#he has so much of it i struggle but i found sum that works for me nowee

[grimstrawberry]

how does it feel to have a face like that? (how does it feel to be replaced like that?)

[anaconamor]

fireplace talks - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: after a eventful holiday dinner, your boyfriend shares his most devoted love language with you by the fireplace.

wc: 1.2k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa 🗣️: EEEWKK okay i literally love this idk why, it’s just so fluffy and warm, ughh… i love the holidays and bf! jude has a special place in mi corazon!! 🤍🤍

“i want to be as close as possible,” jude frowned as he fixed his position, his forehead resting on your neck as his cheek squished against your skin, feeling his heavy sigh as he finally found that spot. his arm was around you as he played with the tiny “j” necklace on you. you felt and heard his soft breaths as a silent air passed.

you both had decided to host a small holiday party in your home, for everyone to celebrate and get together. your friends, some of his teammates, and their family, it was a full house. but it was just those dinners you dreamed of as a kid, no drama just full-on getting along, with a holiday spirit.

what you most looked forward to was the fireplace to which you hadn’t used yet and waited off till tonight's dinner. it had been a funny but difficult task to do, jude struggling with the wood and its attempt to turn it on, hearing small groans and curses from time to time, when in reality all it needed was a bit of gas and old newspaper.

jude had helped you move around furniture and the dining table to fit everyone setting the table cover and its runner, in the kitchen he also helped you with slicing fruit and veggies and stirred the pots. his old rock music played in the back, grabbing you from time to time to dance and spin you as he sang.

yet during the dinner, jude and you were strangers. not intentionally, but you both tended to ensure everyone you loved and cared about felt comfortable and not left out. he did assist with setting the table with the food and extra plates. you greeted everyone as you finished a spicy sauce for the meal, took pictures, and captured core memories.

the evening went from a loud chatter to quiet conversations while drinking some hot chocolate or tea. some of you were inside, or others outside as jude liked to show off the patio he had rebuilt and constructed after moving in. you could hear the tiny kids running as the played tag or hide and seek, or colored in the coloring books you bought for them.

but now it was just you and jude, after saying goodbyes jude had moved his white couch closer to the fireplace where he felt the warmth after purposely turning down the heater. “geez, why is it so cold?” you shivered as you ran your hands over your shoulders. “Don’t know, come here, its warm,” jude said as he showed you the set up of pillows and a huge comforter.

as much as jude loved to be a big spoon, he loved being a small spoon as well, which is why he felt most safe and warm like this on top of you. the room filled with the sound of wood burning and the smell of ashes as it fumed. “you tired?” jude asked, as you had stopped scratching the back of his neck.

“not one bit,” you laughed.

“thank you for everything you did for me and our guests today, i know how much work and dedication you put in for this to be perfect,” jude spoke as he looked up and saw your eyes glow with the fireplace. “it was such a perfect evening, and we both needed it.”

“we truly did, i’m just thankful everything turned out as planned. everyone loved the spritz cranberry drinks, and the cookies you baked, but shh, they don’t have to know they're store-bought,” you motioned with your finger against your lips. jude let out a small laugh and propped himself against your chest.

“what are you thinking now?” you rolled your eyes playfully.

“what do you mean? i'm just sitting up,” jude defended.

“uh uh, you've had this look since our guest arrived and you know me, and i have to know. so tell me,” you pressed, jude shaking his head as he grinned. “i’m just extra thankful for this christmas this year… last year we were barely getting to know each other and i almost fucked that up,” jude grimaced as he scratched his head awkwardly.

it was true! jude and you had slowly distanced yourself from each other after some small miscommunication and you almost ended things because you felt like he didn’t want you anymore. but jude didn’t give up, he made sure to tell and express just how much you meant to him, and since then you’ve been inseparable.

“this year, you’re mine finally, and i get to spend my favorite holiday with you, wrapped up like this,” jude snuggled back and tickled you, hearing your burst of laughter. “i’m serious, just makes me think, this is just the start of something that will last forever,” jude whispered. “i hope you know you’re it for me. there’s no one else i want in this world if it isn't you…”

“jude…”

“i know i may not always be here, but no matter where i am, i’m yours and you’re mine. you have no idea just how much you mean and have done for me, and i don’t know how i can ever repay that. but just know that my heart belongs to you, that i love you, and that i can’t for our future together,” jude declared, from the bottom of his heart, his voice laced with shakiness.

“judeee, why do you always get sentimental with me at this time of night,” you laugh as you feel your eyes sting, your chest warm and fuzzy. “because my love language is physical touch and words of affirmations or whatever the hell you call it,” jude says, kissing your jaw.

“that and many more, hmm,” you run your hand against his back. “you know i struggle putting my words and sorting out my feelings, and i'm still learning how to communicate them, but i’m with you or without you no matter what. you’ve brought out the best of me, make me feel like the luckiest girl, and knowing that i’m with you? i just know im safe and sound from the world... i love you,” you pout, giggling when jude kisses the inner corners of you mouth.

“hmm, you love me?” jude teases.

“no i don’t actually,” you shake your head, jude tickling your side. “okay! okay! i do, i do! i love you thisss much,” you show him your pinch fingers to where jude gives you a look. “that’s not enough,” jude says. “say it, say you love me or i’ll hide your candy stash,” he warns earning a gasp from you. “you wouldn’t….”

“oh i would…”

“iloveyou…” you say stammering and quickly, not liking how he was putting you in the spot. “uh uh, i didn’t hear that right…” jude taunted further, his fingers sliding up your side. “i… love… you,” you said it clearly, jude laughing as he propped himself up and gave you a kiss that had you weak in seconds. “i love you more…”

he was perfect. your life was perfect. tonight was perfect. and in this moment it was perfect.

[kivino]

PROMISE KEPT || ZOMBIE AU || PLATONIC!SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY X KID!READER

sum. Among blood and whispering ghosts of the past, you would never dream your caretaker Simon to keep a spur-of-the-moment promise to forever stay with you. Yet he did.

tags. hurt/comfort, parental struggles once again, teenager reader yay, arguments, fluff in the end, obviously this is platonic

w. c. 2.9k

a. n. I’m so glad I got the request to continue this Ghost fic, because that was one of the hardest and rewarding works of mine. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy!

jjk masterlist || cod masterlist || ao3 link to this fic || ko-fi

Sun scorched your eyelids, insistently urging you to wake up. But you didn’t move, half-expecting a gruff, deep voice to accompany the sunshine in waking you up. Something certainly felt missing when you didn’t hear it. A wave of panic rose within you, which you forcefully suppressed, almost like pushing down on the trash in an overflowing garbage can.

Everything’s fine. He’s around somewhere. You should stop worrying so much.

He wouldn’t abandon you.

A soft, uneven sigh escaped you, and finally, you get up from the bottom of a bunk bed that was so generously left by the previous owners of the cabins. Whatever was the case with the family of four that would stay here on so many holidays and vacations, it was safe to assume that they were not coming back. That’s what Simon said, anyway.  You didn’t want to think much about what the people who lived here were like. Always made you sad. Who were the siblings whose stuff you were now using, strangers connected to you beyond the time and space, through a blanket littered with bees and flowers, or a ski jacket that was a tad too loose on you. Simon said you’ll grow into that jacket. You’ve been waiting for it to happen for months. Didn’t make much progress, though.

You shuffle out of the room, eyes still darting from one corner to another, looking for Simon, but all in vain. The man wasn’t in the cramped living room, either. Still, your eyes find his sleeping spot – right there, on the couch, a dent from his heavy body pressing the old, dusty couch pillows down, right under a messily thrown checkered blanket with some stains on it. You weren’t sure why he was still sleeping on a couch – it certainly wasn’t made to accommodate his giant form, but you didn’t question his quirks. A bedroom right across from yours was waiting for him, untouched, yet he chose to spend his nights beside the stove, on a couch too uncomfortable to get some actual sleep. You could never stop being amazed at his logic.

By the looks of it, it was already late afternoon and Simon was nowhere to be found in this cabin, a little too cold for your liking. Your eyes quickly dart towards the furnace in the middle of the room. You wrap a longer sleeve of your top around the palm of your hand, reaching out towards the handle you expected to be quite hot. Instead, you’re greeted with lukewarm metal, and underneath it, the sight of dull embers, with their blooming scarlet light generously pouring out onto the floor. Yeah, you definitely needed to add some more firewood to the pile. Or, if luck has it and the day was going to be warm, you could leave it as is. It was still winter, you had to keep that in mind, but even here in the mountains, it was much warmer than where you and Simon started your journey.

It wasn’t easy getting to the cabin, either. After that horrible day at the infested hospital, your sickness worsened, you were feverish, but thankfully, the stuff Simon grabbed from there was enough to keep your temperature down, and keep you on your feet. It also took you quite some time to let Simon out of your sight for more than a couple of minutes without breaking out into a silent crying fit, irrational fear taking over your mind completely. You…didn’t talk about it anymore, but before you found this house, it was quite tough. It still was, but not as much. Here you at least had a roof over your head, and you were warm, gifted with the spoils of the forest.

“Morning. You sure slept in today.” The door suddenly slides open, and a low, painfully familiar voice greets you, flowing through the room. You watch Simon shaking off the snow from his boots, the bag over his shoulder heavy with game, and roll on your heels, keeping yourself from running over to hug the man in greeting. How weird would that be. Simon, however, seemed to have noticed that, be it your downturned eyes, or fiddling with your fingers. So, he propped his rifle on the wall beside the door and approached you instead, affection in the form of a firm, reassuring side hug is given to you. A gloved hand rubs your shoulder and your worries melt away, even if your receiving of the gesture is quite stiff and awkward, you appreciate it nonetheless.

“Well, you know me. I’d rather be asleep than do something useful once in a while.” You say with a crooked smile, reminding him of his recent remark, which only causes the man to avert his eyes from you in an indiscernible manner. Shameful? Guilty? No, that’s ridiculous. Why would he feel something of sorts? Simon promptly let go of you, stomping towards the kitchen, silent and broody, as usual.

Your eyes follow his hands, putting the game bag on the counter, taking out his beloved knife, sharpening, methodical and slow. His motions almost hypnotize you, working at the blade with precision and care, silent in his concentration and focus. In those moments, you realized how you admired this big nuisance of a parent. You’d be gone for sure if he wasn’t there for you. He would’ve lived just the same if you weren’t there. A tear suddenly burns your eye and you rub it off in a hurried, rough motion.

“What’s for dinner?” You plop down on the counter, eyeing his back, feet dangling in the air. Not really thinking, just…enjoying the moment. Who knows, maybe in a few months you’ll have to be on the road again. It wouldn’t make sense, though. Simon told you that you’ve reached this mysterious “South” already, even if it was in mountains. So that’s well.

“Rabbit.” You nod and linger behind him, waiting for some instructions, words, a request… Anything. It went without saying that you were to help Simon around the house, he always had stuff for you to do (you weren’t quite sure how he managed to come up with all the tasks that seemed to never have an end to them), but now he was silent. Which only reinforced the uncertainty within you. Something must’ve happened. He won’t tell you, though. No way.

“I’ve been thinking…”

“What is it?” Simon’s voice cuts you off a little too rough, but you didn’t mind. He was just like that.

“Take me hunting with you, please?” You turn on your best pleading eyes, which is probably unnecessary, since the man is standing with his back turned to you. Simon is silent, giving you no response, while his knife expertly carves away at the small animal under his hands. Of course, you were used to him not talking, but for some reason, him not giving you an answer and choosing to play silent treatment scared and infuriated you all at the same time. “Da… Simon?” You call out to him, correcting yourself mid-word, poorly masking your mishap with a cough.

“This again, kid?” Simon mumbles, after letting out a heavy, weighed sigh. You didn’t know if you should feel offended or discouraged.

“What do you mean?” You gave him an incredulous expression, as if not getting what he was talking about. It was not your first time asking, and it definitely wasn’t his first time refusing to grant your request. Simon’s head turns towards you slightly, and he answers with “the look”, one he gives you when you’re being bratty or just too much. You wanted to hunt your own food. And you wanted to help him. It couldn’t have been easy, being up at five in the morning, pulling on heavy boots and dragging behind a rifle to hunt something down, but he insisted on doing it by himself.

“You damn well know what I mean. We’ve been over this over ten times.” It’s true, you asked him to take you with quite a lot, especially in the past month. Just because he said “no”, didn’t mean you couldn’t ask again. “It’s dangerous. You stay here, like I told you. Both of us have our own responsibilities. Yours just happen to be involving more of the housework, but they’re just as important as mine.” You open your mouth to respond, refute his statement and finally convince him, but he puts his finger up, already anticipating your antagonistic position. “It’s final, the discussion is over. For good.”

“But…” You’re effectively cut off by Simon’s booming voice once again.

“What’s the first rule?” He demands of you, daring you to defy him further. Your breathing is suddenly labored, heartbeat drumming in your ears. You could tell him all your opinions about him forbidding you things, all about his dismissal and overbearing behavior, but you’re silent. A minute passes, but Simon doesn’t turn around, patiently waiting for an answer from you, knife steadily carving away at a rabbit. You realize you’ve been biting back your lip so hard it started bleeding.

“Whatever you say goes.” You choke out from the depths of your chest, feeling a wild tremble within from how unfair it felt. To escape this overwhelming, strong feeling you jump down from the counter, free of your momentary paralysis, and retreat back to your room, not calm and collected in your defeat, but seething and shaky.

Deep down, you knew it was true. Up where you were living, the undead weren’t much of a problem, instead, there were quite many animals. In your time hiking the mountain you’ve heard the occasional variety of howls, yips and whatnot, saw an array of footprints left in the snow or mud, and some of them were of terrifying size. But there was no chance you’d just stumble into animals that dangerous. But more so, Simon was going on about it again. Danger. Your safety. Like you couldn’t take care of yourself. Like you were still that scared child, cowering in the corner with your cheeks stained by the tears.

You know he’s right. And you don’t want to fight. But damn you, if it didn’t feel shitty to be dismissed like that. Not even given a chance. You couldn’t help the bitterness that welled up within you at the mere notion of your lack of usefulness. You were tired of being taken care of. Not only that, but you wanted to do something for once, to help Simon. But he was stubborn as a bull, so fighting against him was like fighting against the tide of a river – fruitless and tiring.

The next reminder you get of him is a knock on your door, unsure and very quiet, unlike the man himself. Well, you’ve noticed he could be very quiet when he wanted to. More than on one occasion, he made you almost jump out of your own skin, sneaking around the cabin at night. The knock pulls you out of the state of uncertainty, almost a trance, staring at the wall with thoughts swarming inside your mind, much like a restless hive. With this uncertain knock comes an invitation to eat – you were supposed to be making dinner together today, but you…obviously skipped out on your cooking duty. Nonetheless, you accept it with some underlying reluctance lurking deep within.

“Listen, kid, I understand that you want to help out.” Simon finally drops, fed up with the silence that didn’t help the tension from the argument in the slightest. His face is uncovered, which still feels unusual, an occasion that became more frequent since the two of you managed to settle down for a while. For some reason, without that rancid balaclava, he looks vulnerable. Simon always seemed so untouchable, impervious, almost inhuman in his strength. But now, exposed like that in front of you, he looked…tired, more than anything. “I’m just…worried. I don’t want you getting hurt. One time was enough of a scare for the both of us, don’t you think?” His eyes find yours, but you don’t return his stare, eyes drilling holes in the plate of the stew on your lap.

“I know, I just…” You pause, thinking carefully about your next words. Not daring to look up from the spoon, submerged in the food. For some reason, looking at Simon right now felt like some violation of his privacy. “I don’t want to have to rely on you all the time.” You finally settle on something simple. Truthful. To the point. If he has something to say, he better be just as forward with you.

“Alright. I’ll think about bringing you with. How does that sound? Good?” Simon gives you a final verdict after a short pause, and that’s enough. Just considering an idea of you hunting together. You’re not asking for more. Simon is given a small nod from you, eyes still staring at the plate, like it was going to solve all your problems for you.

“Simon…can you be honest with me?” You finally blurt out before you can stop yourself, but it feels…right. Vulnerable and weak, and desperate for his love, his attention, his protection, but right nonetheless. How could it not be?

“I don’t know, can I?” Simon’s head tips slightly to the left, and the smile you see on his face warms you up better than any fire in the world could, even if made by his calloused, big hands, hardened by labor. You won’t ever tell him that, though. How weird would that be.

“Wow, you’re so funny, haha. Anyway.” Accompanied by your flat tone, the remarks cause the corners of his mouth to tug upright even further, but he stays silent. “You’re not really a mechanic, are you?” The look he gives you, especially with his face bare for you to see, would probably be accurate to call “deer in the headlights”. You heard him say it a long time ago, but these eyes, as big as saucers, were definitely it.

 “Of course not.” Simon finally answers, shaking off the aftershock of being caught on telling a lie. It was a white lie, though. To keep you safe. Trusting. Not scared of what he was.

“Thought so.” You shrug, and Simon can’t help yet another smile. He didn’t care how you concluded that he was lying, what mattered is you saw right through him. Did him proud. He knows you were always a smart one.

“So, just for curiosity’s sake… How long has it been since you figure that out?” Simon finally asks, brown eyes finding yours once again.

“A long time. Not long after you told me, that’s for sure.”

“Nothing gets past you, does it?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“I used to be in the military.” Simon says with a sense of finality after a couple of minutes filled with silence. This chapter in his life will remain forever closed. There is no military anymore, no government, nothing at all that composed his life a long time ago. Only him and you, his little one that he…wants to take care of, protect. For as long as his body would allow him.

“It…makes a lot of sense, actually.” You nod along with a teasing glint in your eye. You notice Simon arch his brow at you, a silent ask to elaborate on what you mean. “You have this “sunshine and rainbows” thing going about you, that just screams “military”.”

“Yeah-yeah, laugh away at me, that’s what I’m here for.” The man waves off your ridicule with a kind-hearted, toothy grin. In the dull, orange light of the furnace, you could count each scar marring the skin of his face. Putting together a map of a life that didn’t exist anymore, one that had nothing to do with you.

“I will, thank you very much.” A comfortable silence falls over you in warm, flowing cascades, enveloping you in a pleasant feeling that would get lost on you in days of desperate hunger and cold. This, what you had here, allowed you to be…well, you. And you’d guess the Simon you had now was probably closest to what he was back when the world was not in pieces. You wondered what that Simon saw in you that day to take you in. What made him think it was a good idea, to grab a kid he didn’t know and run farther than the eye could see. At times, it was hard to crawl inside his head and try on his thoughts like that. “Hey, Simon… Why’d you save me?”

The question hit him like a damn fucking bus. Even the fact that you were questioning the reason behind it somehow made him want to ask only one question: “How could I not?”.

“Honest.” You warn the man in front of you, spoon pointing towards his chest in a bold demand.

“Honest?” Simon repeats with a heavy sigh tearing out of him. ���I don’t have an answer you seek.” Simon watches your face fall, defeated. He didn’t really understand what you were trying to gouge from his psyche, yet continued, recalling his feelings when those eyes, soaked with tears, fell on him, fear and hope intertwined. “I don’t know. It was never in my plans, it just seemed right at the moment. I saw you, and right then I knew I had to protect you.” Simon answers, as honest as he could. You deserved that much.

Simon waits for an answer, an acknowledgment, anything from you, but no sound escapes your lips. You just stay silent. However, anticipating what your next question could be, he mutters, averting his eyes while making the simplest of confessions:

“I never regretted it. Not for a single moment.”

“Honest?” It is the only thing Simon hears you croak, barely audible and weak, after moments of silence that stretch for so long he’s almost sure the time stopped. 

“Honest, kid. Honest.”

check out this masterlist for more cod fics or send me a request/comment! you can also support me on ko-fi

[creativity-deficient]

Anywayssss I genuinely think this is one of the most important creek scenes we have so far and I don’t see a lot of people talk about it so let’s get into it

So it all goes back to this scene-

I know it’s generally agreed upon amongst the fandom that Tweek and Craig were only fake dating/doing it for the town at first, but at some point their relationship became real, and it’s easy to see why, I mean, it is left pretty vague in all fairness.

I, however though, don’t believe this to be the case? Like YES, the town shipping them together is absolutely what brought them together in the first place, and they did not seem to have any interest towards each other before that, that’s indisputable. HOWEVER I don’t think that necessarily means their relationship was “fake” either. I do think it took time and work to get to where they are now, but I also think that the whole situation, as crazy as it was, not only helped them both to be more open and honest with themselves about their sexualities, but also in the end, DID genuinely bring them closer together.

One thing I have always found super interesting about Tweek in this episode (and this could just be me) is that unlike Craig, he doesn’t seem to struggle as much with accepting his sexuality but rather, how he will be perceived because of it. His first thought when finding out about all the yaoi art is “what if my parents find out?” He’s afraid and anxious of what others will THINK of him if they know.

But in this scene, it’s clear that he’s no longer afraid, and I feel what he says to Craig here sums it up pretty well-

“I’m so sorry Craig, you made me believe in myself in a way I never have before. I didn’t think it had any of that in me but, you were right! I can do more than I think. You CHANGED something in me and I want to fix whatever’s hurting you now.”

It’s because of CRAIG that he now has this newfound confidence, and I truly believe it changed his perspective of him. Obviously I don’t think he full on fell in love with Craig right there and then, but I DO think that Craig being the first person to ever really make him believe in himself has made him start to see him in a different light, acting as the catalyst for what was about to come (in more ways than one, but that’s another rant)

It’s no secret that Tweek lives a pretty tough life. He’s abused, neglected, and no one really takes him seriously

But Craig?

Craig is the first person who has actually made feel Tweek SEEN. Like he’s MORE than what others, including himself, think that he is

It’s such a brief scene, but I feel like it says SO much, because even just being there, sitting together on the couch and being able to talk about WHATEVER without feeling like he’s going to be judged because of it is probably WAY more than anyone else has ever done for him

And you can tell it means the world to him

[cynthiav06]

Percy is a dude from the category of screaming "what the hell did you do!" and solve all the problems in 5 minutes. Everyone would have been dead a long time ago if it wasn't for him.

I have mixed opinions on this. On one hand, Percy is the type of person to wait about for the problem to disappear by itself just so he doesn't have to deal with it. Cause even before he found out he was a demigod, he was 100% done with everyone's shit.

But I do agree that he would be able to solve all problems because through so many books we have seen that no matter how much prior planning Annabeth or the Seven or anyone else does, Percy always does his own thing at the end. And it works out mostly for the better than whatever initial situation anyone else had in mind because Percy thinks almost too well on his feet. Every time.

But Percy has such low self esteem that he sees the fact that he has to make so many improvisations more so as his plans never working as less so as an exceptional ability to adapt. Especially when at times he can easily sense that some titan/giant is too powerful so he maneuvers around a direct fight and ends up defeating them by pure strategy and still ends up thinking of himself as "Oh shit I seriously had no plans. I am so reckless and stupid".

His whole character arc could have been evolving into a more confident and self assured but still the usual sarcastic laid back version of himself who no longer doubts his own abilities and becomes the great leader he showed many signs of being. But no, Rick had to ruin it all because, for some reason, 10+ books later and almost all the characters are still the same, just decorated with even more trauma. Rick being Rick, and instead of showing characters working out their traumas and insecurities, he just slaps a relationship on them, and lo and behold, all is better again somehow.

I am kind of disappointed that we never got to see Percy or any other members of the Seven do any solo missions(aside from Annabeth in MoA) . She almost had the very quintessential realization about how she needs others and how her hubris will ruin everything if she doesn't keep it in check only for whatever she was doing in the later parts House of Hades and all of Chalice of the Gods to take away even that little bit of character development.

And cause solo missions working out perfectly well for Percy while most other demigods struggle a bit to make it work might finally make him realize that his plans don't suck and he is actually a really really good strategist and somehow an even better manipulator. (Though more on that and his observational skills later).

Or make characters like Frank and Leo whose unique abilities and perspectives on combat could have been shown off more, making them all become more self-reliant.

And even so we could finally get proper idea of limits of certain characters like Piper (cause charmspeak isn't going to get her everywhere) or Hazel (we so need more scenes of her surprising demigods and monsters with not only her unique jewel abilities and her magic.) Plus Nico's combat limits, Jason's stamina limits (no I am not considering his death part of canon, you can't tell me it's true, I refuse to stand by it), Thalia's character development as well as her honing her powers and combat abilities more.

So yeah, we really should have gotten a few solo missions instead of so many short stories and all. And a bit more cross-over highlighting the power levels between the Norse, Greek, Roman, and Egyptian demigods/magicians/Valhalla residents/Valkyrie and so on.

To sum it up, tons of missed opportunities by Riordan and even more tragic and terrible progression of previously great characters who just needed a well-made character arc or even some favoritism. (I am looking at Grover and Rachel, who both could have done so so much if Rick had only realized the awesome potential they had).

I have said it many times that it's #percy jackson supremacy. So hell yes everyone would be dead without him, and he is arguably the best protagonist out of any other fantasy action book series. All hail Percy Jackson, the master of sass, and the most beloved but somehow still the most misinterpreted character in the fandom. Really liked this ask, would love more of these regarding Percy or any other characters.

[rainbowolfe]

God there's so much to analyze in Alastor's and Lucifer's duet that reveals. So much about the inner workings of Alastor. He's so worked up, I believe we are literally seeing his "true colors". And while he covers himself in a layer of Prideful Red, he's truly fueled by Envy and Greed.

V

Buuut he clearly embodies Lust and Sloth too. Mimzy does say he was a heavy drinker.

But what I found extra interesting was this shot, of how Alastor seems to perceive the guests at the hotel. He even draws Angel with four arms.

And naturally he draws them all with a smile 😌

Pentious and Husk are blue, Vaggie is green, and Angel is a shade of blue-green. The colors sum up what he likes about them.

"Lust" has the obvious meaning, but it also encompasses pleasure-seeking behavior as a whole. Which is what Alastor does, he does what's fun, and surrounds himself with those he finds amusing. The reasoning he gives for wanting to be at the hotel is because he takes pleasure in watching others struggle and fail anyways. His torture of souls on a live broadcast is pretty vouyeristic too.

So, he finds Pent and Husk amusing/fun to be around, that tracks. Greeds a bit harder to interpret when directed at another person. Maybe there's something Vaggie has that he wants, physically or otherwise. Though it's not as if Vaggie has much.

Perhaps it really is Charlie's acceptance and attention. We see Alastor seek out validation from other Overlords, but he only ever gets it from people he doesn't want it from. He may see Charlie as a sort of equal, and thus values her praise (and therefore takes her criticism more harshly, note his annoyance only shows when Charlie gives notes on his commercial and not Vaggie).

Angel's color is interesting then, because it means he's both to Alastor. Angel has something he wants, and Al enjoys the "entertainment" he brings.

[lo-toh-takes]

Lily: "Hunter is a boring white boy who takes the spotlight from the other poc characters!"

"Okay, that's...that's not really a sound argument, but whatever, if you dont like Hunter, why don't talk about the other poc characters in the show? Why don't you talk about Luz?"

Lily: "Luz has become an angsty teen, I mean, I get that she found out she accidentally helped a man who's literally planning to commit a g3nocide of witches and take over the human world, but seriously, why is she sooooo annoyingly depressed ? 🙄 The only appropriate response is to be angry and hungry for revenge, or work on the portal tirelessly and neglect her friends and family, only THEN it's appropriate for her to be upset and sad."

"That's....that's not- whatever, then why don't talk about Gus or Willow? You said they've been sidelined in the show a lot-"

Lily: "Gus has been sidelined a looot, he's such an interesting character, I love him he's such a cute kid, but I'm NOT making a video on him, or really talk about him much unless it's to mention how sidelined he is. And Willow should've been Luz's girlfriend instead of Amity. Willow and Luz had more groundwork for a relationship! *shows one pic of Luz and Willow holding hands*

"Wha- No, they didn't! And what's wrong with Amity being Luz's girlfriend?!"

Lily: "Oh, nothing, they're both so cute and lovely! This is the gay rep in cartoons that I've been waiting to see for years!....buuuuut, the only reason why Amity's popular and liked within the fandom is because she's white. She doesn't have a real personality. Her only trait as a character is just abusive parents and being Luz's girlfriend, that's it. And whenever people show art of Lumity, it's ONLY focusing on Amity, never Luz, and theyll think shes the main character instead of Luz, and when I found out about the show cause I saw a clip of Eda, and i thought she was the main character, only for it to turn out to be Luz. That was my experience finding out about the show, therefore EVERYONE will think Amity is the main character instead of Luz and will be surprised that Luz is the actual protagonist."

"....You do realize people like Amity and Hunter because of their personalities and struggles, right? Heck, some people find Amity's struggle with abusive parents relatable. Same thing with Hunter, a lot of fans, and me personally, love Hunter because of his arc of growing up indoctrinated and escaping the cult he was raised in -"

Lily: "No, no you don't."

"Do...do you not have no counter argument to what I'm saying? You do realize you can't just say "no you don't" to arguments with people?!"

Lily: "Yeah well, the only reason you like Hunter is because he's an angsty white-"

"I'm literally black."

Lily: "You're brainwashed"

"????"

Ya this pretty much sums up Lily's TOH takes in a nutshell.

[batsplat]

you might have already talked abt this but I’m interested if you have any thoughts on the similarities & differences in Casey & Valentino’s early childhoods and families……I don’t know much abt Casey’s upbringing & the little I know about Valentino’s all makes me go “huh ok I kinda get it now” lol. Idk like I found out Jorge’s whole deal w his dad and I was like “OH OK you make perfect sense to me now” but I’m not there yet w the other two, yk?

so okay,, I do have an ask from forever back about marc and valentino's childhoods that I got extremely stuck at answering, and also an ask about jorge's father that I haven't even touched because like. sometimes you just do not feel up for that lol. and well it's just an area where I do generally try and be quite careful in how I discuss it... BUT this is casey stoner hot take round™ so I will give a reasonably succinct answer to this and not overthink it too much. basically: yeah, I do have thoughts, because casey's childhood does undeniably do a lot of the work in the 'oh okay that makes sense now' department. a lot of his career narrative, his struggles, his disillusionment with the sport... and yes, the way the valentino rivalry unfolded - a lot of it can be traced back quite a long way, to grievances he's been carrying around with him for years and years. I talked in this post about that podcast interview casey did this year, which included... well, a bit of a reckoning. talking as openly as he ever has about how being a rider wasn't ever really his dream - it's something that was decided for him. and that's our starting point... casey's eternally ambivalent relationship with being a rider, one that feels so violently different from valentino's

the big, big contrast between casey and valentino's respective journeys is pretty simple to sum up: it's the joy. valentino was having fun. casey wasn't. now, look - valentino as a child very obviously did not have perfect autonomy in making the choice to be a rider. it's always going to be more complicated than that; his father did obviously push him in that direction. but at the end of the day, it's not too controversial to say that valentino always enjoyed riding and always had fun racing. it's a joy he carried with him on his way to becoming a rider, one that remained a part of his competitive dna throughout his professional career. it's a joy that kept him racing for as long as he did. a childlike joy, in a way - valentino's lack of 'adult' seriousness, how it's been remarked upon that this brutal sport has never quite managed to wear him down. his peter pan persona, how he's the boy who won't ever grow up. and, y'know... valentino had the chance to actually be a kid. he got to have something vaguely resembling a proper childhood. makes sense, right - if you want to be a kid forever, it helps to have been one in the first place

there's a quote of his from 2009 I posted recently:

which, in the context of that interview - this question refers back to an earlier exchange about how casey wasn't a 'romantic' rider (still think that's an objectively pretty funny thing to say about your rival but that's neither here nor there). and, well, valentino's correct! sports has become considerably more professionalised over time. children are less and less likely to be able to afford any sort of life outside of it. which isn't just about reducing passion, right - it's also about not really giving these kids the chance to properly grow up, to become more rounded human beings who don't have to be the perfect little athlete 100% of the time. it's also a correct diagnosis of casey specifically, who certainly could never afford to see racing as a game. I'd recommend reading this autobiography excerpt, where casey tells you exactly that: racing wasn't about having fun for casey. he'd moved to the uk with his parents at fourteen years of age, at which point he essentially became his family's sole provider. his family depended on him not failing - and every opportunity threatened to be his last, his racing future and financial situation always desperately precarious. he was constantly fearful all of his family's sacrifices might have been for nothing. it's immense pressure to put any teenager under, regardless of how much you want to convince them that it's their dream rather than your own. if casey wasn't already an overly self-critical perfectionist before those years, he certainly was by the time he made it to motogp. he couldn't afford to be anything less than perfect. remember: the shape his anxiety took was by making him curl up in his motorhome, terrified of letting everyone down. wonder where that came from

is it any surprise, then, that while valentino feels like kids today take racing too seriously, casey thinks they don't take it seriously enough?

The system has changed: when you put too much pressure on a 20-year-old, he can react by closing up and becoming serious and sad. // Nowadays I see too many kids coming through behaving too relaxed, and too happy with what they have achieved already. I don’t want them to be miserable but they have to understand what’s at stake.

doesn't this make you want to scream. a little

and, look, there are similarities between valentino and casey in ways that will be true of many child prodigy athletes. valentino has spoken about how his father would not do anything with him that didn't involve motorcycle racing, casey likewise has more recently in that podcast said he doesn't think he was allowed to pursue any other interest. we can talk plenty about how the parents of athletes like to use their children to fulfil their own dreams - how their child's athletic performance seems to become the only aspect of their child they have any interest in. how so much of that parental relationship becomes distorted by the ceaseless quest to achieve results. it's there in both of their stories... and obviously they are hardly unique in that respect. there's perhaps a little bit of a divide - to what extent kids are aware of this dynamic and are uncomfortable with it, especially publicly. both casey and valentino are united in being somewhat openly critical of their parents without being completely estranged from them. casey got his parents to move back to australia when he was arguing with his father too frequently as a young rider; valentino has seemingly kept his father at a bit of a distance for years. they've never cut themselves off entirely - but there's a certain undeniable wariness there. a lack of conviction that their parents acted as parents should that they've been willing to hint at publicly, here and there

Our communication is mostly about motorbikes. He wasn't a good father, I mean... When I was with him, playing always meant riding motorbikes for him. // To be honest, I don’t know if I was allowed to have any other attraction to be honest. I think it was, you know, you’re going to be a bike rider from when I was a very very young age - and I’m not the only one to think that.

still, it does come back to the joy of it all. casey justifies his belief that racing isn't fun by talking about how he'd always known how high the stakes were... whereas for valentino, fun is an integral part of the experience. it's what he's there for. and beyond the racing itself, valentino always found his life as a rider considerably more joyous than casey did. which leads us to the other difference between the pair of them: casey's loneliness. valentino has spoken frequently about the importance of his childhood friend group, about having them travel with him and ground him and be there with him throughout - people who knew him before he became the valentino rossi, people he feels that he can fully rely on. he grew up as part of a community and has a strong sense of identification with not just his country but also his town... he's got deep ties to his place of origin and the people who live there, built up over a lot of time, and he draws a lot of strength from that. by contrast, casey grew up moving around a fair bit, unhappy at school and the victim of bullying - his only real friends, he says, were from the dirt track, since they were the only people he 'had anything in common with'. even those friendships don't feel particularly substantial, especially given how often he frames his childhood racing experiences around the hostility of his competitors (and especially their parents) in response to his peerless talent. his parents eventually home schooled him, inevitably further isolating him. then, as a teenager, he moved to the uk where he knew nobody, before moving to spain where he didn't even speak the language. he continued to have a strong sense of connection to australia, fuelled at least in part by homesickness - but it's also a connection to a country he hadn't lived in since age fourteen, a sense of belonging that's fundamentally less stable, less comforting. one that exists primarily in contrasting himself to all the europeans he surrounds with, as a way of making sense of his feelings of cultural alienation - which in truth are sometimes just plain alienation. the paddock cannot function as a home for casey either, and he is unwilling or unable to form substantial connections in that environment. in 2009, ten odd years after moving away from australia, he said his only friend in the paddock was his wife

and yes, it plays into that rivalry - inevitably so. casey and valentino are both somewhat alien to each other, fundamentally unknowable... and it does come back to how at odds they were in their approaches, in how they motivated themselves. casey finds the europeans and their flamboyant celebrations baffling. valentino cannot relate to casey's lack of romantic affection for the sport. casey is there to do a job. valentino is there to put on a show. casey does not think racing should be about having fun. valentino believe the fun is non-negotiable. casey loves almost nothing about being a rider, whereas valentino loves almost all of it

another thing. when I was writing this post about the similarities between casey and valentino, one aspect I talked about was how they can both be.... uh. suspicious characters, shall we say. paranoid, some might call them. conspiratorial, even. now, again, to some extent they do share this with a lot of other athletes, it's kind of part of the game. but, y'know, they do take it quite far - and there's quite a pleasing parallel between the pair of them where they've both come up with a conspiracy theory about one of valentino's lost titles. which leads us to quite a nice distinction between these two theories. not to brag, but I kinda feel I nailed one of the most important elements of their dynamic:

now, look. I deliberately did not do this,, but obviously if you really wanted to, you can do some pop psychology on valentino's approach to interpersonal attachment and relate that back to his relationship with his parents. I am not interested in doing that for various reasons, most of which the cia would not get out of me, but I'm aware it's an approach you can take. in any case, I do still think you can make quite a straightforward case for this distinction: one of them believes the world is fundamentally out to get them, one of them doesn't. one of them is waiting for the system to fuck them over, the other is wary of individuals who have gotten a little too close. both of them at times are exceedingly ready to read malice into the words and actions of those around them - and both of them can react rather dramatically to such a provocation. the shape their suspicion takes is a little bit different and a little bit the same... but it's central to understanding both of them, in a way that does set them apart from their competitors. they're the two aliens who are the most likely to read an agenda into anything and everything. they're the ones who are most likely to take note of slights, to accumulate grievances. the most likely to not forget when they have been wronged - and to take great pleasure in getting back at whoever has done them ill

in the end, it all comes back to just what an excellent foil for casey you have in valentino. in all the ways casey defines himself against valentino, in all the ways valentino challenges casey, in all the ways casey's issues with the sport are inextricably interwoven with the character of valentino rossi. casey hates so much of the sport in ways that are tied so closely to valentino; he hates a system that invariably would like nothing more than to see valentino succeed. but valentino also represents what casey cannot be - not just an entertainer, but someone completely at ease with their life as a rider. someone who finds joy in that life, who did not step away from it until he absolutely had to. valentino is there long before casey arrives and he is there long after casey leaves. valentino is an idol, an enemy, a mystery. more so than any other rider, valentino embodies an emotion that casey believed he simply could not afford to feel. valentino is the sport's joy - and casey was never there to have fun

[litsen-lithenna]

How the idea of Astarion's ascension affected me

Foreword: This is going to be very personal, based on my experience and my traumas. I’m quite sure most of you won’t find it relatable, but oh well. The thing is that I had this  "epiphany" a few weeks ago, and it helped me understand a few things about myself and how I relate to Astarion’s struggles. I’m obviously projecting a lot of myself here, so I don’t expect anyone to relate.

Trigger warnings: Eating disorders, self-destruction (take care).

So, I was sitting at home, imagining my Durge asking Astarion one question: “If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?” And as I tried to figure out what Astarion would/could answer, my mind began to spiral in many dark places, and I started to project the whole thing onto myself and my own past…  (that’s also why we are drawn to specific fictional characters; we relate to them, right?)

I’ll try to sum up the whole thought process and I’m sorry, it’s going to be messy (and quite repetitive? idk)... It’s still difficult for me to express it clearly.

Astarion mostly wants to be safe. And considering how he was brought to believe that power = safety, he believes (from act 1 to the ritual), that he will only be perfectly safe if he’s amazingly powerful. Therefore, before getting to Cazador, he would have probably answered something like "I'd like to be more powerful" -> to be able to control others so that they don’t control me (his sense of safety).

Back to my old self: I struggled for all my life with eating disorders, and at several points in my life, I would have answered: "I’d like to be thinner”. I associated being thin with being in control of my body - and I thought being thinner would help me become more self-confident, since being control is reassuring.

When I first started to fall deeply into anorexia at the end of my teenage years, I was in a very dark place, I felt awful in my life and my body. I was convinced that if I could be thinner, I’d be finally able to love myself, and I’d be much more self-confident, much happier, etc. But it didn’t work that way (obviously), because the thing is that, to my eyes, I was never thin enough, no matter how skinny I was (even when I was almost starving myself to death). I was never thin enough to be happy or be self-confident, contrary to what I had believed in the first place. I was never good enough.

And even in the brief moments during which I found my body "ok", or "not too bad", I wasn’t respecting my body, because I was mad at it for not being able to make me happy. I couldn't control my body as much as I wanted to. And I was straining my body more and more because it wasn’t able to be thiner -> to make me love myself.

Whereas when you love yourself in the first place, you don’t care if you lose or gain 5 or 10kg; you accept yourself as you are, and you’re enough, no matter what.

Now, replace "be thinner” by “be more powerful”, and that’s how I made the connection with Astarion when he has to make his mind about the ritual, and what happens if he ascends.

If he refuses to ascend, he accepts himself as he is, without the power with which he would be able to be in control. And he’s fine just like this, he learns to heal as he learns to accept it. He learns to love his real self just as he is.

Whereas if he ascends, he doesn't learn to really love himself just as he is, without all this power. And he keeps on believing that only power can make him worthy and happy, so when he realises that even with power, he doesn't feel happy, he'll think he needs more power...but it's never enough. (just like my old self with the idea of getting thinner: It's never enough, because even when I reach my "goal", I'm not happy, so I'll keep on starving myself... until I almost die).

Since he never learned to accept who he really is in the first place, no matter how powerful he becomes, he will never be enough; We don't know how the situation will evolve after the game for AA, but eventually, he might come to hate that situation, and secretly keep on believing that he’s not enough compared to the biased image he has of who he "should be" (his words).

The common point is, again, about control : Astarion thinks he would be safer if he can control others, I thought I’d be safer if I could control my body.

And of course, in both cases, there is the painful fear of losing control. In Astarion's case, he wants to ascend because without the ascension, he fears that he might be controlled by others again. In my case, it was about the control over my own body: I was terrified by the idea of gaining weight because to me, it meant that I was losing control over my body and I wrongly associated that to a form of weakness (which is not).

Because the real issue is not about being in control in order to be thinner or more powerful, the real issue is that both Astarion and I didn't love ourselves in the first place. The real issue is about accepting yourself as you are, even if you don't control everything. Control is not the key to happiness.

Since I’m still sometimes struggling with some of the aforementioned issues, I was at first very confused with Astarion’s different paths. Luckily after many runs and a lot of thinking, I’m at peace with it now, but it wasn’t instinctive. In my first runs, when I didn’t ascend him, I could experience a weird feeling of dissatisfaction. Even though I was very well aware that UA was the path in which Astarion would learn to be happy, although I knew that without the ascension, he would be able to understand that he is enough just as he is (without all this power), and although my character loved him like this, I couldn’t help thinking “yeah, but power, you know… power is *nice*...” And I hated myself for having that kind of intrusive thoughts. It's so violent in regard to the character. It would be like telling him “I love you just as you are, but if you could be more powerful that would pretty cool.” So freaking toxic.

And it felt like my old demon was coming back. When I look at myself in the mirror, I know that I’d be happier and healthier if I didn’t care so much about “being thinner”, but still, there's that little voice in my mind which comes back to say: “yeah, but if you could be thinner… wouldn't it be nice?” -- and that is a very violent thing to say to yourself or to someone else.

Realising that i was relating to Astarion on that level (among others) was extremely useful, it helped me realize how I still struggle with that "lack of control". And if today I’m not completely at peace with myself, at least I am with Astarion.

In the end, I think one of the "honest" answer to the question “what would you change about yourself” could be : "respect myself more, be kinder to myself and learn to love myself just as I am". I'm not sure Astarion would ever admit it out loud though, or even acknowledge it. But now I can do it, for myself and the character.

Obviously, I am not pretending that my experience is the only truth about the character; it's my own "reality", based on my own experience, and you have your own, and that's why fiction is so important. I don’t really have any conclusion to this long post, but thanks for reading it <3

[lillxart]

Tagged By: @theoneandonlysemla thank you SO MUCH for tagging meeeee!~ >w<

Tagging: @skyrim-forever @ladytanithia @eklipta

So this is tricky because Snow White the Dragonborn is like 480ish pages and Lydia the Housecarl is currently up to 261 pages (with 7 chapters left to go) so my first two fics in the story are long. It's hard for me to comb through looking for specific scenes, but I'll do my best!

When you get tagged, post:

A line from your fic that makes you laugh

Finally Lydia goes to see Adrianne to complain to her about it. “....Lydia, you’re being unrealistic.” Adrianne deadpans.

-"Lydia the Housecarl"

There's a lot of Snow White stuff that makes me laugh, but she's so chaotic I can't pick one instance of her that amuses me, plus more scenes I'm going to write.

So I chose something simple that cracks me up. Lydia and Adrianne just being besties. Adrianne looking Lydia square in the face and telling her 'bitch your expectations are too high' when Lydia goes on and on about wanting to serve the perfect Dragonborn Thane. I love it. I love them.

A line from your fic that makes you sad

“....Excuse me. I must’ve misheard you.” Snow White stagnantly remained seated, unable to process what came out of the man's mouth. So easily, as if it were nothing, as if it meant nothing. As if such a sentence would be found naturally in any form of conversation. He said it with such fluidity, the same clear intelligent diction like he had been talking the whole evening. With the same voice that had been continually charming her, the same voice that praised and soothed her. He said those words in that voice? Snow White’s face was stuck in disbelief; like a cord in her brain had just been cut. What?

-"Snow White the Dragonborn"

So there's no line in my fanfiction that makes me sad, but there are scenes I write that invoke...we'll call it pity.

The chapter itself is a little messy and needs to be reworked, but this paragraph in context is terrifying. It's the first time Snow White's face drops and her mind goes completely empty with shock. Snow White is a very animated kind of girl, like she's a legit 'anime' type of character. For her to be taken out of that mindset, to suddenly have cold water splashed on her innocent and childlike mind is heavy. And, the chapter that has this line, is very sad in of itself because of what she immediately goes through after this.

A line from your fic you're proud of

The forest isn’t the calm quiet place most humans think it is. There are moments of serenity; during the hours of dusk and dawn, or when the wind stops and the trees are still. But to a Bosmer or any hunter who understands nature, the forest is loud and full of vigor. There are clues everywhere showing where the fauna has been and where it could be going, the light from the sun reflecting off of the water making a subtle tune as it moves with the fish underneath. The whispers of the grass where bugs crawl in and out of their nests in a constant flow of work. All of it harmonizes into an orchestra of life. There could be no noise, yet the hunter can hear every sound.

-"Snow White the Dragonborn"

I'll admit the paragraph is messy and this is one of the parts where I'm struggling with working through my past/present tense (lmk if its a messy read) but I really liked highlighting how people who are one with nature experience the world differently.

A line for your fic you think could have been better

I think about that stuff more chapter wise, like, 'this whole chapter could've been much better', rather than a line.

A line from your fic that makes you want to punch a character

I haven't written any of those kinds of lines yet XD

A line from your fic that makes you go 'aww'

Snow White walked away, head hung low and feeling utterly dejected. Sure, she could’ve bought a cheaper piece with the sum she had, but that armor was shiny and Snow White liked shiny!  “Where on earth am I gonna get another one hundred gold?... T^T” She spun in circles while she thunk, thinking her thinkster as she thunk thirken.

-"Snow White the Dragonborn"

I just love her. She's so dumb, but not actually dumb. She's just different and her brain works differently.

A line from your fic that's full of symbolism

“But when the sun goes down and the night sings to your veins…when your stomach is empty and all those flimsy mortals have turned to worm food you’ll be at the Master’s heels again. When you remember what you are, the position of dog won’t look so unappealing now will it?~”

-"Lydia the Housecarl"

I don't know if this counts as symbolism but the two people having this exchange are parallels to each other.

A line from your fic that contains an Easter egg

“....Isn’t Movarth supposed to be a Dunmer? :3”

-"Lydia the Housecarl"

Snow White breaks the fourth wall sometimes. She is on the verge of CHIM every third blink.

The reason why this is an easter egg is because if you don't have the Dawngaurd DLC installed Movarth is a generic Dunmer npc, however, if you DO have the DLC Movarth becomes a bald Imperial--which is what he is in the fanfiction. If we want to really get meta, this could imply that Snow White was created in original release Skyrim, but she somehow got ported over to Special Edition between fanfiction.

A line from your fic that's shocking

“aaaaAAAEIIIIII–!!” It continually shrieked and thrashed around as she slowly, deliberately sunk her teeth around the base taking the full taste of the blood in her mouth and gulping it down. Finally, finally, with a vivid teeeeeaaaaring sound she ripped its penis off of his body, a red string of muscle following and breaking like a band. SNAP! The strange elf fainted from shock and would soon die of blood loss. Snow White stood and spit the dick out on the ground and crushed it under her heel. The remaining pale elf stood frozen in place too shocked from what he just witnessed to even attack. Snow White doesn’t know what kind of look she had on her face, blood covering her chin, but whatever expression she gave terrified the creature so much he dropped his weapon and ran shrieking in terror.

"Snow White the Dragonborn"

She chompy chomped on some Falmer panis

A line from your fic you want to talk about more

Good

-"Snow White the Dragonborn"

This is directly after the paragraph above. Snow White is HAPPY she's bitten the penis off of a Falmer. This isn't ever addressed, and whether I add more scenes like this in the future I haven't decided yet. But either way, it's still just glossed over. Which is very intentional.

Snow White exhibits a lot of anger, betrayal, and even sexual frustration in this one action. She's mad because of what happened the previous chapter (no spoil), she feels cheated out of what she was promised and she wants to take back what was taken from her (very Molag Bal coded behavior). However, because of how emotionally underdeveloped she is, Snow White doesn't understand that she feels that way, she doesn't understand that she was cheated and lied to. And it will take her a very long time to understand that. Because that is the case, she will most indefinitely continue to act out like this, and just believe that its normal.

[sunkissedliterarylightofchrist]

so do you remember the idea I had that I'm kinda scared to write (now I'm less scared and doing some planning) if not totally fine (here's a link to the post ) I was wonder if you thought these

struggles would fit with my message of side characters are struggling with their sense of identity and the main character helps them find it so basically do you think these struggles match up with struggling with your sense of identity I hope this makes sense

Yes, I think all of these work really well with the concept of identity!

The definition of identity is the fact of being who or what a person or thing is, right? And that can be composed of both little and big things.

If someone asked me, 'What defines you?' or 'What's your identity?' or 'What do you find worth in?' or something along those lines, my gut-response reaction would to say Jesus and that I'm a Christian. Because that's who I am, that's where my worth comes from, that statement sums up almost everything you need to know about me as a person.

That's the 'big thing'. The 'main one'. And the most important one. My identity is found in Christ.

(Not every story has to be 'Christian' or only have Christan characters/main characters. A lot of incredible Christian authors don't have any 'Christian characters' in their stories. I'm just using this as an example. [also sidenote but while I think Christian authors don't have to have the main focus of their works to be religion, they should use their craft to reflect Christian morals. You don't expressly have to say Jesus' name in order to point to him with the good, beautiful, and true that you write.])

But also a bunch of smaller, less-important things define me. (Although I don't stake much of my identity on them per say, because that's then idolatry. If the thing/concept/whatever was taken from me tommorow I would still be me, just without that smaller thing that might make up me.) If someone asked me to name 5 things that made up my identity I would say Christ, my family, my life circumstances/experiences, my ambitious pursuits in academia and wanting to make the world a better place, and my creativity. And those are umbrella categories that a lot could fit under, I could get far more specific.

If a total stranger who I have never known in my life saw this post and read those five things, they would have a pretty good idea of who I am, even if those things I listed don't make up the 'whole' of me. Because we as humans are complex creatures.

The same thing can be done with characters. Since your story is about identity, you should take each character and give them one Big Thing that defines them. And you can use that as a base to branch out into a bunch of smaller things that also make up who they are. (Again, doesn't have to be Christ if your story isn't about religion- and with where the story starts it can be a terrible thing that defines them.)

And then make them struggle with it. All those things you listed are great ways to make someone question their identity. And then you can do two things with that- A) Have their identity and who they are change. B) Have them struggle and shift away from their identity, realize their mistake, and return back to it, even stronger than before.

Lemme play this out for you.

Let's say I have a character named Robbie. At the start of the story, Robbie is defined by his need to be successful at baseball. His entire life is built around it. He's being doing it since he was old enough to pick up a bat and wear a glove. Throughout all of elementary and middle school, he's been the best of the team and has worked really hard to get good. He wants to get into the MLB! Pretty awesome dream, right? And Robbie has done everything he was supposed to and more to do it.

But then in high school he's having a big game where there will be scouts to try and recruit to teams, and he gets injured. Suddenly, his identity is shattered. His legs are broken, he'll be in a wheelchair for months, so how is he supposed to get into the MLB? He's heartbroken as his dream shatters and his identity turns out not to be so strong after all. Who is he without his dream?

But then while he's injured, while he can't play baseball and his struggling with who is is without it, he realizes something. It wasn't being successful or making his parents and teachers proud of him that made him happy. That was nice, but maybe that wasn't the point of baseball. It was helping teach his classmates and the kids younger than him baseball. It was helping them succeed and getting good at the sport that brought purpose to the game.

So Robbie's character arc goes from I Need To Be Successful At Baseball To Have Purpose -> I Need To Teach Others How To Play Baseball Rather Than Try To Only Focus On Myself. His identity shifts because what he started out with wasn't strong in the first place. He wasn't being selfish really, Robbie is actually a pretty humble guy, but that's all he cared about. Every desicion that he made was based off of 'Will this make me successful at baseball?' But now he's focused on helping others even when it costs him, and that's a whole lot more important. And that would be the defining theme of my story.

See what I did there? I took one thing and expanded it. I could keep expanding Robbie's story here with other characters, plot points, what's influencing him, other smaller things that define him that either shift in the story too or get even stronger. Robbie's story here isn't perfect, not yet. There are a lot of gaps and quite a few things that don't make much sense yet. But it's a place to start. You've gotta have a basis of what a character's identity is and what it means and if it's good or not before you can change it.

That's how I would do it.

[adyophene]

Hello ! I just have a little question, how do we start drawing ? I want go draw but idk how to start- any suggestion ? Or, if for starting it's better to do it with tutos, any tutorial to recommend ?

Have a great day !

Oooh, this is a tough question to answer! I suppose one the best pieces of advice I have is to figure out, before anything, what you are hoping to draw. What style, what tones, what media.

I have a feeling this might get long, so I will throw the rest under a readmore.

For me, when I started taking my art a little more seriously (I never went to art school or anything) I just focused on finding both tutorials on the fundamentals, and finding tutorials that focused on the aspects of art that interested me, which were animation and cartooning!

They go hand-in-hand, after all, and you'll find you end up honing in on the tutorials that coincide with your interests! IE- I ended up doing a lot of figure, and expression drawing because they would help me express emotion and movement better! I also spent so, so long just training my hand to be a bit more confident with drawing steady lines just because I loved the look of clean line-work!

So try to identify what your personal draw towards art is! By doing both something you like, as well as focusing the basics, I found that, at least in my personal experience, it put me in a positive feedback loop where I could keep seeing results in exactly the type of art I was interested in! And, once you start to feel confident, that is when you start adding in little bits of study from fields you might struggle with! A 90/10 split on what you're comfortable with and then what is new is usually a good way to go about it! Weirdly enough, though I don't watch him, I saw that the youtuber pewdiepie actually had a really good set of videos where he started from being a complete beginner and improving his art over 100 days. I believe its an absolutely great watch for a new artist, because he really does a great job in showing what a brand new journey into art can look like, and explains what he thinks each day. I think my favorite line was, 'after 24 days, I was finally having fun' because that can really sum up the new artist experience. It will absolutely be a slog at times, and can be really disheartening, but when you start to see progress, becomes so, SO fun.

Here is the link to the first vid, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CMLEudGbxQk and his second https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MJDtQTTAogk

ALSO- this was just the first video that came to mind because I watched it recently. I would recommend finding other videos about people learning to draw, or doing 30-100-365 day challenge videos. As for my personal favorite channels for art tutorials (though keep in mind, I haven't watched them in a few years ;-;, I need to study again);

There were a number of others that I wish I could link as well, but I am struggling to remember them. I hope any of that is helpful. My own art journey has been very long, and non linear, and I have to say, I'm not even satisfied with my own art! Its a endless mountain to climb, but it is so worth it to do! And lastly, I want to say thank you so much for sending this ask, you've made me dig back in to artists I used to study, and made me want to really focus back in on my own improvement!

[kivino]

CALL OF DUTY MASTERLIST

Requests are open!! Make sure to read the rules for requests in my pinned post before requesting!!

Number of requests currently: 5 (whoa wtf)

Everything is (sort of) arranged in chronological order of posting.

Personal favorites are in bold!

If you wish to see my other works, here's a link to my jjk masterlist and to my ao3 profile.

You can also support me on kofi.

Created - 26.08.2023

Last updated - 23.01.2025

HEADCANONS

Fantasy AU with Valeria! - Fluff, SFW

Platonic!TF141 x Eastern European!Reader - Fluff, SFW

Roommate!John ‘Soap’ Mactavish x Reader - Fluff, SFW

FICS

Night time bonding || Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Gn!Reader - Fluff, SFW

sum. You have a hard time falling asleep. Ghost has the same problem.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader smut drabble - NSFW

sum. The title is pretty self-explanatory.

Hush || Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Gn!Reader - Slight angst, fluff, SFW (requested)

sum. Different situations where reader and Ghost hug because he’s too afraid to say “i love you” at the moment, but both of you know what his hugs mean.

Take us back || Zombie AU || Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x Gn!Reader - Angst, gore, mcd

sum. The new world was rotten, and you rotted away with it. 

Every time, I fall for you || Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x Gn!Reader - Fluff, suggestive

sum. Kyle fell for you hard, but he doesn’t know if it’s mutual.

Double vision || John ‘Bravo 0-6’ Price x Paramedic!Gn!Reader (requested) - Fluff, SFW

sum. John gets into a car crash on his leave and meets you - a cute paramedic who instantly attracts his attention.

I don't care what's in your hair || Roommate!John 'Soap' Mactavish x Gn!Reader - SFW, Fluff, Teasing, Friendly banter

sum. Your roommate Johnny comes back after his deployment and his hair looks like it needs a little trimming.

Big guy || Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Gn!Reader - SFW, fluff

sum. Ghost takes a liking to the nickname you give him, but struggles to understand just how much he likes it.

Closer || Slasher!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x M!Reader - Dark themes, kidnapping, dead dove do not eat (requested)

sum. You hear various dark rumors from your colleagues and you don’t believe them, until there is one particular ghost looking you right in the eye.

Lost and found || Zombie AU || Parental figure!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Kid!Reader - Platonic, Found family, Hurt/Comfort, Parenting

sum. You both were lost in this new world, but at least you had each other to lean on. Or tales of how Simon Riley deals wit being a parental figure during the zombie apocalypse.

Something for your mind || Platonic!John ‘Bravo 0-6’ Price x Reader (requested) - Angst

sum. Task Force 141 mourned your loss when you went MIA during one of the missions, however eventually you come back, but not in the way one would think of.

Gentle || Roommate!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader - SFW, Fluff

sum. You’ve been having a rough week, but your roommate Simon is there to help you through it.

Promise kept || Zombie AU || Parental figure!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Kid!Reader (requested) - SFW, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

sum. Among blood and whispering ghosts of the past, you would never dream that your caretaker Simon to keep a spur-of-the-moment promise to forever stay with you. Yet he did.

SERIES

Out of the shadows || Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Shadow!Gn!Reader - Slight angst, action, SFW

sum. After the betrayal of Task Force 141 and the slaughter of civilians in Las Almas you decide to leave Shadow Company on the spot, which works out sideways, leaving you with simmering hate towards the man whom you used to look up to and new interesting figures in your life. 

First step. - Where you cut ties with Shadows.

Second step. - WIP

Third step. - WIP

Meant for each other || Zombie AU || König x Reader - Stalking, paranoia, unhealthy obsession

sum. A deep-seated paranoia takes ahold of you. Every hour of the day, you feel like you’re being watched. Followed. And you’re not wrong. So observant, so beautiful and perfect, but always dismissed by your group, left behind, not paid even a sliver of attention. How tragic. It’s okay though. König is here to do right by you. F̶̖̓͆̕͝o̷̢͚̲̬̍͠r̶͖̝̾̊̍̾e̸͔͇̣̓̈̊̾v̶̛͚͕́͗͝e̷̤̻͔͎̅̑̽r̴̝̬̩̘͒̒̃ ̴͔͆͋̈͝ȃ̷̢̭̯n̶̡̜̫͚̉̌̊̒ḍ̷̩̲̹͝ ̷̖̔͌͘ả̶̡̬̥͊l̶͕̇̓̄w̴̺̥̋̂͠ä̷̢̢̝́̒͗y̴̳̦̙̕ŝ̶͕̋̀.̵̝̱͒̌̅̆

Part one

Part two - WIP

RANDOM THOUGHTS

Price, who’s down bad for his spouse

What if there was a cure to the zombie virus? (“Take us back” fic related)

Slasher!Ghost

WIPS

Watching her fade away || Hanahaki AU || Platonic!Task Force 141 x F!Reader (requested) - SFW, Angst

Ticklish || Poly!Task Force 141 x F!Reader (requested) - NSFW

Rotten roots || Platonic!Task Force 141 x Reader (requested) - SFW, Hurt/Comfort

With you for the last time || Task Force 141 x Reader (requested) - SFW, Angst, Hurt/No comfort

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

The Pacino Variant

Since I found out that JAW got inspiration from Al Pacino to play some of Carmy's layers I immediately started thinking about Frankie and Johnny's dynamic and how it was all so messy in their relationship before it got to the good part. Granted, JAW was not inspired by Johnny, but by a different role Al Pacino played, but still. It got me thinking about how this very Austenian love story, of course, very realistic and bittersweet had certain points in common with Sydcarmy and once I started I just couldn't stop drawing parallels between the sydcarmy dynamic and the frankjohnny one because F&J was a very atypical comedy, just like The Bear and that's why many viewers now don't even understand how The Bear is a comedy, which it is, of course: A noir one. Back then, something similar kinda happened with Frankie & Johnny, it flopped as a rom-com but it became a cult movie and was critically acclaimed.

Here's a clip:

Context: they met while working together at a diner.

The main characters were described as: "lonely little people struggling to find love."

Rolling Stone's review back then read the following:

"Somehow Mr. Marshall, Mr. McNally, and their superb leading actors are able to retain the intimacy of their material. They also retain the story's fundamental wariness about romance, even when everything about Ms. Pfeiffer and Mr. Pacino has the audience wondering why they don't simply fall into each other's arms."

See? Sounds very Sydcarmy to me, building intimacy while NOT dating, Frankie (Michelle Pfeiffer) is all business-no love, a tough cookie, she's been burnt before so she doesn't let any new guy into her life

and Johnny has to do the hard work to convince her (which Carm is not doing bc he rather denies his own feelings and deflects onto Claire as both this amazing meta by @Chefkids and my own humble opinion point out). In Johnny's case, there's no Claire but there is a rather complicated past that also conditions his choices and Frankie doesn't make it any easier on him, etc.

So my point is that the whole Sydcarmy back and forth before it actually happens, which I already mentioned here I think is gonna be more of a cliffhanger kinda thing bc before we get to that part they need to be at each other's throats, Carmy's relationship with C has to crash and burn, The Bear needs to win a bunch of awards and hopefully get out of debt, which will be S3's main focus, along with Nat's baby that's gonna be a total game changer in terms of the Berzatto family's dynamic, etc... when all of those boxes are checked ✅✅✅ then we will venture into Sydcarmy territory on Storer's terms. And I can't help but wonder if that transition from friends to lovers is gonna be kinda like F&J's, I think it might, because it sounds Storer-friendly. I'm not talking about the endgame per se, just the transition.

Would love to know what you all think about this theory.

If you haven't seen the movie and now feel curious about it, here's a playlist, and those short clips pretty much sum it all up.

❤️‍🔥

[chronically-ghosted]

Second Base.

rating: 18+

pairing: max phillips x f!reader

word count: 3712

summary: you try out second base; hand stuff only, but it changes things between you two, as much as you don't want it to.

warnings/tags: cute little outfits designed to drive max nuts, hand jobs (m and f receiving), more blood, fangs, one emotionally unavailable vampire

a/n: this contains one of my favorite lines i've ever written!

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Second base.

Because you aren’t actual sadists or masochists, after the first bite, your sex life with Max went back to normal. Well, as normal as sex with an immortal creature of the night ever was in the first place. Okay – as normal as sex with an immortal creature of the night who is Max Phillips ever was in the first place. Which is to say, often, hard, and loud. It had been weeks since you’d seen that worried look of consternation, that sweet vulnerability he expressed, as if feeding on you might be the thing that kills you and not being railed against your couch for the better part of an entire day. Sometimes you wished he had much respect for your ability to walk upright as he did your jugular vein. 

On some level, you were aware that his recent overexuberance was in part due to that vulnerability. As if you might lift the curtain and find that the man behind it all might leave you wanting. Truly a frat boy at heart, Max struggled to express anything that couldn’t be summed up with the three “ings” – licking, sucking, and fucking, obviously – but now, he had been exposed as someone capable of those deeper feelings, as if he had been the one to split open a vein for you. And despite the heavenly glow you indulged in after the first bite, you really weren’t quite sure how you felt about it all. You hadn’t started dating Max with any illusions about who exactly he is. In fact, you might have started fucking him in the first place because it seemed wildly out of character that he or you would get attached at all – to anyone or anything. The dating thing just sort of happened, when you both came to the same conclusion at roughly the same time: no one else was really doing it for you, so why not? So what if you only directly referred to each other as boyfriend and girlfriend in the privacy of your own apartment, or his? So what if half of the office was entirely clueless about your relationship and the other half was actively placing “secret” bets about how long you two had been fucking? Annoyingly, Tim had been the one to be almost right: “six months ago, I’m telling you, man. That’s when he stopped eating secretaries and she got so much nicer.”

Technically, he stopped eating secretaries about a month into your relationship, and what Tim accidentally overheard was not him “eating” a “secretary”, but you weren’t about to correct him. But Max found it all hilarious: “he’s right, you’re so much nicer when that pussy has been taken care of. But I like it when you’re mean.” 

You actively choose not to think about what he meant by a “deep emotional connection” last time.

Fine, Phillips, I’ll show you how mean I can be.

“Nope, no, uh uh.” 

You put your hand just over the frilly blue lace on your hip. “I’m sorry, I don’t see the problem.” 

It had been about a month since first base and while Max had gotten notably more relaxed around you seeing him eat – he now occasionally walked around your apartment with his food in an opaque smoothie tumbler with a straw – he was still very strict about moving onto second base. 

Which, if left up to him, meant you’d be wearing a straight jacket and thick flannel pajamas. 

“Max, if we’re ever going to do this thing for real, you’re going to have to get used to seeing me naked. I’m not letting you fuck me and bite me while I’m in riot gear.”

“Okay, but, baby,” he whines and he can’t help himself from rubbing the satin bow above your crotch between his fingers. “You look like a birthday cake.” 

Is the baby blue lingerie with a strapless bra that catches around your biceps with white lace a bit overboard? Yes. But last time was ridiculous.

Max frowns, his visible pout morphing into something subtly dangerous as he realizes he can unpeel your bra with a string in the back. “Can’t I just fuck you normally in this and then we’ll try again later?”

You swat his hand away as it sneaks across your ribs. 

“No.” 

“You know, if I wasn’t already dead, I’d think you’re trying to kill me.” Smirking, he drops his hands down to your waist and, not so subtly, curves them around the mold of your ass. Distractedly, he slips one finger under the seam of your panties. You press your hands against his chest and blink up at him coyly. 

“Whatever gave you that impression.” 

He shakes his head, squeezing your ass once. “And I’m supposed to be the soulless demon with a heart of darkness.” 

“So you’ll do this?” 

With a sigh and his eyebrow jumping, he nods. “Yeah. Fine. Go get on the bed.”

Trying desperately not to squeal, you tear away from his arms and all but run and leap on top of the white towel. Max slips out of his shoes, and starts unbuttoning his shirt. You bite your lip, nerves humming in anticipation, as you sit up on your knees to watch him. To your enormous dismay, no matter how hard you worked, no matter how much spit or cum you used, you could not make him purr again. You’d had wet dreams on the idea alone of putting your head against his chest as he vibrated but he swore it was involuntary. “And,” he added as a way to soothe your ego, “I’m pretty sure it can only happen when I’m feeding.”

“Does it happen every time? Like with blood bags or back when you hunted people?”

“No,” was all he said about that.

Max slips his shirt off over his shoulders and goes to work unbuttoning his pants. When they slide off his hips, you frown. 

“The boxers with the hole in the waist? Ooh, baby, I’m so turned on when you make such an effort.” 

He rolls his eyes as he climbs in next to you. “Look, I didn’t think you’d be seeing my underwear and I need to do laundry.”

“You didn’t think I’d see your underwear in a situation where we’re going to specifically jerk each other off?”

Attempting some version of contrite, Max’s gaze falls from your face to your throat, to your clavicle, to your tits, pillowed up for him beneath the blue lace. He leans in as if pulled by magnets. 

“I’m sorry if I thought we’d both be a little more preoccupied.” 

His broad palm smooths across your thigh, around your hips, to just above your tailbone, his nose drawing indistinct lines from your shoulder to your ear. You sort of hate how quickly he can make you not irritated with him. You shift to take him into the cradle of your thighs, when he winds your panties up in his fingers and tugs. The gossamer material tightens just over the seam of your pussy, teasing your clit, you choke. That heated, teasing Max Phillips smirk spreads like hot butter across his lips. 

“What are the rules again?”

“Max,” you whine as you drag your nails over his chest and up his shoulders. But he hesitates, his hand knotting your underwear in his fist. One move and it’ll rub against you again.

“I’ll stop,” he murmurs in a half-sing-song voice. You huff.

“Silver. Bad touch, on your skin. Lightheaded or dizzy, I use the safeword. And,” you sigh. He’s so painfully handsome sometimes it hurts. He’d set out candles again, as if he needed any help in his seduction of you and he just sort of glows. You don’t know if it’s your anticipation or some vampire illusion, but every line on him is blurred. Soft, as if he doesn’t have your pleasure literally in his hands. There it comes again, that small bit of light in his eyes, the emergence of the early morning sun over the horizon. The way he looks at you makes your chest heavy. “And . . . only hand stuff,” you grumble. 

He chuckles, pouting at you in faux-sympathy as he reaches out, other hand wrapping around the back of your neck. “Only hand stuff, she’s so sad about it,” he whimpers into your cheek with a high, mocking voice. 

Your fingers dig into the skin on his chest, daring to hold him away as he goes for your mouth. “I swear to god, Max –,”

In one single fluid motion, he pushes on your tailbone, and swings your hips forward as he tackles your mouth with his own, effectively yanking you under him. You huff in surprise, before pulling away to find menace and glee in his eyes. Grins again as he nips with flat teeth on the curve of your neck. 

He plants wet, hot kisses across your chest, heat blooms against your ribs and tunnels down between your legs, as he tongues the softer places along the hollow of your throat, then up the other side of your throat, teasing your earlobe. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, “that was mean. What can I do to make it up to you?” 

Pressing your chest up against his, knowing he can feel the squish of your tits, you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him towards you. His hard cock rubs up against your seam and he lets loose with a muffled groan into your mouth. You roll your hips once with him between you and he turns his head to your jaw, as you both pant at the sensation. 

“You know exactly what I want.” 

His teeth graze you gently. This is an exercise in restraint for you as much as it is him. Given any other night, you’d have his pants off by now, on his back, or behind you, but you refrain. You can’t squeeze him like you want to and that only frustrates you more, makes you heated and ruffled, makes you want more of his skin on you, around you, as if he could smother you. You want to merge your bodies. Your knees dig into his ribs.

He whispers something, too low and fast for you to catch it, but it ends broken and uneasy as if you’re touching something delicate within him. Bending back with one hand, Max reaches between your legs and cups you, one finger barely pressing the wet material back inside you. 

“Was this waiting for me under all those layers?” You nod as he pushes deeper, your mouth dropping open. He kisses your chin, before tucking his head under your jaw again. “No wonder you were burning up.” 

He inhales as if his face was pressed right up against your cunt, two fingers rubbing up and down over that sodden material. It scraps against your clit and it burns. “I could eat you. Just like this.”

“Max, c’mon–,”

“I know, baby, I know.” 

Smearing that pink little bow with the smell of you, he dips his hand under the line of your underwear, past your damp curls, and soothes your overheated sex by filling it with two thick fingers. You arch, brow furrowing, mouth open, fingers clamping down around his shoulders, arousal crawling up your spine, higher and higher the deeper he goes. Max likes the build up, the tease, it’s why his thumb only hovers above your clit, the heat doing half the work for him, as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, the wet squelching almost embarrassing. Behind his hand, his hips swing in time. He groans, deep, into your ear, breathless. 

“Could come like this, baby, could come right like this.” 

The bend of his cock bumps the back of his hand as he thrusts against nothing. You hitch your pelvis up, opening wider, pussy easier within reach, and you forgo any teasing for him, hand sliding right past his boxers, molding your grip around him. He’s hot and leaking all over your fingers. 

“‘Ngh . . . shit, baby.” The arm holding him up shakes. You want to lick the salty precum but there has to be a rule about that, right? If you aren’t so desperate for that final fuck, you would have been a bit more careless. His fingers inside you press up into the places only he knows can send you into oblivion, as if grateful for tearing him apart. His wrist flicks quicker, faster into you, fingers plunging deeper, up to the knuckles, bouncing you as if you were on his cock. You match his speed with your own hand and Max hums, a dark sound verging on distressed. 

You bite your bottom lip, eyes drooping, the rocking motion scraping against your pleasure again and again, like a match scratching against the box one stroke at a time. “Maaax –,” He adds a third finger and you keen, high-pitched and desperate, the width stretching you out for a cock he won’t let you have. You grind against his fingers, the bounce knocking loose every sane thought in your head. 

Opening your eyes, you realize he’s been staring at your tits this whole time. His chest warm and glowing with sweat, his eyes track every bounce and jiggle, the cups of your bra putting them more on display than if you held them up yourself. 

“Where do you want it, darling?” His voice is strained, softer than it should be with your cunt sucking up his fingers. 

Max Phillips doesn’t do cutesy nicknames. Not during sex, not ever. Your his slut. His monsterfucker. Not – 

Your already unspooling mind struggles to grasp at darling before it slips away. 

His cock is throbbing against the palm of your hand. If you could see it, it would be flushed red, the vein at the base protruding. You pump him faster and his hips stutter. He’s so close and so are you. 

But he’s not talking about that. 

“On my tit, Max. Bite me on my tit.” 

With a groan that is all growl, all tension and feral hunger, his arm collapses and he sinks his weight against you. He manages to get his hand out, but yours is still trapped there, pinned between your tender cunt and his painfully hard cock. You writhe. “Max–,” 

His kiss against your lips is a starving sort of one, one that steals the breath from your lungs, wiping any lingering ache temporarily from your body. He licks the inside of your mouth, swallowing the moan that races from your throat into his. It’s all need, desire, a blistering familiarity that you didn’t realize existed between you two. He’s trying to say something with this kiss. 

He doesn’t give you long to read into it, as he pulls back, sinking more into his knees as he mouths the skin under your neck, above your clavicle bone, and in between the valley of your tits. His weight shifts off you, enough to pull your hand out. You arch, pushing your chest deeper into his mouth, using the back of his neck to pull you higher, he groans and licks, and you yank the tie of your bra behind your back. 

“Max, you can –,”

His hand claws at your cups, mouth consuming yours again, the ropes almost stinging your back as they are ripped so fast across your heated skin. Before you lie flat, his hand cups under you, fingers pressing into where the threads burned and forcing you to maintain that bend in your spine. 

The moment is coming. You can feel it. It’s different from a rising orgasm, or the first time he ever sucked your nipple into his mouth. Your lizard brain is sending off warning flares, but you ignore it once again. Those flares arc and bend, your arousal now fire hot. 

His tongue pressed flat, Max draws a long stripe of spit from under your breast, over the weight of it, and up your nipple, where he swirls it between his teeth. Whether Max Phillips was an ass or tits man depended on the day of the week, or whatever was blowing in the air, but he laved attention onto yours like they were the first pair he’d ever seen in his life. The skin on your other breast shines from where his fingers mold around it, smearing your wet juices all over your pebbled skin. He switches over and laps up that smell off you. 

He’s wavering, caught between drawing it out and doing it so instantaneously he might black out and miss the whole thing. Your heart racing, skin almost too sensitive, you feel like you might shudder apart.

“Max, please –,”

He chooses the second approach. 

Without warning, his fangs spring out and he latches onto the skin near the valley of your chest on your right breast. 

You yelp in surprise, pain and pleasure zigzagging like rough scissors from his bite out through the rest of your body.

Okay, that hurts. 

You gasp, bucking, yanking on his hair. “Baby, baby, gentler, be gentle–,”

He swallows and the ache lessens. Hot blood pools out of the spot where his fangs punctured you. It runs warm then cold, teasing like a feather, as it rolls down your stomach. It’s not a lot, but it's more than last time. It stains his chest too.

Slowly, that same sort of miraculous fog sinks down into your bones. The grip on his hair eases, softens, and soon you are petting him against you.

You swear you feel his fangs scrape your heart. 

“That’s good, Max, that’s so good.” Your eyes roll lazily in your head and you nuzzle his hair. “God, how does this feel so good?” 

As though determined to remind you he is more than just fangs, his hand pulls away from the mattress and slides back between your legs. You feel only one finger brush against your folds through your underwear – you’re almost disappointed, go back to using three, Max –

His finger plunges deep, deep inside of you, and you gasp, feet scrambling against the towel, as a swell of pleasure almost smothers you in an overwhelming wave. You nearly choke from the force of it. You were so overly sensitive but the gooey haze didn’t let you realize it until it was too late. You come hard, harder than you thought possible, seeing eons of galaxies and stars behind your eyes, with just one of his fingers inside you and his thumb distractedly circling your clit. 

He feels you gush around his hand, wetting his wrist, and with a moan you can feel in your ribs, he spills in his boxers, the spend running down his thigh and smearing on yours. 

Your entire body goes slack, as if someone had made all your bones disappear. His hips jerk slightly as if his orgasm is still trying to wring him dry before he stills and plucks his head from your chest, unplugging his fangs from the holes he made.

Blood immediately bubbles up from the wound and without his fangs there, it spills freely and violently over your tits, your ribs. The whiplash between your orgasmic high and a full-body weakness sends hot nausea swooping into your stomach and the room spins.

“M-m-ax,” you murmur, barely opening your mouth, your voice weak and thick as if stuffed with cotton balls. 

“Fuck, sorry –,” you can’t quite see him clearly as he moves and suddenly there’s a warmth over your chest, comforting and heavy. The blood trickles to a stop and you breathe deeply. The darkness of the room stabilizes as you fully open your eyes. The room spins but this time pleasantly. 

“Hmm, whoo, wow, ah, okay . . .”

You don’t realize he’s gotten off the bed until the mattress sags again and he’s cleaning you up with cold cotton balls. 

“So, I’m going to take that mindless babbling as a good thing.” He smiles gently, but he’s holding something back. He keeps his head low like he doesn’t want you to see his face.  

You wiggle your shoulders, as he delicately wipes you down. “What, you don’t wanna clean me up with your tongue? And why do you even use disinfectant – there’s no open wound.” You poke him in the shoulder with your toe. “And you didn’t even purr that time! I demand a refund!”

“Next time, okay?” 

You frown. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. Just let me–,” 

You sit up, the dried blood pinching your skin, and he pulls away. “Max, what is it?” 

He pulls away so much, he’s on his feet by the dresser before you can touch him, the back of his arm tearing at his mouth to wipe it clean. Max is a lot of things but cold when you need aftercare is not one of them. 

“It’s nothing.” The line of his shoulders is taught, tense. But he cracks his neck and takes the Gatorade from the dresser. He finally sits back down on the bed in front of you, offering the bottle to you. You take it, unease mounting, your fingers brush his, but this time he doesn’t retreat. Instead, gently, his fingertips ghost over your wrist, down the fine hairs on your arm, drop from your elbow and settle delicately on the blue material covering the crease of your hip. Where your blood had pooled, wet, and stained the blue to a deep magenta. 

“I ruined your pretty underwear,” he says softly, forlorn. 

You move closer to him, your knee touching his hip, but you refrain from seeking out the warmth of his hands. 

“Max, I can get new ones, I don’t care about that. Please, talk to me. Did I do something wrong? Did I push you too far?”

His fingers flex around the towel, now also appropriately ruined. He shakes his head, more firmly this time. He snags his shirt off the floor, over his head, then moves towards the bedroom door.

“I don’t wanna talk about it. I’m sticky. I’m gonna take a shower. You wanna come?”

The invitation, it’s something, an encouragement you genuinely feared he might not give. Maybe it’s not you he wants to part from. 

You didn’t enter into this for the emotional connection and neither did he. You have to remember that.

“Y-yeah. Of course.”

He invited you. He still wants you around. 

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[minimorgana]

Rambling about Ace Hardy:

To me, Ace saying "I believe in being true to yourself, even at the risk of being misunderstood" is one of his most character defining lines in the series. It's cool to think about this quote after finishing the series and knowing everything we do about Ace.

Even though at the point of him saying this we haven't seen the full extent of the conflict with his dad, in retrospect, we can understand that Ace is likely thinking about his dad in some sense when saying this. Yes, he is saying this to Laura and in response about leaving Horseshoe Bay, but it extends to so many aspects of his life and character.

Ace is well aware that his dad doesn't understand or respect where he currently is in life, but he doesn't try to change himself to make his dad understand him. No matter how much he wants his dad's approval, he doesn't compromise who he is. He knows that will only lead to him living a life that isn't really his. What his dad sees as laziness is Ace having not found his purpose and not wanting to force himself into a box before knowing if he will fit.

Ace values being true to himself, and he values this trait in the people he surrounds himself with. This is at the heart of the conflict between him and Nancy in season 2, and I think it might give some perspective to why he struggled to find a solid group of friends before the Drew Crew.

We all know that high school is a difficult time for self-identity and finding yourself, and this has been affirmed through Nancy's character and her high school friends. So I think Ace struggled to make meaningful friendships with people who weren't necessarily being true to themselves (speaking from experience, this is something I struggled with in high school, and it was aggravated by questioning my own sense of self and hiding parts of my identity).

But for the most part, once the layers of secrecy at the beginning of season 1 are removed, I think Ace realizes that this group of people try their hardest to be true to themselves, despite some slip ups.

Nancy could easily leave the mystery solving to the police and stay out of trouble, but she values truth and justice, and she knows it is her responsibility to find those things. Bess values family, whether it is biological or found, and she strives to do right by the people she loves, even if it costs her. George has been known as the town screw up but for the most part, she ignores the labels others put on her and works hard to build a life for herself and her sisters. She knows she is more than their labels for her. Nick is driven by his desire to help and protect people. We see him stay true to himself most clearly when he tells his mom he's staying in Horseshoe Bay, that he has a purpose in this town and he's been planted there for a reason.

That was a long winded way of saying that Ace has finally found people who try their hardest to push away the opinions of other people and stay true to themselves.

For a moment, I was thinking about this quote in line with him telling Nancy he isn't lacking anymore after getting his apartment and starting to work at the morgue. Because if this is the code he lives by, then why would he do these things just for someone else's approval? But then I realized that he isn't. He's had an interest in medical and forensic examination since season 1 when helping examine Lucy's bones. And I think he's been ready to move out of his parents house for a while. He just needed a push to do those things and his insecurities tell him that he has to prove to Nancy that he is good enough for her. But the things he chose to do are still true to who he is.

So yeah, I really just love this quote and think it sums up who Ace is and we can see it reflected in everything he does throughout the series, even up to the very end.

P.S. Another good example of him living by this code is when he visits Mr. D and tries to understand why he made the choice he did. Part of him knows that if Nancy ever found out, she wouldn't be happy about him befriending her dad while she is very mad at him. But he does it anyways, even at the risk of being misunderstood. Because to him, he's doing what is right.