upon her bed, beckoning for, Jaune to come to her.

Pyrrha: Come on, Jaune… Claim me as yours, and yours, alone~!

Jaune: Hmm. With pleasure~!

[amorosebeing]

Team Snakemouth, What the Fuck?

I just wrote this in like 5 minutes. I am working on a different, MUCH larger fic if any of you all are curious. But anyways, I was just thinking about how absurd Team Snakemouth is from an outside perspective.

Warnings: Uh...swearing I guess?

The Explorer's Association was always an example of resilience. Of bugs that would work themselves to the shell year after year, decade after decade in hopes of reaching an elusive hope they may never see. Truly an inspiration, for the whole of the Ant of Kingdom, that is. Even if their activities sometimes seemed fruitless and vain, they would always go on in search of the legend that their home was built upon. 

And so it was both joy and worry that many of the teams within it held when they heard of new members. A duo (...or a trio? It seemed to depend who you asked.) just entered. And they did it by a special trial from Maki, foregoing the typical initiation ceremony. It was impressive, of course, that they conquered Snakemouth Den, but everyone needs great help before they can become legends like Maki or Team Slacker. Surely each team could help to guide them. Beginner's luck, and all that. 

Despite their novelty bringing along a clear lack of skill, it was also a strength. New bugs joining the association? New species, ideas, skills, backgrounds, knowledge, and hope? That was a boon in of itself. It only needed to be cultivated so this fledging team could reach further heights, perhaps even accomplish something as legendary as their fabled first mission. 

...It was quite the news to hear of them acquiring the second artifact, after word of the first had rolled all across the kingdoms. Truly, they would be revered in history. And religion; how exactly they came into possession of the Ancient Tablet was unclear, but given where it was supposedly located, there would certainly be many an acolyte coming to speak with them. 

It wasn't long until the public learnt of Team Snakemouth, along with many explorers, attending a special tour of the hives. It was clear that the Ant Kingdom had just made major victories, so perhaps Queen Elizant II simply found this a good time to strengthen alliances? It was a good sign, anyways. Perhaps such a fine closeness between the two kingdoms would last years. Perhaps even until another clue was found. 

Then the factory shut down in an emergency, and it seemed that the diplomatic efforts must be in a frenzy. At least the Ant Kingdom's explorers were willing to assist with the disaster. Not that they had much choice, given that they were locked in the factory just like everyone else, but still. 

And then Queen Bianca announced that the...'mission'(??) had been a success, and Team Snakemouth had been the ones to ultimately claim the third artifact. 

They would be...beyond legends now, as far as future historians would be concerned. Some of the finest explorers the land had ever seen, clearly. They had found all the artifacts on the path to the Sapling, and even beyond that, they had helped so many people among all the kingdoms. 

And it seemed they weren't even taking a vacation. Rumor had it they were investigating ruins in the Lost Sands, no doubt for more clues. 

For much of the Ant Kingdom, what came after that is a blur, scarcely recalled: Screams sounding through what should have been a peaceful day, wasps armed with strange weaponry breaking down gate after gate, all trailing behind a walking nightmare in bug form, wreathed in flame. 

Every artifact was claimed, and so it seemed that the path to the Sapling truly was just as far as ever. All they could do was recover from this chunk of history, and thank those who at least tried. 

But the Queen, despite everything, still held hope, and so they must press forward, even into a future that looked impossible. 

One last great act of diplomacy was needed, and Elizant delivered. She started to reforge her kingdom's ties with the Termites. Team Snakemouth, surely chosen for their prestige, accompanied her, and fought for... her honor, it seemed? The exact purpose was a little lost in the excitement of the crowd. 

Alliances were changing, some mending and others breaking. People were rising with a new hope. Rulers moving forward with a speed seen only in legends. A new age had come. 

Though before it could start in full, a final battle loomed. 

And, through it all, Team Snakemouth watched a god fall, stricken down by their hands. 

--- 

Celia couldn't believe how much Team Snakemouth had ultimately changed Bugaria. She was jealous, of course, not that she would admit that. She really didn't want to sound like a certain diva, they just...did a lot, okay? It's the same feeling she gets seeing how she works long nights investigating and Team Slacker can just throw a few dice in the tavern, easily discover something incredible, and then not do any other work for a solid week. It's...frustrating, is all. 

Maybe she should send a letter back home. She's hasn't sent a letter since Team Snakemouth joined, all those...how many years ago was it? 

The association has documents, so she merely takes a moment to check and- 

2 months and 3 days 

2 months 

It's only been 2 months 

Team Snakemouth, WHAT THE FUCK

[chaos-event-horizon]

An update of a sort.

Have been informed that Goldie is looking at this blog and screenshotting it to make comments about how she doesn't like or support proshippers and "doesn't give special support to anyone" and that includes trans people, because trans people are normal humans, but has never once said anything bad about them or incorrectly gendered anyone.

Hmm. Interesting.

"I couldn't be further from a trans exclusionary feminist, I respect trans people and don't align myself with feminists!" || "Trans rights activists are so dramatic! The person who has called for their rights to be taken away and supports groups calling for their murder is OBVIOUSLY in the right here! They should really just listen to her, I'm sure they'd agree that they are horrible people if they did!"

Ah, yes, how big and different of you.

"Anyone with a uterus is a woman. All afab people are women. Didn't your mommy teach you the difference between men and women? I am ignoring the fact that you specifically mentioned trans people because I think that as long as I don't mention them, no one will read between the lines here when I say that if you were born with a uterus you are a woman and nothing will ever change that. This cannot possibly mean that I am disrespecting trans people because I am ignoring them."

You're right, what else could that possibly mean?

And not a proshipper? Not supporting proshippers?

Hmm. How very strange. Then maybe you should stay the fuck out of the tags and stop using them to promote yourself? Since all this shipping stuff doesn't matter to you, why bother forcing your ass in? Since you think proshippers are so stupid and dramatic, why are you using them to try to get people to interact with you-- something that clearly is not working, since you claim to not like anyone here besides the person who is telling everyone involved with "problematic" media to kill themselves?

I'd say that this could all be chalked up to misunderstandings, as it is implied that you are from Germany... however, English is not my first language, and I seem to be able to understand these things well enough.

I'm aware that there are people who follow Rian and I, and who we interact with, who still interact with this person and claim that she's a lovely person who would never hurt a fly. You know, except for the very obvious blood kink and sado-masochism. Whatever, I do not care. The only thing that concerns me is the health and happiness of my family and close acquaintances, and whatever drama is attempting to be stirred up about this is just needless internet dick measuring.

But if you're going to have a pissing contest, at least have the decency to not chew on your own feet while trying to aim. The results might get messy.

As for avditor or whatever, I know all I need to. He's an asshole who sends threats and calls people pedophiles for liking fictional things. He's a twerp. He's an idiot. He's a blowhard who is simultaneously claiming to defend and bow down to a group while talking over them and telling them to kill themselves when they correct him. And I personally think it's hilarious that he hides behind all those acts, just like you do-- and yes, Goldie, I know someone is showing this to you for your viewing pleasure, in the hopes that they get to see more drama to light up the inevitable darkness of all of your worthless existences. I'm fairly certain that if I hadn't put my foot down and turned off anon, we would have been hit by another laughable wave of bitches and cunts that seem to be at the neck and call of that sad little group.

So go ahead. Say what you will. Eat your own tail as you all bend over backwards to justify your own hypocrisy while condemning people who do far less. I quite honestly do not give two shits, except insofar as how it effects Rian. why not screen shot this and pass it to your own followers? You can circle-jerk and claim victory to your heart's content, and eat shit while doing so, as I will no longer be addressing these issues directly.

I however am tossing this whole farce aside, now. Because quite frankly I'm too busy to deal with arrogant insects. Enjoy whatever conjecture you wish to continue spinning on this, because I will no longer be publicly speaking on this matter, and neither will Rian.

But if I hear about anyone sending anon threats on our behalf, I hope you imagine the sound of my crushing your skulls and think better of it. We will have none of that.

[arizonaconservativegal]

For the fact that Bruce Jenner is a man with reproductive sexual organs of man same as me and how the fuck does that make him different than any other man? when in fact he is a man. How the fuck do you think he is woman just like yourself a natural born female? If you think he is a women how come he cannot get periods or goes through what a woman´s body goes through and if younger how would that man get pregnant? like to hear your leftists logic on men like him who think he is a woman.

Here's the thing about Caitlyn Jenner

Obviously she is biologically male. Obviously she is not the same as a biological woman. She's also not trying to tell anyone that she gets pms or should be allowed to compete against women in sports (quite the opposite of that, in fact). As far as I can tell, she's just trying to live as normal a life as someone like her is able but she's under no illusions that she will ever be quite the same and she's not trying to change the rest of us to make herself feel more normal.

I'm totally fine with this. She's not bothering me. She's not doing anything that affects anyone else.

So yeah I'm going to call her Caitlyn and refer to her as 'she' and all that. She hasn't gone by Bruce in ten years. My friend just got married and took her husband's last name. That doesn't make her biologically a Smith. But she's part of the family now so we're going to call her Smith. Caitlyn Jenner is not biologically a woman but as far as I'm concerned, refusing to acknowledge that she is living the way the rest of us do is just as silly as refusing to call my friend by her new last name. I can think it's a little weird, just like I'd think it was a little weird if my friend had decided to hyphenate her last name instead of just going with Smith, but so what?

I don't care what adults want to do with their own body and what they want to call themselves. I only care when they start to impose on others.

As far as all the other trans stuff goes...

I think there are a lot of kids who would have been goth or emo when I was growing up but these days are being told that they are probably trans or whatever. They just feel out of place and are searching for something that makes them feel understood. And while I don't really see the harm in letting them buy some new clothes and cut their hair a certain way to see if they feel better, there is no good reason for any medical procedures to be performed on them. I think there are a lot of well intentioned but misguided people trying to help them and I think there are a lot of sick fucks trying to take advantage for politics or profit.

I think there are also a lot more sick fucks who like to pretend to be trans whenever it's convenient and gives them access to someone they can prey upon. But let's just be adults here for a second - I'm pretty sure we can all tell the difference between someone like Caitlyn Jenner and some creep that just got convicted of raping four women and has decided suddenly that he would like to serve his sentence in the women's prison. Come on.

Locker rooms, bathrooms, and prisons are sex segregated for a reason and should stay that way. I would be perfectly happy to see some more gender neutral locker rooms and bathrooms in addition to the women's and men's rooms - but I am vehemently opposed to making either one of those the new gender neutral space.

I am not going to entertain the idea that transwomen are identical to the rest of us. Sports are sex segregated for a reason as well. I don't really know what would be fair to trans athletes but I know for sure that making the women's team the 'everyone team' is not fair to anyone. Anyone pushing that is just willfully blinded by politics.

I am not going to refer to mothers as 'birthing people' or gynecology patients as 'people with vaginas' or any of that nonsense. I am also not going to say 'people with two legs' to be sensitive to people who have fewer. We all know what we're talking about and if you are offended by your own differences, then I'm sorry but that's not something some sparkly new language is going to fix for you. I'm certainly not going to entertain the idea of changing the definition of 'woman.' I'm not going change how I refer to myself to appease anyone else. I will call you whatever name you want but you don't get to redefine who I am.

And if you pick a really stupid name or fake pronoun for yourself, don't be shocked when someone makes fun of it the way we all make fun of Xitter or some millennial naming her kid MacKeighleigh.

But here's the other thing about Caitlyn Jenner - she is not any of those people. Actually I don't think most trans people are any of those people. I think almost all of that garbage comes from people who are misappropriating the label or who fancy themselves activists and they're giving the actual trans community a bad rap. I think most trans people are pretty normal aside from the obvious.

We have a handful of legitimate issues to work out in regards to the bathrooms and sports and I'm sure that is a little uncomfortable to have to hash out but I think if we stop trying to be assholes on purpose, we can figure it out.