#i feel out of the loop and behind and i don't intend to ignore any of y'all here

[blutopaz15]

just wanted to say that this has been kind of a tough year for me in fandoming, but I really really intend to get back to it. I keep trying to get "caught up" here on tumblr especially, and be more active again...but I keep feeling all awkward and overthinky about it. my intentions are still to do so because I miss feeling so good fandoming, and I really really want to get those good feelings and spark back. I have lots of rayllum ideas post s7, plus baby au to keep working on, and lots more older wips too...all this I guess to say that I really, really don't want the mess that's been this year to continue getting in the way of fandoming

[portraitsofguilt]

✮ — MOMMY OR DADDY? ; sevika, renata glasc, cassandra, ambessa, grayson, vayne, samira

minors dni; afab reader. nsfw ! — lowercase writing intended, suggestive themes, mommy and daddy kink,

moss' notes; you might not see eye to eye with my headcanons or characteristics that i defined as being more mommy or more daddy, but please enjoy this nonetheless!

first laying some grounds for the criteria of what i define or use as characteristics for deciding who is more mommy and who is more daddy. THIS FIC IS NOT ABOUT ROLE PLAY, IT'S ABOUT THE KINK !

— MOMMY

mommies are more nurturing, they utter kind words to cherish, care for and protect you, help or courage whatever your dreams or goals are. they are good at telling you how they feel, and although they might take some convincing to do so, they are open about their feelings so the two of you can work any problems or discomfort out quickly and as effectively as possible. they are protective like a mother figure, they don't just protect you from physical harm with their words but would rather lie for you than have you in any conflict. she often tries to take interest in your interest, maybe look after it, and suggests making time with her regarding that interest. they are so affectionate you might get sick of them, and they express their emotion overbearingly which might cause you to think they are being clingy and overshooting the point of validation.

— DADDY

daddies have a harder time expressing their emotions, either because they are closed off or are afraid they won't appear as strong in your eyes as they originally deemed you see them. they would rather see you in jail as a cause of teaching you a lesson than have you get away with murder. they are protective like a father figure, and they use physical force if they need to so to not see you harmed. they rather show their feelings through physical touch rather than uttering sweet words to you out loud. she often shows you her current hyper fixation, trying to rope you into the loop of it and convince you to make plans with her while she had already had you confined to a chair just doing that. they might seem distant because of their lack of showing their emotions and you might rule them ignorant, cold, and uncaring of how you are but that is not true! they care about you deeply, they just have a hard time verbalizing it.

— sevika ˖⁠♡

sevika is a person who won’t hesitate to kill anyone for you and then ask for a reward, say that you should thank her in whatever way you see fit. she strings you along like a puppet to get you wherever she wants you, and persuade you to do things with her or for her. she won’t cross a line, that is something you can be certain about, but she will say some words that you might not all favor. she acts daddy, with all her aggressive words and moves, walking tall and proud, ready to give out some slaps to keep those around her in place. behind closed doors, she is less demanding and less of a “tough guy” but still not enough to give in to her gentle emotions and rant about how much she loves you. she is a person who picks a play time partner by how fun it will be, that she gets the most out of it but not with you, not anymore, she is ready to settle just doesn’t know how. call her daddy, she will like it! she will be even more proud of herself, hearing you call her such a thing gives her a newer perspective and opens up the vulnerable side of her knowing that you trust her like this.

“got ya a pretty present, princess! it’s your favorite, i went through real trouble to get it so you gotta thank it later, alright? come with me to that game i told ya about?”

— cassandra ˖⁠♡

she is a true mommy, the fittest of them all, if not for being a mom already, then because she would have a feel for being it. she carries herself around with not only presitge but with the kind of gaze that you know she cares about those who are around her. the councilwoman will pay extra attention to whatever interests you and share some of her tips for saving money so you can do more of your hobby. she won’t be too explicit about her affection towards you out in public, but behind closed doors she utters the most beautiful of compliments, calls you her sweetest girl, that no wealth can compare to you. cassandra will need a little time to warm up to the idea of being a mommy in a sexual context and that it means that she takes care of you in a different kind of sense rather than the usual mom duties.

“my sweetest girl, surely there is non i can help you with right now? say to word and i am taking you home, you don’t really have to be around here if you don’t like. i take you home, we have lunch, play a little maybe, or just sit around, hm?”

— renata glasc ˖⁠♡

renata is the perfect definition of a mommy, without a question. she has the means to support you financially, the power and influence to help you reach your wildest dreams. she loves spoiling you, be it your favorite food, snack, or something you have wanted and just mentioned to her that you planned to buy it. she likes checking in on you if not hourly, either she appears or one of her most trusted fellows, making sure you are well and content. this might sound possessive and it is, but she is just so terrified of something happening to you while she is not there, she would rather hear you complain than not hear you at all. she might be a little closed off, a tad bit embarrassed about how she has a liking for being called mommy but that shouldn’t stop you from calling her that, she will click into the rhythm very soon and will call herself mommy, playing along.

“have you had a good day? my day was like usual, work towering high but i got you something because i knew my darling would be very fond of it. go ahead… open up, don’t make me wait too long.”

— ambessa ˖⁠♡

ambessa rather punch a hole through a wall, start another war, or begin her angered rant about some fool that tried to wife her before talking about her truest feelings. there are no such things as emotions in front of her people, she is a warlord, and she is supposed to be scary rather than scared. she is fearless, a true warrior, and a really hard nut to crack- ambessa is the perfect definition of a daddy. while she adores the title of being a daddy to you, but she would much appreciate it if you’d address her as mistress or warlord, but she is fit for a daddy whenever you feel like calling her one. she can be cruel sometimes, making you practice the sort of skills of survival that piltover no longer sees necessary, shedding blood and coerce you into taking a life, prove her if it comes to it you can protect yourself. ambessa can’t admit out loud that she is starved for being touched and so she sometimes can go overboard with physical attention, just give her a hug out of the blue and she will be thinking about it for the rest of her life.

“is there anything you don’t do for me, my girl?

— grayson ˖⁠♡

grayson’s shell radiates the typical daddy vibes, a person who is afraid to commit to their feelings and would rather gift you something than tell you how much she loves you. but grayson isn’t really a daddy, she is a mommy without a doubt. she is very protective of you, and would risk her job even if you think that’s silly, she would lie instead of seeing you behind bars, and not without reason. she might not be the wealthiest person, being an enforcer isn’t the highest-paying job, but her connections can help you to climb some ladders if needed. grayson has never been a mom, the closest she got was maybe training caitlyn and when you call her mommy for the first time it’s just something she gets drunk off of and becomes a little addicted. she is overbearingly loving, can’t stop calling you sweet pet names and tell you how pretty you are, how she can’t get over the fact that she finally can settle down and not be afraid of taking a bigger step in her life alone.

“dearest of mine, i am sorry for being late, but this job… thankfully i am staying home, like it or not. what about if we go around the city, visit your favorite café for an afternoon sweet?”

— vayne ˖⁠♡

shauna needed no introduction to the name calling, although she started out calling herself daddy which is very understandable. she is closed off, not at all willing to let anyone be emotionally close to her due to her fear of them being taken away once again. she does appear to be on the daddy side because of her need for vengeance, the way she fights, talks, and lives her everyday life but soon will grow into the more mommy side of her personality. shauna will always be a mommy, she just needs a little more time to really appreciate being called one. with the space left for her she will be more open, now you won’t need to use those clues you picked up along the way to understand how she is feeling because she will tell you herself how she feels.

“my moon, the night is still not clear of the demons but i will never let them take you, i would never ever let that happen. if it means that i have to give up hunting them, then be it, as long as i can keep you safe.”

— samira ˖⁠♡

samira is the person who if caught in the right moment can be very open about her feelings and won’t shut you out or shut down as soon as she realizes she is getting weaker and weaker with each word she utters. her appearance, her strong frame, the clothes she wears, and the way she talks all scream mommy. being called mommy would be a new thing for her, she had never really thought about this kind of thing, but then not a lot stayed with her as long as you have. samira might be a fighter, a woman who brings both a gun and a sword to a fight, spreading herself thing but don’t forget about her just because she looks so put together, mommies can hide their emotions well.

“habib albi, my sword is not a pretty toy to play with, at least not like this! you are gonna cut yourself, can’t have you bleeding my pretty girl. gotta keep you safe, okay?”

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[monpalace]

Twilight is an attentive lover, but he's most used to the affections shared between couples in Ordon— whether he's with the other Links or not. He's always willing to change something he's doing for his significant other so long as it's within his moral values.

Dates are strange if you can excuse his dislike for sitting in fancy restaurants and being crowded around others. He prefers going on walks in towns or (preferably) a forest due to his more rural upbringing.

He prefers using nicknames as opposed to his significant other's name. Doll, sweetheart, and beau are some of his favorites, but he has a much more expansive list. On the off chance he does use their real name, it's likely to call their attention or show his displeasure.

Between being a rancher, the (one of) Goddesses’ Chosen Hero(es), entertaining Ordon’s children, and trekking throughout all eras of Hyrule; Twilight has quite a busy schedule.

The most downtime he has is between past sundown and a few hours before sunup. He knows his significant other might not have the same schedule as him, so he always offers to bring them along with him. He rarely asks them to assist in anything he has to do, not wanting them to get their hands dirty regardless of if they do similar work.

Twilight is just like his (great?) grandfather in terms of being a gentleman. He'll open doors, offer his hand when getting off something or over puddles, and stand behind them when going up stairs regardless of if they're bigger or smaller than him.

Unlike a few other Links, Twilight is the type of lover to walk on the side of the road where all the horses and carriages are, gently pulling his significant other to the side where the danger isn't.

(Wind and Wild are the types to pull someone into the middle of the road with them while traffic is high.)

Twilight isn't the best gift giver and it's a fact he's very aware of. He prefers acts of service, quality time, and physical touch when it comes to giving his significant other a love language. In return, he doesn't quite care which one he receives given his lack of experience in relationships, though any of them are enough to make him flustered.

He loves public displays of affection when he's around the other Links or anyone from Ordon— the issue comes up when it's around anyone with a noble background. He knows he saved his Hyrule, but royalty always makes him nervous. An easy workaround for him is to completely avoid any event he's invited to, but he's easily persuaded into joining.

You can feel Twilight's hands become clammy beneath the gloves he wore. He tries to inconspicuously wipe them off on his button-up, the lace of the collar and the way your arm looped through his made it look more awkward than he intended.

I hate this, he signs as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. I don't know why you talked me into this.

Ignoring his words, you fix the tie that lay between the lace, eyes just barely sliding over the nobility of Hyrule that surrounded you. “Relax,” you respond in a hushed whisper, placing a hand on his rigid back, “they're Hylians, not Bokoblins. They won't eat you.”

Almost against his will, Twilight’s spine begins to curve when you pull away. The arm that held onto his moves to instead grab hold of his hold, pulling him through the conversing crowd to one of the less populated hallways.

The air was less suffocating to him, thankfully, but his muscles still ached from his stiffness.

Twilight has to clear his throat to remove the wavering feeling from it. “You don't think they’ll talk?” His voice was low, almost a murmur of fear. “Do I look fine? Do you think they think I look fine? Is my—”

You shush him by placing a hand on the nape of his neck, carefully minding his slicked hair, and pulling him closer so he could be level. “They don't care,” you hum. You press a kiss to his cheek, ignoring how he chases after you pull away. “They really don't,” you reiterate, “just calm down and act somewhat natural.”

“Do we have to go back?”

“Yes.”

Twilight's mood quickly dampens once more.

(So much for the Hero of Courage.)

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Stay Pt. 1

Warnings: Nothing really explicit. Cheating. Infidelity. Bad marriage mentioned briefly. Relationship issues.

Summary: It's been a long time since Y/N felt this way.

Pairings: Dean x Y/N

Word Count: 416

A/N: This was written for @deanwanddamons Rock SPN Flash Fan Fic Challenge 3. I was given the song Run to You by Bryan Adams. I switched the roles in the song. Here, it's the woman who's unhappy in her relationship and desperate for someone else. But I feel like the sentiments are the same, and that it evokes the feeling of the song. 😊 Thanks for hosting this challenge once again, my dear! I love them!

A/N 2: This is a part one of a 5 part story. But this one part can also act as a stand alone drabble for the challenge. ❤️

Series Masterlist

The beautiful dividers below and at the bottom were created by @talesmaniac89

It started innocently. She never planned it. He was just so beautiful, and it had been so long since someone had looked at her that way. He smiled at her and she could see the wicked thoughts brewing behind his eyes.

His stunning emerald eyes.

He was an FBI agent asking questions about some murders that had taken place in the hotel she worked at. They'd been gruesome, and she'd been afraid to go back to work. Her husband ignored her and simply said she was being melodramatic.

But Dean assured her she wasn't.

"Nothin' wrong with some good, healthy fear. Keeps you sharp." He told her in his deep, gravelly voice. " Might save your life one day."

A few days later he showed up on her doorstep, reassuring her that he and his partner had caught the bad guy and she was safe. She was grateful and invited him in for a coffee before he headed back to D.C. She had no intentions of anything more.

Then he sat beside her on the couch, and he smelled so good, and instead of a suit this time, he was wearing jeans and a plaid flannel shirt over a t-shirt and under a green canvas jacket. It occurred to her that he was wearing far too many layers. She stood up, intending to take his jacket for him, and instead shocked herself by straddling his lap.

He stared up at her with surprise that quickly turned to heat; he hooked his thick fingers into her belt loops and tugged her forward so she was flush against him.

"You sure about this, sweetheart. I don't usually fool around with married women."

But even as he spoke, he moved his hand up under the hem of her t-shirt to run his big hand over her back. He unsnapped her bra effortlessly and she gasped and then bit into her lip, before answering breathlessly.

“I’m sure, I mean, I think I’m sure.”

His hands stilled immediately and he looked up at her intensely. “You need to decide, Y/N. Say the word and I’m gone.”

There were voices in her mind telling her that she was being immoral, that she was cheating, that no matter how awful her marriage had become, this was wrong. But they were drowned out by her screaming need for the man beneath her. She rolled her hips against him and her panties flooded at the harsh groan that left his sinful mouth.

“No, stay.”

Tags below the cut:

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays.

@lyarr24

@deans-spinster-witch

@impalaslytherin

@maggiegirl17

@akshi8278

@candy-coated-misery0731

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@recoveringpastaaddict

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@sacriceria

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@lacilou

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@spnwoman

2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only.

@carryonwaywardgirl

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.)

@kazsrm67

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@alexxavicry

@nancymcl

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4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well)

@unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men

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@fanfic-n-tabulous

[film-in-my-soul]

I know, I already asked one, but icemav AU: dealers choice?

As agreed upon, Stargate Atlantis AU! Though I'm not gonna lie, this ended up being longer than intended .-.

.⋆｡°✩ Chasing after what might be a ZPM, Maverick and Ice are ambushed by a group of Wraith. ✩°｡⋆.

WARNING: Violence and Hurt/Minor Comfort

Maverick would love to say that the second they stepped through the Stargate it all went to hell, but it didn't, and in hindsight, that makes it worse because it leaves them relaxed when their initial sweep turns up nothing. Combined with the fact they're not even sure they're chasing a ZPM, it's a recipe for a disaster, and they don't even realize it.

Ice gives assurance that his scanner isn't wrong, but Maverick's heard that before, though, and he lets the lead science officer know, accepting the stern glare with a gleeful roll of his eyes. He dutifully follows behind the blond man into the thick forest that's emanating the signal they're chasing, assuring in a whisper that if they wrap up before nightfall, he'll make up for being a brat when they get back to Atlantis. Ice likes it when Maverick works up a bit of a tally anyway, and Maverick enjoys the game of it.

It all feels too calm, but with their last two ground missions leaving the entire team run ragged, Maverick can't help ignoring the small siren wailing in his mind. They're due for an easy in-and-out assignment. Still, he's not team leader for nothing (though Ice would argue it's because someone has to do the real work, and they'd needed Maverick to pick up the slack), so he breaks them off into teams of two, flanking the clustered woods in a wide semi-circle. He and Ice will arrive at the signal first, and with any luck, if they do run into trouble, Wolf, Holly, Slider, and Goose will get there just behind them to help, only stretched out in half-mile sectors.

Of course, that's all easy enough to say and well enough to plan. It doesn't mean that it's guaranteed to work out as well. It doesn't mean that when Maverick and Ice start bickering ("Bet you it's not a zero-point module," "What do I get when you lose?" "Guess you can come to my quarters after dinner and find out if you don't."), heading straight to the little glowing dot on the scanner, Maverick will be able to react when three figures drop, heavy as hell, from above him, taking the both of them to the ground.

In the struggle, before the butt of a rifle is brought down sharply against his temple, and unconsciousness is unavoidable, Maverick catches sight of familiar leather and waxy sallow skin. He has just enough energy to reach, fingernails digging into the soft forest floor toward where Ice is being restrained, the other man's name on his lips before a sweeping blackness swallows up all his thoughts and drags him kicking and screaming into temporary oblivion.

When Maverick comes to, it's with a trickle of blood sluggishly dripping from the point of his chin and nausea rolling up his throat. He's sitting upright, his hands looped behind the tree he's secured to, and across from him, equally as bound, is Ice. The only notable differences are that his lip and left eyebrow are split, his shirt is open, and his uniform jacket is pulled to the sides.

The urge to throw up doubles because Maverick's not an idiot; he knows why the Wraith would do that. He's not made to wonder long if his assumption is correct either because one without a mask, the leader of their three-party trap, steps into Maverick's line of sight and beside Ice, far too close for comfort.

"I will make this simple," the Wraith says, voice low and hissing, its English garbled and rough.

Maveric knashes his teeth, animal instinct kicking wildly in his chest. "Well, it'd be a first for you guys."

The Wraith signals with his head, and from the corner of his eye, Maverick has just enough time to tense his stomach before it's struck hard by a boot, taking his air with it. Tears of pain spring to his eyes, but he refuses to bow and lower his gaze from Ice, who makes a valiant attempt to struggle against the rope holding him.

"Simple," the Wraith repeats, smugness crawling through its tone, making Maverick's skin crawl with disgust. It raises one hand and slowly, tauntingly, brings it toward the patch of exposed skin of Ice's chest. "You will provide the coordinates to Earth."

"Like hell we will," Ice says, thrashing uselessly again, and Maverick feels a pang lance him. The Wraith pays Ice no attention, eyes steady on Maverick.

"You will provide the coordinates. Or I will strip this human of his life force, one year at a time. I will do this slowly. I will make you watch. It will be your fault."

Maverick grinds his back teeth and makes a show of trying to arch forward into his bindings, using the new angle to check where the lead Wraith's two guards are positioned. He notes that they're not watching behind his tree. With that knowledge, Maverick carefully slips the small razor he keeps tucked into the edge of his jacket free, breathing hard as it lightly thumps to the earth before he's able to snatch it up between his fingers a moment later.

"What makes you think reinforcements won't be here before you can do anything?"

The Wraith doesn't answer, simply tilts his head to the side as if sizing up Maverick's bluff, and then lets his hand fall unceremoniously onto Ice's chest. The scream is immediate, and Maverick, forgetting himself, forgetting the idea of freedom, flails his legs and strains in reaction. It's over in less than five seconds, but it doesn't matter. Ice is panting; there's a stamp of red in the shape of the Wraiths palm slits blistering his skin.

"You bastard," Maverick growls, unconsciously holding the razor in his hidden hand tighter, cutting his palm and recentering him at the same time.

"The coordinates. Your remaining team members are being handled as we speak. Attempting to stall me will not aid you, only prolonging your scientist's suffering. Perhaps he can suffer the loss of five years, but more? Would you have him discover this?"

Fuck.��Hell. Maverick is going to vomit, and then he's going to carve himself free, and then he's going to kill all of these lifeforce-sucking, vampire assholes.

"Don't- don't you give them anything," Ice wheezes, panting around the pain that's no doubt lingering. "I can take it."

And Maverick, as much as it makes him sick, nods in agreement.

They reach five years gone (assuming the Wraith isn't lying, skimming more off the top), and Maverick can feel that he's only one more careful draw of his hidden weapon from being loose enough to break from the ropes. Ice has screamed himself raw, and he's sweating up a storm, hair flat and damp against his head, limbs shaking so hard that Maverick can see it even at their current distance from one another.

He's reading himself, coiling his muscles in preparation to spring, when from the edge of the small clearing they've been brought to, Maverick catches the faintest hint of movement. For a split second, he's sure it's the other Wraiths trolling around, only, a moment later, just as slowly, he sees the tips of two fingers rise above the topmost leaves of the bush that had shivered. It's an indicator Maverick knows well, and for the first time in the thirty minutes he and Ice have been trapped, he's relieved.

The maskless Wraith draws close to Ice again, and Maverick watches with anguish as the blond tries to press himself back against the tree as far as he can to escape. The look of terror on Ice's face (still mixed with the steadfast determination and rage that attracted Maverick to him in the first place) makes Maverick's decision for him.

"When I get this fucking rope off me, I'm killing you first," Maverick says, and the edge in his voice must be sufficiently sharp because the Wraith pauses for just long enough, turning to gloat or posture. It's the few seconds Maverick needs.

Uncaring of hurting himself, Maverick wrenches his razor back, and with a satisfying snap, the bindings keeping him locked to the tree break, and he's off the ground just as a shot from the treeline takes down the guard on his left. Instinct guides Maverick's movements, and in less than a second, he's scooped up the downed Wraith's stunner pistol and has it aimed at the leader's chest. He squeezes the trigger before he makes the conscious choice to do so, and just in time- the bastard had whirled back on Ice, ready to suck him dry.

Instead, the blast from the stunner hits, and Maverick follows it up with two more, stepping closer with each discharge until he's practically on top of the alien. Only the arrival of the rest of the team and Ice's labored breathing eases some of the red haze from Maverick's vision and reminds him that his priority isn't the now unconscious Wraith but Ice.

Getting him freed with one hand is challenging, the meat of his palm notably stinging from two deep gashes that hadn't been important moments before. Still, Maverick manages it, catching Ice around the waist and easing him to his knees once the restraints fall away.

He's still shaking, his mouth pale and bloodless, his chest red and bleeding from where the Wraith had touched him. Maverick notes, with a stab of guilt so strong it threatens to double him over, that the very edges of Ice's temple are peppered with streaks of silver-gray hairs.

"Mav..." Ice's voice is weak, but it forces Maverick's attention again to where it needs to be.

"Hey, don't talk," he gentles, getting one arm beneath Ice's to bring them slowly back to standing, "I've got you."

From around them, Maverick hears Slider calling in for a Puddle Jumper and extraction and watches with a dangerous kind of satisfaction as Goose and Hollywood level their rifles point blank against the Wraiths, just waiting for the excuse.

"T-told you I could take it." Ice's smirk is wobbly at best and not in the least bit reassuring, but Maverick forces himself to grin even as he bites the inside of his cheek bloody.

"Yeah, you did."

And Maverick is damn sure that it'll be over his dead body if Ice is ever in the position to have to do it again.

Ficlet Bingo! (Still Squares Left!)

[mitzirockerextendeduniverse]

[Hi! For... god, years now, I've had this massive Spreadsheet (yes, it requires a capital letter) of retro JRPGs I've wanted to (1) play my way through and (2) blog about. (1) was fairly easy after I stopped trying to play on original hardware, but I found it surprisingly hard to do (2) without it devouring all my free time. So instead of a dedicated blog, I'm just gonna do these short summary posts here whenever I beat a game. There's two in the backlog right now, starting with...]

What it is: The Tower of Druaga (ドルアーガの塔 Druaga no Tō) for Famicom, released on the 6th of August, 1985, developed and published by Namco. Based on the arcade game of the same name from June 1984, also published by Namco and chiefly designed by Masanobu Endō, creator of early scrolling shmup Xevious, it's the first game in - the Spreadsheet as a whole, yes, but also the Babylonian Castle Saga, a collection of (for the most part) vaguely RPG-like action games that tell the story of a prince named Gil, his lover, the priestess Ki, and their quest to restore peace to their loosely-Babylonian fantasy world.

What it's about:

I think the attract screen puts it pretty well! There's some more wrinkles to the backstory, which I mostly got from a strategy guide released at the time - an invading empire, the goddess Ishtar, the precise mechanics behind why, exactly, this is our heroes' last chance to save their kingdom - quite a lot for a mid-80s arcade game. It's pretty thin by RPG standards, but as a setup, it works, and I found it surprisingly engrossing.

How it plays: How do you make an RPG work in the arcade? Apparently, you turn it into a Pac-Man clone. Okay, that's a little flippant; Druaga may be a maze chase game, but there's a lot more going on in it than in most arcade games of its day. On the surface, it's a game about running around mazes, killing monsters, and grabbing keys to get to the next floor, until you defeat Druaga and rescue Ki on the top of the tower. All you have to do is fight your way to the sixtieth floor, right?

In any other arcade game of its era, maybe, but not here. Almost every floor of the tower also contains a hidden treasure that can only be revealed by performing a specific action unique to that floor. The higher Gil gets up the tower, the more he'll need them, from books to reveal the layout of darkened floors to a series of items that turn the increasingly common dragons from the most dangerous enemies in the game to an easily ignored afterthought. Pretty much every useful item in the game (there's several duds and a few traps) is needed to defeat Druaga, so knowing where they are and how to reveal them is absolutely key to beating the game.

The catch - because of course there's a catch - is that neither the treasures' locations nor their revealing methods are signposted at all. Every single one has to be trial-and-error brute-forced out, and they can get pretty arcane - entering a fairly long cheat code, defeating several enemies in a specific order, walking over a particular tile in a particular direction... The intent was for arcade-goers to 'solve' the game together, figuring out all its secrets over the course of weeks or months, but when you don't have a friendly mid-80s Japanese arcade crowd to help you out all you're left with is a mountain of guesswork. Or a walkthrough, which has been a standard bonus feature on its Namco Museum rereleases since the mid-90s.

What I thought: I had a lot of fun with this game! Admittedly I was using a walkthrough (in Japanese, because part of the purpose of the Spreadsheet is to practice my language skills) to bypass about half of the Intended Experience™, but the other half, the straightforward arcade action Pac-Man-with-a-sword gameplay loop, was engaging enough in its own right. Gil controls really well, you never feel like you're fighting the programming instead of the monsters, you can always tell why you died even if the game took a cheap shot, and its insanely generous continue system lets you jump right back to the level you were on with all your items intact when you run out of lives. It's still tough, but it's tough in a fair way, breaking up its fast-paced action into discrete digestible chunks with a chance to breathe between every floor. And frankly, though it is 1980s quarter-muncher hard, I've played indie puzzle platformers that were much worse.

And I do think it succeeds at distilling the RPG into an arcade format, though the result is only an RPG by the loosest possible definition. Despite the lack of numbers and exploration (well, in a sense) there's a distinct feeling of progression to Gil's journey up the tower, a kind of character growth uncommon to - basically any genre outside the RPG in 1984. As Gil collects treasures, he grows faster, stronger, better at navigating the labyrinths, to the point that, despite the increasingly tougher challenges the game throws at you, it almost gets easier the further along you get. With the continue system I mentioned, you can even jump back to floors you've already cleared (mostly to replace a particular item that occasionally breaks) and breeze through the monsters that once gave you so much trouble. It's this kind of thoughtful design that makes me really appreciate Druaga, more than I honestly expected to when I first booted it up. Give it a try, it's pretty good!

[ceruleanangel]

"...You Can Clean Me in the Shower."

Pairing: Vi x Fem! Reader

Words: about 1k

Vi comes home bloodied after a fight, you help clean her up, despite Vi's other thoughts

"Hey,"

You gaze up from your book, Vi stands there, blood staining her lips, along with all the various scars and bruises littering her body.

"Hey," you breathe, glimpsing back at the book before slamming it shut. Vi watches intently, jumping a little at the harsh closing of the book.

This is a somewhat common occurrence, but you have still never gotten used to it. Sighing, you rise from your seat, heading to the medicine cabinet.

She plunges herself down on your still warm seat, you cringe as the blood drips into the upholstery.

You gather the disinfectant and a cloth and take slow steps. You come to stand in front of her, waiting expectantly.

She looks up at you, a bloody, apologetic smile on her face. You blink slowly in return, shaking your head. You hate seeing her like this, knowing the pain that's behind every bruise and scrape.

While you're contemplating Vi's suffering, you feel her eyes travel up your body, very slowly.

Internally rolling your eyes, you drop down into Vi's lap, straddling her hips, careful not to brush any wounds. You soak some of the cloth with the disinfectant, feeling her rough hands settle on your waist.

"This may sting," you warn, reaching up. One of Vi's hands comes up to catch yours, before you can clean the wound on her forehead.

"Hey...hey, look at me," Vi tries to catch your eye, to convince you of the worthiness of this fight. You, instead keep your eyes trained on her wound. You hold your poker face, if you break this early, you'll never get her cleaned up.

You hold your silence, until Vi speaks again, "I'm sorry, baby I just-"

You softly break your hand out of the grip of hers and lean in. She grunts as you connect the cloth with her forehead, her other hand's fingers digging into your waist. Your hand comes to her jaw, lightly lifting it up for easier access to her other cuts. "Hun, please stop, it stings," Vi huffs.

You search her face for more, saying, "I told you it would," matter of factly.

Too trained on making sure none of these cuts gets infected, you don't notice the glint in her eye that seems to grow everytime you ignore it, or the way her hands are dancing their way up and down your spine. Your firm concentration is finally broken when Vi suddenly leans in, centimeters from your face, eyes staring directly into yours.

"Hun, won't you please stop being so cold..." You feel yourself shiver, suddenly very aware of her emboldened wandering hands.

Your eyes drop down to her lips for just a moment, before your brain steps in to declare, "...I have to get this cleaned." You quickly grab her jaw and push the cloth to a cut on her cheek.

"Agh, that was dirty, babe," Vi grits through her teeth. You sigh in relief, momentarily escaping the tension.

You breathe out and push up from her shoulders and start back towards the cabinet to grab another cloth. But Vi swiftly catches you by your belt loop and tugs you back. You stumble and fall rearward on to her lap. Her arms entrap you, your back against her chest. you groan,

"I'm trying to make sure you don't get infected,"

"and I'm trying to get some love,"

you try to say something, but Vi expertly presses a kiss on your neck, right where it's sensitive. And just like that, any words you intended to say, dies in your throat.

"I…"

"uh huh, tell me about it hmm?" Her kisses persist down to the base of your throat. You feel your body grow weak, as Vi grabs the bottle from you and sets it on the side table, the cloth simply dropping to the floor. Your mind, losing whatever you were supposed to be doing.

"ohh..mmm," you hum. Vi turns you around on her lap to face you, and you easily comply. After all, at this point, you're like putty in Vi's hands

Your body leans in without thinking, your hands grasping at her shoulders as her hands squeeze at your waist.

Her lips meet yours, that oh-so familiar gash sending heat blooming throughout your body. Your nose brushes against the cold metal of her nose ring, causing you to gasp.

Vi seizes the moment and deepens the kiss, exploring every inch of your mouth, as if she doesn't already know it like the back of her hand.

Although you'd love to bask in her rich presence, the taste of blood in her mouth brings you back to reality.

You push back, head still reeling to create a cohesive thought,

"No..no I have to…" She silences you with another kiss,

"No, no I think you should stay here with me, my pretty girl~"

It takes everything in you to push off her shoulders and quickly back away out of her reach, your legs shaking, especially after that last...statement.

"No!..I won't succumb to your siren's spell!" you exclaim, leaning on the opposite armchair.

After a moment of silence, Vi bursts into laughter and you eye the long forgotten bottle of disinfectant.

"...Oh god...you are too cute." Vi states as she stands up, approaching you. Cornering you against the wall, you plea, "Vi stop, I haven't finished cleaning you up yet!" Vi smiles and leans down, whispering in your ear,

"Don't worry hun, you can clean me up in the shower."

[ruki--mukami]

"How interesting... After all this time, I suppose it's appreciated that you know my feelings. It's surprising, even, to an extent. But I hope you understand that I don't want to fall into a loop of repeated mistakes. Someday I might be able to simply face you without nothing bad eventually coming into my mind, fearing both your and my reaction to any spoken word. Trust is a powerful tool that I don't know if I possess anymore. However..."

Scarlett's voice, rather solemn and calm, was loud enough for him to hear; as opposed to the aggressive tone she'd usually use around the vampire.

"Despite not being able to forgive you right away, I'd hate to know that you'd look at me with pity, regret or some sort of sadness. Don't get me wrong, I did want you to regret, but... until I come to terms with the reality of things, I'd rather give a little, a tiny bit of hope."

She breathed in and out, bringing up a small box, almost protected by her hands.

"So... Okay, you see, I had this in the back of my drawer, neglected, ignored, and I hesitated more than once trying to give it to you and I didn't find a good moment, be your birthday, or mine, or... ughhh... whatever, it's not much and it probably lost all relevance by now but I can't keep it anymore, so... please accept this?"

"Maybe it's not your style, but, uh, I don't know. You can do whatever you want with it."

Hesitant, almost shy, Scarlett handed the little box to Ruki. Its content was a floral-themed brooch, crafted with small jewels: diamond, ruby and sapphire specifically, creating the imagery of little forget-me-not flowers surrounding a golden ornament.

"It's no one's birthday anymore, but consider it a belated gift, or just... a gift."

"It would take a fool not to, Scarlett. As atrocious as you might deem me, I'm well aware you're more than justified in wondering what I might do next out of pure apprehension. I suppose my methods of showing you how much I care are more than just unconventional. Though I suppose that puts us in the same boat in some aspects—I, too, don't want to commit the same irreversible mistakes. Dropping the entire 'master' and 'livestock' labels… the whole concept of imprisonment. Not to mention the repeated verbal assaults we often resort to."

A slight chuckle escaped him as they watched each other.

"Well, I suppose I don't mind a bit of that if it means seeing you smile for once, even if your reason for doing so wouldn't be my first choice. I understand that, ideally, trust is a two-way street. Which is why I never believed in the concept to begin with… but as far as you're concerned, I'm willing to see if I might be mistaken after all."

Hearing each word escape the Ghoul's lips like a soft zephyr as opposed to the eye of the storm sincerely astonished the Vampire as an odd sense of both regret and the faintest glimmer of remorse suffused him, all neatly hidden behind slightly parted lips and widened steel-blues at the sight of a less-than-usual defensive Scarlett. Contrite and pliable by their increased distance, Ruki reciprocated her solemn tone.

"I don't expect you to forgive me at all. No amount of tangible gifts, homemade meals, or affectionate gestures you most likely hate with all your being can remedy that. It's only natural you might recoil."

Then, a glint of curiosity ignited in his gaze.

"A tiny bit of hope, you say. Do tell. I had given up on all hope long ago, but I'd like to see you enlighten me if you will."

Immediately he looked at the small box in her gloved hands with double the wonder. They say good things come in small packages, and while Ruki wasn't the one to take clichés seriously, he had taken notice of the Ghoul's penchant for miniscule items in the past.

"Ah, birthdays. Forgive me. I know those times were rather turbulent for us, despite the occasion. We've both been alive for longer than any human would ever want to be, so I paid it little mind—but if this is truly a gift intended for me, then I wholeheartedly accept. You need not worry about me casting it away if it's coming from you, Scarlett. Even if it's not exactly my style, I'm certain I'll find use for it."

Bold statements for one who has yet to view the inside of the box, yet he knew he could trust the Ghoul's sincerity given how uncharacteristic it was of her to approach him in such a hesitant manner. Not hesitant out of trepidation, but perhaps hesitant out of finally exhibiting the gall to set aside their differences and bestow a gift for him. Slowly unraveling its contents, a faint blush dusted his pallor as he held the scintillating brooch in his hand, admiring its metallic details and the gemstones symbolic of their convoluted relationship.

"These... These are much like the flowers from before.” 

As ruby as her vermillion tresses; as sapphire as his windows to the soul—or perhaps she would suggest lack thereof. Diamonds, adamant as their resolve. Personalities that would neither bend nor break to one another, yet he admired that detail immensely. The sight would have taken his breath away he had been alive, so instead he showed his appreciation but swiftly pinning it to the lapel of his blazer for all to see.

“Even after everything you've experienced, you would go out of your way to give this to me... Truly, no sufficient words can capture how I feel right now. Scarlett, you never fail to perplex me. And I mean it in the best of ways. You're unpredictable, you're trying your utmost best to reconcile, and your thoughtfulness is surprisingly endearing to me. I shall cherish this brooch forever and think of you when I wear it."

Indicative of his gratitude, the Vampire finally smiled at her. He refused to suddenly force an affectionate gesture like before, and instead took a gentle hold of her gloved hand, intertwining it with his own over the coveted accessory almost as if they put the brooch on his clothing together. Had he been human, she might be able to feel a pulsating beat beneath those layered articles, but what he lacked in mortality he accommodated for drastically in blooming adoration deep within, evidenced by his florid visage.

"Just as I thought, it truly is beautiful. A beautiful gift from someone worth treasuring, rather than tarnishing. You have my thanks, Scarlett. We can 'hate' each other until the end of time, clash until we both burn together, but even so I shall cherish you for as long as I live. Like this brooch would symbolize, there isn't a passing moment I'll forget my resolution to you."

[houseofdabs]

Heirloom

so I was thinking about the scar on Bo's chin and well,,

warnings: child abuse

please heed the warning this isn't just it mentioned in passing, it goes in depth so if that makes your uncomfortable please don't read

------------------------------------------------------------------

The slow day had finally came to an end and Bo was thankful for the hot stream of the shower that helped ease the physical ailments that had came from the day, but no matter how strong the water his mind couldn't be washed of the pain as easily. While his muscles relaxed under the temperature, the thick rope of tissue around his wrists felt numb and itched, the two sensations threw his mind for a loop. He was quick to finish his shower, not wanting to get lost in his thoughts no matter how the warm quilt like air beckoned him and promised a safe embrace within it's steamy abyss. He grabbed the towel off the rack and ignored how the water rolled off him and soaked the mat under his feet uncomfortably. Once dried off and dressed, Bo stepped in front of the mirror and began his nightly routine. He wiped the condensation from the mirror but his movements faltered as his eyes dropped to the faint scar on his chin.

The memory was so clear in his mind, so fresh he would have thought it happened the day before had there not been physical evidence that it happened a long time ago for it to have healed. He stared down at the deep red of the jewel that sat in the middle of the band of his father's school ring, the same red that the ring made him bleed one afternoon in his childhood.

It had been a pretty good day, maybe that's why it made the memory so powerful; how fast the mood switched and the fact he had to relive it every time he looked in the mirror. Trudy had struggled to find work but had managed to snag a pricey commission for some function in a town nearby, she didn't care for details aside that it would be doubled of what her usual price was. The influx of money put the family in a good mood, and Trudy wanting to share the wealth, decided to pamper her family.

She took them to a nice little mom and pop shop outside of New Orleans to pick up ingredients for dinner and allowed the boys to get one sweet of their choice. It had been great, no sign of the usual aggravation from Trudy or Victor, and Trudy had even let Bo hold her hand while they walked the sidewalk. Everything was going great up until it was time for dessert. Bo and Vincent had helped in the kitchen with as much as they could, Lester lay in the living room napping while Victor watched the game on the tv. No matter how many mistakes Bo made, he was determined to make everything work, he'd make his mother proud-- he was sure of it. But with each miniscule mess up from the child, Trudy's patience continued to wear down.

It all came to a head when, in Bo's excitement, he had managed to knock into his mother who was carrying a large dish of banana pudding she intended to put in the fridge. The dish dropped and broke, spilling the contents of the desserts all over the linoleum flooring. Trudy frozen in shock stared at it with horror. Bo could feel his tiny heart beat against his ribcage, his chest felt tight and his face felt hot, he was terrified of how she'd react.

"That baking dish belonged to your father's mother.." Trudy mumbled, still staring at the ground. "Mama, m'sorry! I didn't mean it, I'll clean it up, please mama, please don't be mad." Bo shook and hot tears spilled over his waterline as he scrambled to collect any cleaning supplies he could find.

"Ohoho.. you're in trouble... what? You can't watch where you're going, you ain't got eyes, boy?" Trudy turned on her heel and stared down at Bo with a sneer, her jaw clenched. "Just wait til your father hears about this." And then she disappeared out of the kitchen. Bo clutched the broom, holding onto it as if he tried hard enough he could disappear behind it, that it could protect him from what was to come.

He was quick to try to dive into the laundry room when he heard the booming steps of his father, his mother's heels a twisted harmony to his father's footfalls. Unfortunately he hadn't been quick enough in his movements and he was yanked back by the collar of his shirt, making him gag as he was choked by the material.

"Where the fuck you think you're going, slick?" His father stared at him with wild eyes full of malice, his nostrils flared as he huffed at the child.

"Didn't mean it, I didn't mean it, was an accident papa I swear, please, please, please.." His words slurred together as he tried to his best to apologize, begging the best he could. His small arms tried to wrap their way around Victor's torso before he was yanked back again by the collar.

"DON'T!" Victor shouted in the boys face, loud enough to make his ears hurt, Bo's arms were yanked down when he tried to protect his ears. "Now you listen to me when I speak to you, got it?" All Bo could do was sniffle as he shook beneath the harsh gaze of his father.

"I don't care how much of an 'accident' it was, you did wrong and you're gonna pay for it, you know how much that dish meant to your grandmother, it's one of the only things I have left of her but you-" he jabbed his finger in Bo's chest, causing the boy to flinch again only for Victor's grip to tighten, "you have to mess it up, that all you good for, huh? Just ruining things? Can't have nothing good around here and it's all cause of you."

Bo glanced over at his mother, she had been so nice that morning, the both of them had, he could only hope she'd intervene this time, his eyes begged at her and she only turned and ignored the scene as she cleaned up. He looked at Vincent who was sitting at the kitchen table, his shoulders hunched as he tried to tune out the yelling of his father. Victor grabbed Bo's chin and forced him to look at him again, his eyes bloodshot as he stared deep into the boy.

"Nu-uh, you don't look at them, they're not gonna help you, now how are you gonna pay back for doing that--"

"But papa I said it was an a-" SMACK!

Victor had reeled his arm back and backhanded Bo before he could finish, the hard materials of the ring sliced into the soft skin of Bo's chin, and automatically blood flowed. He paid no attention and continued in on his interrogation.

"You don't fucking interrupt me you little shit! Don't you EVER fucking speak while I'm talking to you, you got that?" Vector was screaming into his ears again and Bo could only focus on the throbbing pain in his chin as he felt the warm liquid trail down his neck and onto his father's hand. Victor looked at his son's blood on his hand with disgust, shoving the boy away from him before going to clean his hand. Bo fell backwards, way too scared to make any move that would worsen his father's mood.

His eyes met his mother's again and a whole new set of tears trailed his cheeks as he sobbed, his bottom lip trembled as he tried to muffle his sobs. Trudy had been so nice, he hoped she still felt nice in that moment, he really wanted a hug. Instead he laid on the cold tiled floor, a small puddle of blood pooling at his fingertips. Victor finished cleaning himself up before giving Bo one last cold glare.

"Get your ass off the floor and clean yourself up, then you can come in here and clean up your mess and then go to you room. Think we're gonna feed you after that little stunt you pulled?"

Bo had did everything his father told him, and in his room, while he listened to his family carry on downstairs, he rocked himself in a sad attempt of self soothing. He cried himself to sleep that night, like countless times before. Vincent curled at his back as he tried to console his twin in the best way he could.

Bo stared at the small indent in his chin before ripping his eyes away, they fell on his wrists instead. The thick bands of scars that wrapped around his wrists were just as much of heirlooms as the cold ring that he wore on his finger, both he had received from his late father. It seemed that he could only get things from his parents, and not they themselves. But heirlooms didn't yell, or hit, or ridicule, so he could stand to have a piece, if that's all he was allowed.

[tommyinnit-fic-recs]

any tommy and wilbur fics?

yep!

Here you go:

tommyinnit's clinic for supervillains by bonesandthebees (bonesandcacti) [Rated T, 164951 words, incomplete, last updated December 2021]

“W-What do you- I mean can I- are you here to rob us?” The person managed to stammer out.

Siren snorted. “No. I’m just here to order some food.”

“Wh-What about him?” The cashier asked, glancing at Tommy. “Did you- did you kidnap him?”

“I mean… yeah, let’s go with that in case this ends up on the news,” Siren shrugged, looking back at Tommy. “I kidnapped you, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” Tommy agreed, knowing that if they said he was kidnapped, it would keep people from getting suspicious of why he was seen in public with Siren. “Anyway, can I get the chicken nuggets happy meal, with a coke?”

or, how Tommy—who is not a hero, or a villain, or even a vigilante—saves the life of one of L'Manberg's most feared supervillains, and accidentally ends up becoming the resident doctor for every supervillain in town (and maybe gets a family along the way too).

One Big Human Heart (Gently Beeping) by grasstastic [Rated T, 28345 words, incomplete, last updated December 2021]

The screen goes blank, and then flickers back on again.

[Stick Boy’s Adventure]

[Please insert TWO PRIMES to play]

He sighs, it is an audible noise, leaving through his speakers. He is the hero of this game, he has won a million times, and will win a million times more.

It does not matter how many times he wins the game, in the end, it always resets, and He finds himself back at the start once more. Trapped in an endless loop.

He is not a toy. He is not a game.

He is a person.

Or at least, He was. AKA

Y’all rockin’ with the song Cabinet Man by Lemon Demon? Hell yeah. It’s the living arcade game AU no one asked for but everyone needs.

I wish for this no more (I wish to be fixed) by Crystalcatgamer [Rated T, 9320 words, incomplete, last updated November 2021]

Philza makes Tommy on impulse, wanting to make Wilbur a doll that could keep him company whenever he and Techno left him behind.

Tommy is made of wood and glued together with magic and laughs and jokes and snarks and obeys Wilbur's orders.

He learns to love a family that doesn't love him back(anymore) and realises it only when everything is gone as the world regards him as a broken toy.

Tommy has feelings, but he's just a doll, isn't he?

Guitar Strings and Keyrings are What it Takes to Build a Home by Anonymous [Rated T, 63234 words, complete]

Techno was adopted by Phil when he was 12 years old.

He'd been enjoying his morning before Phil came to him asking if he would mind them taking in another kid. Against his better judgement, Techno agrees and ends up with two new foster brothers who he was determined to not get attached to, no matter what.

~*~

Another Tommy Foster AU but this time with Wilbur

If we don't leave this town, we might never make it out by grasstastic [Not Rated, 35532 words, complete]

Before he knew it, he was on the road.

He sat back in the old seat of the van, a wave of gratification nearly taking the breath from his lungs. He let out a laugh- somewhere between relieved and terrified.

“I did it,” He breathed. “I actually fucking did it.”

There was a rustling behind him, he barely even registered before-

“Whut d’ya do?”

Wilbur screamed.

Or

Wilbur is driven (pun intended) to take a road trip, and finds a stowaway in his van that's going to make everything just so much harder.

Coming Down Blue by electribunny [Rated M, 48343 words, incomplete, last updated November 2021]

Tommy ignored the shocked stare the hotel receptionist gave as he stumbled in. After all, he probably looked horribly out of place, with his dirty, tattered clothes, greasy hair, and singular shoe.

“Do you have any spare shampoo?” Tommy asked once he approached the desk.

“Hey, I recognize you. You’re that kid from the Dream Case. I’ve been following it on the news.”

“Awesome, I’ve got fans. That doesn’t answer my question. Do you have any spare shampoo?”

---

After a particularly traumatizing incident with Dream, Tommy is left disoriented and has to rebuild his life from scratch. He meets countless new people on his journey to recovery and realizes that the people around him are more connected to each other than they think.

[farfromsugafanfic]

Sutures - Chapter Four: Urge

Genre: Soulmates AU, Idiots to Lovers, slight Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Yoongi/Named Reader

Warnings (chapter specific): mentions of hickeys, Sumi’s ex is a dick, making out, heavy petting, smut lead up, smut themes

Synopsis: “A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.” –Jean de la Fontaine

There was only one thing you and Min Yoongi had in common that night. You were both brokenhearted. You only intended to be together for one night, but when you both end up in the hospital the next day you discover that you are soulmates. It could kill you to be apart. As you and Yoongi attempt to sever the bond between you, will another be formed?

Notes: This was originally written and completed on Wattpad between 2018 and the beginning of 2020. I’ll be slowly posting the chapters here. I may make a tag list depending on if enough people want to follow along with updates. Leave me some feedback if you would like added to a tag list.

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You hugged Kitty to your chest and made your way to the kitchen. You heard the rustling of pots and pans and Jimin's laughter. Even though you'd only known Jimin for under two days, his laughter quickly become one of your favorite sounds, something that never made you smile. However, most of the time you weren't horrendously hungover. 

"Morning," you said, trying to muster a small smile, even though your head was pounding. 

Three of the seven boys who lived in the dorm turned to look at you. Yoongi was already sat at the table, scrolling through his phone, a bowl of fruit in front of him. Hoseok was in the kitchen and Jimin sat on the opposite end of the table from Yoongi, his legs swinging freely. You smiled at how close the boys were and how comfortable they were with each other. It made you feel even worse for intruding in on the bond. 

"Good morning," the boys said, nearly in unison. 

"Jimin," you said. "Did you put Kitty in the box to come here?"

Jimin shook his head, glancing down to the stuffed cat you held in your arms. 

"No, I put him in the donation pile as you wanted." 

"Huh," you said, holding Kitty out in front of you and smiling at her fondly. "Well, I'm glad she found her way here anyway." 

Jimin smiled at you, his eyes some mixture of happiness for you and worry. 

"Did we get internet back?"

The boys exchanged glances and nodded. 

You looked over to Yoongi, who was now looking up from his phone. His dark eyes were boring straight into you, and you suspected he already knew what you were going to ask. 

"Did you find out who got the shoes?"

The room fell silent, except for the tap which Hoseok accidentally left on as he had looked up at you. You didn't know who it could possibly be that would elicit such a response, but Yoongi's face softened as he stood. 

"Park Minki."

You blinked in disbelief, wondering if the hangover had somehow messed with your hearing. Yoongi's eyes were softer, the softest they had been in the seventy two hours you'd known him.

"My ex?" you choked out. 

Yoongi nodded.

---

You took a deep breath as you stood in front of the full length mirror and strategically placed the scarf around your neck. The bruises weren't as prominent as the day before, but you feared Minki would still notice them. The rest of your outfit was quite simple, a pair of jeans and a nice top. You wore your hair down, hoping it too would help hide Yoongi's marks on your neck. 

When you'd broken up with Minki, you'd thought you'd never have to see the boy again. While you still loved him, you knew seeing him again would hurt you, but you wanted to handle this yourself. For whatever reason bought the shoes, you knew it couldn't be settled with money. He wanted to see you again, wanted you to see him again. 

While you normally would just forget the shoes, Yoongi's reputation was on the line. And yours for that matter. You may not be an idol, but the fact you were connected to one, could be enough to destroy you.

"Do you really want to look that good for your ex?" Yoongi said, entering your bedroom with a soft knock on your open door. He was dressed wearing just a simple sweatshirt and jeans, a snapback covering his dyed hair and a mask pulled down under his chin. 

"What? Jealous?" you smirked, giving up on arranging the scarf and turning to face him. 

"No," he said. "I just thought you didn't care what he thought anymore." He walked closer to you, the faint smell of his cologne tickling your nose. His fingers reached up and moved the scarf so it that it covered the half of a hickey that was still partially visible. "Obviously, you do."

He stepped away from you the scent of him still lingering in his place. You were almost disappointed when he stepped away, wishing you could fall asleep in his scent.

"I'm sorry you have to come," you said. "And miss out on work."

"I can work when we get back," he said. "Besides, it would be a whole lot worse for both of us if I didn't come." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a mask. "Wear this, if we run into any paparazzi it will be harder for them to identify you."

You nodded, looping the mask around your ears and pulling it up over your mouth. Yoongi pulled his up and nodded to you, asking if you were ready. 

You nodded in affirmation, but you felt the butterflies in your stomach. You didn't think you would ever be ready.

---

You entered the cafe first. You spotted Minki almost immediately, he was seated at a table near the middle, you could see the shoes placed on the table. You already felt a twinge of embarrassment, knowing he'd displayed them so publicly.

You pulled down the mask and sat down across from him. His mouth widened into a smirk when you sat down, something you used to love about him, but now it just felt like he was mocking you.

"You look nice," he said.

"Thanks," you said, trying not to meet his gaze.

You noticed Yoongi walk past you and sit at a table behind Minki's view, but facing you. You met his eyes momentarily but didn't want Minki to see your wandering gaze. Minki had a temper occasionally, and while he had never hurt you, you feared he wouldn't hesitate to hurt Yoongi. And even though you and Yoongi weren't exactly friends, you still didn't want him to get hurt because of you.     

"So, why'd you leave the shoes at the bar?" Minki asked. 

"Does that really matter, Minki? They're mine, I just want them back."

"You fucked him? Didn't you?" 

You clenched your fists and looked at the black pumps sitting on the table. You sighed and tried to collect your thoughts. 

"How'd you know they were mine?"

"You don't think I wouldn't recognize the shoes I bought you for your birthday last year?" The smirk was on his face again, like a mosquito that you wanted to kill, but that was just out of your reach. "I picked them out especially for you, remember?"

You did remember. How he told you that he went to multiple shoes, trying to find the perfect shoes. Settling on a pair of black pumps. "Simple, like you," he'd said when he gave them to you. 

"Now that we've broken up, they're mine now? Since I paid for them?"

You wanted to bang your fists down on the table and scream at him until he was as scared of you as you were of him. You wanted to swat the smirk from his face. You wanted to point out all the things you'd bought him. All the baseball game tickets. The T-shirt he wore. Half the down payment on his car. 

"I don't care," you said. "Do whatever you want with them. I just want to leave."

Minki softened then. He'd seen you break down multiple times before, he knew the signs. The way you hid your face. The way you tried to curl yourself into a ball, no matter where you were.

"He's here, isn't here?" your ex asked. "You're not mine to protect anymore." His hand cupped the fabric of your knee. You felt shivers run down your spine as tears pricked at your eyes.

You noticed his eyes wandering down to your neck and where the scarf had moved aside. There was no sense in trying to deny what the scarf revealed.

"Huh," he said. "You never let me do that." 

"I never was yours to protect," you said, your eyes red and tear stained, trying to ignore his last comment. You reached down and moved his hand from your knee. You felt his palm beneath your fingertips and the sensation ran through your body. You felt his hands on you again, your body grew warm, but not in the pleasant way. You needed to get out. Without any more thought, you grabbed your things and ran from the cafe.

---

Yoongi's body stiffened as he watched Minki's hand grab your knee. He wanted to push Minki away from you, shield you from ever having to feel the other boy's touch again. He saw the way your cheek's flushed, although not in the cute way. He saw as you tried to shift away, he could feel your discomfort. 

Your scarf had slipped slightly, revealing part of one of the bruises. Yoongi knew the other boy saw based on the way he shifted forward.

"Huh, you never let me do that," the other boy said. 

Yoongi's jaw stiffened. Part of him wanted to rip him apart for bringing attention to something that you obviously hadn't wanted Minki to see, but there was a small buzzing inside of him. One night and you allowed him to do something you'd never allowed your previous boyfriend to do for years. He repressed the pride as you tearfully ran out the door. 

Yoongi waited a moment to get up and follow you, not wanting to draw too much attention. He made eye contact with Minki as he walked past, pulling down his mask momentarily, but pulling it back up as he walked through the door of the cafe. 

---

You curled yourself into the car seat, pulling your legs into your stomach and hiding your face against the car door. You put on your seatbelt, knowing Yoongi would follow you out. 

Yoongi opened the car door a minute or so later, greeting the driver as he did so and telling him to take both of you back to the dorm. He pulled down his mask and put on his seatbelt. 

"Why do you let him talk to you like that?" Yoongi asked. 

You scoffed, trying to hide your tears. The last thing you wanted was Yoongi to see your tears, you felt like if you allowed yourself to cry in front of him, it would somehow strengthen the bond. Yoongi was so strong and allowing him to see your weakness terrified you.

"He's my ex for a reason, okay?" 

"Well, we still need to get the shoes back somehow. You sure money won't work with him?"

"He just wants to humiliate me," you said, choking slightly on the words. "Do we really need to get them back? I mean, they're just shoes. How much harm could really be done?"

Yoongi's eyes widened and his form stiffened. 

"You really don't realize, do you?" He looked out the window in slight disbelief before turning back to you. "I guess, this explains how you didn't recognize me."

"Yoongi..."

"Even just the rumors of what happened between us could destroy both of us," he said. "My fans need someone they can trust and look up to. Most of them don't even know I'm not with Jihee anymore. They know about the soulmate thing, but we only used that to find you. We're going to deny it later, anyway." 

"You didn't have to sleep with me then," you said. "If you would've just pushed me off your lap, none of this would've happened."

"If you wouldn't have fallen in my lap, none of this would've happened." 

You sighed, silence ensuing. The road noise the only sound. Even the driver was silent from behind the partition. 

"Sumi..." Yoongi said, his hand suddenly coming to rest just above your knee. His fingertips digging into the fabric of your jeans. His touch was warm, but instead of overheating as you did with Minki's touch, your temperature matched his. 

"What?" you asked, but your question was soon answered as you felt heat rise in your stomach. Suddenly, Yoongi appeared less like the image obsessed jerk of a few minutes ago and looked more like the man you met at the bar three days ago. 

You unhooked your seatbelt and straddled Yoongi's lap, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks as his ran up to play with your hair. Your lips connected and nearly immediately his tongue slipped between yours. 

Yoongi's hat--which you hadn't paid much attention to before--suddenly was in your way. You ripped it off, exposing his messy hair. It was obvious he hadn't styled it before putting on the snapback, but you liked it better that way, it allowed your fingers to tangle in his hair. 

"The windows?" you asked, falling back onto the seat as Yoongi unhooked his seatbelt and hovered over you.

"They're tinted," he said, grabbing hold of your scarf and pulled it over your head. It landed somewhere on the floor of the car, out of sight. "Don't worry, no one will see." 

He leaned down and latched onto your lips once again. His hands wandering under the hem of your shirt, causing it to ride up slightly. You splayed your fingers against his firm chest, causing him to stop momentarily. 

"What?" he asked. 

"I think...I think this is what the doctor was talking about..." you said. "I think we need to stop." 

Despite your words, your hands slipped underneath his sweatshirt, feeling the warm skin beneath. You wanted to feel that skin against you, but before you could pull it over his head, he surprised you, by pulling up your shirt, exposing your stomach. 

"I'll do it lower this time," he said, his voice raspy and lower than normal. "So you don't have to worry about hiding them." His lips latched onto the skin of your stomach, causing you to release a small moan as you ran your fingers from his hairline and down to the nape of his neck. 

"Yoongi..."

"Why'd you have to wear that perfume for him? It drives me crazy." 

He curved his two index fingers into the belt loop of your jeans and tugged slightly, not to pull them down, but rather to tease you. 

"You're for my eyes only."

"Yoongi," you said. "We need to stop." 

Yoongi pulled away, a sheepish look crossing his face. He pulled down your shirt and sat back in the seat. 

You, too, sat back up, trying to catch your breath. Your heart was racing, partially from the thoughts of the feel of his lips, but you were scared. You felt so out of control, something had taken you over entirely. It wasn't a secret that you were attracted to Yoongi, you did willingly sleep with him, but the urges pulled you together, even when you least wanted it. 

"That was...that was...weird..." 

Yoongi nodded in agreement, reaching down and retrieving your scarf. You did the same with his hat and you exchanged the items. 

You watched out the window as the car pulled into the driveway of the dorm. You glanced back over at Yoongi, noticing a bit of your lipstick managed to cling to his bottom lip. You chuckled slightly before reaching over and using your thumb to wipe it from his lip. 

He watched you, not making any movement to stop you, but your gaze shifted downward, not able to meet his eyes. 

"Lipstick," you said. 

The driver opened the door and the two of you walked back into the dorm.

---

Jihee (9:02 am): Good morning handsome :)

Jihee (11:15 am): I heard about the shoe business. You always use to complain about having to take off mine.

Jihee (11:17 am): You should tell her to be more careful though. :)

Jihee (1:20 pm): Babe...please just respond to me...

Jihee (1:21 pm): You're making me seem desperate.

Jihee (4:45 pm): Her picture's out there now, you know? Some guy saying she cheated with you.

Jihee (5:00 pm): She doesn't look like the type to cheat.

Jihee (6:34 pm): The more I think about it...the less she seems like your type. Especially for a rebound.

Jihee (7:00 pm): You could do much better if you wanted to Oppa. She's kind of pretty and all, but don't you think she's a little simple?

Yoongi (7:02 pm): Whatever this is, is between us. Leave her out of it. 

[one-boring-person]

Six Bodies In An Alley.

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: pretty graphic descriptions of gore, death, blood imagery

Context: the reader lives in Santa Carla, and has befriended the boys, but still has no idea what they are, so is in for a surprise when they go looking for their brother one night, only to find them in the middle of business they'd rather the reader didn't see.

A/N: I reckon I'll turn this into a two-part story, seeing as it is a bit inconclusive, and the boys don't play a massive part just yet, so I'd better get down to that😂💛

Masterlist

"Three hours late. How on earth is anyone ever three hours late to anything?" I mutter irritably to myself as I push through the crowd, aiming to get off the Boardwalk as quickly as possible, my confused yet annoyed mood giving me the confidence to actively shove people out of my way, choosing to ignore any protests as I move past them. Two or three of them try to grab my arm, but I don't give them the time of day, pulling myself from their grip without even turning to them, worry starting to creep into me as I glance back down at my watch, knowing how late it now is.

A couple of days ago, my younger brother got in contact, telling me that he'll be in Santa Carla for a few days, and would like to meet up, having taken a couple of weeks off from his job in New York, where he's been holed up for months. Naturally, I'd jumped at the opportunity, glad to finally be able to show him around the little coastal town, and to be able to introduce him to the friends I've made in my time living here, seeing as he has not seen me since we both left our hometown, back when our mother passed away. We arranged to meet up on the Boardwalk around seven, but he never turned up, leaving me to wait in the bustling area with no clue as to his whereabouts. The hours dragged on, three of them passing before I finally had enough of worrying, deciding to go looking for him as my curiosity spiked, which is where I find myself now, a frown etched onto my face as I push through the writhing bodies around me.

After a good ten minutes of wrestling with the crowd, I manage to reach a main road, where the pedestrian traffic is a lot thinner, allowing me to see the surroundings with more ease. Still unable to spot either him or his recognizable car, I start to walk towards the outskirts of the town, where it is likely he may have gotten lost, pulling my jacket tighter around me as the air becomes cooler, the lack of people around me making the cold breeze more noticeable. Biting my lip, I try to suppress the urge to turn back and get somewhere warmer, continuing on into the dimly lit back roads looping around the town, an odd feeling starting to grow in the back of my mind, an inbuilt instinct telling me something is wrong, and that I'm not safe. Ignoring it, I start to observe the few cars parked here and there, struggling to see in the strangely foggy light, aware that the streetlights don't illuminate everything around me, meaning there are a lot of blindspots surrounding me.

At first, I don't recognise any of the vehicles lingering by the side of the road, my hopes briefly flaring up as I see a similar car, only to realise it is the wrong model and is, in fact, not the gaudy crimson colour I thought it was, a realisation that draws a curse from me. It takes another twenty minutes of searching before I finally find the right one, my suspicions having been confirmed when I see the scarlet car parked on the curb, the engine idling in the now-freezing night air. Relieved, I go over to it, knocking on the window of the driver's side, waiting for him to roll it down, or get out of the car. When neither happens, I bend over to look into the interior, my brow furrowing when I find it empty, the keys still in the ignition despite the fact that the driver is clearly missing. Straightening, I look over the exterior of the car, noticing that the back left tyre is flat, my eyes wandering to the back windows, though there is nothing behind them when I check, expecting to see the familiar sight of my brother sleeping on the backseats.

Frowning, I step away from the car, trying to think where he may have gone, going over all the possible places he could've walked to in the area, though I don't know this particular area as well as I'd like, my knowledge of the surrounding streets slightly limited. Chewing my lip, I go back to the car and switch off the engine, taking the keys with me as I decide to check if there are any garages anywhere nearby, knowing my brother is unlikely to leave the car running unless he is going to return to it relatively quickly. Locking the vehicle, I start back up the road, cursing myself for not checking up on him sooner, worry still biting at the back of my mind as I try to focus on finding him again.

I don't go far, expecting him to have stayed in the area, stopping and turning back when I reach another badly lit junction, at which point I finally acknowledge something off about the last half an hour: the streets are deserted, not a living soul passing me as I traipse the dark pavements. At this realisation, the instinctual feeling from before returns, the hairs at the back of my neck standing on end as goosebumps appear on my skin, an irrational fear clouding my judgement as I turn and start walking hurriedly back the way I came, intending to reach the car again so that I can at least memorize it's whereabouts and collect it in the morning. My brother must've found his way into town or something, though it is odd that he left his prized car alone, with the engine still idling, something he's never really done. I try to reassure myself of this fact as my mind becomes ever more convinced that I'm not safe, my pace inadvertently picking up at the thought of something happening to me. It's only when I pass close to an alley that I slow, halting in my step as something catches my attention.

Taking a breath, I approach the alley, my instincts telling me to run and get away from here, still fully aware that I can't see every inch of the area around me, due to the bad coverage of the streetlights. Despite this, I still manage to make out the shape that caught my eye, instantly recognising it as human, though it isn't moving, not even to breathe, which is odd. As I move closer to the person, I become aware of the other people lying a little way away, one of them separate from the rest, a putrid stench floating up from them all, making my eyes water slightly at the strength of it. Wrinkling my nose, I crouch down beside the first person, intending to ask them where I am and if they've seen my brother pass them, only to let out a half scream when her head rolls forwards, a thick liquid rushing down her front as it does.

In the dim light, her eyes stare up at me, glassy and unseeing, her face mutilated and caked with dark blood, bone and muscle visible under the torn skin. Her hair hangs in filthy strands over her shoulders, though it moves out of the way to reveal a deep hole in her chest, as if her ribs caved in over her heart, puncturing her lungs and heart, which are just visible under the slick covering of blood, all the skin that would normally cover her torso torn into shreds and peeled away to reveal the musculature beneath. Flies are already gathering around the reeking corpse, a few rats even starting to crawl up her slashed arms, eager to get hold of this new meal, the whole sight making me want to throw up, bile starting to rise in my throat, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth as I stand, tearing my gaze away from her.

A quick glance proves to me that the rest are all similarly mangled, their blood black in the dusky lighting, pools of the stuff gathering in the dips in the pavement around their corpses, the stench emanating from these vile puddles. Horror and fear, as well as panic, well up in me, my body starting to shake as I remain rigid, standing there for a good few minutes before I manage to collect my thoughts again, thinking through what could possibly have happened. Was it a freak animal attack? Are there rabid creatures waiting in the shadows to tear me apart, as they have done to these people?

As I think this through, one thought surfaces, a pang of deep fear striking me as I quickly go to each body, frantically checking their faces for a familiar one, gagging and wincing as I see the bloodied scraps that are left of their visages, their blood soon coating my hands and shirt from where I've handled their lifeless cadavers. In total, there are six bodies, and five of them are unfamiliar to me, so I approach the sixth with some hesitation, my steps slow and cautious, as if to delay the inevitable, though it isn't long until the face of the person comes into view, the unmistakable shape of his jaw and bone structure sending an icy bolt of horror through me.

It's my brother.

Gasping, I trace to his side and collapse to the floor, eyes finding the wounds littering his body, widening as they take in the gory mess that is the remains of his throat, as well as the mangled stump where his right arm used to be. A wave of nausea threatens to crash over me as I try to concentrate, unsure of whether this is really happening, my hands reaching out, gingerly, to trace a clean patch of his skin, a strangled sob leaving me at the feeling of his frigid skin beneath mine. Just in time, I turn to the side and allow the contents of my stomach to empty themselves onto the pavement, my stomach unable to hold itself together as I try not to break down completely; I continue to throw up for a good five minutes, a painful cramp setting in as I am reduced to dry-heaving.

I barely register the sounds of a group of people rounding the corner, their voices familiar to me as they joke with each other, laughter accompanying the cynical words of their leader. It's only when they stop a few metres away, voices fading into shocked silence, that I look up, terror filling me as I take in their appearance, identifying them immediately: Paul, Marko, Dwayne and David.

My eyes take their forms, horror and panic building up in me as I take in their bloodied appearances, discomposure filling me as I notice the concentration of the brackish fluid around their chins and mouth, before my eyes lift to their other features. Upon seeing them, I back away, confusion and fear evident on my face as I slowly get to my feet, continuing to edge away from them as they start to come closer - their features are distorted, their brows pulled into longer, grotesque caricatures of their usually handsome faces, blazing yellow eyes ringed with crimson following my every move, razor sharp fangs poking out from under their top lips as they go to speak, each pale tooth stained scarlet.

Without a second thought, I turn and run.

Adrenaline gives me speed, my pulse pounding in my ears as I race back onto the street I was on before, my breathing becoming harsh and ragged as I push myself into my fastest pace. Behind me, I hear a couple of deep chuckles, as well as a maniac laugh as footsteps start to follow me, a horribly familiar voice calling after me. I ignore it, focusing on staying ahead of my pursuers, doing my best to avoid the stones littering the pavement, my hand scrabbling in my pocket for the keys to my brother's car, thinking I could use it to get away, even if the tyre is flat. Finding them, I pull them out and continue sprinting down the road, a relieved gasp escaping me as I catch sight of the vehicle ahead, a new burst of energy exploding in me as I give one final push, reaching it swiftly.

Tremors wrack my hands as I attempt to get the key into the door, aware of the ever-approaching boys behind me, my breath held as I struggle to remain calm, adrenaline still pumping through me, a curse escaping me as I fight with the stuff turning mechanism. It finally opens, allowing me to climb into the car and slam the door behind me, quickly sticking the key into the ignition and turning it, only for the engine to stall. Going to try again, I growl in frustration as the same thing happens, the car refusing to let me put it into drive as I wrestle with the key. Panic starts to resurface within me, my actions becoming more and more frenzied, until I give up, punching the steering wheel in front of me in anger, wincing when my fist smarts afterwards.

A dent suddenly appears in the roof of the car, as if a heavy weight was dropped on it, a blood-curdling screeching noise following, as if someone was tearing through rusted metal, or trying to bend it out of shape. Looking out of the window, I notice a pair of hands digging into the weak spot just above the window, the metal coming away from the base as they continue to pull at it, opening me up to them, whatever they are. Petrified, I remain still for a couple of seconds, before jumping back into action, moving so that I'm forcing myself through the gap between the driver and passenger seats, crushing myself through the space into the backseats, collecting myself before I throw open the back door, stumbling briefly as I try to regain my balance, racing off towards the main road. I must look a sight - wearing a bloodied shirt and sporting similarly stained hands, tears streaking my cheeks, my breath coming out in rasping pants as I try to stay ahead of a group of who I assume to be killers. Hope fills me as I see a brighter light appear at the end of the road, clearly the beginning of the main road leading into Santa Carla, my pace remaining steady as I aim for it, careful not to get too excited, knowing I'm not quite in the clear yet.

A pair of arms suddenly appear around my waist, their owner easily lifting me off the ground and into the air, a scream of terror ripping itself from me as my attacker somehow floats upwards, holding me against a muscular chest, the smell of their black coat very familiar to me. Instantly, I start to writhe in his grip, kicking and wriggling as much as I can in his tight grasp.

"Calm down, (Y/n)! I'm not going to hurt you!" David commands, tightening his arms around me as I pay him no attention, trying to get out using any possible technique, "If you keep this up, I'll have to drop you, and we're a long way from the ground!"

At his words, I look down, freezing up as I see how far away we are from the pavement below, my eyes widening in fear, a pathetic whimper escaping me. I look up to see the other three sort of hovering around David and I, all of them looking serious for once, not just Dwayne, Marko chewing on his thumb as Paul struggles to stay still, somehow managing to fidget in mid air.

"What do you want? What are you?" I ask them, despair lacing my tone as I address them, knowing I'll probably end up like my brother, another corpse my supposed friends have left behind for others to find.

"We'll explain soon enough, but for now, we're going home. Hang on tight." The platinum blonde confirms, shifting me around so that I'm facing him, his icy blue eyes boring into mine as he repositions my arms around his neck, encouraging me to hold on tight. Gritting my teeth, I swallow and hold on, linking my legs around his waist as he starts to move, burying my face into his chest in pure fear, unsure of what will happen.

[coinofstone]

5x08 The Hollow Queen

What's Gwen doing out patrolling with the knights (jk I realize they're likely escorting her but it's still funny to think of her randomly deciding to join patrol when age wants to go for a walk or something)

I don't quite understand the correlation between the moon phase and frog catching but then I've never seen a wild frog in my life either. I did get kinda snooty when he said that tho cuz I'm like "she asked where you're going, not where you've been" 🤦‍♀️

Part of me wants to snark that this feels like it's about to be their first time actually boning, but the way Gwen casually calls for a hot bath... does she mean... after? Or....???

Stop he's like an angry barman 😂😍

Out of all the things I hate in S5, the way Gaius' chamber is lit is probably top 3, behind only the disrespect with which Gwen's character was treated all season and the fact that Arthur dies without restoring magic to Camelot, thus robbing us of the opportunity to watch King Arthur and Court Sorcerer Merlin handle various hilarious situations for at least a full thirteen episode season.

Yea this show is all medieval fantasy and whatever but Arthur, the grown ass man, not being able to find some very basic daily item that's right under his nose while standing helplessly in front of 'the clothing chair' and looking for someone to help him is tooooooo goddamn accurate.

There's no valid reason for this gif I just kept rewinding it so much I figured I might as well just gif it so I could watch it on a loop

Actually I guess I could use this moment to point out that since Arthur and Guinevere are married, we don't get the domestic morning scenes with Merlin walking Arthur up and helping him get dressed - presumably because they want to imply that Arthur's chambers is now *their* chambers, even though literally nothing has been done to it to suggest it's a shared space - beyond of course the one time we see Gwen's dresses hanging in Arthur's wardrobe and the extra changing screen. But there's no vanity, no second wardrobe ... it's really a very silly thing they're doing and I'm not entirely certain if it was intentional or overlooked or what. Sharing a bed chamber wasn't a common thing as far as I know, and even still a Queen needs a chamber of her own, even if the show wants to portray them as co-sleeping in Arthur's bed. It's just weird and inconsistent and I don't like it. Arthur's inability to dress himself, however - THAT I believe.

(Gif is from a S4 deleted scene)

Of course Morgana would tempt Merlin away from Camelot with tales of a Druid child in distress.

Gwen in that red queen outfit tho 😍

So, a couple things here. First off, this kid Daegal being like, "why are you being nice to me" to Merlin 😭 Second, Morgana leaving that kid alive is super ooc.

Merlin's little eyeroll when the kid tells him he thinks Morgana and Gwen intend to kill Arthur 😂

I love bamf Merlin

I don't particularly understand like... what Gwen is expecting to happen as Merlin is serving them dinner and Arthur brings up Merlin's girl. Like... she knows it's bullshit. At the end of the day despite everything that's happened, Morgana and therefore Gwen still don't know about Merlin's magic - they want him dead because a) Morgana knows he's thwarted her plans before and b) they know he knows or suspects Gwen - but how does she expect to play this off? 'Oh I assumed you were out shirking your responsibilities so I made up a girl to cover for you? Like??? What???

Commentary by Bradley and Alice

Wow they don't even record the commentary in order

Oh they actively cut the more 'suggestive' romantic scenes - like Arthur throwing Gwen onto the bed. That's like ... a lot more sensitive than I would've expected.

Omg Alice 😂 "what is it, Arwen? It's Arwen isn't it? Arthur/Gwen? Oh are you not with the speil? Merthur?"

Bradley: "I stay away from the spiel."

Alice: "oh come ON, Bradley get with the..."

Bradley: "I stay away from all that. For my own good."

Alice: "oh yea it probably is, actually."

Stop the name of the actor who plays Daegal is Alfie

I went to go follow Alice on Twitter and I spent an hour scrolling bullshit

They're saying Merlin wasn't cancelled, the BBC had asked for more but they said no because they'd planned to end it there

But they're also saying that S5 was great so I know they're lying on here

Bradley saying he wants to do theater but I don't think he's actually done any?

Omg Alice asking if he's seen Richard III and saying she went with Colin Katie and Rupert to see it but realizing they didn't invite Bradley and the awkward apology 😂😂😂😂

Alice said whose your favorite knight you can't offend then more than you have already 😂

Tomiwa was the smartest knight 😂

They're completely ignoring the episode and Alice is essentially interviewing Bradley with questions off Twitter

They had an awards thing at the wrap party? Oh it was awards made by Bradley it must've been for a joke

Alice just described the perilous lands episode as 'questy knighty' and suddenly I understand why I like her so much

[sojovrn]

dressing room // ml

summary: you get all hot and bothered watching michael play on stage and he intends to do something about that.

warnings: smut, swearing, choking, spanking, dirty talk, mama kink, daddy kink, degrading, dom!michael, sub!reader

word count: 1.2k

requested: no

pairing: rockstar!michael langdon x fem!reader

you don't know how you got here. it got fuzzy once michael got backstage shoved you in his dressing room.

now here you were, absolutely drenched bending over the black edge that was the black couch that sat in his dressing room.

"such a filthy slut, hm? got turned on watching daddy on stage?" he continued to tease and degrade you to the point of tears. but you begged for more. you always begged for more.

"please i need your cock. daddy please." a pleaded whisper was the only thing that escaped your mouth.

he'd been teasing you for what felt like hours. your legs wobbly and your ass on fire.

"patience, love. you'll get what you want. you always do." he said from behind you.

you let out a breath of relief you didn't know you were holding when you heard his black jeans hit the ground with a soft thud.

he chuckled at the soft 'oh god' that accidentally slipped from you lips when he teased his top through your folds.

your teeth sank into your bottom lip and you pushed your ass into him. you felt him place his hands on your hips when your eyes shot open at an idea that you've always fantasized about.

now was the time.

"wait wait wait. where's you belt?" you rushed.

michael slowly retreated from your body and grabbed his belt from the floor and handed it to you when he stood back behind you.

you wrapped the belt around your throat and looped it through the buckle to act as a leash. you turned your head to look at him and held the end of the belt at him.

"please." you whispered.

he let out a shaky breath and grabbed the end of the belt, "are you sure?"

you nodded your head immediately. he wrapped it around his hand. you groaned when he yanked on the belt.

"please fuck. i need your big fucking cock inside my pussy please." you pleaded when he still hadn't done anything.

he simply just bummed at your words and continued to tease and torture you.

you opened your mouth to beg him some more but the only thing that was heard was the shriek of surprise when he yanked on the belt and he finally slammed his cock inside you.

you closed your eyes to breath and take a minute to get used to him.

but michael had other things in mind because he immediately started ramming his hips into yours as fast as he could manage.

you moved your hands behind your back to press your hands against his stomach in hopes of slowing him down but he just chuckled at your failed attempts and grabbed both your wrists in his hand.

"isn't this what you wanted. wanted me to destroy this pussy? hm?" he whispered before dragging his teeth against your neck, leaving hickey's anywhere he could sink his teeth.

you open your mouth to respond to him before a scream crawled through the depths of your throat that you had been so desperately trying to hide so no one would hear you two.

he pulled on the belt until your head was leveled with his, "answer me, mama." he growled.

"yes, yes, yes. fuck oh my god. fuck don't stop please." you panted our through strangled gasps.

"wasn't planning to." he smiled into your skin.

'shit shit shit' you whispered under your breath when he angled his hips to slam into your sweet spot.

you furrowed your eyebrows and dropped your head. you sank your teeth so hard to bite down the screams that wanted to rip through your throat you started to taste the copper metallic taste of blood.

michael saw it and gripped your left leg to rest it on the back of the couch and pulled you up so your back collided with his chest.

"c'mon. wanna hear you, mama."

you shook your head, "no they'll know." you gasped when he tightened the belt around your throat just slightly.

"so let them. let them know who's destroying this pussy."

you shook your head again and it triggered something in him because he pushed your upper body back up against the couch. he grabbed the belt with his left hand instead and his right hand came down hard on your ass.

"don't wanna fuckin' listen. trust me mama, i'll make you." he whispered from behind you.

and if you thought his thrusts couldn't get any harder, boy were you so very very wrong.

he snapped his hips against yours at a very inhuman speed all while yanking on the belt around you neck to pull your small body into his thrusts.

he spanked you over and over and over until there was a bright red handprint in place of his hand, ignoring your pleas and cries for him to stop or slow down.

but no matter what you said, no matter what words left your lips, you never wanted him to stop. and he knew that oh so well.

your attempts of trying to hide your noises ultimately failed when you squeezed your eyes shut and an ear shattering scream filled the room.

he hummed in approval, "that's my girl."

you tightened your walls around his cock the more he whispered the filthiest shit he could think of in your ear.

"yes fu-ugh. mmp-h. it hurts daddy. yes!" your voice of course managing to crack immensely at the end.

"you want me to stop." he taunted already knowing very well what you're answer was going to be.

your frantically and immediately shook your head at his question, "no, no no. fuck don't stop. don't stop."

you couldn't see him but you could practically hear the smirk on his face along with the skin slapping and the wet noises coming from your pussy.

"mmm, can feel your pretty little tightening around me. y'gonna cum? gonna cum all over my cock like true good little cockslut you are?"

"mhmm." you hummed because coherent words refused to leave your mouth.

"use your fucking words." he groaned.

"yes, fuck im cumming. yesss. daddy fuck it's so good." you groaned when his right hand managed to gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail to wrap around his hand to pull your head back against his chest.

"come on. cum. wanna feel that little cunt gush all over my cock." he bit his lip and sent you a teasing smile.

that was all that you needed to send your body tumbling over the edge. you closed your eyes and piercing screams, one after the other left your throat when you started to squirt all over his cock, his thighs and lower stomach.

"fuck." he whispered and his cum flooded your pussy like ribbon.

he panted and stopped his thrusts to catch his breath as he pulled out.

he unbuckled the belt and tossed it on the floor.

he picked you up, fully knowing you could walk, and set you on his lap on the couch.

"was i too rough?" he asked and you smiled and shook your head.

"never."

you groaned when you turned your head and saw in one of the mirrors the many hickey's that were scattered over your neck and collarbones.

"gonna take a lot to cover these up." you chuckled and he shook his head.

"don't. let them know who this body belongs to."

@avesatanormalpeoplescareme

[raleighcarrera]

Don't know if you remember 'that' ask in Sera's account, but... How about a scenario in wich Mason wears an eyeliner for Kira 👀 (nsfw if you wish)

she’s half-dead on her feet when mason steps into her office, so tired she’s almost delirious with it. of course, he looks as immaculate as ever -- artfully disheveled in a way that’s intentional: hair mussed, clothes stylishly slouchy, stride purposeful when he shuts the door behind himself and makes his way over to her desk.

he looks so well-rested that it worsens her irritation, dialing her up from the low simmer she’s been at all day to something a little closer to a rolling boil. she narrows her eyes at him as he braces his forearms on her desk and leans in close.

“hi.” judging by the expression on his infuriatingly smug face, he can absolutely tell how exhausted she is. and he’s not sorry about it in the slightest. “you look like shit.”

“get out,” kira commands flatly, dropping back down into the chair behind her desk with a heavy sigh. she pushes her hands through her long hair, frowning when he makes absolutely no move to leave. “you’re not supposed to be picking me up for another two hours.”

his shoulders roll beneath the fabric of his henley. she fixates her gaze on the one corner of his mouth that’s turning upwards, his expression halfway between a genuine, lopsided smile and an annoying smirk. “can’t you cut out early? you must be tired.”

she opens her mouth to say something rude -- the very next best thing to lunging across her desk and throttling him -- when she catches sight of something she’d been too tired to notice before.

mason’s grey eyes are ringed in black eyeliner. 

the lines are smudged, no doubt deliberately, and make his eyes look brighter and more piercing from where he’s staring at her across her desk. 

the longer she hesitates, the bigger his grin gets. the silence stretching between them starts to feel heavier, until he drawls, “something on my face, sweetheart?”

as always, his call-out sets a blush high on her cheekbones, so that she can feel her face grow warm. kira rolls her eyes at him. “you’re wearing eyeliner.”

he nods, shifting his weight onto one arm so he can pull said eyeliner out of his pocket with his other hand. he waves the pencil around in front of her face like it’s an illicit substance, something he shouldn’t have on him in the station. “want some? you’ll look a little more awake.”

she’s still a little stunned by the sight of him before her, slightly off-balance like all the furniture in her office has been moved just an inch or two to the left. her lips part, then her tongue darts out to wet them. her throat feels dry. “okay.”

as though he’d been waiting for the go-ahead, mason pushes back up to his full height near-immediately and strolls around to the other side of her desk, reaching out to turn her desk chair to the side. then, without warning, he pushes into it with her, his knees wedging in on either side of her hips.

she squeaks, along with the chair, which protests the added weight of him loudly as mason more or less settles into her lap with a grin. 

he’s not gentle when he grabs her chin to hold her steady. “relax,” he says, which is as annoying as ever, if not more so, since he knows by now that instructing as much almost always has the opposite intended effect on her.

kira can’t help but to imagine them both toppling out onto the floor when he tilts her head back into the light and moves forward with the chair. it creaks ominously beneath them, and the new angle makes her gasp a little -- he’s very, very close -- closer than they’ve ever been in her office. in fact, they’ve only been this close a handful of times before and those times were in a much different context, making her face feel warm all over even as mason’s grin continues to stretch until its width becomes obnoxious.

he deliberately presses his hips forward, making her jerk in the chair. “hold still.”

she makes a noise that’s meant to convey just how impossible his request is, but otherwise says nothing as he narrows his eyes and starts in on her eyeliner.

kira can feel her pulse racing, her breathing starting to come a little quicker while he works. there’s something about receiving the full force of his attention that makes her more than mildly excited -- it’s unnerving to have so much of his focus set on her, and reminiscent of the other times they’d been alone together (last night in particular), eliciting a similar response so that she can’t help but to shift slightly where she’s sitting beneath him. 

mason huffs a little growl of frustration, halting abruptly. “kira.”

“what?” she demands defensively, “you’re crushing me. you’re twice my size.”

his grip on her chin tightens, so that she only barely swallows down the sound that’s threatening to escape the back of her throat. mason shifts his weight back a little, though she hadn’t been complaining. she sighs.

“didn’t you have enough last night?” he asks. she feels a flush creeping its way across her face again. “you seemed pretty satisfied.”

“oh my god,” she mutters, deliberately not looking at him, “are you done yet? this is taking forever.”

“patience is a virtue,” he smirks, “you’d think you’d’ve learned that one by now.”

her eyes drop. it wouldn’t take much to knee him in the dick, she muses -- it’s right there, after all, his legs spread invitingly where he’s leaning over her. 

the hand holding his eyeliner pencil falls away, and the one keeping her chin steady rubs its thumb across her jaw. “there.” mason’s voice is quiet -- suspiciously soft. it’s probably to get her to let down her guard and abandon any and all thoughts of retaliation for his quips, but knowing that doesn’t make it any less effective. she pauses, her breath catching.

“how do i look?”

their eyes finally focus on each other. it’s impossible to look away from mason as his gaze sweeps her face, and her chest squeezes painfully when he studies her for a moment and then ultimately smiles.

“as sexy as ever, detective.” he considers her for another moment, and then amends, “maybe more.”

“maybe?” finally, she lifts a hand, hooking her pointer finger through one of his empty belt loops. his jeans slip down an inch, exposing a tempting strip of muscled skin. “that’s kind of rude.”

mason’s own eyes go half-lidded above her. without looking away, he sets the eyeliner down on her desk, then grips the back of the chair behind her head for leverage, pushing her backwards. when his hips press forward this time, the chair’s squeak sounds like a warning. 

of course it’s another she’ll be ignoring.

“let me show you just how rude i can be,” he propositions, the sharp tone of his words at odds with the way he’s still cradling her cheek gently in his palm. “you haven’t seen anything yet.”

[freedom-of-fanfic]

Hello! I've noticed you've been reblogging a lot of stuff about "queer as a slur" lately, and I had a question. Is it okay for someone to be totally cool with queer as a word used by and for others, but uncomfortable with being called it on a personal level? I don't feel comfortable asking people to not call me queer because I'm scared they'll get angry at me for not wanting to personally reclaim the word. Thank you!

of course it’s okay to not want ‘queer’ applied to you while being okay with other people calling themselves ‘queer’. 

furthermore: you absolutely do not need the permission of queer people - me or anyone else - to feel that way.

there are people who no doubt get angry that not everyone who could ‘count’ as queer doesn’t want to be considered ‘queer’, because there are assholes in every community. but i’m going to say it outright, right now: they’re assholes. you don’t have to listen to them.

‘queer’ is an opt-in identity.

if you don’t identify as ‘queer’, you’re not queer. anyone who tells you otherwise is being a jerk.

I have heard of 1 (out of thousands) of queer-identified people trying to demand everyone who is non-cis &/or non-straight reclaim the word ‘queer’. that’s it. (seriously: i feel safe saying ‘probably like 97% of queer people won’t resent your choice or get angry at you over it.’)

where things get complicated is:

exclusionists/radfems(especially TERFs) using the ‘not everyone wants to reclaim the word ‘queer’’ argument to trample on those of us who do choose to reclaim ‘queer’ - constantly coming into our spaces to remind us that not everybody is reclaiming the word & therefore our reclaiming the word is somehow hurtful. 

that’s bigotry exploiting your position, anon - not your fault, but good to be aware of.

the resulting backlash from exclus & radfems exploiting the experiences of people who don’t reclaim the word ‘queer’ can create hostility towards people like you, anon. 

that hostility comes from people who assume you’re telling people like me that you don’t want to reclaim ‘queer’ for yourself specifically to spite me. which, of course, makes people like you you want to apologize and get permission to not reclaim ‘queer’ even more, which makes ppl resent your need for permission, etc etc. … it’s a negative feedback loop.

the tl;dr is: 

because you don’t need permission to not reclaim ‘queer’, you never need to tell people who do reclaim ‘queer’ that you’re not reclaiming it (unless they’re trying to force their reclamation on you).

you can just ignore posts reclaiming ‘queer’ if you want and know that literally 97% of queer people will not resent you for it.

there’s definitely a difference between queer people calling themselves queer and straight cis ppl (or exclus/radfems) calling them ‘qu**r’ or ‘the qu**rs’.

just because we’ve reclaimed the word ‘queer’ doesn’t mean we’re okay with people sneering it at us to hurt us, or using the word ‘queer’ as a noun (’qu**rs’) rather than an adjective (’queer community’).

when straight cis people refer to all of us as ‘the queer community’ on the news or whatever, that’s not fair to the part of Pride that identifies as queer or to the part that doesn’t. (I wish ‘MOGAI’ hadn’t been successfully disparaged by exclusionists for this reason.) 

we’re not all ‘queer’ (and we don’t have to be). that’s why ‘Q’ is a letter in the alphabet soup acronym version of our communal ‘name’.

finally: 

‘queer’ has a political & academic meaning beyond identifying as ‘queer’.  i.e.; to advocate for queerness is to advocate for putting a nonbinary lens on the world.

instead of assuming binary states - boy or girl, straight or gay, cis or trans, white or not, abled or disabled, nt or nd, etc - queer theory proposes looking at everything as existing on a spectrum, and people as having infinite existences on various spectrums. the goal is to see how that creates a more realistic - & therefore more effective - approach to real life problems.

when people talk about ‘queerness’ from an academic or political position, it often addresses problems that face the wider Pride community, whether they identify as ‘queer’ or not. however, because we use the same word for both the academic study & identity (’queer’), that can get confusing & hurtful to people who don’t identify as queer.

tl;dr: queer does have more than one form of applicability, which means that even if you don’t identify as queer you may encounter the word being applied to your experiences without intended malice. I don’t have any suggestions for rectifying that right now, but I hope it helps to know that in that context, it’s not intended to ‘other’ you. :(

–

thanks for giving me a good opportunity to address some of the issues that rise up for not-queer-identified members of Pride who get caught in the middle of this nasty exclu/radfem(TERF) ‘anti-queer’ attack & the resulting backlash. you don’t deserve to get slammed because of bigots who use your experiences as shields to hide their bigotry behind.

PS - added tags to clearly note this is an americentric take on the word ‘queer’! thank you @asynca for the note on that