#her design is the least appealing part of her for me

[smile-files]

this is so silly. one of the perks of having goody gardens as a thing is that it gives me an excuse to have like 50 billion fursonas. but then i'll keep thinking "but what about my truesona" as if that doesn't completely defeat the purpose

[saudadeko]

ADHD tips from a girlie who was diagnosed in her late twenties and has had little to no support since and is being so brave about it:

1) Make it easy, make it accessible, and make it appealing. If anything this is the most important thing, all tips going forward are based around this concept.

2) That thing you think would help you but you haven’t bought/done it yet because you’re technically surviving without it? Buy it, you need it. It doesn’t matter if people around you might think it’s wasteful or that you’re lazy, you’re not, just do it, trust me.

3) Expanding on tip #2, if you’re like me and eggs are your main source of protein because they’re quick and easy and feeding yourself is a near insurmountable task- buy yourself an electric egg cooker, make a bunch of hard boiled eggs and keep them in your fridge for quick and easy protein to add to any meal (handful of crackers, a hard boiled egg and a banana? 5 star meal right there. Or mash them up with some mayo for egg salad sandwiches). Other easy proteins include: potstickers (put them in instant ramen), edamame (they have microwaveable snack packs), chickpeas (put in salads!), beans (can of beans microwaved with shredded cheese and some tortilla chips), peanut butter (with crackers, apple and cheese, adult lunchable style), and tofu (cut into cubes, throw them into a ziplock with some seasoning and potato starch, shake that shit up and bake it until crispy).

4) Spend a little extra (if you are able) on daily use items that excite you, it will make you more likely to remember/want to do said daily task. For example: the only reason I remember to use sunscreen is because I bought some fancy japanese sunscreen that smells like roses so I get excited to use it, same for laundry detergent and body wash! there’s a gajillion different body wash scents out there, switch it up!

5) If there’s a task you continuously struggle with take a moment to think about which part of the task is making it difficult, it could be something even as small as “I don’t put my dirty clothes in the hamper because my hamper has a lid on it and lifting the lid is one step too many-”, sounds a little stupid huh? But trust your gut, it’s not stupid if it works. See tip #2 and BUY A HAMPER WITHOUT A LID.

6) If you are having trouble starting a task, break the task down further, sometimes the way I start a task is just by going “Ok step 1) stand up-“ and so forth. Don’t worry about the task as a whole just take it one step at a time.

7) If you’re halfway through a task and have to stop, leave it out. All this, “Put things away when you’re done with them.” is bullshit. you will be much more likely to finish the task if restarting it is easier because you left it out plus it’s a visual reminder. You can also create faux deadlines like “I gotta finish this project before my friend comes over on tuesday because after I finish it I can clean off the dinner table.” etc.

8) It’s okay to outsource tasks and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, humans are designed to ask for, and to require help (what do babies do when they’re first born?? cry for help!!) ask for help and receive help without shame, if it makes your life better, you are WINNING.

9) If you have one big overwhelming task that you think you need to get done before anything else, but you feel motivated to do other tasks, do those other tasks first, it’s okay. Otherwise in all likelihood (at least in my case) you’ll put everything off until the last minute and then have to do said overwhelming task and those other tasks won’t get done at all. Doing those smaller tasks also lowers the mental load and you can use them as a motivation launch pad to tackle bigger things.

10) If you notice you tend to not put something away/forget to do something, perhaps consider moving and storing the item closer to where it ultimately ends up or where you are more likely to see it. For example, my makeup, pills, and mail are all stored on my desk because that’s where I tend to do my makeup, take my pills and deal with my mail. I used to store my pills in my bathroom medicine cabinet but all too often I would forget because they weren’t in my line of sight. Now that they’re on my desk, I have multiple chances per day to pass by them, go “oh I gotta take those.” and take them.

11) Open storage, open storage, OPEN STORAGE.

12) Motivation can look like all kinds of things. sometimes the only reason I get out of bed is because I remember I have a fun snack and I get to go eat it if I get up. It’s okay to lean into those simple “animal-brain” type motivators, you’ll eat because then you can use that fun new kitchen gadget you got a daiso? Neat. you’ll shower because then you can paint your nails that fun new color you got? Fantastic. You’ll go to the dmv and do that annoying thing because you’ll take yourself out for boba after? Superb. Lean-IN to those small motivators, they aren’t stupid or childish, they are VITAL.

13) Don’t buy into the cult of “if it’s worth doing, do it properly” it’s guaranteed to set you up for failure. If it’s worth doing, do it in whatever capacity you are able to. I put sunscreen on once a day because that’s fucking better than not doing it at all and I sure as all hell will fail at reapplying it multiple times a day. If it’s worth doing, do it half-assed babieeee.

Go forth and prosper!!! xoxo ✌️🩵

[ambrosiagourmet]

I love Izutsumi. She's got a great design, she's a fun addition to the main party, she adds some new tension, and she's honestly one of the reasons I read dungeon meshi in the first place. I mean, "the most cat to ever girl" is an extremely appealing hook to anyone who loves cats and girls (me, I love cats and girls).

However, while I have always liked Izutsumi, I finished the story kind of feeling like I didn't really get her. I felt like I had a decent grasp on her character an character arc (she's a traumatized teen given space to feel safe and open up, and because of that she realizes that she can't grow without letting go of the coping mechanisms she once needed). But I didn't feel like I really understood her role in the story as a whole.

She follows the group of her own accord, after a coincidental meeting and a misunderstanding of what they can do for her. She's never super invested in saving Falin, at least not compared to the rest of the group. Though they do help her escape Maizuru's shackles, and are clearly good for her in general, she doesn't really have a healing Moment with the group the way that Senshi does with the hippogriff soup.

And yet, she gets an entire chapter, the third-to-last chapter, dedicated to exploring her growth and future. She's the one who frames much of the falling action, who lets us check in with everyone. She's the one who helps talk Laios into accepting his role as king. She may join the story part way through, but she is there for most of it. So Izutsumi! What's your deal!?

Well, I think I've come up with an answer, at least for myself, that I really like. Two of them, even! Though they both really work together to form the overall point - Izutsumi is the character that most helps the story face towards the future. Here's why I think that.

So the first of these "ah-ha" moments was when I realized that Izutsumi really is the best supporting evidence for Laios' point about the good things that wouldn't have happened if Falin hadn't died.

If Falin hadn't been eaten by the dragon, Izutsumi probably would still be a slave. It was because of Shuro and Laios' parties both being in the dungeon to rescue Falin, as well as Marcille's use of ancient magic in the resurrection, that she got the chance to escape. None of that would have been the case if Falin hadn't died. Shuro wouldn't have separated from the group and joined up with his retainers, Marcille wouldn't have revealed her knowledge of ancient magic, and Izutsumi never would have even met any of them. They are only part of her life because of Falin's death.

Though this isn't explicitly pointed out by Laios or Izutsumi in the scene, I do think you can very much feel the presence of it. For one, when Marcille reflects on the journey and how much it made her realize she didn't want to lose everyone, her relationship with Izutsumi is prominent:

It's the main original group at the top and center, but when you read it right to left, it’s Izutsumi and Marcille who might catch your eye first. And it's specifically Marcille and Izutsumi's relationship on display here, not just Izutsumi's presence in the group in general.

Also, after Laios' statement about how none of their adventure would have happened without Falin dying, it is Izutsumi who gets the final word:

Izutsumi is also the one here who is the most forward-facing. Chilchuck is trying to correct Laios, Senshi is focused on the immediate future, and Izutsumi is talking about her new goal.

And I want to talk about that goal in general as well, because it’s also interesting how it comes up. In that moment, everyone is trying to remind Marcille of her less destructive desires - to eat food, to share it with them, and to meet Chilchuck's family. All of which are previously established, existing desires. When prompted by Chilchuck to join in, however, Izutsumi offers something new:

That's interesting, isn't it? It's kind of funny, of course, to see her rambling on about a completely new thing, her own personal motive, in the middle of everyone working together to reach out to Marcille. Izutsumi doesn't even know who Yaad is! But at the same time, it’s kind of meaningful. Amidst the focus on desires that everyone already had, she adds a completely new one to the mix. It’s even the final bridge that lets Laios reach Marcille.

It is, in fact, even an idea that comes back later to help out another lord of the dungeon. The idea of finding new goals and feeling new desires... this is exactly how Kabru reaches out to Mithrun, after the Winged Lion is gone

So yeah, Izutsumi's presence here, both in what she's actively choosing to say as well as what she represents of the consequences of Falin's death, supports the story's ideas of moving forward. Of accepting the past, and finding new reasons to live.

Which is all really good, and that alone works pretty well as an answer to what Izutsumi's role in the story is.

But oh, oh. There's more. Something I realized after having thought of all this, because I still couldn't let go of the feeling that there was still something I was missing.

And as I reviewed the things I loved about Izutsumi - her sometimes unhealthy ways of coping with trauma, her struggles with isolation, her skill with fighting, her selfishness contrasted with the ways she grows to care for and protect the group, her perpetually guarded nature, born from the seeming impossibility of ever fitting in or finding a safe place to just be herself - I realized something.

Izutsumi...

is a foil to Falin.

Where Falin copes with isolation and trauma by being eternally caring and struggling to say no to people, Izutsumi copes by constantly saying no to everything she can. Falin is often considered selfless, but does have selfish desires that she can’t easily express until a moment of crisis. Izutsumi is delightfully selfish, but chooses to stick by her friends when they need her. They are both transformed, against their will, into partly monstrous hybrids, and they both will have to live with that - there is no undoing what has been done to them.

Falin anchors the group in the past. Izutsumi pulls them towards the future. Neither would find freedom without the other - it is Falin's death that leads to Izutsumi joining the party, and likewise, it is Izutsumi who inspires the realization of how they can save Falin.

And Falin is her future, as much as Izutsumi is Falin's. Both learn to be a little more like each other, even though they never meet. Falin gets a little more selfish. Izutsumi gets a little more willing to bend.

In this context, I feel like I have finally started to understand just how important Izutsumi is to the story. She is a proof that they cannot just go back, and she is a clawed, happy-to-scratch-anyone-who-pisses-her-off reminder, at that. In any conversation about what the group wishes would have happened with Falin, she cannot be ignored or brushed aside.

She is a reminder that, even in the midst of a tragedy so big it feels like a shadow you will never escape, you have yet to met all the people you will love. Hell, some of those people might even be catgirls. We should all be so lucky.

[dira333]

The Soulmate Theory - Todoroki Shouto x Reader

I welcome you to my probably last-ever Soulmate fic. As much as I love reading this trope, it's gotten harder and harder to write. I hope you like it. This is for @shoulmate

Trope: You share your Soulmate's pain.

Soulmates used to be a thing. 

A long, long time ago, way before the first ever Quirk was documented, Soulmate bonds were just as common as Quirks are nowadays.

Your grandmother used to be fascinated by it, told you stories about her grandmother who was convinced she shared a soulmate bond even though not one case had been documented in the last hundred years before her.

It’s only natural, you’d say, that you didn’t realize you had one. After all, why would you think that?

-

Pain has always been part of your life.

Your wrists hurt and your legs hurt and your back hurts and your stomach hurts… all the time. The doctors cannot find anything, some even accuse you of pretending for attention. You’d gladly trade all that attention against a pain-free day.

Your Quirk’s Telekinesis and you’re so glad about it, because how else would you be able to move that pen and write that notes when your hands hurt like this?

You’re getting better at it too, threading a needle or picking up the last grain of rice with your thoughts alone. 

-

A dull ache has settled behind your left eye after what has been the most intense pain flare you’ve ever had. All you want to do is rest. 

But your mind is reeling, craving an outlet for all the thoughts inside your head.

Your restless eyes find some fabric in the corner of the room. Soon enough a few needles are working their magic, a creation coming to life before your eyes.

You might not be able to walk around most days, but at least you can still create outfits you’d love to flaunt in.

-

Years later

-

“Can you take over my student?” Kameko asks, “He wants a completely new costume.”

“What year?”

“First year. And his old one wasn’t even destroyed.”

“So? Maybe he found something out about himself.”

She huffs. “Please? I still have to finish Amajiki’s new design and you know how anxious he gets.”

“Yeah, no problem. Can you take another first year off my plate then? His name is Midoriya and he ripped it in half, it seems.”

“Oh yeah, give it to me.”

Someone clears their throat. You look up from your work into a set of heterochromatic eyes, one blue, one grey.

“Yes?” You ask. “How can I help you?”

“I’m here for my new Costume.”

“Are you Midoriya?” You point at the green fabric on your desk, or rather what’s left of the costume.”

“No, I’m Todoroki Shouto.”

“Ah,” Kameko doesn’t even look guilty at being caught. “You’re with her then. Do you need the think tank?” She points at the cubicle where you can go and plan outfits.

Todoroki looks like he isn’t quite sure, so you carefully slide off your chair and shuffle over.

“Come, come,” you wave at him, “It’s never wrong to brainstorm.”

“Are you hurt?” He asks and has the decency not to point at how you clearly favor your left leg. 

“Not more than usual,” you try to joke and though he looks a little confused, he doesn’t ask more questions.

.

Todoroki is a quiet individual. He’s not shy, that you perceive immediately, but he makes sure to check if he’s allowed to speak before he opens his mouth.

He’s also insanely pretty, the red, rough skin over his left eye giving him even more appeal. But he’s also one year younger than you, so you keep those thoughts locked away in the back of your head.

“If you want to change the design, we can do that, no problem.” You remind him when you’ve finally found something he seems almost happy with.

“I don’t want to cause you more work.”

“If you don’t cause me any work I’d have nothing to do,” you joke and he looks at you quietly for a while. You wonder if he’s ruminating over your joke or waiting for you to talk on and sadly, you’re more than likely to ramble in a confusing silence.

You gesture, somehow now talking about the importance of fresh orange juice for the human body, a topic you didn’t even know you could talk about beforehand when your hand connects harshly with the door behind you. Your wrist catches the doorknob and the pain is immediate, sharp and cool, like you’d imagine being stabbed with an icicle would feel like.

Todoroki hisses behind you and you’d compliment him on the empathy if it wouldn’t hurt like that.

When you turn, hand pressed against your chest, he’s cradling his own hand before dropping it. “Musclespasm,” he explains quietly, offering you a hand that is covered in ice. “Do you want me to cool it? It helps.”

-

“I’d like to add some more details to my costume,” Todoroki approaches you with a Bento Box in hand.

You nod, unable to speak for a moment as you focus your Quirk on a particularly tough seam.

“No problem, as I said. What’s it about?”

“Could we use the think tank?”

You turn to check but it’s clearly occupied.

“Sadly not. Is it more complicated then?” You nod at the Bento Box. “Do you think it will keep us occupied during lunch break?”

“No, this is…” Todoroki hesitates for a second before holding it out to you. “It’s just something I wanted to give you. My sister made these.”

 You open it with curious fingers to reveal twelve perfectly shaped cookies.

“That’s lovely, but why me?”

His cheeks turn pink and his lips curl into an adorable pout before he eventually talks.

“I mentioned that I was pleased with the changes and she told me to say thank you.”

“Aww,” you coo. “Your older sister then?”

“Yes,” the pout exaggerates, “I would have said thank you without her intervening.”

“Of course you’d have.” - “But my cookies didn’t turn out good.”

You both speak at the same time, or rather you accidentally interrupted him and he still talked on.

You stare at him now, mouth agape as you process his words.

“You made cookies for me?”

“Yes,” Todoroki nods, “I wanted to say thank you.”

“It’s my job.”

“I still want to say thank you.”

“Next time,” you joke, not quite realizing what you’re saying until it has left your lips and your brain has caught on, “just bring me the Cookies you made. It’s the thought that counts.”

He stares at you with wide eyes for what feels like eternity before a soft pink blush blooms on his cheeks.

You hide your own face in the box of Cookies, hope that he won’t hear the thunderous beating of your heart over the noise of you eating one.

They’re delicious. Of course they are.

-

You don’t know how or when or even why, but clearly, there’s a friendship growing between you and Todoroki Shouto. He’s stopped claiming he’s only dropping in for new additions to his costumes and in turn you’ve tried quite a few of his food creations, each one of them worse than the last.

But he’s cute and honest and real about it and you couldn’t do better if you tried anyway.

Your pain, however, doesn’t stop just because you’ve found work you enjoy or friends to spend your time with.

There are days where you cannot get out of bed. Days where strong painkillers allow you to get to school only for everything to go past you because those painkillers leave you loopy and tired, falling asleep over some costume in the early afternoon hours.

At least you’re not in the Hero Course, you think on the worst days, because you’ve seen the bruises Training leaves on Shouto’s arms and legs.

That’s before you realize that Training is the least of all his problems.

-

Third Year

“How are you?” You ask, because what else do you ask your Crush Slash Good Friend you haven’t seen in months?

Shouto’s got new scars, he’s grown, and he’s fought in a war while you were bedridden from pain, your mother scared out of her depths that you’d die in an attack, unable to move.

But you survived and so did he and if you can believe what you’ve heard on the news, he’s found out some things about his family too.

“Tired,” he admits, dragging a hand through his hair, “I missed you.”

You wonder how hard it was for him to admit that. 

 “Think tank?” You ask, slipping off your chair when he nods.

The last few days have been painless and even though you’re anxious about what’s to come after that, you can’t help but enjoy it.

When the door closes after him, you realize just how small that cubicle really is. 

Or maybe it’s just that Shouto doesn’t step away like he used to do, staying so close to you that you could count every single one of his long lashes if you wanted to.

“Can I hug you?” He asks and you nod, unable to say anything, even less when he pulls you in.

He’s tall and strong, cool on one side and warm on the other and your face nuzzles into his neck like it was meant to be like that anyway.

You don’t speak for a while, just hold each other in the semi-privacy this room provides.

“I want to take care of you,” Shouto whispers at some point. “Can I?”

Somehow it doesn’t surprise anyone that you two end up dating.

-

Your third year is almost painless.

Sure, there are frequent days where you’re sore for no reason whatsoever, but that is nothing against the blinding pain that had tied you to a bed for weeks before. 

Sometimes, Shouto pouts about that. He thinks it’s his job as your boyfriend to look after you and what good is he for if you don’t need looking after?

His friends tell you that he’s less reckless now - as if he’d ever been - making sure to keep himself safe because you need him.

You’ve met his sister, one of his older brothers and his mother, all of them nice, though maybe a bit distanced. 

Emotional vulnerability doesn’t seem to come easy to them.

Shouto, however, likes to talk about his feelings in depth. And he wants to know how you’re feeling too, listening with wide eyes as you explain.

Should it be weird that you’re dating someone younger than you? If so, you’re doing it wrong. 

-

The first(?) hint

“Do we need anything from the store?” You ask, phone crammed between your ear and shoulder as you grab your stuff from the passenger seat.

“I was going to get the groceries,” Shouto huffs on the other side of the call and you can see it, how he pouts at the thought that you’re doing it instead of him.

“I was already on my way. You can do the laundry.”

“I hate doing the laundry,” he groans and you giggle. “I know. I’m going to help you with it, don’t worry.”

“I could cook,” he offers and you giggle again, opening the door to step out. “As much as I love you, Shouto, I don’t love your cooking.”

“Fine,” he says, sounding exactly like a child that didn’t get its way, “But we do face-masks while doing the laundry.”

“Of course. I’ll call you back later, okay? I need both hands for shopping.”

“Sure. I’ll buy you more headphones in the meantime.”

There are a few more teasing remarks, a last “I love you” and then you shove your phone back in your purse and turn to where you think the shopping carts are located.

You don’t see the step in front of you before it’s too late and then you’re tumbling through the air. It happens slowly and then all at once and you’re not really sure what hurt first and what hurts the most. 

For a moment you’re just lying there, face down on the pavement, trying not to puke, collecting your thoughts as if they scattered on your floor just like your open purse.

Your phone starts ringing and that seems the most manageable task so you pick it up from right in front of you and press it against your ear.

“Yes?” You ask.

“Love, are you okay?” Shouto sounds worried.

“No, I just tripped and fell,” you pick your head up from the asphalt and squint at your stuff in front of you, “in the middle of the parking lot.”

“Just after you hung up I felt a lot of pain and I just… I knew it was you.” 

-

It keeps happening after that.

It doesn’t help that you’re clumsy, but maybe that’s for the best now, as you try and figure out this weird coincidence.

If you hurt yourself, Shouto feels the pain.

If Shouto hurts himself, you feel the pain. 

It’s only after he almost gets buried by a collapsing building that you actually tell a Doctor. Or rather Midoriya unloads all the Data he has collected on the poor, unassuming Recovery Girl.

The most likely answer, as strange as it might sound, is the Soulmate Theory.

“Since you’re the first documented case in hundreds of years we don’t have anything to prove this theory. But I’m quite positive that more cases will follow.”

You blink back at her, not quite understanding. Shouto’s left hand, one of the few places of his that are not covered in bandages, squeezes yours.

“You know what that means, right?” He asks.

“Yeah. We’re most definitely never going to break up.”

His eyes widen in a way you’ve grown familiar with. No matter how long you’ve been dating, you still seem to be able to surprise him.

“No,” he presses out weakly, “I meant… That all the pain you went through as a child and teenager, that was me. It’s my fault.”

You lean down to press a kiss to the little spot above his eyebrows that has come away unscathed.

“I’m not saying it was nice, but if I could take at least a little bit of the pain you went through, I’d say it was worth it.”

-

You’re pretty sure Shouto would disagree, but in your eyes Soulmates are not quite as fancy as they’re made out to be.

After all, you found him on your own, didn’t you?

[genericpuff]

Not me biting my knuckles waiting to see Perse's trauma, lol. Also thank you two so much for Hera, you have unlocked a new part of my brain I didn't know it existed and now I'm more lesbian.

aaahhhdfsakla ;-; <3 I'm so glad people like Hera's design, I was a little nervous because she's definitely one of the characters who's undergone a redesign, like on the one hand in the spirit of it being an LO rewrite I want to keep the original LO characters as close as possible to their original designs, but on the other hand some of those designs are just... in desperate need of some distinction, and Hera is a prime example of that because by the end of S3, she really does just look like a yellow Persephone 😭 I really liked how she looked in S1-

-and while I kinda wanted to lean completely into this look, especially with the differently hued hair against her skin, I also didn't want her to look quite so young. She does at least look older in S2-

-but by that point she was completely yellow and lost a lot of what originally made her design interesting. So it kind of became a balancing act between separating her design from the other female characters and still striking that S1/Pilot look that I really liked.

I'm glad people seem to like her design in LR, I was really worried it wouldn't appeal to people but so far the reception's been pretty positive <3 Granted, I'm sure there are those who don't like the design and that's fine too, unfortunately that balancing act means not everyone will be happy with the design choices I make, but Hera is one that I hope will ultimately be worth the "risk" of tweaking for the sake of giving her a more unique look that actually matches her personality as a sharp-witted Queen >:3

[nightblightowl]

Lucifer is honestly, in my personal opinion, Vivzie’s most gorgeous character design…

I can’t stop gushing over it, it’s so pretty. The whole circus theme of his outfit, the snake and doll features, the apple motifs that follow him and around him, the fact that he looks both devilish and angelic, the shapes, the colour combinations… topped with how animated he is, just pulls it all together. And the posing of the rig in this scene is fantastic. So much appeal!

It's also got me thinking, with the flashback during his and Charlie's ballad, when he was showing her the swan (or duck) made of light with 6 wings... made me wonder if he looked any different before. When he was still a part of heaven, what did his angel form look like before he was cast out, if it changed much at all… I’m so curious.

All I know is that I want to see more Luci. Maybe it’s a lot to hope he’d eventually become part of the main cast, or at least a more recurring character, but he’s just so charming and relatable and hilarious and I think there’s just a lot more to him that we’re not seeing just yet.

[hype-blue-fixation]

Pt 2/2 | The Purest Kind of Entertainment | SFW Tickle Fic [RadioRose QPR]

If you'd like some extra context, here's part one. Otherwise enjoy!

A soft knock brought a certain woman to the door. “Oh, hello Alastor! What are you doing here at this unsatanly hour?” Rosie chimed. Before he could say anything, she already grabbed his shoulders and tossed him inside her emporium. Whipping him around like a ragdoll and all he could do was smile. Genuinely smile.

“To put things simply, I may be in need of your services.”

“You already know anything in the 9 rings is yours if I can help it, darlin’!”

They took a seat in her tea room, where he marveled at all her decorations and boxes of goodies. She handed him a box of fingers. At first refusing, but then deciding that a little snack might help with nerves. “So, there’s this silly thing someone said today. It doesn’t really bother me all too much, but it did make me wonder. With you being the best and most dangerous matchmaker in all of Hell, what are ways you’ve seen demons show deep affection for each other?”

Rosie almost looked surprised. “Did someone finally catch your fancy?” “None whatsoever. This is purely for the sake of deals and appeals, my dear.”

In her many hundred years of being a hellborn overlord, Rosie learned how to read anyone. Especially her intimate friend. She already knew not to suggest anything remotely related to sex or kissing, and that cuddles were something he’d only recently come to terms with “tolerating” exclusively with her. To break the silence of her thinking, she suggested the obvious: licking faces, love bites, clawing into each other’s flesh.

“I’m well aware of the ways that cannibals show affection. That would never fly outside your lovely little community…or the twisted kinky minds that deserve to be double dead.” Alastor commented.

“Of course, of course.” Rosie chuckled, lost halfway in thought. She proceeded to rattle off other things, such as songs, poetry, and art designed for your loved one. A thoughtful gift, a night out, a nice dance, playing a good ole fashioned board game in candlelight. Her strategies were endless, and some even piqued his interest.

Having the sense that she was trying to only feed him ideas that he liked, a playful twist came to his smile. “That’s all fine and well, but what about the other ideas you’ve got?”

“The others?”

“The ones you assume I wouldn’t like.”

Rosie hummed. “Kisses, nude cuddling, bondage, se–”

“You’d be quite right.”

They both laughed. The sweet sound gave her a thought. “What about tickles?”

“Pardon?”

“Tickles! It’s one of those strange things I’m not sure if you’d like.”

Alastor blinked and cocked his head sideways. At the very least, it was something he never considered as a way to enjoy or deepen a relationship. His only experiences were as a young child when his mother played games like 3 little pigs on his toes and Noah’s Ark on his arms. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to try.

“I will see if I like that one.” he said plainly, as if he were signing up for a science experiment. Rosie’s eyebrow raised curiously, but she wouldn’t deny him the request or pass up an opportunity to teach an old demon new tricks.

A puff of magic removed his jacket and hung it neatly in the closet. She gently guided his hands to the back of his head so that his only defense was a dress shirt and suspender straps. Her hands floated at his sides. He fearlessly looked her in the eyes, almost daring her to do something. And something she did.

Her claws dug into his side, ripping out a loud scream of staticy surprise. She immediately pulled back to observe him bent forward. Expecting another attack. He kept his hands on his head suggesting he was still curious about whatever this was. Again her nails dug into his sides, there to stay. At first he couldn’t even get a laugh out, only quick deep gasps. His voice gradually found a way to be heard in each gasp, taking on the form of laughter. He managed to barely keep his hands on his head. Eyes shot wide. “God! Stop! Stop!” He forced the begs to fit into each breath.

Rosie’s claws gently rested on his sides to give him a break. His heart was pounding and small giggles trailed out in the aftermath. “You do know you could have stopped me at any point, right?” Rosie leaned in, and he suddenly remembered that he could put his arms down. “Do you like that?”

Alastor fought to gain his composure, which only resulted in a cocky smile. “It’s definitely a tool I can use.”

Rosie chuckled and slowly spidered her hands toward his armpits. He froze in complete anticipation. Wondering what she’d do next. “Tickling can be a fun activity for you and your loved ones. I can go into the chemistry of it, if you like. But it can also be a tool for power.”

He looked up into her void eyes. Deeply invested in every word. Until her fingers suddenly wiggled into his armpits and his entire body seized up. Arms pressed to his sides, lower body twisted into an unnatural shape. Joy in his smile but genuine fear in his eyes as he realized his body’s inability to move or fight back. The magic of her hands put him into a state of powerless paralysis. He barely managed to force himself to breathe, which brought along little giggles with it. Rosie’s smile widened to show she was enjoying this, perhaps a bit too much.

Her face came dangerously close to his. “Do you feel scared?” she asked in a teasing tone.

“Ha! N– No!” a stream of airy laughter kept his reply quiet.

But she knew better than that. He was terrified. Excited. Enjoying the experience. But enough was enough without a break. She slipped her hands out and he immediately hugged her. Pulling her so close to his body that it was a flesh prison. He softly giggled in her ear as he recovered from the intense moment. “Don’t do…that…again…” he said between laughs, but they both knew he didn’t mean it. 

She pouted and pulled back to look at his red face. “But you liked it! And you were so so so cute!” she cupped his cheeks in her hands.

He rolled his eyes and took one last deep sigh. “Just because you’re not anyone else, I’ll be square. I…I like it.”

“What do you like about it?” Rosie seemed pleasantly surprised and curious.

“Just promise you’ll keep quiet about what I’m going to tell you or I’ll destroy the entire town.”

“As you should.” Rosie seemed entirely unfazed by his threat.

He slowly calmed down, now feeling calm and at ease. All the tension disappeared, replaced only with peaceful and fuzzy thoughts about his lady friend. How lucky he was to have someone like her in spite of every awful thing he was. “Aside from being a fun and relaxing activity, I quite liked being able to be vulnerable and still feel…safe. You’re the only person I’ve felt that way with.”

Rosie leaned in with kissy lips. “Is this a love confession? From the great Radio Demon?”

“Sure, if it can be a pla…platon…p…friendly kind of love.”

“The term you’re looking for is ‘platonic,’ dear.”

“Yes, tha– AT!” His voice peaked as she gave him a swift surprise tickle. 

The two stared as if they expected the other person to make a move first. Rosie chuckled, a playfully sinister kind of sound. “Speaking of vulnerable, you love being afraid of me and what I can do to you, don’t you?”

Alastor had to really take on a moment of introspection. His pride screamed at him to bicker and resist. But the softened depth of his heart spoke openly. “Only because it’s you, Rose.” he said. And just to appease the ego, he added, “But remember, I can stop you any time I like. You only have power because I choose to give it to you.”

Rosie could say nothing against that. Whatever they had, something beyond normal friendship but not in the realm of the romantic, was something they didn’t truly understand. But they were glad to have it. They were both happy, relaxed, and emotionally closer in the moment. The voices of guilt in Alastor’s head were finally put to rest behind his smile, right where they belonged.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Now that there's an animated adaptation of Midnight Sun coming, and given the industry's recent track record (see: Minecraft Movie), what's the worst, bad faith, cash grab adaptation idea you can imagine? I figure if we inoculate ourselves then the reality won't suck so much.

My nightmare: Streaming has a long history of making shitty attempts at "adult animation", so we'll get an Edward who constantly cusses and does lewd jokes. It'll be like the HBO adult animated Velma (Scooby Doo) show where the writers' disdain for the characters fills every scene. The first episode will focus on how Carlisle helps plan a murder of some overly suspicious deputy so they can keep living in Forks.

Anyways, worst case theories? So we can feel better when it's not THAT bad? Or else use the apollo prophecy meme on your post a year or two from now.

My 'realistic' prediction

Twilight: The Edgy Animated Adult Series with Twelve Times More Drugs and Swearing

Oh man, yours is worse than mine. I mean this guessing the future business is a little silly in general, but I think that wouldn't happen as Twilight's not...

How do I put this?

Scooby Doo is a beloved, vintage, IP that's so well-known it's a part of American culture/Americana. It's in that weird place where it's acceptable to do edgy reboots of it because everyone already knows the premise of the Scooby gang, each individual character, the bad guys, and their mysteries.

You don't have to explain who any of the characters are supposed to be, so you get a "ah ha ha ha isn't it funny that Velma swears now?" because you know she's from a 1960's cartoon.

Twilight's not quite old enough for that and, at least in my opinion, not pervasive enough for that. It was a huge sensation, but was never as big as HP, and dominated only a subset of the YA audience (female-targeted YA romance). Ask a person off the street and the most they can probably, maybe, tell you is "sparkly vampires and Team Edward and Team Jacob". So, at best you get riffs like we saw when Twilight came out with the Simpsons and various other parodies where the parodies... really didn't know what to do with the characters or what it was even about. "Milhouse turns into a poodle, I guess? Is that funny? It's funny, right?"

Twilight just isn't old enough and as big as it was, I don't think was widespread enough.

So, I think we're going to get an earnest reboot.

But you do now have me concerned. And I may be eating my words later on this post and reblogging with a clown face.

Other Theories

Alright, let's see what we've got/what we can come up with:

Yours: HBO adult comedy horror fest

Mine: Boring, Snoozeville, Tame, Generically Arted Palatable Twilight that is Designed to Be as Appealing as Possible

Other options I can think of are...

Interview with a Vampirepalooza/Oh God I Don't Know What's Popular: given the recent success of Interview with a Vampire, an edgier adult story with adult characters, Netflix will look to make Twilight their exact own version of that. Except they won't understand what made it work there. We sexy it up but in a CW way, the kids are all still in high school but the fact that the Cullens are fucking each other is brought up relentlessly in an edgy way. The vampires all look hot, hot, hot but in a normal human way where you're not terrified they're some crystal robot out to eat your limbs. We'll keep some of the artsy weird dialogue, but Edward will be both somehow made more sympathetic (as he is the lead we end up with) and 'dark' where he's dangerous in a sexy way and not in a "you smell like my personal heroin way".

The Buffy Route: remember that one teen show from the 90's that was so good it spun off an entire genre of television that essentially hadn't existed before? Twilight becomes a fun teen oriented show where the characters say witty, fun, teenage-like things and get into episodic mysteries while somehow trying to remain in the realm of Twilight. Edward loses his edge, Bella loses her unrelatable nature, and we really play up every time a character has a funny line and write a lot more in there. Unfortunately, it's not a well written teen comedy show and so the lines are just generally bad and the plot never seems to go anywhere and it's just boring.

Hannibal the Twilight: some really artsy director gets involved and we now have a show where the symbolism of Edward walking around as a man-deer takes over the entire fucking thing. Nothing ever happens, Edward just shows up in Bella's dreams as a snarling man deer. When characters talk to each other, it's in artsy nonsense dialogue where it feels like both are reading 2000's era chatbot scripts to one another as they mix metaphors about ponies, china pottery, and dust motes. The plot is so non-existant the only important episodes to watch in a season are the premier and finale, except even then it's unclear what happened.

Audience Input

Anyone else got any wild guesses here?

[otaku553]

Other than ASL, which characters do you like in One Piece? Whether it’s design, story role, personality etc.

I have SO many favorites in one piece it’s kind of difficult to choose lmao

Storytelling wise, outside of ASL and the main crew, I’ve really enjoyed Bonney and Law! Bonney especially with the recent arc in the manga :’) she’s so loved…….

(We don’t talk about Bonney’s canonical design. Or, at least, I won’t. Also whoops I forgot law’s other knuckle tats,,,, ignore that)

Otherwise I also really enjoy Robin (but I’ve drawn her already for another ask hehe) and Koala? But completely for story reasons. I would say there’s probably not a single female character in one piece whose design I fully enjoy just because at times I am convinced that Oda has never actually seen a woman before. But their stories are so incredibly compelling,,,,,,

Visual design wise I kind of enjoy Koby and Helmeppo and how they’ve changed over time! And I absolutely adore Jinbei and Brook and Chopper! Design wise I actually probably most enjoy brook and jinbei, and maybe post time skip zoro? I just think they’re really neat,,,

OH. AMD GEAR 5TH LUFFY. I CANNOT BELIEVE I ALMOST FORGOT GEAR 5TH LUFFY. that is just. Chefs kiss. EXCELLENT DESIGN

I think probably part of the reason I enjoy sabo so much is that he’s the only character design that just like. Fully appeals to me. Like I love his character design soooo much it is unreal. But also because he’s such a unique design among the characters (being about the only character with as much screentime as he has that dresses up as a noble) it’s difficult for me to find other characters that I enjoy so much visually. As reprehensible as nobles are in the story of one piece, I tend to especially enjoy characters that are more formally dressed,,,, honestly if they extended that sort of aesthetic to the entirety of the revolutionary army I would probably have a lot more favorite characters lmao

[again-and-then]

part one of several, my redesigns/outfit edits of the Hazbin Cast as they appear in my Fanfic: Pride, Envy, Wrath.

my design commentary under the break.

going from Left to Right.

Lute: Classic Angel Lute design as she appears at the start of the fic. fairly unchanged from her canon appearance (my style just has some more notable curves.) She's picked up a new silver arm as is a pretty common fandom prediction but in my tale, Lute takes up Adam's old guitar in place of her sword. Just felt right, even if i hate drawing that fucking thing.

Alternate Lute: spoilers I guess, but this will be the look Lute opts for much later into the Fic. You can guess at what went down to lose her wings and Halo... she will be working for the Hotel eventually, but it has no official uniform, so I think Lute would opt for something official looking but styled off Charlie's outfit and color scheme as its Charlie's Hotel. I will admit, Lute's new fit is heavily inspired by Helltaker outfits, particularly Justice and Malina. its just good fashion.

Vaggie: Vaggie's design is one that I think is honestly pretty good, she had a unique silhouette and a cute outfit. Mostly all I've gone is give the girl the curves she deserved, particularly in the hip department... and cute new boots :]

Charlie: I adore Charlie, her new design for the show was what sold me Hazbin Hotel as I thought her old pilot look was.. pretty not great. I really didn't want to make any drastic changes beyond some color changes (her old undershirt seemed to imply a white button up but red cuffs? the fuck girl.) a lot of people have really unique ideas when it comes to Charlie redesigns but they all lean towards making her more obviously inhuman... which she isn't human, but i feel that misses the mark. its personally been my opinion that Charlie's primary form is entirely by choice, she wants to look human to seem more appealing to the former humans around her.

Husk:... Husk, oh Husk. one of my favorite characters, one of my absolute least favorite designs. Fucking Hell. I will fight Vivziepop personally to get her to stop adding minature top hats and bowties to every other goddamn character. also, think about Husk without fur. man is going bare chested, wearing a child's top hat, a bowtie, baggy pants with suspenders and no goddamn shoes. I get pathetic drunk is the idea, but give the man an ounce of dignity. if we must keep the top hat, then make it big enough to be used as a magician's top hat and get his fucking hand in. Also, a shirt. was that so hard? I don't care if his fur has little dots that look like buttons.

[hondacivicbrain]

I’ve been seeing a lot of discussion about Clarisse’s casting in the PJO show that basically boils down to “anyone can be ugly if they have a mean personality.” And like yes, that’s true, but "ugly" people also exist (by ugly, I mean not conventionally attractive). let ugly people be ugly (so long as their ugliness is not a reflection of wider prejudice - ie, if only the evil characters are fat, that’s bad).

This bothers me especially because there is no representation for tall, broad, fat, “ugly” preteen and teenage girls, at least not any that isn’t centered around them becoming beautiful. I don’t think ugliness is a bad word on its own. making a character who rejects femininity and is described as ugly both pretty and feminine isn’t making some kind of statement about how pretty people can be mean too, especially because Clarisse is ultimately redeemed.

For her character to be ugly and mean at the start of the story and end still "ugly" (by conventional standards of femininity) and nice means that her character growth is about her personality - and that her looks were never a reflection of her morality.

It's true that you can be pretty while rejecting femininity, but the way Clarisse is styled in the show (in my opinion) is too feminine. Her appearance is too put together, too subtly feminine, for how she's described in the books. This is no shade to Dior! I actually think she does a great job as Clarisse and I look forward to seeing more of her. But tv and movies have a long history of casting attractive women only to call their characters unattractive, thus reinforcing harmful stereotypes about what is and isn’t beautiful, instead of casting actually *average* looking women.

THAT is the representation my middle school self is aching for. I want a middle schooler who’s taller than all her friends, who’s got a belly, who looks awkward in dresses because of her build, who’s wider than her male friends, who's going through puberty faster than her friends, who has acne and doesn’t wear makeup and doesn’t understand what femininity is and dresses like a Tom boy. These traits aren't ugly. They're normal. They're just not aesthetically attractive, so they are invariably erased from media.

Where is my preteen girl in basketball shorts because the shorts available to girls are too revealing for someone of her size? Where is my teenager who has been told, explicitly or otherwise, that she doesn't conform to beauty standards, so she refuses to wear dresses or skirts? Where is the girl who knows she's "ugly" and doesn't care? Where is the one who never cared until someone told her, and suddenly she wishes to be skinny and slender and not broad-shoulder and not tall and to look like her mom instead of being told she looks like her dad?

I'm all for diversity in casting because people are diverse. But body type - and not just visually appealing or acceptable body types - is part of diversity to. Annabeth’s appearance has virtually no impact on her character, and Leah carries her perfectly. For Clarisse and others like Piper, their appearance is INCREDIBLY relevant to their characters.

Let “ugly” girls be ugly. Combatting fatphobia - which also includes normal sized women and broad shoulders, because the fashion industry has labelled all non-models as fat - in media is not just about showing non-skinny people as attractive. It’s about showing non-skinny people as EXISTING. and being valid for that alone, outside of their moral or aesthetic value.

I can only think of one actress who’s roughly my build. I can think of zero times I watched media aimed for kids and saw a kid my size. Diversity is not just an aesthetic designed to be palatable. Casting characters with ugly personalities as beautiful people when the character in question will go through a redemption isn't the slay some people think because it's still reinforcing the idea that looks have moral value. I rarely see characters without aesthetic attractiveness nowadays, not ones who are on the hero's side; when it comes to children, when I say attractiveness I mean the way a child in a clothing ad looks cute and cheerful, not romantic/sexual attractiveness. For children especially, body positivity is far less important than body neutrality - the idea that their bodies don't have morality or attractive value attached.

What's most important to me is that "ugly" and unfeminine preteen and teenage girls see themselves represented neutrally, in a way I can't recall ever seeing myself.

I don't mean to hate on Dior. I really do think she's excellent as Clarisse. This is just my perspective, as an "ugly," tall, broad-shouldered, chubby former middle school girl who would've loved to see someone who looked like me.

[tarotomorrows]

WE GOT THE OG 5 IN THE HOUSE!!! This is part of my Inside Out punk au. Their band name is Harmony! So let me introduce their roles and how they came to be. PART 2

Our 3rd member is Fear! He joined Joy and Sadness’s clique way back in their 7th grade year.

He is the only band member who didn’t join already knowing how to play an instrument. In fact he actually started at the artist and would often make designs for the band’s potential logo and was very keen on staying out of any potential limelight. Although during the 8th grade talent show Joy and Sadness needed someone to play the guitar as Joy was planning to do some acrobatics/dancing choreography while singing and didn’t have the stamina to play and sing at the same time. Fear knew how much this meant to the two and had seen them practice for weeks and with only 2 weeks left he pushed his own fears aside and offered to learn the chords to the song to help the duo out. In the end he liked playing so much that he continued even after the show and with enough practice later on joined as the 3rd member.

During their time on the tour Joy forced them all into. He was the first to deny and the most out of it while on the trip. In fact he it got so bad it would interfere with playing which would upset Joy and the others but as time passed on it only seemed to bother Joy in the end.

He missed home and he didn’t ask for this but didn’t want to start conflict so in an act of desperation to feel heard he confided in Sadness about his true thoughts on the matter which sparked the ignition for Sadness to really have a talk with Joy about the stakes this whole music career dream has gotten them into. Once it was announced by Joy that they would be returning home he was ecstatic he didn’t care why he was just glad they were. Right? I mean what does it matter if the reasons are known…

Next is Anger he’s the teams killer drummer and owner/designated driver of Bing Bong! (The giant mini van the crew uses to travel in, who Joy named Bing Bong because of the silly sound the horn makes).

He was the fourth to be recruited to the team. After getting sent to detention for one of her senior pranks Joy met Anger in detention where she over heard the accidental killer rhythm he had going with his shoe and pencil tapping. Joy asked if he played he gave a simple eyes roll, which was good enough for Joy. She begged him to join and he proposed she couldn’t do anything in the world that would make him join her crazy idea. In the end Joy proved him wrong by breaking both if them out of detention and also returning the item he had stolen from him that he fought trying to get back (the whole reason which got him into detention his drumsticks). Reluctantly out of the honor system and due to a possible charming face he caved and became the band’s official drummer.

He may or may not have had issues with the whole unorganized and possibly dangerous on the road tour trip but he had faith in Joy’s judgement and the strength and bonds of the rest of the group. However the more and more the trip dragged on the more and more he started to realize just how far apart they actually were…

Last but certainly not least is Disgust! Although not a band member she is still an important asset of the crew as their manager. She handles finances,bookings, and how their brand is presented and NO, She will not be dressing in rags (aka how she refers to the punk/alt aesthetic) but she will deck herself out in her own uptown style.

She was the last to join the crew. Although friends with everyone since sophomore year she never partook in any of their “rough housings” she called it. She never saw the appeal in getting all sweaty and lugging around heaving metal equipment but one day Joy asked for her help to organize the flyers for the show they were doing for the Senior Festival.

Getting to talk about how amazing her friends were and how she’s affiliated with them and getting to look pretty while doing it. Now that was something she could do not to mention managing the funds for new equipment and getting to style them with awesome costumes for when they started doing shows outside of school. She loved everything about it the generosity, hanging out with friends, and the popularity…

During the trip she was the second to snapping, Fear obviously was the first. During the trip she did her best to manage the finances with the best odds she could, it started off alright but of course later on their lack of funds lead to more cramped nights sleeping in the van. It came to a point where she started to up-sale some of their merchandise in hopes of allowing the everyone to eat a full meal or have enough gas. After the fateful night Fear confided with Sadness, Disgust, overhead their conversation and grew livid, she could live with Joy’s delusions but blind ignorance towards other people’s own well being was not on the table. She swore that night that if Joy couldn’t see that this was beyond hopeless she was gonna knock her around and make her see it. That fateful evening when dinnertime arrived Disgust did more than just expose Joy’s selfishness but also how morally and emotionally taxing this dream of hers has been on all of them and what she’s had to resort to doing to meet ends meet for everyone. In the end Joy stormed off which is what prompted Sadness to have that heart to heart later on in the night.

In the morning after Joy announced about them going back to Anderson Falls a huge relief was lifted off their chest. Well some relief she still felt horrible about how Joy had treated them. However she wasn’t going to apologize for what she said to her, you don’t say sorry not for being right at least. So she vowed that until Joy owned up to her mistakes back home they’d keep the pleasantries to a minimum and distance herself as far as she could. It’s not like she had to try very hard as Joy had already began to stop talking or listening to her. Which is fine she can wait till Joy’s ready to be a grown up, she can patient I mean that’s all she’s ever given anyone. She can keep waiting, it doesn’t matter how long it takes…

[cannellee]

TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE ★

୨୧ alpha! kokonoi x omega!gacha game addict

— his reaction to his omega being a huge fan of gacha games.

my masterlist : ☆

I lost the initial ask which didn't let me edit my draft, I had to erase it to start it over. luckily I didn't write that much so it wasn't a big loss!

btw sorry for the extremely looong pause😭 I just was too lazy to pick up any of my work and with holidays + christmas I was even more unmotivated to do anything😭😭

kokonoi doesn't necessarily dislike you spending that much time (and money) on gacha games, but he also doesn't particularly like it.

of course when he learns you're a huge fan he comes along with you, trying his best to understand what's the appeal and what got you so addicted.

still, he's unsure and sceptical. he might probably ruin your entire mood by mentioning how much of a waste of time they are.

but that's just at first!

despite his initial disinterest, kokonoi starts to warm up to the whole concept upon seeing his omega so thrilled by the games. he observes your features and actions every time you successfully win an item, and thinks that your enthusiasm is adorable.

of course, kokonoi being an alpha, he becomes very cautious and alert towards both you and your environment, especially if it seems potentially unsafe.

he's watching you and making sure people keep their distance while you do your thing. he would always make sure you feel comfortable and secure during your game session. he sees just how much joy it brings you and kokonoi doesn't want anything disturbing the strange satisfaction you get out of playing those.

while protective, he still respects your independence and won't act overbearing nor overly restrictive.

his soothing presence is very beneficial, whenever you get frustrated at your game, he offers you great support and a calming presence. you're very thankful for that.

he'll try playing too, just because you asked! he might act a bit annoyed but trust me he's really amused by you and often even challenges you. he suggests bets, making the both of you compete between each other. kokonoi loves how excited you are to prove him wrong and that no, he won't pull the rare characters before you and that your experience in the field surpasses his so called "alpha luck".

he also loves to tease you and whenever you pull a male character, he'll act like it's the end of the world that you give him more attention than to your oh so perfect and loving alpha.

he'll call you his lucky charm each time he wins because he loves the blush it provokes on your cheeks. he jokingly pinches them and kisses your nose. his omega is the cutest!

more than anything, kokonoi is extremely thoughtful. he wants to surprise you and make his little omega smile. he often gifts you gifts related to your favourite gacha games, spending as much money as necessary to get you this rare in-game item you've been wanting.

kokonoi might also use his wealth to literally create a whole space dedicated to you and your interests. this way, having exclusive gaming places ensures him that you're at all time in a comfortable environment, while literally owning the place and erasing every limit you might have in a normal arcade.

you might even have a room of your own where you can rest and nest, right beside your favourite games! it would be all warm and cozy, specifically designed to your liking. kokonoi isn't keen on letting you sleep here rather than at his place, but he's reassured to know that at least you're somewhere made by him and safe enough.

now if kokonoi's part of bonten, he could make use of his incredible position to influence the gaming community and offer his sweet omega unique opportunities of her choice! you'll have access to exlusive previews and beta tests, private events and rare gifts!

he absolutely adores seeing you going crazy over gacha games that he doesn't even hesitate using his status to make you happy. his omega deserves the best! you can also expect him to collaborate with or finance game developers to create a content you'll 100% love because it's solely based on your very own interests and omega needs.

for example, he would personalize these machines, filling them with plushies you absolutely love, about your favourite characters (which were also previously scented by him), extremely rare figurines created especially for you, other cute decorations... you're basically living the dream and kokonoi isn't subtle about his adoration for you.

he'll spoil you to no end and he's shameless about it. you're his omega, his money is yours and he'll spend it without a care in the world for you. he's happy enough by just scenting you and smelling you let out your satisfied and soft pheromones!

[fumifooms]

You're always so on point with your posts. On that note, it made me realize that; Considering the themes of desires in DunMeshi. It's also to say that what you think you want isn't what you actually want.

Like, Marcille thinks she wants the handsome prince from the novels she reads... But what she actually wants is someone maybe more like her father who she admired so much. Kind, virtuous, caring to a fault, a family man. Things she later finds in Chilchuck.

Because as traumatizing as it was to see her mother's spiral after her father's death; Her memories of her father itself are some of the most important to her. And it fits with her pursuit to increase her loved ones' lives, because she does want what her mother and father had.

Sipping. I do go over ‘what you think you want vs what you actually want + what you need’ in my (upcoming) Marcille & Chil arc analysis ;) It’s a part of Dunmeshi that I really like and is super fascinating, I’d honestly like to make an analysis-post on the topic: all the different threads and characters in canon that reflect that, desires vs wants and themes of idealization in Dunmeshi, but it’s one of those things that’s just so huge to make. See this is the freaking problem with doing Dunmeshi meta you start talking about the themes or a narrative and everything is so interwoven you get distracted with tangents BUT IT’S ALL COMPELLING AND RELEVANT

I know that’s something laimar does a lot too, the dad thing, with Marcille in a post-canon comic knitting beside him paralleling her parents and whatnot. I don’t know if I fully agree on the angle but there’s definitely stuff to dig at there…

Like I know that I’d like to analyze Marcille’s succubus more, it comes up in my analysis draft but it’s not the point I’m trying to make there so I focus on other stuff but… I always saw the focus of Marcille’s succubus as that she sought out an emotional connection most of all, it’s romantic and courtly in nature but more importantly there’s personality and behavior there and it’s a character she already loves and knows deeply from having read the series, so it’s not like Chil where it’s just a pretty face whose identity doesn’t matter. A friend of mine though, @room-surprise, goes with the angle that it shows she isn’t ready for a relationship and that the appeal is very self-centered, and I def think compelling points are made…

Point I was trying to make, the succubus is definitely at the crux of figuring what it is Marcille wants and craves in someone I’d say, where she’s emotionally at wether consciously or subconsciously, or how she sees herself being involved in romance at least… It’s true Marcille is enthusiastic about romance, but always someone else’s, never hers, and she seems unwilling to examine her own relationships with people. She oversteps boundaries either obliviously or carelessly and doesn’t like change…

And then there’s how complex people’s relationship to fiction can be on top of that and graaaaah

Edit in bc I forgot I wanted to mention this like an idiot: OH and I do think the Daltian Clan serves a role in the general tapestry of Dunmeshi as well, sometimes in in depth ways that Room-Surprise will tackle in their research paper way better than me I’m sure. My understanding of the importance of general Hagreus in a more general narrative sense is that he reinforces the theme of idealization/fantasy vs reality that’s super present through the manga. Beyond just Marcille’s arc and his importance to her he’s designed uncannily close to Mithrun, it parallels real elves and their very flawed military system and the broken people it cultivates vs the romanticized elves put on an aesthetic pedestral in novels, especially considering it’s "general" Hareus

To give some previews of the analysis wip: Thus the succubus targets Marcille’s wish for a perfect knight who could cherish her forevermore, someone safe and known and fantastical, just hers in a way, free to see and construct however she wants because he’s a character to interpret Dungeon Meshi is in part about resisting desires, the irrational cravings, mostly through the character of the demon. I mentioned needs earlier, and to ideals vs wants we also add vs needs, both emotional and physical. And needs alongside wants are what Dungeon Meshi wishes to promote for a healthier person. Dungeon Meshi illustrates very well with the dungeon lords that you can be a slave to your desires. Dunmeshi prones the important of balance for both a healthy body and a healthy mind, and the arc of optimism vs pessimism with Marcille & Chilchuck is one such case <3

Ouuuugh how flawed relationships with flawed people can still be made into somehing good and healthy that make the world brighter…

We’ve gone far from the topic of how her family shaped what she seeks in relationships haha, I think you put it well already though I don’t have much to add on that front Edit in 2: SIKE! I’ll add that there’s an interesting thread in the manga of Marcille maturing and becoming more like her mother, which would be interesting and fun to pair with the fatherhood of Chil. Because Marcille is sometimes a mother figure as well: she’s the mom friend. I go over it here, and since when I made that post I’ve seen more interesting analysis on the topic too, like noticing she hides behind her mother’s portrait in the nightmare chapter, perhaps the inspiration behind her more mature reserved academic persona she sometimes has. Her parents are def important to her so it’s interesting to see how all the dynamics and her own psychology fit into that….

But yeah I think what she (thinks she) wants out of romance has a lot of layers, both conscious and subconscious… I haven’t gone into the bigger picture of how fiction affects her relationships here but it’s the central topic of my Marcille & Chil arc analysis so. She idealizes the trope of the prince charming and finds it attractive but is that what she would actually latch onto… Is it fully superficial, is it more about herself than it is about her potential partner... Is it mainly because she wants to get validation, from being special that she typically gets from high academic performance… We do see she can be rather insecure and worried about others’ perspective of her, that they think she’s not useful or capable enough, especially in the mandrake chapter… Unconditional love perhaps

What is your emotional landscape Marcille. How emotionally intelligent are you. I don’t think she knows what she wants romantically. I think she has a job so she don’t really care about that rn I’m just not sure if we can figure out what she ~actually~ wants on her behalf that might be too many levels of interpretation but idk idk, thinking on it still

[femininenachos]

Hello lovely. I’ve been thinking about vacation au. Please tell me Clarke runs into Lexa swimming in some crystal clear Grecian water and wells has to close her mouth for her.

(Not quite, but close!)

Previously: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

By mid-morning the narrow streets near the harbour are already swarming with island hoppers fresh off the ferry. More line the quayside, waiting to board the day cruise that takes in the larger, more populous archipelago further down the coast. So-called ‘jewels of the Aegean’, they’re feted for being playgrounds of the rich and famous, boasting a slew of luxury resort hotels, designer boutiques and staggeringly expensive seafront restaurants.

For all its charm and scenic vistas, at least Polis has one foot in the real world. Here, craggy-faced fishermen and dock hands in scruffy overalls are hard at work unloading the morning’s catch, doing their best to ignore the clusters of tourists floating around, or at least tolerating their presence with stoic indifference.

And—it’s possible Clarke might be biased—Polis has Lexa, currently leading the charge like a woman on a mission. Clarke sticks close, her hand in Lexa’s sure grip, hurrying to match her loping strides as they make a beeline for the marina. Along the way they pass an assortment of small motorboats in all shapes and sizes, from dinghies and jet skis to skiffs and cabin cruisers and everything in between, until a gleaming white single-masted sailboat comes into view at last. 

Clarke stops dead in her tracks on the cobblestones, fingers slipping from Lexa’s.

Her jaw drops.

“Is this yours?”

Lexa glances over and laughs at Clarke’s expression. “I make good tips, but not that much.”

She points to the modest vessel moored next to it, an open-top vintage deck boat with a walnut veneer interior and burnt orange leather upholstery that’s bleached from exposure to the sun and the salty sea air. ‘Spirit of Polis’ is written in blue cursive script on the hull.

“I mean, this one’s great too,” Clarke is quick to respond. She styles it out. “Not so flashy. Compact. Classic. Nice, uh, sleek lines.”

Lexa peers over the top of her sunglasses, lips subtly twisting to the side. “It belongs to my uncle, so you don’t have to worry about offending me or the boat.”

She puts down the cooler containing their provisions of cold drinks and extends a hand to help Clarke aboard. A little unsteady on her feet at first, Clarke holds on tightly for support while she finds her balance, shifting her weight to counteract the bobbing motion of the boat as water sloshes against the sides. Once she’s confident she isn’t going to fall flat on her face or, worse, into the harbour, she takes a few cautious steps to reach the small seating area at the rear. She shrugs off her tote bag to stow under the bench and situates herself, the sun-scorched leather burning hot against the backs of her thighs.

From this safe perch (and prime ogling spot), she watches Lexa collect the thick rope that tethers the boat, tossing it onto the deck before she gracefully hops across with the cooler and gets behind the controls. Full of poise at the helm, like it’s second nature to assume command, the signature pout in place as Lexa lifts her chin like she’s surveying her nautical domain. 

It goes without saying that the whole preppy, boat-captain vibe is one hundred percent working in her favour.

Shades on. Hair spilling down her back in glossy chestnut waves, the ends getting whipped around by the wind. Appealing in her pale pink button-down worn over a snug white tank. Shirt open and catching the light breeze, the sleeves rolled up to reveal a hint of muscle definition and the ink that encircles her bicep. Tight little navy blue shorts hug her hips and ass in ways that are about to cause a major international incident at sea, because Clarke is far from looking respectfully.

“Ready?”

When her eyes snap up, she spies the half-smile on Lexa’s side profile, as though she detects the unholy thirst emanating from mere feet away.

Clarke gives a slow, absentminded nod, the tip of her tongue poking out the side of her mouth as her eyes make another involuntary sweep down Lexa’s form.

“Clarke.”

She gets a hold of herself, breathing in deeply, and with it the spell is broken.

“Mm? Oh, yeah,” she says, feeling a resurgent wiggle of anticipation about this mystery adventure they’re about to embark on together. All Lexa was willing to divulge when they met is that it’s Polis’s best-kept secret, a spot known only to locals, unreachable except by boat, and so far unspoiled by tourists. Clarke had feigned offense on the last point, but soon dropped the act when Lexa tilted in for a kiss that went on and on and made her stomach clench. Each time Clarke started to retreat, Lexa would chase her mouth and draw her back in for more. 

Her lips are still tingling.

(Both sets.)

“At least give me a hint about where we’re going?”

The enigmatic smirk that plays around Lexa’s mouth widens a fraction. “I thought you liked surprises.”

“Oh, I do. But I’m also stubborn as hell and won’t take no for an answer, so jot that down.”

It earns a laugh, one Clarke is fast becoming enamoured with, and she can’t control the warm tingle that goes through her when she hears it or the rush of elation she gets from bringing a rare grin to Lexa’s face. 

“Good to know,” Lexa says as she reaches for the ignition key. Her next words are almost lost to the splutter and chug of the engine before it roars to life. “I like a challenge.”

~*~

Within an hour, they reach a small, secluded cove surrounded by sheer limestone cliffs, the ancient rock sculpted by wind and waves, where sparse scatterings of tall, rugged pines sprout precariously from narrow ledges in defiance of the elements.

It appears like a mirage, shimmering into view: a bay of dreamy, pristine, white-gold sands and crystal clear turquoise waters, serene and inviting, and there isn’t a soul in sight. The closest thing they had to company was the pod of dolphins they spotted off the starboard (Clarke learned) side about twenty minutes ago. She’d gasped and clutched Lexa’s arm, bouncing on her heels in sheer delight. But it was the look they shared, brimming with joy and something unaccountably softer and fonder, that made it all the more magical, the moment already locked into Clarke’s memory.

“What do you think?” Lexa asks.

Lost for words, Clarke shakes her head in silent awe.

She turns to Lexa, and the smile Lexa directs at her, eyes bright and glowing in the sunlight, leaves her just as speechless. When Clarke finds her voice at last, it comes out thick, clogged with emotion; touched and amazed by the incredible beauty of what she sees—the place, and the woman who brought her here. So moved that she’s dangerously close to shedding a tear, her vision glazing over. 

She blinks the moisture away.

“It’s…” She draws in a breath and lets it out slowly. Lifts her eyebrows. “Wow.”

She doesn’t second guess the impulse to wrap an arm around Lexa’s waist, to plant a soft, grateful kiss on her jaw.

“Thank you for sharing it with me.” 

Full lips twitch at the corners. “My pleasure.”

With one hand resting on the wheel, Lexa drapes her free arm around Clarke’s shoulders. They remain like that, Clarke hugging Lexa’s side and taking in the spectacular scenery as Lexa guides the boat in at a steady rate of knots.

“I can’t believe this place has stayed under the radar. You’d think tour operators would be running excursions out here every hour until sunset.”

“Clarke.” Lexa grows serious all of a sudden, and that only makes Clarke want to kiss her again. Coax another smile. “You must promise not to tell anyone. It’s how we preserve it for future generations.”

Clarke schools her features, pretending to match Lexa’s gravity.

“Well… it’ll cost you. My silence doesn’t come cheap.”

The slight frown Lexa wears smooths out as soon as she catches on. A quizzical eyebrow flexes in a way that’s rudely attractive.

“Name your price, but don’t forget I work in hospitality.”

“I’m not interested in your money, Lexa. What I want” - Clarke trails her hand over Lexa’s hip and the perfect curve of her backside to give it a slow, purposeful squeeze, relishing Lexa’s intake of breath and the darkening of her gaze as she glances at Clarke’s lips - “is you.”

She meant to say “your body” but she doesn’t correct the verbal slip. Because, yeah, she does want to bend Lexa into all kinds of shapes like a pretzel, but she also has a deep desire to learn more about Lexa as a person, to find out what makes her tick, beyond what she likes to do in bed.

Lexa takes it in stride regardless, easing back into the confidence she has in spades.

Something about the slope of her smile signals she’s about to gain the upper hand. 

She shrugs.

“Okay, deal.”

The enduring gleam in Lexa’s eyes before she turns her attention back to the sea gives Clarke palpitations. Her pulse thunders in her ears, drowning out the engine noise and the crash of the boat breaking the waves. 

~*~

They drop anchor a short distance from the shore, an easy swim from the dazzling white sands. Not yet ready to take a dip, preferring to bake in the heat for a while first, Clarke spreads a large beach towel on the deck for sunbathing. She senses Lexa’s attention on her as she shimmies out of her shorts and shucks her loose tee to reveal the red halter neck two-piece that Octavia helped pick out after breakfast. 

(“Hellooo, mama,” Octavia had drawled after Clarke emerged from the en suite and gave a reluctant twirl. She’d let out a low whistle as she ran her eyes up and down. “Almost wish I was tagging along just to watch Sexy Lexy’s head spin 360-degrees before it explodes. The twins ain’t playing.”)

At the time, Clarke had rolled her eyes and fought a blush but she’s glad she went with O’s suggestion.

Aware of her present captive audience, she proceeds to get comfortable on her back. One knee bent, an arm tucked behind her head as a pillow, showing off her best assets like a 1950s calendar pinup girl. Even behind the dark tinted lenses of her sunglasses, she sees Lexa’s eyes hungrily trace the shape of her body. Clarke basks in it, a smile tucked into the corner of her mouth, secure in the knowledge that she’s not just a snack, she’s the whole damn meal, and Lexa looks like she wants to devour every last crumb.

But Clarke’s smugness is short-lived, because in the next moment she’s the one left gawking when Lexa wordlessly strips down to the skimpiest pair of bikini bottoms and not a stitch else, brow quirking up as she peers over her shoulder then dives off the deck, slicing through the water with barely a splash.

Clarke quickly levers up onto her elbows to watch Lexa surface seconds later, hair slicked back and plastered to her skull, a sly little tilt to her lips as she treads water.

“Come on in. The temperature is perfect,” she calls out, looking every inch the siren that lures thirsty sapphic sailors to their deaths. 

Clarke tries to cling on to the last vestiges of composure she has remaining.

“Gonna work on my tan for a little bit.”

The pout returns and she laughs, “Soon!”

Grabbing the tube of sunscreen from her nearby tote, she squeezes a large dollop into her palm. While Lexa does slow laps around the boat, Clarke liberally reapplies the lotion, slathering it on until all the exposed skin within reach is covered.

Before long, she hears Lexa climb the ladder onto the swim platform, accompanied by the rush of water cascading off her body as she rises out of the sea.

The soft slap of wet footfalls draws nearer.

“Lex?” Clarke twists around. “Could you do my—”

She stalls mid-sentence, only cognizant of her fingers closing hard around the tube in her hand when a spurt of lotion shoots out, splattering across her thigh and the towel. 

She doesn’t even flinch.

All Clarke can do is gape and stare, watching rivulets of water run down the slope of Lexa’s bare chest. Eyes drawn inexorably to taut nipples and golden skin that glistens under the sun, to the long, lean lines of Lexa and the scrap of luminous orange fabric that sits low on her hips.

Clarke’s belly tightens, arousal flaring hot between her legs.

(A voice in her head that sounds disturbingly like Wells tells her to close her mouth.)

She has to remind herself to breathe. 

Is thankful for the oversized shades that partially mask her expression, because she isn’t in control of what her face is doing right now. But if Lexa’s lip-bitten smile is any indication, it’s a lost cause anyway.

Casually wringing the water out of her hair as she approaches, Lexa glances at the milky white streak on Clarke’s inner thigh. 

“Not the first time I’ve made a girl squirt.”

Clarke mutters a sarcastic “ha ha”, rubs the lotion into her skin, then wipes her hands on the edge of the towel before she reclines again. She fakes nonchalance when Lexa sinks down beside her, but it’s impossible to ignore the butterflies.

She rolls her shoulders and stares at the sky above, fixating on the solitary vapour trail that cuts across the endless blue.

“Speaking of previous liaisons... do you bring all your conquests here?” She’s mostly kidding, but there’s an undercurrent of needing to know too. She peers at Lexa. “Or am I one of the lucky few?”

A slow shake of Lexa’s head before she leans over on her elbow, closing in and partially blocking the sun, and Clarke’s skepticism must be plain to see, because Lexa looks so intensely sincere now, no trace of a smile or any disingenuousness when she says: “It’s the truth, I swear.”

Still, Clarke has her doubts. There’s no way Lexa isn’t tripping over hot women throwing themselves at her feet and this boat trip is too well-orchestrated not to be a tried and tested seduction technique. 

Clarke peels off her shades to look Lexa square in the eye, and that frank, steady gaze pierces straight through her.

“I mean it, Clarke.” 

The space between them shrinks. 

Lexa’s pupils dilate as her focus shifts to parted lips. “You’re special.”

Water drips off the ends of Lexa’s hair onto Clarke’s shoulder and chest, and whatever rebuttal she had dies in her throat. She’s the one to reach out, gripping Lexa by the neck to tug her the rest of the way and kiss her like Clarke’s been dreaming of all morning.

As soon as Lexa throws a long leg over Clarke to straddle her, knees bracketing her hips, she needs no further convincing.

It’s on. 

She dips her tongue inside Lexa’s mouth and slides both hands up Lexa’s rib cage to cup her breasts, a shiver running through Clarke when she feels the hard poke of nipples against her palms. She kneads, and the low, throaty noise it earns her sets her nerves alight, warm tingles suffusing her body.

They kiss deeply, greedily.

They kiss until Clarke has to drag her mouth away to gulp down some air, only to have the oxygen punched out of her lungs once again when Lexa uses the opportunity to shove her bikini bottoms off, scoop her mane of wet hair to one side and resettle against Clarke’s thigh. With her hands planted on either side of Clarke’s shoulders, Lexa holds herself up as she starts to work along the tensed muscle.

The slick, molten feel of Lexa, sliding against her skin, riding Clarke, makes her burn. She lurches up into the next kiss, hungrily reclaiming Lexa’s mouth, urging her on with a grip on her ass, and that shaky little hitch of breath in the back of Lexa’s throat whenever the friction gets her just right succeeds in getting Clarke wetter and wetter too. At this rate, she might come before Lexa does, and the odds only increase when Lexa takes Clarke’s hand and guides it between her legs. 

“Use your fingers.”

Another surge of heat floods through Clarke at the instruction, hearing the normally smooth, modulated tone of Lexa’s voice roughed by need.

Clarke studies Lexa’s face, watching for the tiny flickers of reaction as she runs her fingers lower, fascinated by each and every twitch and jolt and slight gasp as she explores. She dips in and drags the wetness up to swirl around Lexa’s clit and is rewarded by the sharp jerk of Lexa’s hips and quite possibly the dirtiest kiss of Clarke’s entire life. She needs no prompting to slide through slick heat to tease at Lexa’s entrance again, fingertips doing a couple of slow swirls before she pauses. 

For a beat they remain suspended in a freeze frame of anticipation. Each holding still, a breath caught in their throats. 

On the exhale Clarke pushes inside.

And fuck, she missed this. Touching yourself is great and all, empowering, fantastic for stress relief, et cetera. But nothing beats the sound another woman makes when you enter her for the first time, when you hear that shaky intake of breath and you feel her clench around your fingers.

“Good?” Clarke asks. 

Lexa nods, bottom lip held between her teeth as she looks down at Clarke with hooded eyes, the green of her irises nearly eclipsed by black.

Part of Clarke can’t quite believe this is her reality. That she’s buried to the knuckles and Lexa is moving on her, rolling to meet the steady pump of her wrist. 

She glances between their bodies and a groan escapes, another sharp twist of lust coiling in the pit of her stomach once her eyes fasten on her own two fingers coated with Lexa’s arousal, fucking into her. But Clarke pries her eyes away, roving over tight abdominals, taking in the curves of Lexa’s tits and the jut of her nipples, torn between wanting them in her mouth and watching her fingers disappear inside again.

It’s Lexa’s half-stifled whimper when Clarke’s thumb finds her clit that sharpens her focus. 

Winding her arm around Lexa’s lower back, Clarke sits them upright and swiftly brings their lips together. The abrupt change of angle has Lexa gasping hotly into her mouth. Again, louder, when Clarke’s palm rubs in. Lexa grips her by the shoulder and the back of her neck, blunt nails digging in as Lexa grinds down harder, faster, speeding towards the climax—the first of many, if Clarke has her way—sucking in short, sharp gasps while Clarke keeps pace, despite it being hell on her wrist.

They’re hardly kissing at all now, mouths hanging slack and sharing the same air, noses pressing into cheeks as they pant against one another’s lips.

She soon feels the first flutters, the growing tension in Lexa’s form, the choppy motion of Lexa’s hips and the careless scratch of her nails at Clarke’s nape. She curls the tips of her fingers on each partial drag out then slams back in, lifting Lexa an inch off her lap with each thrust. Clarke keeps the heel of her palm tight against Lexa’s clit, the pressure firm and constant, and in the next collection of halting, rapid breaths, Lexa’s whole frame pulls taut. A ragged cry is torn from her throat and she clenches hard, coming in a hot spill around Clarke’s fingers. Lexa shudders through it, a tremble in her jaw when she catches Clarke’s mouth in a fierce, bruising kiss, licking into her with a groan that makes Clarke gush in turn.

They remain in a heavy lip lock long after the tremors subside, neither inclined to separate. Restless hands weave through Clarke’s hair then seek out her curves, roaming down her chest with purpose, pushing under the top half of her swimsuit. She gives a low hum of approval when Lexa’s thumbs roll over the tight tips of her nipples, the ache mirrored in the dull, pulsing emptiness between her legs.

She feels close to orgasm already, like if she got even the tiniest bit of friction she’d go off like a rocket. Just a small shift of her hand to grind against her own knuckles would do it. But the way Lexa is touching her breasts, palms running all over, teasing her nipples into stiff, hypersensitive points, might be enough to get Clarke there.

And all the while, she’s still inside Lexa. Fucking her lazily with slow presses of her fingers, incapable of much more vigour when her wrist is screaming. She’s debating what to do next, whether to withdraw and flip Lexa onto her back for round two or continue like this, when a distant droning noise intrudes, faintly audible above the gentle lap of water, the thick, wet squelch of Clarke’s hand working between Lexa’s thighs, and their combined heavy breathing.

Growing more distracted by the second, Clarke draws her mouth away. She squints at the horizon beneath the shade of her free hand while warm lips meander along her jaw and down her neck.

She ceases her movements, despite Lexa’s meaningful buck of her hips and the subsequent small growl of complaint when Clarke fails to take the hint.

“What’s—” Teeth nip at the fading hickey on her throat and she gasps, hand flying to tangle in Lexa’s damp, curling hair. But as the object begins to resolve itself, Clarke tenses for a different reason. “Is that a boat?”

Lexa abandons her sulk to look too.

A white shape is rapidly approaching, throwing up sea spray, sunlight glinting off the surface and the waves and making it difficult to discern from this distance until… oh. Oh, yeah.

Letting out a string of (presumably) expletives in her native tongue, Lexa scrambles off Clarke to scoop up the clothes strewn across the deck. She pulls on her tank top, yanks the shorts up her legs, and has just enough time to arrange herself into a casual pose beside Clarke before the other boat reaches them. The occupants are obnoxiously young; late teens or early twenties, as far as Clarke can tell from a distance; a bunch of bikini-clad girls and lanky guys in board shorts hanging off one another as music blasts.

She sighs inwardly. Grits her teeth and refrains from giving them the middle finger while they whoop and cheer in passing, beer bottles held aloft as they thunder towards the wooden jetty.

So much for the sexy beach idyll. Clearly, not everyone has such reverence for the tranquility of this spot.

“Shall we stay a while or…?” Clarke hedges. 

Lexa purses her lips and casts her stormy gaze around, jaw working side to side in rotation, but a gentle touch on her leg pulls her focus back to Clarke. 

Consternation softens into regret.

“You didn’t even get a chance to swim or feel the sand between your toes.”

“I’ll cope. Besides…” Clarke wets her lips and drops into a huskier register. “It wasn’t a total bust.”

Lexa’s mouth twitches, clearly fighting a smile, and to Clarke that’s a win.

“Come on, don’t let these pesky teens ruin our hot date,” she continues in a playful tone. “I bet you have a few aces up your sleeve; other favourite haunts to wow the ladies with.”

One shoulder lifts in a slight shrug. “We do have the boat for the rest of the day. I could take you somewhere else. For lunch, if you’re hungry yet?”

Clarke gives a noncommittal hum, lightly trailing her wet fingers along the soft skin of Lexa’s inner thigh. “I could eat.”

The suggestive undertone isn’t lost in translation. Their eyes meet and Clarke dares to make it explicit.

“But lunch wasn’t what I had in mind… unless we’re counting pussy as a food group.”

Lexa loses the battle against keeping her smile under control. The tips of her ears are tinged pink. “Are Americans always so forward?”

“Um, I don’t recall any shyness on your part two nights ago.”

Dainty little ears burn brightly while Lexa’s smile grows, becoming toothier, and Clarke just wants to smooch that perfect face all day long.

“Anyway, I prefer the term ‘go-getter.’ As in, I see someone I want and I go get her.”

A pained groan. “I should leave you stranded on the beach for that.”

“Hey!” Clarke swats at Lexa’s knee in retaliation, but Lexa catches her hand, holding it captive. Clarke sniffs for dramatic effect. “I was going to let you strip me out of this bathing suit later, but now I’m strongly reconsidering.”

“If it helps sway your decision, I’d definitely appreciate seeing you naked again.”

“And how would you show your gratitude?”

“Mm. At least three times, and maybe twice more with the strap if you’re into toys.”

God.

“Okay. Alright. Well, lucky for you, I’m kind of dying for you to fuck me so I guess that clinches it.”

It’s about as far from playing it cool as could be, but Clarke doesn’t care. The truth is she’s soaked, aching for relief, and she isn’t picky about whichever method Lexa might use to get her off, as long as it happens soon.

Eyes flashing dark, Lexa cups a hand behind Clarke’s neck and pulls her mouth to hers. Clarke reacts without thought, already opening up to accept the slide of Lexa’s tongue before her brain catches up and she remembers they’re not alone.

Cracking an eye open, she’s relieved to see nobody on the other boat appears to be paying them any attention. She attempts to evade the next kiss, only for Lexa to pursue it more doggedly, and that makes Clarke smile even as she lays a palm on Lexa’s chest to gently hold off her advance. The mini pout on Lexa’s face when they pull apart is a treat, and Clarke can’t conceal her enjoyment of it. Unable to resist the lure, she steals one final peck. 

For a few indulgent seconds, she luxuriates in the softness of Lexa’s full bottom lip, until it dawns on her that an hour-long return journey stands between them and more orgasms, and she sighs. 

“Why isn’t teleportation a real thing yet? Having to wait a full 60 minutes to get you under me is so unfair.”

Slowly, with the greatest delicacy and patience, Lexa brushes their noses together, one side then the other, nudging the tip before she withdraws. Despite the sun beating down on her back, it gives Clarke chills, shivers running down her neck and arms. For the duration she just holds still and melts while her stomach flips, and the butterflies that had lain dormant return in full force. 

When she opens her eyes, she’s greeted by the slight, sloping smile on Lexa’s lips and her stomach does another somersault.

“I’m starting to think you’re only interested in me for sex,” Lexa says lightly.

Clarke lets out a small scoff. “You’re the one with a one-track mind. I was minding my own business, soaking up the rays, until you pounced.”

“Can you blame me?” 

Lexa’s heated stare roves over several inches of cleavage before she forcibly drags her eyes back up. 

“Actually… I have a confession to make.” She draws that plush bottom lip, still slightly swollen and red from kissing, between her teeth. “I dropped a tray of drinks at work yesterday because I had a flashback to you sitting on my face. Anya yelled at me and I didn’t even give a fuck that she deducted it from my tips.”

Heat rises in Clarke’s cheeks, triggered by her own vivid recollection of events. She won’t forget it in a hurry and she’s flattered to hear it was just as memorable for Lexa too. But also, it feels like a point of pride that she made Lexa’s cool girl veneer slip, even if she wasn’t there to witness it in person.  

“Now I feel partly responsible for this tragic loss of earnings and broken glassware.”

“I said you were trouble.”

They inch closer, eyes glued to lips, their breath hot on one another’s faces.

“How can I make it up to you?” Clarke asks.

“I have some ideas.”

Her mind can’t help going to the aforementioned strap.

All smiles, they surrender to the magnetic pull. The world around them recedes. There’s only Lexa’s mouth on hers, soft yet urgent, and the tingles that erupt all over, Clarke’s pulse accelerating when long fingers thread into her hair again.

And it’s sublime. 

Close to perfection.

She can almost hear the swell of imaginary violins soundtracking the moment—until a smattering of shrill wolf whistles pierces through the bliss. 

The kiss breaks on a huff of shared, quiet laughter. Clarke’s eyes slide across to the jetty, where they’re being enthusiastically toasted by their neighbours. She groans and drops her forehead to Lexa’s shoulder, breathing in the saltwater, sun-warmed scent of her before showing her face again.

“I believe that’s our cue to leave,” Clarke says.

The long, lidded look Lexa favours her with, eyes shaded darker by desire and the hint of some deeper emotion that feels altogether too big, too soon to acknowledge, has Clarke battling the urge to launch herself at Lexa’s lips again, regardless of the unwanted spectators nearby.

“Keep that up, Lex, and they might really have something to holler about—and possibly livestream on the internet.”

A faint smile reappears. “What am I doing, Clarke?”

“Looking. Giving me those” - she gestures vaguely - “eyes.”

It loosens a small laugh. Lexa lowers her gaze and Clarke regrets mentioning it now, because it feels like the sun momentarily disappearing behind the clouds when Lexa’s thrilling, singular focus isn’t on her.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” 

Lexa looks up, and the restored eye contact makes Clarke’s blood pump faster.

She lets out the breath she was holding. “Maybe I like it more than I should, considering.”

“Considering…?”

“I won’t be here next week.”

Pragmatic; matter-of-fact. A reality check and a casual reminder they both need to hear before they throw themselves headlong into… whatever this thing is between them: it has an expiration date.

In the lull, Lexa scans every millimetre of Clarke’s face and she hopes the nerves don’t show through the front she’s putting on.

After a moment, the corner of Lexa’s mouth lifts into a smirk, but it seems slightly forced. Her eyes are more pebbly, neutral grey than green. “Then let’s make sure you have good memories to take home with you.”

[angelflms]

okay this is really pissing me more than it should but why the hell does miguel wanna go to stanford?? was it brought up specifcally why he wants to go besides "it's a good school and the campus is nice?" now i mean, this is just the classic "teen character in a show wants to go to an ivy league school because... reasons," but at least their [usually stupid] reason is sorta understandable (@ elle wanting to go to the schools she wanna because of her bf and bsf at the time in the kissing booth - yes i watched that) and even then, they realize that the school isn't all shit anyway. teddy duncan from good luck charlie is literally the ONLY character i know that wanted to go to an ivy league that made sense to me given her character throughout the series. at least her getting in made sense to me.

but back to miguel. anyways, the kiddo never explained why he wanted to go other than that it's an ivy league and it looks pretty, which isn't enough of a reason for him to want to go there to begin with. they don't explicitly explain what his major would be and for the most part, i don't blame them because the writers haven't known what to do with miguel's character outside of karate since like season three of the show. BUT from seasons 1-3, it's implied that he's good with graphic design and social media. he made a cute little video to cheer sam up, made a whole "please take me back sam" video edit when they broke up, did the ck website when they were starting up, and even helped make johnny's facebook look more appealing. so i'm thinking, perhaps he would go to stanford for that.

now the show is fictional but i checked stanford's irl major list and saw that none of the majors (or minors) they offer connect to graphic design nor social media. they don't even have photography, which i thought would be another option considered he took a bunch of pics for johnny in s3 for his facebook. so him wanting to win the sekai tekai himself to make him look good fo stanford literally makes no sense considering he has no genuine reason to wanna go to the school (now granted he might have explained it further but i don't remember). now apparently you do go into the school undeclared but i still do think that him not having any other reasons to go to the school other than it's an ivy and its campus is nice makes his s6 arc so far probably the worst ones he's had (including s4 because for the first half of that season, he was more of a side character in his own show).