#i KNOW logically that it is not a big deal. but i hate the idea of making anyone wait for me

[mars-ipan]

my fellow anxiety havers what is one of your mundane day-to-day tasks that should by no means be anything remarkable but feels like you are being hunted for sport. i’ll go first: putting all of your groceries on the conveyor belt during checkout is like a long series of quick time events to me

[mxliv-oftheendless]

\m/

(please do not interact)

[alllgator-blood]

FINISHED THAT ONE COMIC I POSTED ABOUT ALMOST 30 FULL DAYS AGO?? I FINALLY REMEMBERED IT EXISTED AND FINISHED IT. I HAVE SO MUCH I WANT TO SAY ABOUT MY LAMB NOW THAT THEY'RE FINALLY THE MAIN CHARACTER IN A LONG COMIC, BUT it went on forever so I put it below the cut.

While we're above the cut, I have a bunch of REALLy good asks I'll be trying to draw for soon. But keep an eye out for a poll coming up soon...cause now that this is out of the way, I want another big project to have in the background and I have Big Ideas for Big Angst Comics........

OH YOU CLICKED THE THING, NICE. OKAY. SO:

Have I ever talked about how my lamb works?? I need to do more with them but I'm a bishop enjoyer to an obsessive degree. The lamb operates on the same kind of level as kallamar did during the breakdown comic, but on a more permanent, more stable level. After being told to hide for their whole life, to never show their face and not even being given a name......being beheaded by four gods and recruited by a fifth forgotten one who claims they're the Chosen One just made the lamb think "OH! None of this is real. My brain wanted me to feel important before I died, and this is my dying vision. Okay, I'll play along >:)" and now they're the equivalent of when you beat a game and replay it while picking the funniest/worst options to see what'd happen.

USUALLY their decisions are clouded by the assumption that nothing they do actually matters, but they're still......a person who held things dear and had standards while they were alive. So they love hijinx, but aren't like leshy who launches people out of catapults for fun, or kallamar who sees mortals more as lab rats than people living their own lives. They'll do some things for the lolz but their humanity definitely shows through when dealing with someone like shamura.

I think they went into the bishop slaying quest wanting to hate shamura, assuming they were an irredeemable antagonist that deserved to be vanquished. They were told by narinder that shamura was the big bad, so they figured there was nothing to it beyond that. But then they actually MET shamura, who wasn't at all what they were expected to be. Every other bishop is just like "RAHH I'LL KILL YOU" when you meet them, and then shamura is the only person who actually tells you about what happened, speaks to you like a person and not an obstacle, and doesn't seem bothered about the fact they're going to die. So that got them thinking....hmm...perhaps these people are slightly more realistic than I anticipated. Still gonna kill them tho

I'm not sure the lamb hates the bishops, especially after the realization that they're a fucked up family acting out in desperation rather than logic. When you're born into circumstances you know will eventually doom you (like being a sacrificial lamb destined for slaughter) you kinda...lose the ability to care after a while. They don't really *forgive* the bishops for the slaughter of their people, and definitely enjoy bullying them and kicking them around now that they're powerless mortals- but the initial horror of being born to die has subsided. Now that they're presumably in some kind of afterlife, and have better, more fun things to move onto now that they're the ruler of everything- it's not worth it to hate those five forever.

I think *because* the lamb has only been a god very briefly and still remembers mortality well, that's why they're the one god who does things "because they're funny" but also is respectful of people like shamura. It's like when you're playing GTA V and you accidentally drive over a dog while trying to pull over and look at it closer. Is it a real dog?? No but you're still gonna feel bad!! So like I said, in the lamb's mind they have NO reason to care about any of these people or show them mercy, but the fact that they're not as detached from mortality as the bishops were makes them a benevolent god. I'll be doing a comic about this very subject in the future and it WILL be depressing >:)

Also. Unrelated. But if you read this far, I feel the need to justify why heket and leshy suddenly have boobs in this comic. I'm sure it's obvious that I headcanon the gods don't have sex characteristics cause like...why would they need those. I don't want to draw that. But as MORTALS they would probably need to have all their organs intact to function properly, so pour one out for shamura + leshy who probably completely forgot they were transgender until they woke up in mortal bodies. NOT SURE HOW KALLAMAR WOULD REACT, I think they're more just horrified they lost all their tentacles

I debated doing another silly comic about the concept but I don't want this blog to get too raunchy, so instead have this epic ms paint art (I CAN MAKE THESE JOKES, I'M AFAB TRANS I DESERVE THIS ONE THING)

[dollishmehrayan]

# TAKE EVERYTHING AS IT WAS WRITTEN FOR YOU ── .✦ ( batboys x writer!reader who writes ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ )

dollish note ౨ৎ: hey so I’m back from the dead apparently, anywaysss omgg I missed you guys Hii and I will posting more content from now on and taking this seriously and these past days I was super stressed out over moving but hey my lovess anyways I decided to base this writer s/o over like anyone, like whether you write fan fic like me or write actual books, it matters to this hcs !! Tags: (batboys x writer!s/o)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

# DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

He loves that you're a writer ( listen he just LOVESSS creative women like hello !? God forbid a guy likes creative people 🫠) he's your #1 fan and biggest hype man.

Tries to read your work over your shoulder while you're typing, even if you hate it “Babe, I need to know what happens next!” Like constantly over your shoulder seeing what you’re drafting and etc.

Occasionally offers cheesy plot ideas like “what if the love interest also knows parkour?” (His ideas suck)

Will 100% brag to everyone: “Yeah, my partner’s a genius novelist. Ever heard of them? You will.” OOOOO

Falls asleep listening to you ramble about story arcs and character development. It's his favorite sound.

Writes you little encouraging notes like, “You got this, Hemingway 💪” and sticks them on your laptop / tablet or wtv you have bbg.

# JASON TODD ── .✦

Loves your dark, gritty writing especially if there's violence, angst, or moral grayness involved since a lot of people don’t write angst that casually.

Offers surprisingly insightful edits or plot ideas: “This villain's motivation is weak. Give them a tragic backstory and don’t make them redeemable.”

Low-key wants you to base a character on him but will pretend he doesn’t care.

Has a soft spot for reading your fluff pieces though and will be quietly emotional about them.

Will threaten anyone who leaves bad reviews on your work. "Just say the word. Username 'Booktoklover93'? I got 'em."

He buys you fancy notebooks and pens and acts like it's no big deal, but he's proud of himself.

# TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Absolute king of writing dates you'll both sit in a café typing furiously and sipping terrible coffee.

Helps you fact-check obscure things at 3am without complaint (okay, maybe some complaint).

If you write mystery or thrillers, he treats it like solving a real case. “Wait… that clue in chapter 5…”

He totally has a secret folder on his computer labeled “[Your Name]’s Writing – Favorite Stuff” with all your pieces saved.

You’ve accidentally inspired him to write fanfic once and he WILL take that secret to the grave.

Sends you prompts or memes like “this is so your OC.” (Sorry I just keep cringing at oc 🥲)

# DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

At first, he might not get why you write fictional stories… but then he reads them.

He's completely blown away and demands to know what happens next immediately.

Occasionally critiques your logic but ends up emotionally invested in your characters.

“Why did you kill him off?” Because it served the story—” “You’re a monster.”

Will sit next to you while you write, drawing or sketching your characters in his own style.

Has probably told Alfred he thinks you’re a genius at least once when he thought no one was listening.

# BONUS WHICH MR WAYNE! ── .✦

Loves that you're creative and has the patience of a saint when listening to you rant about plot holes.

He doesn’t read everything you write, but when he does, he’ll quote it back to you at random times like a proud husband.

“Chapter 7 really showed growth. I was impressed.”

Offers to fund your writing career or self-publishing venture without blinking. “You’ll need an editor and marketing team.” SIGN ME UP !!

He also gently reminds you to eat and sleep when you’re on a deadline: “You’ve been writing for 16 hours. Come to bed and go to sleep.”

[twistedpink]

Mc inserts x TWST characters (Part two)(Part three)

(basically non-yuu pairings I think about instead of my inbox :p)

Ignyhide vice!Mc x Jamil Viper

Mc is probably twisted from one of the little demon goons, and it makes your contrast with Jamil charmingly obvious. You’re both vices in the basketball club with an outside connection to your wardens (you figured a physical activity’ll ward Idia’s eye away) and you both hate your jobs to a comedic degree. The connection is actually really sweet and subtle!! Atleast until book 6 when Mc is complaining about their ego trippy boss while basically eating out of Jamil’s hand, feeding him information like the layout and hierarchy of styx,, as Idia’s super exclusive assistant it’s only fair to give your guests a full tour!

“geez! And he just gets so flippy-floppy, yknow? He’s got this thing about energy drinks now so I’ve been diluting them, it’s such a pain!”

“It might just be a defect with housewardens. Have you ever heard of the incompetency theory?”

Card soldier!Mc x Malleus Draconia

okay picture this- Mc is comepletely wasted and coming off the high from a holiday party that was totally killer. You wander into the woods past campus and find yourself at a little abandoned cottage, it’s like 100% cozy enough to chill in before stumbling back to the dorms. You continue heading there for pregames/drunken shenanigans, meeting up with some hot guy that hangs around sometimes. You’re fully blindsided when your “little buddy” is kicking heartslabyul ass during a spelldrive tourney..

“Yoooooo, Mally, you must be really fun at parties. Want ta’ go with me?”

“I can’t say I’ve ever been invited to a “rager” before, but it sounds.. enjoyable. I accept.”

Ignyhide freshman!Mc x Deuce Spade

You’re a shaking mess during your first track meet. It’s a graduation requirement to take at least one gym class before the end of freshman year, and you’d rather die than take flight class with all those scary seniors!! Your vice had enough sense to convince you into not dropping out, he’d said that “track is low stress!” And “you’ll enjoy it” >:( you can’t believe he’d lie to your face like that!! (Is this the AI revolution??) You guess it’s not too bad though, you’ve even started strength training with a new friend. He’s a little short tempered, but it could be a lot worse.

“hey, I had no idea ignyhide kids were into track! I thought it’d be too much sun,,”

“We’re not vampires. I wouldn’t clown on you for the tea in your thermos, so lay off.. heh, there’s totally a dormouse in there.”

Scarabia housewarden!Mc x Leona Kingscholar

It’s pretty rare to see Leona of all people in your reserved pool chair, but plenty of weird stuff’s happened during your senior case study. You’re this close to getting your big shiny diploma- and a little rest now and then won’t hurt anybody! Savanaclaw’s housewarden has only had his position since last year, and you’ve held yours through all four. After knowing of each other for so long, it’s only logical that you’d become good friends! (Not that he calls you that)

“So you’re graduating, huh? Hope that brat you chose’ll fill your shoes, you’ve worked pretty hard.”

“awh, you’re such a sap,, I’m sure you’ll like Kalim, he’s no idiot. I promise to visit whenever you decide to graduate, but it’ll be a lot easier if i get that job in the castle!”

Octavinelle sophmore!Mc x Jack Howl

Poor Jack has to deal with everyone else’s business on top of his own education, when does he get a break? That ramshackle prefect’s looking for leads on how to beat those twins in the water, and only one face comes to mind. You’re his coworker at his temp job, and you owe him a favour (atleast from your perspective, he doesn’t hold it over your head) because with your grades Azul’s got it out for you. He’s begging for you to help him out- and who are you to deny those puppy eyes?

“Jack you can’t tell him! The housewarden’ll make me quit, I need this job! :(((“

“woah, it’s not like I’m gonna blackmail you.. what kind of guy do you think I am?”

Savanaclaw freshman!Mc x Epel Felmier

You’re lost, stressed and so confused in your first year :( it feels like everything is going wrong all the time!! It’s probably like 10x worse because you’re very tall and so built, but nobody cares to peer up at the cute giraffe ears on your head! You’ve been challenged by so. many. seniors. (and you win against all of them, you’re no pushover) but you’re tired of the beef. Epel just thinks you’re the coolest person in the room, and is always saying he wants to get freaky fridayed with you. But he doesn’t get the struggle!! Atleast Jack cares enough to tell him you’re just not liking it at school, and it makes Epel kick into action- he’s not letting you drop out, so please wait until he transfers!!

Pomefiore Junior!Mc x Rook Hunt

You’re convinced that Rook c. Hunt is the worst guy in all of twisted wonderland (C for creep)! And it SUCKS because he went from your rebellious savanaclaw boytoy to.. whatever he is. (How’d you miss the warning signs when you were tongueing him??) You can always see his stupid bob in your peripheral- but you’ve rationalized that if you watch him, then he only sees what you want him to see! It’s keeping your friends close and your enemies closer, just until graduation. And it does work, until you realize you’ve given Rook an inch that he’s turned into a mile. You’ll probably never get rid of him now, but what’s the point anymore?

“Ah, mon cher! You always enchant me with your passionate gaze, I’m honoured to be the object of your attention!”

“uh.. sure thing, hon. Whatever you say.”

Diasomnia Senior!Mc x Idia Shroud

You’re a highly educated noble from the mysterious land of Briar Valley. You are poised, weirdly formal, and utterly incompetent with your newest area of study- contemporary technology. You’ve tried to convince yourself that it’s pointless, they don’t even use it at home! But if you want to travel anytime before the collapse of human civilization, it must be done. you’re insatiable with your thirst for knowledge, and completely enamoured with having first hand experience with every era of mortal tech. It also happens to be almost impossible to revive your “Kno-Keya” once it has decided to die. That is where Idia Shroud comes in.

“In exchange for the revival of my electronic mailing device i am willing to offer an extensive dowry befitting of your station and technological necromancy skill. Will it suffice?”

“I literally only charged your phone, uh.. WOAH, A DOWRY?? I don’t have the space for five horses!! I’m totally not prepped for the marriage route, I haven’t seen the wiki yet!”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

I am not the asshole, and I think this whole thing is stupid, but I was promised that if I sent my side of things to this blog I could pick the hotel for our honeymoon, and I am marrying a man who once tried to take me BACKPACKING of all things, so this ask has become a necessity. In light of that:

AITA (I'm NOT) for planning the seating for our wedding in a logical way?

I got engaged in June, apparently in part because of my partner writing in to this blog (I don't know how to find or link to his posts, but I'm the man who got the cat to bite him, if that rings any bells?). At any rate, for the past ten weeks, I've been in the beginning stages of planning our wedding with my fiance, whom I have been secretly attempting to remove from the planning process as much as possible. I have ALREADY been given a list of his must-haves, and I AM incorporating as many of them as our budget allows. This has NOTHING to do with the emotional side of the event, and EVERYTHING to do with the fact that this is an idiot with no real planning experience or taste who thinks he knows more than me.

For the most part, this has worked very well. I'm the one who's been collating all the contact information for things, so I just replaced all the emails for the tacky companies with false addresses, responded to his inquiries as the companies to say the date was already booked or the price was outside our budget, and let him filter his way to the ones I DO like on his own. I also made a fuss about being "willing to compromise" on the few things he's picked I'm completely fine with in the hopes I can use it to make him compromise later, and have been humming portions of the songs I want on the playlist in the hopes he'll think he came up with the idea to include them himself.

None of this is the real problem. The PROBLEM is that he is deliberately ruining my seating chart, by moving our horrible friend's seat when I'm not looking.

The man in question dated both of us at one point in our VERY early 20s (both ended BADLY), is generally the messiest person we know, and will almost certainly get sloppy drunk and try to make a speech IF he does make an appearance. I'm banking on the fact that he won't, because he's also ridiculously wealthy, and will almost certainly send us some very lavish gift in lieu of coming.

He is SUPPOSED to be sitting beside my fiances aunt, at the same table as his grandmother, his work friend, and her girlfriend, because all four of these women are stone cold terrors who I believe are more than capable of keeping him in line on the slim chance he does come. My fiance INSISTS they won't be able to have any fun if they're running interference all night, and keeps moving him to sit at the head table instead. You know, where WE are. I finally caught him switching the label magnets on my planning board last night, and confronted him.

I tried leveraging how much I've been compromising already, that he's almost certainly going to RSVP no, and that I shouldn't have to deal with him on our big night. My fiance said he knew about all the fake emailing and such, and told me, and I QUOTE: "Look, the mind game shit was hot when it was just about the colour scheme or whatever, but I actually care about this. So you can suffer with everybody else, or you can do the normal thing and not invite a guy you hate to our wedding, you weirdo."

I said that if I did that, it would take out half his groomsmen, he called me an asshole and said I should go explain this to "literally any rational adult" so they could tell me I was in the wrong, and now here we are.

Would you recommend calling my fiance's bluff, since he doesn't want the man sitting near us either? Or should I focus on ensuring he'll turn down the invitation no matter what, so the matter of where he WON'T be sitting can be a moot point?

What are these acronyms?

Original post

The update

[peachesvault]

Sprayed secrets

Archenemy!Bakugou x reader

𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝 You're locked in a bathroom with your enemy. What secrets come up?

A/n: There will be a part two! This was the hero x hero in the poll. I think I ate lowk.

If there was one person you hated with all your heart, it was Bakugou fucking im-better-than-you Katsuki. That fucking BOY got on your fucking nerves. Somebody had to put him in his place (Not that you hadn’t) by tripping him and making him eat shit. His cocky attitude and constant yelling often made you fantasize about seeping mustard gas into his room in the dead of night. You hadn’t yet through sheer willpower.

So, colour yourself rainbow and call yourself Pedro pony when asked why and how the fuck you ended up in the shower with him.

You both sat fully clothed under the cold spray of the shower, drenched to the bone. Your backs were pressed up against opposite walls, just staring at each other as the two of you bent your knees to fit in the cramped space.

Honestly, this was all Kirishimas fault. After Izuku and his friends got Bakugou back from the LOV, he never was quite the same. And you suppose everybody was concerned You included so his friends decided that locking him in the bathroom with one of them until he spoke was the way to deal with it, and you just happened to get stringed into their obnoxious schemes.

Honestly, it made no sense, sure you lost rock paper scissors against Kirishima but like from a logical point of view, it was his worst enemy vs his bestest little friend. Why in the world would they lock him in a room with you over Kirishima? Were they all stupid? He would never talk to you.

You had started off on separate sides of the bathroom, but your patience quickly died a few hours in. If you were forced to be in a room with him, it might as well be for a reason, or at the very least to have it done with.

“Get in the shower” You had said harshly.

“No what the fuck? You pervert.”

“What? No you weirdo. I think best in the shower, so we’re going to talk in there”

He had obviously fought it, and he could tell you didn’t want to do this just as much as him. But after his so-called friends didn’t unlock the door even after three hours, he decided he might as well, if only to get out sooner.

So thats how you ended up here.

Maybe you didn’t tell him the whole truth though. The water also helped in feeling more protected. Less vulnerable. It was easier to ignore the tear slipping down his face as he recalled what happened, easier to brush it off as just the water. It was easier to ignore his voice cracking, easier to play coy and say you didn’t hear anything over the water roaring over your head.

But something had shifted. The conversation had started off with Bakugou realising that neither of you would be let out until he started talking, so he did. It started mundane, he kept up his strong persona, making it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. But he could see that you saw straight through his bullshit, yet were choosing not to call him out on it. It was slow, but he gained some respect for you, not enough to stop hating you but enough to acknowledge you weren’t all that bad if you were choosing to not mock him when he was talking about his most vulnerable moment.

Perhaps the same happened to you. You saw through his bullshit. But you also saw he was used to putting up a front, something you knew personally. It was a defense mechanism as much as it was self-preservation. Maybe you had to give the real Bakugou a chance.

“It was… hard” He whispered, and you understood him. Any idea of putting him in his place was gone, you were just two people who had been through a lot.

” I know what that's like” You whispered back

“You do, don’t you?” He replied chuckling dryly.

You don’t know when you started sharing parts of your life too but letting him be the only vulnerable one felt wrong. You never meant for it to get this far, but over the past few hours, he knew things about you that you had never dared to mention out loud to anybody, and it was the same for him.

You were strangers. Enemies. Yet you both shared secrets that were so… personal. Words that would never see anything past the cramped dingy walls of this shower. Yet they were the same words that slowly crumbled both your walls, that you both connected over, over things nobody should have ever experienced let alone connect over. Eventually, the thought hit you like a truck.

Maybe Bakugou wasn't so bad.

It was another couple hours until you were both let out, both of you were shivering despite being under hot water, your skins wrinkling and lightly purple. Your friends were panicked, and the two of you were dragged away to the different dorms to be taken care of.

Looking back at him as you were doted over by all the girls, you saw him staring back receiving the same treatment.

You squinted as he mouthed something.

KATSUKI.

That's when you knew.

Nothing would ever be the same again.

Do not plagiarise/copy/post on other platforms. All work is @peachesvault original works. | Masterlist

[dreamdrbbles]

TRUTH OR...DARE?

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’re a cheater babe, sawry!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: aaron pierre as himself & the black!fem reader as you.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: heavy smut, oral (female receiving), adultery, protected sex, dirty talk, and some more stuff. also, please do not try this at home, pretty babies. minors, do not interact.

It had been four years since you stepped foot in a club, and it showed. Marriage had introduced your social life to a bright red octagon, halting any late nights out or wild adventures with friends. But when your girls planned an impromptu trip to New Orleans to celebrate your big promotion at work, you couldn’t say no. You needed the break, no, you deserved it. You were especially grateful they chose a spot that fit your aesthetic. The club was classy, with dim lighting that set a sultry tone and a strict over-25 entry policy. The drinks were strong, the music was hitting just right, and the men? Fine as hell. You were married—somewhat happily, but there was no harm in looking. Right?

“Ooh! Let’s play truth or dare!” Ashlee’s voice cut through the bass-heavy beat of Glorilla rapping about her love for being outside.

Her mischievous grin told you everything you needed to know: trouble was coming. You and Layla exchanged a knowing look, silently agreeing that your friend was already on one. The three of you had been thick as thieves since college, and truth or dare had a history of bringing chaos into your lives. It was never really truth or dare—it was dare or dare, and Ashlee’s ideas always toed the line between bold and outrageous. “Ash, you need to put the Casamigos down. I see you already on some bullshit,” you said, side-eyeing her as she poured another round of tequila shots.

“I’m not!” she defended, her voice dripping with feigned innocence. “But since you got so much to say… truth or dare?” Your competitive spirit flared instantly. Ashlee knew how much you hated backing down from a challenge. She fixed you with a smirk, her eyes glinting with the kind of energy that let you know she’d already thought this through.

“Oh, what the fuck… dare,” you said, waving her on. You figured she’d keep it simple; a dance with a stranger, getting a man’s number, something light. But you should’ve remembered who you were dealing with. Ashlee’s grin widened, wicked and full of intent.

“I dare you to have a one-night stand.” You nearly choked on your lemon drop. “Excuse me?” Ashlee didn’t flinch. She just crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair with the confidence of someone who knew she’d just dropped the gauntlet. “This heffa is crazy.” you muttered under your breath, wiping your mouth as you set the glass down. You shot her a look that could’ve burned through steel. She knew you were married. She’d been standing right there when you said “I do,” the one who held your bouquet and straightened your veil before you walked down the aisle. Sure, Ashlee had never liked Derrick—she thought he was controlling and boring, but this? This was outrageous. “Daring me to commit adultery is insane. No,” you said firmly, shaking your head.

But Ashlee didn’t back down. She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, locking eyes with you. “It’s not like you’re happy with Derrick anyway.” she teased, her voice just loud enough for you and Layla to hear over the music.

You stiffened. Ashlee had struck a nerve, and she knew it.

You looked down at your drink, swirling it in the glass as the weight of her words settled over you. Your marriage wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great either. Derrick had been distant lately, and the spark between you had faded into routine. You loved him… but sometimes you wondered if that was enough. Layla cut in, sensing the tension. “Ash, come on. That’s a little much, don’t you think?” The most logical of your friend trifecta added, bringing some levity to the situation. “Fine, fine.” Ashlee said with a shrug, raising her hands in mock surrender. “But if you don’t take this dare, then you have to at least… flirt with someone. You’ve been locked up in that marriage too long. Have a little fun.” You sighed, your sense of spontaneity battling with your sense of loyalty. It wasn’t like flirting was cheating… was it?

You tilted back your glass, letting the last of your drink slide down your throat, the burn of the vodka sharp and unforgiving. The cocktail glass hit the table with a decisive clink as you set it down, and the tension at your table crackled in the air. Your best friends were watching you closely, Ashlee with a look of smug challenge, and Layla with quiet pleading in her eyes, silently urging you to stay grounded. Tonight, you knew you were about to break one of their hearts. Would it be the devil on your shoulder or the angel? Taking a deep breath, you pushed back from the table, standing to your feet.

The movement was smooth, deliberate, almost as if you were psyching yourself up for the dare. You smoothed your hands down your dress, tugging it slightly to make sure it covered what needed covering—but there was no hiding the bold tattoo on your thigh: a coiled snake intertwined with roses. That tattoo was a relic of your younger, wilder days, when you were eighteen, impulsive, and drunk on a spring break trip you’d never forget.

Back then, you were reckless, bold, and free. For a brief moment, the memory of that version of yourself stirred something deep inside. “Flirt with a random man, got it.” you said, nodding as if to convince yourself. Your voice carried a mix of determination and resignation, a subtle reminder that you didn’t back down from dares. The beat of the club vibrated through your chest as you scanned the crowd, searching for your unsuspecting target. A few pairs of eyes lingered on you as you stepped away from the table, the confidence in your stride undeniable, even if you were faking it. Tonight, you weren’t just completing a dare, you were testing the edges of who you used to be. But where to start?

‘The bar’, you thought. Because you’d definitely need another round of liquid courage to go through with this. You sauntered to the crowded bar, sifting through bodies until you reached the counter. The bartender was a beautiful woman with bohemian locs that fell to her waist, beads adorned the feature. God, you loved New Orleans. The date was the flirt with someone, not a man in particular. Could making eyes at the gorgeous mixologist count? Probably not. Before you could pipe up to speak, you were bumped out of the way. Your eyebrows furrowed in frustration as you looked up at the towering figure. “Uh! Excuse me!” You called out, her voice only carrying a few inches away from you, but apparently it hit the intended target.

The male turned around and you were instantly stunned. Not only was he tall, but he was fine. Fine was an understatement. When God was done molding him even he had to give himself a pat on the back. From his chiseled jaw line to his ocean blue eyes that were covered by gold wire glasses, his features immediately enticed you. Fuck. The top two buttons on the shirt he wore were unbutton, revealing a gold chain with a simple cross pendant, shit had you ready to confess your sins. “Oh, my apologies love. I didn’t see you there.” He responded, a british accent stunned you, but the depth and rasp of his voice almost made you melt where you stood. “Let me buy you a drink, since I cut you in the queue.” His smile, FUCK. You giggled in response, as if you weren’t about to give him a piece of your mind just ten seconds before you got trapped in his eyes. Flirt. “Good idea, that’ll save you from my wrath.” You responded, your orbs holding his as you naturally tilted your head to the side. “A lemon drop, please.”

“Lemon drop.” he repeated, nodding toward the bartender. But his eyes never left yours, and the way they raked over you, slow and deliberate, made you feel like the most captivating thing in the room. “And an old fashion for me.”

As the bartender prepared your drink, he leaned in slightly, closing the already narrow space between you. His scent wrapped around you, warm, woodsy, and intoxicating. You could almost feel the heat radiating off him, and it took every ounce of composure not to let your knees give out.

“I’m Aaron, by the way.” he said, his voice lower now, meant just for you. You swallowed hard, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as you replied, “Nice to meet you, Aaron. I’m…” You trailed off, momentarily distracted as his gaze flicked to your mouth.

“Beautiful name.” he said before you could finish. Your cheeks warmed, but you held his gaze, determined not to let him see how flustered you were. “I didn’t tell you my name.” You replied, confused.

“No,” he said, leaning in just enough for his breath to brush against your ear, “but I’m sure it’s beautiful.”

Your drink arrived, breaking the moment, and you reached for it, your fingers brushing against his. The touch was brief, but it sent a jolt of electricity up your arm.

“Thank you,” you said, raising the glass slightly, your voice steady despite the way your pulse raced.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, his eyes darkening slightly as he leaned back, his smirk now a full-fledged grin.

Flirting had never felt so natural, or so dangerous.

Suddenly, Ashlee’s dare didn’t seem so far-fetched. The idea of a one-night encounter felt thrillingly close, the kind of reckless decision you hadn’t made in years. As Aaron turned to walk away, you acted without thinking, reaching out to lightly touch his arm. The firmness beneath your fingertips sent a jolt through you, and he stopped, glancing back at you with curiosity in his eyes.

Boldly, you slipped your arm around his, letting him guide you through the lively crowd. The club’s energy buzzed around you, but it all seemed to fade, the world narrowing to just the two of you. His confidence radiated with every step, and you found yourself mesmerized by the ease with which he moved.

Eventually, he stopped at a table in a quieter corner, turning to face you. He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke. “Beautiful,” he murmured, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine. “If I’d known buying you that drink would bring you this close, I would’ve done it the moment I saw you walk in.”

Your cheeks burned, the compliment sending a rush of heat through your body. But then it hit you-he still didn't know your name. You opened your mouth to tell him, but he cut you off, pressing a finger gently against your lips.

"You're going to be whoever and whatever I want you to be tonight," he said, his tone commanding but laced with an edge of teasing. "Understood?"

Yes, fuckin’ sir.

You felt his words settle deep in your core, your heart hammering as you nodded, unable to find the words to respond. Then, remembering yourself, you let out a soft laugh. “I guess I should thank my friends for daring me to flirt with someone tonight,” you said, your tone light but tinged with nerves.

His brow arched, amusement flickering in his gaze. “Just flirting?” he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small smirk. “That’s a pretty tame dare.”

“Well…” You hesitated, glancing down briefly. “They actually dared me to have a one-night stand, but ⸺.”

“Am I not worthy of that dare?” he interrupted smoothly, his voice playful but edged with curiosity. Your lips parted, unsure how to respond to his suggestive quip.

“Maybe,” you replied, feeling your heart race under his gaze. “But it’s complicated.” You lifted your left hand, the glint of your wedding band catching the light. His eyes followed the motion, lingering for just a moment before returning to yours. There was no judgment there, only intrigue. He leaned back slightly, sipping his drink, his calm demeanor unshaken.

“Is he here?” Aaron asked, his tone casual, though his words held a weight that made your breath catch. “Your husband? Is he here?” He continued when you didn’t respond quick enough.

You shook your head slowly, the honesty in your response surprising even you. “No.”

“Then it sounds like you have a choice to make, Love.” he said simply, setting his drink down on the table. His hand brushed yours lightly, a fleeting touch that felt electric. For the first time in years, you felt truly seen, the weight of routine and expectation momentarily lifted. The noise of the club melted away, leaving only the pounding of your heart and the magnetic pull of his presence. This wasn’t about making a decision yet; it was about the possibility ⸺ a spark of something wild and untamed.

Indeed, you did. Was one moment of indulgence worth betraying the vows you made? Was your competitive nature driving this, or something else entirely? Every rational thought warned you to step back, but then you caught sight of Aaron’s smirk; mischievous, yet inviting—and all logic slipped away. The heat in his gaze made your pussy throb, and the thrill of the unknown sent a shiver down your spine.

“Let’s go.” You said, the words spilling out before doubt could creep in. Your voice carried a conviction that surprised even you.

His lips curved into a slow, knowing grin, one that sent a wave of heat down your body. He finished his drink in one smooth motion, setting the glass down with a deliberate air. “No hesitation,” he murmured, almost to himself, before reaching for your hand.

His touch was warm, firm, and commanding as he led you through the crowded club. The air inside felt suffocating now, charged with tension, but as soon as you stepped outside, the cool New Orleans night greeted you like a cleansing balm. Yet even the breeze couldn’t temper the heat coursing through your veins.

While you waited for the valet, Aaron stood close, closer than he needed to. The faint scent of his cologne lingered between you, earthy and rich, making it harder to think straight. His hand remained on yours, his thumb absentmindedly stroking your skin in small, soothing circles.

A tinge of self-preservation kicked in, and you fished your phone from your purse, typing a quick message in the group chat.

“Leaving with him. Keep an eye on my location.”

You hit send and glanced up at him, finding him watching you with a curious tilt of his head. “Taking precautions?” He asked, his voice low, teasing, but with an undercurrent of respect. “Of course.” you replied, meeting his gaze with a faint smirk. “You’re still a stranger, no matter how fine you are.” He chuckled, the sound rich and inviting, as the valet pulled up with his car, a sleek, black luxury vehicle that seemed to match the polished disposition he exuded. He opened the passenger door for you, stepping aside with a small bow that was both playful and impossibly smooth.

“After you, beautiful.” he said, his tone soft yet dripping with intent. You hesitated for the briefest moment, one last flicker of restraint threatening to pull you back. But then you stepped forward, sliding into the plush leather seat, the door closing behind you like the start of a story you’d never expected to write. As he rounded the car and slid into the driver’s seat, you couldn’t help but glance at him, a mixture of anticipation and trepidation swirling inside you. He caught your gaze and smiled, a slow, devastating twitch of his lips that seemed to promise everything and demand nothing.

The car ride was steeped in a quiet tension that buzzed between you like static electricity. Neither of you said much, but the silence wasn’t awkward ⸺ it was charged. Every so often, your eyes would meet, and in that brief exchange, a mutual understanding passed between you. This is really happening. Aaron’s right hand rested on your thigh, warm and firm against your skin. The casual intimacy of the gesture gave you goosebumps, but it also grounded you. His thumb occasionally traced small, idle circles, igniting tiny sparks that made your breath hitch. Meanwhile, he drove with practiced ease, his left hand guiding the sleek car through the city streets like he’d done it a hundred times before.

As the neon lights of the club district gave way to quieter, tree-lined roads, your heartbeat quickened. His place wasn’t far, and the realization settled over you with the weight of inevitability. You had crossed a line tonight, and every passing second carried you further from the point of no return. When he finally pulled into the driveway of a modern, elegant townhouse, he killed the engine and turned to you. His gaze was steady, his aquamarine eyes searching yours as if to make absolutely sure. “You ready?”

The words were simple, but the way he said them ⸺ low, careful, and tinged with concern, made your chest tighten. You nodded, your voice momentarily caught in your throat. “Yeah.” You managed softly. It was way too late to back out now, and honestly, you didn’t want to. Aaron smiled, a subtle grin that made your stomach flutter. He stepped out first, walking around to open your door.

Always the gentleman, it seemed, an unexpected touch for the man who now held the reins of this impulsive, reckless night. As you stepped out of the car, the cool night air brushed against your skin, heightening your senses. Aaron’s hand found yours again, his grip firm yet reassuring as he led you up the short walkway. The sound of your heels clicking against the pavement felt louder than it should have, like a drumbeat marking the anxiousness building between you. At the door, he paused, his keys in hand, and turned to face you one more time. “If you’re not sure, we can stop here.” he said, his timbre gentle but resolute. “No pressure, no hard feelings.” Your heart raced at his sincerity, but there was no hesitation left in you now.

“I’m sure.” you reassured, your voice steady this time. You were so fucking sure. With a small nod, he unlocked the door, holding it open for you as you stepped into his world, leaving everything else behind.

You barely made it through the threshold before you were engaged in a steamy kiss, and you were ripping each other’s clothes off like it was the end of the world. Patience was no longer a virtue, the only thing that mattered was the dare you had to complete. You two left a trail of clothes to the bedroom, where he pushed you down on the bed and demanded that you get in your favorite position. He would take you anyway you wanted. Without a second thought you rolled over on your stomach, pushing your ass out with your top half pressed firmly against the bed. The arch in your back made him hiss. You spread your legs just wide enough so that he could see your plump sex. “That’s a pretty pussy. Almost as beautiful as you.” He commented as he walked up behind you, slamming both of his hands down on your ass before he kneeled down behind you and released a wad of spit onto your throbbing mound. His tongue followed, gliding up and down your leaking slit with precision, he moaned as he tasted you.

Your nectar satisfying the male’s natural sweet tooth as he continued to indulge himself in your waters. “Oh my god…Aaron.” You squealed as his tongue ventured inside of you, caressing your walls as he thumbed your clit in a slow, figure eight motion. “You’re gonna make me cum already!” You exclaim, causing him to pop his plump lips off of your southern lips.

“Not yet…this is a one night stand.” He mumbled as he stood up behind you, gripping your waist and positioning you just right. He gripped his manhood in his hand and he slowly worked his tip up and down your opening, watching as your glaze coats his thick tip. “That means I got you all night.” He uttered as he slid inside of you, your walls clenching tightly to envelope him inside like a glove. You whimpered with every inch, he had your husband by at least three inches, but you were a determined one. You relaxed your body fully as he buried himself inside. “Good girl, keep opening up for me.” He praised, and you listened, forcing your walls to take every bit of his manhood until his body was flushed with yours.

“You feel so good…” You bellowed, clawing at the comforter underneath you as he began to stroke. He patterned in and out of your slick cunt, your juices flooding his pole with every impel. It felt like his dick was made perfectly for you, like you settled with the wrong man way too soon. All the time, your soulmate was less 500 miles away.

“You dripping all over my dick, baby. Who got you this wet?” The question was a rhetorical, but got dammit, the man had a right to know that he was doing his big one.

“You! Only you…” You replied breathlessly as you began to counteract his grinding with your own. Throwing your ass back at him, the sweat and other natural fluids from your bodies causing your plump cheeks to glue to him each and every time you pushed back. He grunted, encouraging you to continue fucking him back, the more comfortable you got with his size, the more you took, until you were sliding down on his entire cock, ramming into his pelvis. You were fucking him like you would never get the chance to again, because that was your reality.

The phone rings, and for a second, everything stops.

“Uh oh, is that hubby calling?” The male asked in a gruff tone as he placed his hand in the center of your back, slamming his pelvis into your plump cheeks, plummeting his manhood deeper and deeper into your guts. Before you knew it, he was handing you your phone, without even thinking you took it in your trembling hand. You had two missed FaceTime calls, and now he was calling on the regular cell. He had somehow gotten through the do not disturb function, even though he wasn’t on the approved list. “Answer it.” He demanded, bringing his hand up into the air before he smacked it down on your ass, undoubtedly leaving a palm shaped bruise.

“N-no…” You stuttered as he continued to thrust deeper into your abyss, his curved tip thrashing against your g-spot.

“I’m not gonna tell you again, beautiful. Answer it.” He directed once more, his strokes slacking up some until he completely stopped, leaving you full of his girth; your bodies pressed together.

The phone rang again, and this time you accepted the call. “Hey…babe, hey…” You slurred, trying to make it seem like you were drunk, even though the only thing intoxicating you was the man leaning over you, now pressing kisses to your shoulder as he stroked you deeply. You bit down into your lip, masking a moan as the familiar tone came through the phone. You clumsily hit the speaker phone and laid the device next to you.

“Hey, I was just checking on you. I know y’all were going out tonight. Did you have fun?” Derrick asked casually. Aaron chuckled in your ear, only loud enough for you to hear it. “Sounds like you had fun, you slurring your words.”

“Y-yes….so much fun! C-Can I call you back? The service isn’t good out here.” You powered through, despite being long dicked through your conversation with your spouse. Before he could even answer, Aaron reached over and ended the call. Kicking his foot up onto the mattress, he abandoned his steady, pointed strokes for brutal, merciless thrusts, sending shockwaves through your body. “FUCK! Right there, right there!”

“Your husband doesn’t fuck you this good does he?” He asked as he slipped in and out of your fortress with clear intentions, he wanted you to think of him even when you went back home. Even when it was your husband behind you. You shook your head no, but that just wasn’t good enough for him. He slid his hand into your fresh silk press and wrapped your tresses around his hand, yanking your hair until your back was flushed with his torso. He turned his head, planting soft kisses on your earlobe before he spoke again. “Answer me. Use your words.” Both of his hands wrapped around your body, one landing on your neck, and the other against your throbbing sensitivity.

He squeezed the column of your neck, while slapping his hand down on your clit to provoke an answer from you. “No! He could never fuck me like you…” You declared boldly. One night with this man and you had already thrown your husband’s boring bedroom skills under the bus. Your silk-lined walls spazzed, your clit pulsated with anticipation as your stomach muscles tightened. The curl of your toes told a story, the contortion of your face was the foreword. You were about to unravel, harder than ever before. He needed no introduction to your orgasm, he could feel you tightening around him. “That’s it princess, gimme what I want.” He encouraged as he sent one more swift pop to your engorged bundle of nerves, sending your body into a frenzy as you came. Frothy, ivory cum coated the latex between the two of you as a shrill cry left your lips. “Shit…shit…” you cursed as he placed another kiss to your temple.

“Keep cumming like that and I might have to keep you.” He murmured, a promise he couldn’t keep. He slid out of you, only for a moment to replace the condom. Grabbing your leg, he used it to flip you over on your back. He positioned himself between your thick thighs, pushing them up to your chest as he tapped his throbbing tip against your sensitive clit. He didn’t waste time entering you once again, pressing both of his hands on each side of your head as he leaned down on top of you. His gold cross pendant dangled right over your line of sight. The symbol was so fitting, because he was nailing you to that motherfucka.

This had to be the most dangerous position. His gaze felt like something you weren’t sure you could pull back from. Those piercing blue eyes of his—deep and endless like the ocean—held you captive, silently daring you to dive in, to let go of everything else. The sexually charged as the air between you thickened, it became harder to grasp onto reason. All you could focus on was the way his skillful phallus edges you closer and closer to glory.

“You don’t love him…who do you love?”

“I love you!” You blurted out mindlessly. You didn’t love this man, you’d just met him. But you absolutely loved the way he felt inside of you, so, same thing?

“I love you too,” He retorted, pressing his lips to yours to steal a few kisses. “Keep giving me this pussy, make me nut.” He grunted as he closed any gaps between the two of you, his sticky, sweaty frame clinging to yours. The religious symbol carved from gold swayed above your mouth as he defiled you. You impulsively grabbed the pendant with your teeth and held onto it, causing the male to growl in response. “Sexy ass…” Your action clearly arousing him, you could feel his erection twitch insiders of your fortress.

You wrapped your hands around his waist, letting them fall further down to his muscular ass, sinking your french manicure into his skin and holding him in place. “You wanna nut so, bad. let me feel you, daddy…” you purr into his ear, and lock clockwork his entire body tenses, he gives you a few more choppy strokes, a throaty snarl covering a string of obscenities as he filled the latex between the two of you, another orgasm ripping through your own body simultaneously. The two of you laid there in silence for a few moments; enjoying the feeling of your bodies sticking together. Finally, he reached between you and pulled out. Placing a soft kiss against your duo before pulling away all together.

You watched as he swaggered to the bathroom, his beautiful round butt on display. You’d just cheated on your husband, and you honestly had no regrets. He would never know, you would get back to your life in a few days and forget this ever happened. Or would you?

You heard the sound of the toilet flush before he walked back out to you, in all his glory. “You okay?” He asked, your lips curved up into a smirk. “Let me get you some water…”

As promised, he made you touch every wall in the house. From the kitchen while he was “getting water” to the living room floor, back down to the hallway, until you circled back to the shower and ended in the bedroom again.

Normally, you loved the sunrise ⸺ it was your favorite time of day. You were an early riser, always savoring the quiet peace of dawn. But today, you hated it. The soft, golden light spilling through the curtains was an unwelcome reminder that your night with Aaron had come to an end, and reality was waiting just outside that door.

Carefully, you slid out of bed, moving as quietly as possible to avoid waking him. His steady breathing filled the room, and for a moment, you paused, watching the way the morning light kissed his face. He looked so peaceful, so perfect, and it only made it harder to leave.

You tiptoed around out of the room, gathering your clothes from where they’d been discarded the night before. Piece by piece, you dressed in silence, your movements deliberate, almost hesitant, as if you were trying to hold on to the last remnants of the night.

But as you reached the front door, a tug of longing made you stop. You couldn’t leave ⸺ not yet. You needed one last look at him.

Turning back, you crept down the hall and peeked into the bedroom. Your heart stuttered when you saw him staring back at you, his dreamy eyes half-lidded as he rubbed the sleep from them. His voice, low and raspy from sleep, broke the silence. “You were just gonna leave like that?” The corners of his lips displayed a faint smile, and the vulnerability in his tone hit you harder than you expected.

“Yeah, before you make it even harder to leave,” you admitted with a matching smile, your voice barely above a whisper. You lingered at the doorframe, taking in the sight of him one last time, trying to commit it all to memory. “Goodbye, Aaron. Thank you for last night.”

The sincerity in your words hung between you, unspoken truths layered beneath them.

He propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes searching yours. “Before you leave… what’s your name?”

You hesitated, your lips parting as if to tell him, but instead, you offered a soft, enigmatic smile. “Let’s just leave it as ‘Beautiful,’” you said, the words laced with finality and a hint of playfulness.

Aaron leaned back, his smile widening as he chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Beautiful it is.”

Without another word, you turned and slipped out of the room. Outside, your best friends were waiting for you, their faces alight with curiosity and mischief. They immediately bombarded you with questions, eager for every last detail. But as you settled into the car’s backseat, you held onto the memory of last night, knowing some moments were better left unspoken, cherished in quiet secrecy.

[asmolfolk]

Lilia Vanrouge; "Army Dreamers".

ਈՉ࣪﹑Lilia x Reader.﹗ִ❀ ᘏTW: Death.﹗ִ❀ ᘏGenre: Angst/Comfort (?)﹗ִ❀

It's mostly just an idea vomitting idea tbh? I'm listening to this song on repeat so... Yeah. The only thing that I think it's important to know: The only appearence related thing mentioned was your eyes in a very vague way.

Imagine being the one and only person he would let go with him to anywhere. The one who had left a mark on him... A troublesome fellow, someone he wouldn't dare to let himself fall for... However, when you are all he can think about, all he can search for... It takes another whole act to try to put together. You, who keep reencarnating, with him, who keept searching for you.

When Lilia first met you, he was a ‘Teen Fae’. It was a bit after the first human-fae war, you were one of the humans that decided to move to Briar Valley to escape the hatred from other humans.  He could never understand how could a being be so hateful towards their own... But he supposed it was never about logics at all. 

 You were... Bright. Brighter than the sun and stars together, brighter than fire magic and any candle... You would make him give you some smiles, sometimes. You always said how you wanted to be a singer, to show the world the songs you wrote – you dreamed about being in something that [nowadays] would be close to a rockstar. You would tell him all about your dreams, show him your songs, showing him your big plans... 

 But oh. You never had the money for that, have you? 

 Supporting your family, trying to keep your house and managing a bakery, all in your own. You were exhausting yourself and it didn’t matter anything that Lilia said, you never stopped. You were always bubbling about needing to help someone. 

 You were naive, trusted that the world would give the effort you put on others back to you. You naively thought that you didn’t need to rush. 

 And then it happened, the first death that he saw ever since he had met you. It was a normal day, a normal day that he decided to let you wander off as he bought an instrument for you. It was supposed to be a surprise, but your body was on the ground [dead] 

 You were killed and he didn’t know who did it. 

 The second time, he didn’t even realize it was you. He felt a flick around you but didn’t act on it. He kept his distance around you, you were – again a human. You would often try to talk with fairies on the woods, he never answered your calls.  Again, too naive. Maybe it was because you were just a teen trying to fit in. It didn’t take too long before you were attacked, this time, he knew who did it [By accident] but what an unfortunate event. 

 He left flowers in your grave, never once letting them die... After a year or so, he stopped coming by your grave. He told himself that he couldn't keep doing this. 

Then the third came. You were a dreamer, once more, wanting to be a politician. You constantly talked to yourself as you sat on the same damn forest your last reincarnation was killed. You used to write about new rules you would do. 

You didn’t care what role in royalty, you just wanted to help make everything be nice and smooth. 

   About how things would change once you got power. Oh, how unfortunate – You never had the education for that. Never. 

He could see it in your dreamy eyes, there was no thought behind those eyes – nothing but simply the need to make the world a better place. Your blabbering was sweet but... Was nothing at the same time. Promises can’t make deals and, just like that, you kept dreaming. 

And dreaming. 

And dreaming. 

...And dreaming. 

Until you couldn’t awake no more. 

He was present in every life you were in. He was a mentor, a crush, the guy that you kept yapping about... Just the love of your soul, wasn’t him? 

 You were the most different looking – the kind of ‘Cinderella’ story. He didn’t interact much with you either, he just let you go when you wanted to. Didn’t held you, didn’t think about you – it was better this way. 

Another war had begun after all, he couldn’t be thinking about you – about what it could be. 

This time, however. Things were... Too different. You were one of the... Politicians, seems like you realized the dream you once had, hm? You were the frontline, trying your best to be the strongest of all.   Your King, the one who made you one of his ‘negotiators’, made you go in a mission... An almost suicidal one. 

Lilia didn’t want to look soft to his soldiers when you appeared. You always looked gorgeous, he always would notice who you were [your eyes, the windows of your soul always showed him exactly who you were.] and it wasn’t different here. 

He knew you weren’t there to actually help, you were in a mission. But he indulged you, not only for himself but to get information. He didn’t expect, however, to be able to just... Change your way of thinking. 

Maybe it was the way he managed to ‘humanize’ the faes, making them seem like people in your eyes. The same eyes who, once looked at him with hate, now were full of... Pity, somehow.   You started questioning everything they teached you about.   Everything. 

And you stayed with him. You became his – in more ways than one – and neither him nor you did ever want to let it go. His soldiers recognized you as ‘the almighty’, the only one who managed to make Lilia go soft.   It was amazing.   Maybe... Just maybe, finally you would have a happy ending? Together with your beloved? 

It was one mistake. 

One tiny mistake. 

But he should know at this point, any mistake can take your life away from him. 

You died again, a betrayal that he wasn’t able to see. 

But a betrayal that made his hatred go deeper. 

Letting the fire burn the village, the traitor, everything that could be burned to the ground. 

He had it all... And he lost. 

Maybe that was his mistake, trying to be yours. Trying to make your life revolve around him, he thought for a second... What if you never met him? 

.

.

.

Your other lives never knew who he was. Well, of course, they knew he was General Lilia Vanrouge but never knew who was Lilia. The Lilia who always heard your talks, who fought for you, who would do anything it takes for you.   They lived, survived and died without meeting the very man they were waiting to meet. 

As he grew older, he couldn’t help but think about his earlier mindsets. Taking care of Malleus changed him, in more ways than one, and he – as selfish as he was – wanted you again. He always did, don’t get him wrong. 

But now, NOW, he knows that he could do it. 

He knows that – finally – he could be the man you need. One who already knows the tricks, who will protect you, save you from your constant deaths... One that can give you a happy ever after. 

But he never found you again. Nothing. He could find information about your old past lives, you were a Preacher, a Teacher, died too soon or were simply... Living as much as you could. He tried his best to try to find more, but he could only find those four. 

He tried to hide his constant searching from Silver and Malleus, but that simply wasn’t possible. 

Silver was intelligent, always were. He could easily notice when his father was being too much, his eyes would always look directly at Lilia – seeing him holding the paintings that he managed to steal get of you. In some way, you became a sort of altar for Silver. 

He would pour his feelings while looking at your pictures, asking questions, receiving no answers. 

Maybe the universe was trying to give a sign. Because as soon as the NRC would start, Silver was with your picture the day before. 

“You know... I always thought... How would be to meet you? If you are as bright as in some paintings, as serious as in others or... If you are just a new you.” He looked at the painting once more “Father missed you... I know he does. You were never there when I was born but... I miss you too... parent.” 

Maybe it was the tears, maybe it was the feeling of something he never had but COULD that have made him so... Emotional. He couldn’t control his tears; he tried to not let his tears on the painting [it had a safety glass at least] but he couldn’t help but lament. 

And then, there you were. The magicless student, as beautiful as the day Lilia had lost you, as beautiful as the paintings Silver saw. 

Oh. You were up to some fun things now, aren’t you prefect? 

[cherriegyuu]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C4skP1tuO6F/?igsh=MTNtamg3ZmM1aDgxbw==

Can u plssss make a husband mingyu fic of his daughter absolutely hating his haircut go from long to extremely short causing him to sulk and hate his own hair then y/n having to comfort him😭😭 this video legit reminded me of this instantly idek how

i'm not supposed to be taking requests but this was just something that stuck to my mind ever since i read it. so here it is! i hope you like it! i'm also just in time for his birthday

when he cuts his hair

pairing: mingyu x fem!reader genre: fluff word count: 769 warnings: slightly suggestive not proofread

You did your best to contain your smile, or at least tried to hide it, as your daughter cried into your shoulder, her small tears soaking your shirt and her hands balled into tiny fists in your hair. Under normal circumstances, you’d have taken her hand away but in that moment, it seemed like the only option to have her calm down. 

Your husband sat on the couch, the blanket you kept on the back of it wrapped around his head and shoulder, as his eyes were two full moons in his face. Mingyu was a mixture of laughter and unwashed tears as he watched your daughter cry into you. 

“I didn’t know” his voice came out in a whine, his hold on the blanket tightening “I thought it would be okay”

Mingyu had left the house that morning saying “I’m going to cut hair, I’ll be right back”. He had kept his hair longer for almost a year and it was probably one of your daughter’s favorite things about him — that and also the fact that Mingyu even existed. “Not only does she look like you the most but she also loves you the most” you’d half-heartily complain sometimes. 

It became some sort of routine, if she fell asleep with Mingyu around, she’d most definitely have her hand in his hair. Logically and rationally you knew that Hanna wouldn't like the new haircut, but you also didn’t think that it would be that much of a big deal. What you also didn’t expect was for Mingyu to come back with the shortest hair you have ever seen on him. 

You had known Mingyu for roughly twelve years and he always kept his hair on the longer side. While the sight was a fantastic one, Hanna didn’t seem to share the same idea. 

She ran to the door excitedly the second she heard the sound of keys on the lock to greet her dad. She had the biggest smile on her face and then it just disappeared as she took in her dad’s new look. Her small features contorted and her eyes filled with tears and she ran back to you, hiding behind your legs.

Like he usually did, Mingyu kneeled to welcome the hug that always came but this time there was none. 

You wished you had recorded the whole thing, the way Hanna started to scream her lungs out because “not daddy” and Mingyu was a few seconds away from crying. 

“Hanna” you cooed “you don’t want to say hi to daddy? He missed while he was away”

She shook her head.

“Not daddy,” she said again, the new tears coming down her face.

It took you a good hour to get her to settle down and sleep. Her body still shook with sobs when you put her in bed. 

Mingyu was in the living room, in the same exact position as before, the blanket still wrapped around his head. His eyes were sort of lost until he finally seemed to notice you were back. Once again his eyes were filled with tears. 

“Babe, no, it’s fine,” you said, approaching him. 

When you were close enough he pulled you to him, hands around your waist and his head resting on your stomach. Slowly you pulled the blanket away from him and ran your hand over his hair. There wasn't a lot to hold onto, there was barely any hair in between your fingers, just a little more at the top for a quiff.

“She hates me now,” he complained.

There were these moments when it was hard to tell who was actually the 2 year old and who was the grown man.

“She doesn't, she just needs to get used to it. You're her favorite person” you assure him “She's just surprised. When you left there was hair in your head”

Mingyu groaned at your laugh.

“I just wanted to try something different”

You held his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. Mingyu rested his chin on your stomach, beautiful dark eyes looking back at you.

“Do you like it, at least?”

You bit your lips, trying to keep yourself from saying that maybe you didn’t like it as much, that your favorite hair was that middle ground between short and longer. 

“You look younger” your words were slow, a little careful.

He groaned, pretending to cry, his arms getting even tighter around you. 

“Both of you hate it”

You bent forward and placed a kiss on his nose and then his lips until his pout was replaced by a smile. 

“At least there’s a little bit to hold on to”

taglist: @wonwooz1, @mirtaspace, @feat-sun, @belladaises, @immabecreepin, @miriamxsworld, @aaniag, @byunparklimchoi, @k-drama-adict, @maiamorrrrrrrrrrrr, @roguesthetic, @sofix-hc7, @moonlightgrleric, @mixling-blog, @haowonbins, @valgracia, @slut4donghyuck, @muantuankim, @shuabby1994, @sukiscones, @plumings, @aaa-sia, @bouclesdefeu, @hyangg11, @sea-moon-star, @writingbarnes, @strawberryroseee, @lovely-ficsfor-me, @lixisoul99, @jjeongddol, @whoa-jo, @poiibbtt, @seokqt, @palmsugr

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[cyucya]

Psychoanalyzing your Sonadow's perspectives on SC, because that recent post got my gears spinning.

Shadow first cause I have a more solid idea on him. I don’t think he ever wanted to be a parent. He doesn't hate kids, but he doesn't like them either. Whether SC was planned or not, his birth likely pushed Shadow into convincing himself, "Okay, I'm the ultimate lifeform, I should have progeny to continue my legacy." Then SC was powerless, and Shadow took that personally. On a logical level, he doesn't blame SC for being the way he is, and knows the kid deserves to be treated right. But every time he sees SC he is just overwhelmed with frustration and disappointment, because that's his kid, his genetics. The Ultimate Lifeform shouldn't have been able to produce something so weak, and the fact he did is an attack against his pride. So that, (plus his ever growing frustration towards Sonic,) leaves him taking that out on SC. "Why can't my kid just be better already? I'm meant to be perfect!"

For Sonic, I think the idea of being a parent was a fun novelty for him. He raised Tails, he loved hanging out with Cream on their adventures, having his own kid was gonna be so fun! He married Shadow because he loved the way Shadow could keep up with him in a way no one else could, and now he could have his own kid who can do the same? He'd take the lil guy on so many adventures once he's old enough! Then SC turned out to be powerless, and it shattered those dreams. Now he has to face the fact that parenting isn't some fun activity, and has actual responsibilities. If someone were to ask, he'd say he loves SC dearly, and truly believe that. But what he wants is to be the cool hero for his kid to look up to and be inspired by, without having to stick around long enough to deal with the chore of actually raising a kid who can only slow him down.

I'm a big fan of this one! Love it so much, thanks for sharing 💞

[oddyseye]

I cannot stand the idea of Athena and Odysseus as a couple.

It's disgusting, it's weird, and honestly, it's the biggest insult to brain cells since mortals started thinking they could sail without checking the stars. But — and this is a big, glorious, golden but — the headcannon of every other Olympian thinks they’re lovers? That’s comedy gold. Athena, the eternal virgin, the impenetrable fortress of logic, brought low by the rumor mill of her own family. Hera: Alright, Athena, let’s talk about the wedding. So, for the dress—or should we go with a suit? Athena: Wait, what? Wedding? Who’s talking about a wedding? Hera: Oh, don’t play coy. You and Odysseus? It’s practically written in the stars. I’m thinking something classic, maybe a gown— Athena: Married?! I’m not marrying anyone! Hera: You can’t hide it forever, darling. A goddess like you deserves a big, beautiful wedding. Athena: Wedding? Hera, what in Olympus are you talking about? I’m not marrying anyone, let alone Odysseus! Zeus: She’s right, Hera. This is ridiculous. Athena marrying Odysseus? Over my dead lightning bolt. Hera: Zeus. Zeus: Uh… or… or maybe it’s a great idea? Love is beautiful. Yes, beautiful. Proceed. Athena: WHAT?! I’m not even in a relationship! Odysseus is a mortal man, and I see him as a son! A son! Aphrodite: Oh, spare us the dramatics, Athena. Everyone knows you’ve got a soft spot for him. You’ve been “mentoring” him for how long now? Athena: He’s my student, Aphrodite. I teach him. That’s it. Poseidon: I hate Odysseus. And I hate you for even considering this. But if you’re hell-bent on it, I suppose it’s your disaster to manage. Athena: I am not considering this! I— Dionysus: I’m here for whatever, as long as there’s wine. Athena, if you’re going through with this, I’ll make sure the reception’s lit. Athena: Dionysus, I am NOT getting married! Stop encouraging this! Dionysus: Hey, I’m just offering a little fun. You’ll need it after dealing with that guy. Right, cutie? Apollo: We are NOT friends, do NOT talk to me. Hermes: Athena, come on, you don’t want to marry a mortal? This mortal? You’ve spent so much time with him. Maybe you’re just too proud to admit it. Athena: Hermes, I will smite you where you stand— Hestia: Everyone, calm down. Athena, they’re just teasing you. But if you ever did want to settle down, it’s not the worst thing. Athena: It is the worst thing. This conversation is the worst thing. Hades: Marriage isn’t so bad. Persephone and I have made it work. Persephone: Exactly. And that mortal of yours is resourceful. That’s not a bad trait to have in a partner. Athena: He is not my partner! He’s a mortal — a mortal that I’m mentoring! Demeter: Mentoring. Sure. You keep telling yourself that. Athena: Demeter, don’t start. I mean it. Artemis: I don’t see why she has to marry anyone. Athena, I’m with you. Stay single. Keep your dignity. Athena: Thank you, Artemis. Artemis: But if you did marry him, it wouldn’t be the worst thing. He is brave. Athena: Artemis?! Zeus:....I still think this is a terrible idea… Hera: Zeus, sighing: Fine. I love it. Best idea ever. Carry on. Ares: He has to fight me to prove his worth! Athena: This conversation is over. Athena can’t even walk into the room without someone winking at her or asking how “her mortal boy toy” is doing. Zeus, king of being gross, looking genuinely scandalized for once. Hera planning her “totally hypothetical” wedding. What really gets me, though, is the idea that none of them even care about her protests. She could swear on the River Styx that she sees Odysseus as a son, and they’d still be like, “Sure, sweetie. Your son.” Meanwhile, she’s losing her helmet over it, and it’s just... chef’s kiss. Peak entertainment. I hate the ship, but I love the chaos.

[rouge-fauna]

Given that the “If YouTubers Were Honest” video seems to be the breaking point talked about by both Dream in his stream and Tommy in his recent podcast, I kinda wanna talk about it a little more for a second.

(note: I haven’t seen the podcast because I refuse to pay and missed my opportunity when it was on YouTube but here are a couple summaries/transcripts of both it and Dream’s stream from two different pastebins).

First off, personally, I don’t even find the video funny. (I mean the best part is arguably the Philza rap, but anyways.) Clearly, Dream was massively hurt by it, as he says in his stream and as evident by the scathing text messages he evidently sent to Tommy afterwards. But I don’t think it’s hard to see why he’d be hurt. It’s already a painful situation, he’s already under fire from fans and then this just makes it worse. Dream and his family are currently dealing with doxing and scary things, meanwhile Tommy thinks it’s a good idea to make a video joking about it? wtf. That’s messed up any way you spin it in my mind. You can say the qsmp fans weren’t the people coming after Dream but we know this isn’t true, you can say the video didn’t make that big of a difference but it has 2.2 millions views so I hardly think so. If we know anything about the internet it’s that often humor goes over people’s heads.

The biggest argument made by Tommy that is also mentioned by Tubbo recently, is that the video is satire, and a joke so it was supposed to be funny and not taken seriously. But here’s the thing, satire is based on truth. It’s using irony, sarcasm, exaggeration of truths widely known in a humorous way to humiliate someone or a group of people, often to point out a flaw or corruption and such. One of the most famous satires is A Modest Proposal by Jonathan Smith which suggests that in order to solve the problems of poverty in Ireland the poor should butcher their children and sell them for food for the rich. This is ridiculous, but also based in truth right? Ireland was actually dealing with poverty and starvation as a result of over population so why not eat the children. Technically, as ridiculous as it is, it is still based on truth even if an extremely over the top answer with crazy reasoning. But technically speaking, it would solve the issues that exist. That’s part of why it works to make fun of the corruption and poor logic of the elite and politicians, as well as their callousness toward the suffering people of the lower class. Satire is the extension of irony and irony is based off of the truth. Dramatic irony is when the audience knows something the character does not, which makes what the character does problematic often in a funny or tragic way. If you’ve seen Wicked then a foreshadowing dramatic irony in the song “The Wizard and I” is about how ‘there will be a day where all of Oz celebrates her and she’ll be so happy she can melt’, which the audience knows is pretty true from The Wizard of Oz, only her melting is her death and all of Oz celebrates that. It’s true, that’s what makes it funny or tragic and satire is just the extreme extension of that.

What Tommy did, was not the truth. He lied, something Dream specifically points out as a main problem he had with the video. Tommy didn’t do satire, he wasn’t highlighting a specific flaw in Dream and Quackity or irony in the situation, he just painted a narrative that wasn’t true and used that to make fun of Dream. That’s the problem with it, that’s why it’s hurtful and not funny (in my opinion). It’s missing the satirical elements of irony and sarcasm that come from being clever with the truth. And that’s why Dream was hurt by it because Tommy made a video lying about a situation where people were already rallying against him, to an audience who already hates him. Tommy just straight up made fun of Dream for laughs in one of the lowest points in Dream’s life.

Even further, what’s also flawed with the argument that it was just a joke is what Tommy says in the podcast

“He didn’t expect Dream to snap at him over the “If YouTubers Were Honest” video. He used that video to test Dream because he had many friends telling him that Dream’s a bad person but Tommy told them no and didn’t believe them. After he posted the video, Dream sent him a very long angry message that was full of horrible words, which made Tommy realize Dream’s a bad guy.”

Tommy didn’t expect Dream to snap? But also did it as a test? Seriously?! Oh let me see how far I can make fun of Dream until he snaps at me and when he does this confirms he’s a bad guy… it’s just a joke my ass, you didn’t just make a video for laughs, you made it in your own words to test Dream and your friendship, furthermore to test how far you could push him until he snaps (<- huh wouldn’t you know, isn’t that a familiar idea…). During a time when you know his mental health is suffering and he and his family are being actively doxxed. That’s just insane. That’s like… like… it’s so wild I’m struggling for an analogy… it’s like kicking a starving animal to test how dangerous it is and then after it finally bites you, labeling it a danger to society…

In summary, Tommy didn’t make a satirical video joking about Dream, he performed a humiliating skit about Dream, making fun of him. In order to test if Dream would snap at him and then labels Dream a bad guy when he does…

[olderthannetfic]

There is something confusing to me about older queer people (which is to say, older than I am, at a relatively young 24 years old) who get mad at original fiction whose worldbuilding involves neopronouns. I'm hoping maybe, ONTF, since you've been in queer spaces a lot longer than I have, you can explain why people have such a negative reaction to the idea.

Basically, I'm working on a novel based that takes white-throated sparrow biology and uses it for building blocks in the same way A/B/O takes (now debunked) wolf science and used it for building blocks. This means there are essentially four genders, the two viewed as more intelligent (brown-haired men and women) and the two viewed as more physical (white-haired men and women). Those two groups then get further divided along the lines of 'women are better at making smart decisions under pressure' and 'men are better at staying home and defending the children, as God intended'.

So it seemed natural to me that this worldwide quaternary system would result in at least some languages having pronoun sets for each of the four options. Some languages in real life have more complicated pronoun systems than that, particularly ones where there's a bunch of formal and informal pronouns. It'd also help the reader keep track of who was a part of what group without my having to turn around and state people's coloration constantly. Yes, these people are human, just as humans in A/B/O are, but society is fundamentally very different. I'm not throwing this in to just complicate things or sound smart or something. It's here because my minoring in Anthropology and majoring in Linguistics taught me language usage reflects the needs and values of a people.

The writing group I'm a part of IRL is mostly queer, mostly 40+, with some cishet women who are also present and active writers. The writing group I'm a part of on DW is mostly DWRPers, in their 30's and up, though no older than 50, and entirely queer. I did not expect these to be groups that were uncomfortable with the idea of "different world, different pronouns".

Instead the reception has ranged from suggestions it's pretentious or overthinking things to requests I reconsider doing it. I've been informed this could be seen as mocking the real life queer people who go by pronouns other than she, he, or they. One person asked if this was went to be me "artificially justifying" nonbinary pronouns and implying I didn't find them valid in the real world. That was an awkward conversation, to say the least.

In reality I wasn't really thinking about real life people who use nonbinary pronouns when I was writing. I was just asking, "Logically, wouldn't it make sense for things to work very differently under a quarternary than it does under a modern European binary?" and following my brain along to its' conclusions as it processed that.

I have gotten zero negative feedback from my queer friends my age regarding this. So obviously, generation and the experiences informing a generational context are key, here. I'm just... still lost on how anyone finds this objectionable.

Help?

--

Ahaha. Oh god.

Well, as a reader of sff in the 90s, the first reaction I have to such things is "IS THERE A CONLANG AND A MAP?" Because, man, the conlang people were some of the most tedious motherfuckers I ever had to deal with in sff spaces.

But broadly... I think the reasons queer people get annoyed about this stuff boil down to a couple of big factors:

Disrespectful children who don't know history

Idiot old people harrumphing about "history" they clearly failed to pay attention to while it was going on in the first place

I personally hate being asked to use new words most of the time. A few bits of fandom slang I'll pick up at once, but I'm usually like "Why would I call it 'spirk'? We already have 'K/S'!" *shakes cane*

If you're American, they're your "roommate", not your "flatmate". No, I don't care how much more precise this foreign term is, you pretentious wanker. (But then I'll use 'wanker' because fandom adopted that years ago...)

So my reaction to being asked to say aloud any pronoun not in very frequent circulation in my offline life is "Urrrgh. Do I have to?"

However, the reality is that people have been messing around with pronouns in English since forever. Do you see 'heo' in Modern English? No, you do not! (Not that it was gender neutral, but the point is that even words as ancient as pronouns have changed quite a bit.) The early internet was full of pronoun stuff in MUDs and the like. You had a choice of a lot more than just three in a bunch of these. People besides men and women have always been in queer communities.

So some people like to cry about neopronouns being actually neo, and they're just wrong.

As for the why do you care part...

There is a nasty habit in contemporary queer spaces to act like gay rights issues are solved. Bisexuality? Passe! etc. Gays and lesbians finally got a little mainstream acceptance only to suddenly be treated like the worst of the establishment by the queer youth. How dare?!?! It's even more egregious with bisexuality where the focus of a bunch of queer activism finally swung that way in the 90s... only to be sharply cut off in the 00s.

There's a real "You already got yours. Where's mine?" vibe to some queer discourse today, and it's directed at people who never got theirs. It shows up in demands for mentorship by people who've barely had a chance to escape a rocky start and figure out who they are themselves. It shows up in yowling about this or that bit of queer media we finally got not being progressive because it's the wrong letter of the acronym.

None of which has a damn thing to do with what pronouns you use in your novel, obviously, but I think some unresolved embattled feelings are why some older queer people are very weird about pronouns.

Some of them are also doing the old person version of throwing the weirdos under the bus to placate the normies. Respectability politics became a term long before the behavior was rife on tumblr.

--

If someone really does find it pretentious, though, and not just as a cover for crying about nonbinary identities being fake, I suspect they just remember how 1970s SFF was full of privileged anthropology students misunderstanding kinship systems from elsewhere in the world and then trying to tell everyone how ~deep~ their extremely contrived novels based on them were.

I'm not saying your writing is like this or that every one of these old sff novels was either, but when I hear "anthropology student", I groan internally. It's an instinctive reaction. It's less about the real fields and more about the bevvy of dilettantes I've run into over the years who'll say they study those things but really want to talk my ear off about Joseph fucking Campbell or the strong form of the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis or something.

--

Those birds are a really cool source of inspiration. Like with A/B/O, the first thing I wonder is how queerness works in that context and how much people like to defy their designated roles.

Omegaverse started on porn logic, so "The one I say tops always tops!" makes sense. When it gets expanded to try to make it make logical sense as a whole world, I often enjoy it, but it can break down quickly if treated as biology is law. I don't know how often the birds veer off of their set patterns, but humans certainly would.

One place where I get a strong "Oh god, this again" feeling from people's plotbunnies is when they're trying to make up a sff society that strikes me as too rigid in a way that real humans aren't. I'll see people using fake wolf biology (not just for horny reasons) but never looking at what's going on with gender in contemporary Thailand or whatever. Like... Le Guin may have made sedoretus feel plausible, but nobody I've ever seen stanning the concept as something fandom should play with has. That's probably because Le Guin was using over-complicated social norms as a thing that breaks down and causes trouble, and "This should be the next A/B/O!" posts are treating it as something that actually works and is a good way to get the pair you don't ship separated while shipping poly.

"It'd also help the reader keep track of who was a part of what group without my having to turn around and state people's coloration constantly."

This, in particular, gives me that cold shudder of recognition from when Homestuck fandom was everywhere and everyone wanted to over-explain those stupid playing card suits and why I should care.

Your concept sounds neat, and I think a set of four pronouns could easily make sense there...

But I also think that if people need the pronouns to keep track of coloration, you haven't set up a system that feels organic enough or haven't given enough cues about how characters are treating each other or why. Use the pronouns too, but just keep that in mind. It's like the "m/m is hard because the pronouns don't tell me whose hand is where" problem. It's almost never actually a pronoun problem.

--

Anyone else have thoughts here?

[xaharadesert]

Petite MC - Headcanon

Arcana Characters (Main 6) x MC

A/N: Can you believe that I wrote like 150 Arcana headcanon sets before someone asked for a petite mc? I feel like this is a classic that I missed out on in my early days. Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes :) requests are open!

❤️Julian❤️

He was already constantly filled with anxiety and an ever looming sense of dread, but meeting you has somehow increased it

Logically he knows that your size doesn’t diminish your many talents and capabilities, but he worries all the same

He likes to keep you in his line of sight, and in crowded spaces he’ll hold your hand or place one of his hands on your back or shoulder so you don’t disappear into the fray

Often he can be seen looking behind you, a bit hunched over so he can hear what you’re saying

He likes to think he looks like a scary guard dog, but depending on the circumstances there’s a good chance he looks even more scared than you

🧡Portia🧡

You can be short legends together

She hopes you’re okay with short jokes, because now that she has a partner who’s just as short as her, she’ll be making them all the time

Says you can tag team taking out people’s ankles if they piss you off

She really likes that she doesn’t have to worry about getting on her tiptoes to kiss you since you’re about the same height

Once joked about having you sit on her shoulders with a cloak to pretend to be Muriel while committing crimes

💛Lucio💛

Loves being the taller one in the relationship, it makes him feel strong and important

He’s always been a fan of heels (the higher the better), but he does appreciate that he can give his feet a break when he’s out with you

Does try to talk you into wearing heels for special events though; he says it’s more fun to look down at people

Makes short jokes when he’s feeling petty, but they’re not very well thought out, and mostly come down to “well, you’re short, and that’s bad because I say so”

Still feels really bad about this later, and insists that you should feel insulted even if you were totally unaffected

💚Muriel💚

He may actually cry from the stress

He’s always been uncomfortable aware of his own size, and that sensation is heightened whenever you’re around

If he bumps into you, you will be going down, and he is terrified of that

He tries to make himself smaller by hunching over whenever he’s standing or sitting next to you to draw less attention to the size difference (obviously it doesn’t work, and most people just pity him since he looks so awkward)

Hates that people are perceiving him as a sort of guard dog for you; he feels like the juxtaposition is leading to stereotyping, and you’ll need to reassure him that you don’t see him that way

💙Asra💙

You know, he’s never really noticed it all that much

Of course, on a physical level he knows you’re pretty small, but as someone who has always been right in the middle of short and tall, he doesn’t really see it as a very big deal

He does like that you’re just short enough to fit under his chin when he hugs you, but that’s about it

You don’t have to reach too far to give him a kiss, which is also a plus

And he’s already got plenty of step-stools around for reaching the top shelves, so there’s no need to ask (not that anything but decorations ever goes on those shelves anyway; if neither of you can reach them on your own, why bother giving them a practical use?)

💜Nadia💜

Adjusting to your height takes a bit of getting used to for her

She’s the type to wear heels and keep perfect posture, so she stands tall even among people of a similar height

She accidentally looks over your head until you call her attention down to you pretty often

Expect to be gifted plenty of heels or platform shoes early on in the relationship

She’s not particularly fond of the idea of abandoning her own heels, but if you struggle with yours then she’ll switch to something a bit more practical so she can kiss you more easily

She complained about neck pain exactly one (1) time, and silently prays that you never bring it up again to tease her

[soclearlytosee]

Stranger Things, Peter Pan, Mothers, and Wendys

Some Peter Pan artifact, I'd guess a Disney movie tie-in book, hanging out in Holly's room

I recently watched The Lost Boys and read Peter Pan (really Peter and Wendy in The Annotated Peter Pan but what version of the story is "the original" is infamously convoluted). 

The Lost Boys was a viewing experience that made me feel like I understood the Duffers’ whole deal in a completely new way - like watching Election finally made me understand what Ryan Murphy has actually been trying to do all this time. I know we’re always like Spielberg, King, Carpenter, etc but how much of this movie is in ST’s DNA is pretty wild, there even is a “barricading the house against a supernatural threat with everyday items as makeshift weapons" montage with a synth score. Joel Schumacher we gotta start giving you your proper due in this conversation, we do simply owe gay ppl everything (also as with any worthwhile ST reference to pull at @/threemanoperation has already been on this beat)

Anyways, The Lost Boys is a spiritual Peter Pan adaptation and one big current that shows up from its source text is a real preoccupation with the mother.

These aren’t the only ST reference texts with a lot of mom stuff going on. We’re getting probably the icon of genre movie motherhood herself with Linda Hamilton joining the show in s5, and pregnancy body horror is like the entire thing in extremely obvious ST creature design touchpoint Alien.

Terminator 2: Judgement Day

Linda Hamilton seems to be playing a female counterpoint to Brenner/Papa, so all signs point to them intentionally invoking that reference at least.

Joyce is our purest Spielberg mom: the harried single parent, doing her best, a bit eccentric. She’s taken a backseat in recent seasons, but a new maybe-Mama taking on Papa's mantle as s5’s primary human antagonist points to Joyce taking more of a lead again. 

Joyce seeming to spend a substantial chunk of s5 separated from Hopper gives me hope, as does her seeming to be the most connected with Henry of our ST-adult-cast-as-teens in The First Shadow. We heard Victor’s story last season, so turning to Virginia’s role in the tragedy of Henry might be another narrative element that pulls Joyce out as a foil.

One of our other established moms, Karen, also looks to be getting an expanded role in s5. If Holly is indeed taken by the military, she should join Joyce to take on Linda Hamilton (are we ever going to learn her character name good lord). 

If Joyce and Karen are our Mrs. Darlings, then we have the Wendy-coded among us: "mothergate" creator El, and Alienesque body horror victim/slug incubator Will.

Like Wendy, El and Will both have their own personal playhouses even within the broader kid kingdoms of Neverland, Mike’s basement, and the woods.

And, of course, once Wendy leaves Neverland and grows up, she has a daughter named Jane who eventually journeys to Neverland with Peter herself.

Wendy’s primary “power” in Peter Pan is storytelling, which lives with mothers in the book/play in a very fairy tale logic sort of way. Peter is initially attracted to the Darlings’ nursery window by Mrs. Darling’s bedtime stories. And that's the reason he is convinced to bring Wendy to Neverland (she "tempts him" with stories).

This actually convinces Peter to bring Wendy to Neverland even if he isn't so hot on the idea of mothers himself. "The Boy Who Hated Mothers" was a working title for Peter Pan the play.

There is an interesting relationship between storytelling and time in Peter Pan that probably deserves more exploration, maybe a topic for a later post. The residents of Neverland exist out of time, which means they can’t conceptualize beginnings or endings - and that's why they can’t tell stories and Wendy's ability to do so has such allure.

in Neverland, time has literally been killed

I still haven’t totally made sense of what this implies for our Neverlandesque-frozen-in-time Upside Down and El and friends’ preoccupation with stories in s5. But it feels significant in the final act of our coming-of-age story, especially considering why the Upside Down is stuck on November 6, 1986 is allegedly a driving mystery of what's to come, according to the Duffers.