#i also love it for shallow reasons like MUSCLES

[wildsaltair]

Gladiator is about remaining true to your honor even when you’ve lost all obligation to do so. it’s about avenging what you have lost without losing sight of who you are inside. it’s about honoring the wishes of the people you love most. it’s about duty and loyalty and love and redemption. it’s also about a man with the most astonishingly beautiful shoulders you’ve ever seen in your life

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Steve and Eddie work together in an aquarium, and Eddie is losing his mind. He's in love, he's got the most embarrassing crush, but Steve doesn't even notice him.

They barely interact, and Eddie only knows Steve's first name. He doubts Steve knows he exists, he's just one of many tour guides (but he's amazing with kids and especially teenagers, so he's actually a great tour guide, thank you very much!)

Back to Steve. Steve, with his lean muscles, easy smile, thick hair and beautiful, but somehow sad eyes. That Steve.

The Steve who works in the aquarium as a merman.

Eddie could watch him for hours, floating in the tank with grace Eddie didn't know existed, with his sparkly yellow mermaid tail, flowing hair and chest hair, and that man can hold his breath for so long? Think of the options, the possibilities!

The mermaid show is insanely popular among all the kids and teens, even adults. His best friend Chrissy was the one who recommended Eddie to the aquarium, she's the main mermaid, and god, if Eddie wasn't gay, she'd have him at her feet. She always looks so effortless, twirling underwater in her emerald green mermaid tail, spinning around Steve. They make such a beautiful pair, it makes Eddie want to weep.

Fortunately, she's already in a happy relationship, so Steve is reportedly still single. Chrissy makes Eddie massage her feet in the evenings - he offered, they're cramping from a bad fit of the tail - and graciously answers all Eddie's reasonable questions, such as "how do his hands feel?" ("Wet. We're swimming, remember?").

She keeps telling Eddie to ask Steve out, but Eddie isn't stupid. That man is the god Poseidon himself, and Eddie is but a humble crab in his kingdom. So he admires him from afar, longing, pining and making Chrissy's head hurt.

But Steve's just so good with kids, Eddie can't keep his mouth shut. He always mutters something to Steve as he's ushering the kids away. "Great show, sweetheart," or "I love that smile, Stevie," or "need help getting that tail off?" He's only a man, and no one can hear him.

Except for a nosy tour coordinator listening in through his earpiece, Robin Buckley. She also happens to be Steve's best friend, Chrissy's girlfriend, and a menace to society.

And maybe one day she tells Steve to just smooch the tour guide, maybe she spills a few of the longing whispers and wishful stares, but she's only human too. A human who's had to listen to Steve's ramblings about the cute guy who always pulls the kids' attention like a magnet, who even through the blurry glass tank seems to be having an amazing time. Steve sometimes asks Robin for an extra earpiece and listens to the rest of Eddie's tour after the show. He loves his enthusiasm. Once Eddie even drew a heart on Steve's tank, can you imagine that, Rob?!

Maybe Robin and Chrissy have to work together to give the two idiots what they need, because Eddie considers himself too nerdy and plain for Steve, ans Steve thinks he's too dumb and shallow for Eddie.

Maybe Chrissy fakes slipping into the mermaid tank and drags Eddie with her. Maybe Robin is there and quickly gets Steve to jump after him. Maybe she makes the innocent mistake of insuating that Eddie can't swim.

And maybe, when Steve and Eddie are back on firm ground, confused and wet, Chrissy splashes them with water and asks if pretending that it's mouth to mouth resuscitation would help, or if they can finally kiss and stop pining for each other.

And one more maybe...maybe in a few weeks, when Eddie ushers the children away after the show, he kisses his palm and presses it against the tank, and watches Steve do the same, before he can give him a proper kiss after their shift.

[aris-ink]

hii ari! i hope you are doing good! make sure to take care of yourself <3 your step bro fics are such faves of mine , omgg you are such an amazing writer <33 if you are doing requests, could you please write about step brother jungkook and same age reader , where the reader is sad or crying for some reason and jk ends up comforting her thru f*cking ?

hi! 💕 tysm, I love you and yes please 🥺 this wasn't very specific so I hope it's close to what you wanted <3 take care of yourself too angel <3

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: forbidden romance, step!siblings au

warnings: allusions to violence (not towards the reader), allusions to depression, pseudo incest, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of fingering & oral sex, praise kink, rough sex (but also very soft somehow bc jk is a total simp in love), creampie

Rain trickled down the windows of your bedroom, tapping rhythmically against the glass and blurring out the night. You felt blurry too, distorted, cheeks stained from tears, the wetness stuck in your eyelashes. Grabbing your face, Jungkook tried to kiss it all away. A tinge of color spread throughout your bones. The blurriness seemed to dissolve, clearer thoughts and sensations emerging. His warmth seeped into you, melting away the frigid numbness that had encased your soul.

He moved forward, knees bumping against yours, kissing you so desperately there was not an inch of space left between your bodies and not an ounce of air left in your lungs.

It wasn't always like this.

Usually, Jungkook took his time with you, relishing in every shallow breath and every little twitch of your limbs, sucking on your neck until it bruised. He liked to switch between finger fucking you in his lap and burying his face in between your legs, until you quivered under the sheets and his tongue made you forget your parents were sound asleep in the other room. Drunk on you, he used your mouth like a toy, praising you all the way through it, thighs tense and hard dick twitching in your throat.

There was no time for any of that tonight, though. You just wanted to feel real, wanted the heat and the weight of his body pinning you down, holding you together; and as always, Jungkook was there to provide. His hands were all over you, palming your ass before he pushed you down onto your bed, lips refusing to part from yours. He unclasped his belt buckle and unzipped his jeans, aching to be inside you, to take all your pain away and leave behind nothing but his marks. You received no warning and no time to prepare; your soaked underwear was pulled aside, and the next thing you knew Jungkook filled you up to the brim, groaning lowly into your mouth.

You arched beneath him, gasping, your cunt clenching so tightly he broke into sweat. With a quiet grunt, he pulled back out, cock pulsing and leaking; only to shove its entire, thick length back inside, wasting no time in setting an aggressive pace.

You squealed, grabbing onto his broad shoulders for support, legs wrapping around his waist for no more than a moment before the force of his thrusts made them slip back down. Even so, there was no escape from his powerful frame trapping you beneath him. Not even the clothes, messed up from being tugged at, seemed to create any barrier between you. You could still feel the heat of his skin bleeding through the cotton of his t-shirt, and each ripple of his muscles as he fucked you. The rest of the world was mist; the mattress groaning beneath you, the ticking of the clock that signaled your parents would be home soon, the stress and the weight of every long day dragging on. It became nothing but a cloud ghosting through your fingers, too close to the ground to bother you. Up high, the only thing you felt, heard and remembered was Jungkook. His tongue entwining with yours, the hoarse moans bordering on whines, barely muffled by his kiss; and the hot, white rapture coiling deep in your abdomen, spreading through you like a fever.

How selfish it was of him, to drag you down into the shadows where you did not belong. And yet they seemed kinder than the harsh, blinding light you were expected to walk in, welcoming and understanding of your sorrows. And sometimes, Jungkook couldn't help but wonder what would happen if you'd decide to leave one day and make a home with someone you didn't have to be ashamed of loving. Someone much less twisted and much more deserving of you. Someone who didn't need to stain their hands with blood out of a monstrous fear of losing you.

Hopeless, he ended the sloppy kiss, eyes dark and blown out when they looked into yours.

"Pretty," he choked out, swallowing down a whimper. "So pretty. Love you, love you, love you- fuuucck-"

The way you clenched around his cock made him pound you faster, the sound so wet and lewd he couldn't stop twitching inside you. He had a feeling your hips were going to get bruised, and with the way you clawed at his back and moaned his name, god, he hoped they would.

"Come with me," he breathed, voice shaky, ringed fingers grasping your chin.

You mewled, nodding your head, incapable of providing any other answer. Pressing his lips to yours, Jungkook used his free hand to hold on to your thigh, digging into the soft flesh.

"I got you, baby, I got you."

The soothing promise melted into a deep groan, the thread he was hanging on snapping unexpectedly when your cunt squeezed him tighter, gushing onto his cock. He stilled abruptly, letting the velvet heat of your walls massage him through his orgasm, emptying himself inside you completely.

A sigh.

Not bothered cleaning you up, he disconnected himself from you just to get undressed. Even if he had the energy for it, he was much happier knowing you were full of his cum, sated, your pretty pussy wet instead of your pretty eyes. He knew you had classes in the morning; he did too, and you both needed some sleep. He also knew he couldn't stay in your bed, because soon his father would walk in through the door, your mother following right after.

But just as much as Jungkook didn't want to leave you alone, he didn't want to sleep without you either. It was two am when he sneaked back into your bedroom, doing his best not to disturb your rest.

You stirred anyway, curling up to him as he wrapped his arms around you, his chin finding rest on the crown of your head. Wide awake, he laid in the dark, holding you close to his chest.

Tap tap tap.

It was still raining. His lips brushed against your hair as he glanced down at you.

"Baby?"

You hummed so softly he almost missed it. He ran his fingers down your thigh, like touching you eased his aches too, made spring bloom in the bleak winter of his own bones.

And it did.

"I wish I could-" he tried, then paused. So many words, so many languages, and yet nothing felt fitting enough. "... Sorry I can't love you the way you deserve," he whispered. "But I'll love you the way you need."

There was no reply; only the ongoing sound of rain and the softness of your even breathing. He didn't mind. He pressed a kiss into your forehead and closed his eyes.

Some secrets and promises were better off left in the dark, too.

[imagionationstation]

For the Dona AU, does anything change with the China Town episode with the spirit guy or the episode during the farmhouse arc with the demon car?

Also I know you’ve talked about how Karai and Leo feel about Donnie getting almost (from what I remember anyway) blown up but how does Splinter feel? Seeing his youngest daughter in such a critical state caused by his eldest daughter? Does bro get flashbacks to Tang Shen and the night of the fire? Or even flashbacks to his past relationship with his Shedder since they were brothers?

Also does Donnie ever feel like she has to live up to this ‘expectation’ that is/was Miwa before they find out about Karai? Does Donnie feel the need to be a good daughter or does she feel like a replacement or replaceable because of that or not? Idk I just thought about that.

I also keep thinking about how would Casey and Donnie end up together if they did and how the others would react? Like how would that play out if it does? What would be their dynamic?

I have been loving this btw and hope you are taking care of yourself

I hope you know that you are the reason that I lie awake at night and stare at the roof wondering what angst I inadvertently created.

I saw this ask and had to distance myself from the world to stare at it and contemplate just what I’m putting these people through in an AU that’s SUPPOSED to make things better.

Thank you for your contribution. I have no regrets.

This is PART 1 of this Ask because PART 2 is really long so I decided to split them up so I can focus wholly on one of the two topics.

"Also I know you’ve talked about how Karai and Leo feel about Donnie getting almost (from what I remember anyway) blown up but how does Splinter feel? Seeing his youngest daughter in such a critical state caused by his eldest daughter? Does bro get flashbacks to Tang Shen and the night of the fire? Or even flashbacks to his past relationship with his Shedder since they were brothers?"

“Sensei!”

All of his sons cries overlap, panicked and high as their feet slap against the ground. He immediately notes the missing voice from their call, looking toward them as they slow to step down into the pit.

“My children,” He breathes as he turns to them, eyes widening as he watches them lower their sister to the ground. Raphael pants as he breaks away from her, looking towards him with a harsh panic, explanation coming in a chopped words, “Factory! Explosion!”

Splinter lets this sink in, scanning Michelangelo’s worried eyes as he supports her. Leonardo’s hand rests against her chest to track every breath and his eyes do not leave his sister.

There are burns along her head and arms. Agony painted along every ridge muscle and shallow breath. She is in pain, scrapped and bruised from debris, little bits of metal in her skin. His brain twists the sight before him, sprinkling little reminders that it had been wood that had fallen, metal that had caused the worst damage, blood that had soaked through the three scars forever embedded in his mind.

April shifts beside him and he recalls where he is. Nobody in his arms, a fire left long behind, and his daughter suffering before him.

He feels the urge to go her, pull her in his arms, demand to know what happened- but that did not help Tang Shen. It will not help her. “Take her to the dojo. I will prepare the healing mantras.”

Two of his sons obey. Leonardo does not move, calling after him. He’s a distraction, but something in his voice halts him anyway.

“It’s my fault.”

Splinter inhales, sharp. He now sees the guilt that he'd mistaken as sorrow, reprimand plastered to his tongue.

He will not release it. Not yet.

He waits for an explanation.

“Karai and I- we were taking down Shredder’s operations. I thought we could end this! I’m-” He looks to the side, eyes squeezed shut, before they drop to the floor. “I’m sorry.”

“Yoshi, Saki, please! You are brothers!”

“Go, Shen.”

Splinter exhales softly and turns away. He goes to the dojo and trusts that Leonardo will follow. It’s not until he nears the scrolls that he finds the right words. “I have always warned you of vengeance. What it could cause. What it can take from you. Your honor. Your sense.”

“Saki! This whole place is coming down!”

“Then we shall both perish here!”

“I am disappointed in you, Leonardo.” He pauses, looking at the scroll in his hand, before he lowers it. “But I am proud you had the courage to admit your wrongdoing. For many… It is not so simple.”

“You only dishonor yourself! Always jealous, always scheming, always filled with hate!”

“If I had told the others what I was up to, they never would have gone into that building.” Leonardo scans his expression as he stands, waiting for the verdict, too focused on the past.

Splinter redirects him. “It is right that you should feel pain for your mistakes. But it is one thing to regret bad decisions after they are made. A leader must foresee how bad decisions lead to bad results.”

“PLEASE! STOP!”

His son follows his gaze to his sister and then bows his head.

“I’m sorry, Sensei.”

“I am not the one who needs an apology.”

He steps away to let him think his words over and to focus on his sister, so that Leonardo will be able to give one. So that he will have the opportunity for forgiveness that Splinter never got to know.

The lair is too quiet. April volunteers to check up on his sons, eyes lingering on her friend before she resolutely turns to leave.

Splinter is grateful that she does, for not long after, Donatello stirs.

“My daughter,” he breaths, light flickering from his hands. He goes immediately to cup her face, searching glazed eyes for the light that may have been stolen by the fire. “You are safe. I am here.”

She blinks, rapid and confused, as tears track down to Splinter’s hand. She whimpers, hand clamping over his wrist. “Pap-aaaah!”

“Breathe,” He soothes as she cries out. She squeezes, hard, moisture falling to his fur. “I-It hurts! What- why- why doh-”

“You are injured.” He brushes her face. “Burned. But you are healing.”

She only stares through him, disoriented and scared, even while leaning into his hand. Another whimper shrivels in her throat.

His eyes water, without his want or consent. He has no reason to be upset. She is alive. She needs him to be strong. “Rest, my daughter. You will not know this same pain when you awaken.”

She tries to move, lifting her leg and dropping it, gasping in air when it touches the ground. Her cry is drowned by a whine and he wishes there was a way to take her pain and make it his own.

“Silly ninja. It is not a father’s job to take the pain, my Yoshi. Only to soothe it. Here, let me.”

“Sleep, precious one.” He whispers in the same way that he had years ago when days were long and little turtle hands refused to still. “Papa will not let the world move far without you.”

Her fear lulls, tempered by the gentle safety of the past, a tiny chirp sliding from her tongue. He gives her that moment of calm and then touches the pressure point to knock her out. He gently lays her back down on the mat, resuming the mantra with steady hands.

April comes in to stand on Donatello’s other side.

“They’re not in the lair.”

Splinter gives no response. She kneels down.

They stay by Donatello’s side.

"I thought I could make this about taking down Shredder's organization. But it's too much of a risk going after petty targets just to spite him. I promise, I will no longer go after Shredder's possessions. I'll go after Shredder himself."

The hope that had begun to flicker in his chest dies as Miwa removes her blade from its sheath. She does not look back, leaving them all in the wake of her promise, and Splinter finds his hand outstretched.

He does not know what to do. He does not know what to say.

She saw the price of revenge, and she's still choosing to move forward. How can he stop this? How can he make her see sense?

He doesn't get to decide. A blur of motion charges past.

"NO!"

He sees the impact when Leonardo collides with her. He grabs at the blade as she whirls in surprise, catching her wrist to avoid getting it caught between them. They fall backward, with her taking the blunt of their weight and Leonardo's fury holding them down.

"Leo!" All of his children cry out as Splinter moves to their side, pausing when he spots the fury in his glare. Not one of confusion or anger, but of fear and hurt and understanding, with a protective bite that promises no mercy while caught in sharp teeth.

"Are. You. INSANE?"

This cannot end well.

Splinter should intervene, but for once, he does not.

He motions for the others to stand down as well, watching his daughter's face flick between skin and scales, and lets Leonardo have his say. "We've done this before, Karai! YOU'VE done that before! You ran off to go face him and you got LOCKED UP! It took us MONTHS to get you out! Countless nights of risking our lives for YOU! And now you want to- what, do it all again?"

"I will not be alone this time!" She manages to shove him off, getting to her feet and stumbling away. Miwa looks back, towards Splinter, and he keeps his gaze cool, offering no protection. "I have the clan!"

"Shredder has faced down many armies and fought many battles." Splinter says. "But you would know that, my daughter."

She glares, "I'm doing what has to be done!"

"That's what you said about the warehouses." Leo stalks up to her. "That's what you said about the money. That's what you told me before you went to blow up some stupid factory as if your last mission didn't get your sister BLOWN UP."

"I didn't tell her to go in there-!"

"YOU PLANTED THE BOMBS!" Leonardo's scream cracks at the last word, fists shaking with the pain of almost losing a loved one, eyes clear with the knowledge of how such loss can impact a soul. He takes a heavy breath and the room holds it with him.

He looks at Splinter, and their father nods his encouragement.

"We are leaders." He declares, strong and pronounced. "We are born leaders of our clan, but also of a family. We were selfish and our siblings paid for it. Our ONLY little sister paid for it."

Their gazes travel to her. She is not watching the conversation, hands pressed over the sides of her head, entrapped in a steady hold by the youngest. Her eyes are not visible, squeezed shut in pain, and Splinter's heart aches to see it.

"I..." All attention travels to Miwa. "I never wanted her to be hurt."

"But she was." Leonardo holds his head high. "And instead of learning from it, you are repeating old mistakes. I thought better of you. I thought you'd be better than that Karai."

He turns away from her, steps as silent as the dojo as he travels back to his sister's side. He kneels next to Michelangelo, takes her hand, and wraps his other hand safely around it as she squeezes his fingers.

"I will not risk my family for you again." He says coolly, holding tight. The sound crosses the space with even volume. "If you choose to go alone, you will truly be alone. Do not count on me to bail you out."

"Leo..." She tries, but Splinter does not let her continue. "He is right."

She looks to him, defeat painting eyes that have seen more horrors than any child should know. "I have warned my children against walking into Saki's hands too many times. But I cannot stop them from making their own choices, anymore than I can stop you."

He takes a breath. "You act as if you have no choice. You act as if you are on your own. You are not. You are not alone anymore, Miwa. You are not bound by Saki's vices. You have a family that has fought long and hard for you to come home, and yet you would choose his anger over their love."

"Father." Her fists tighten. Her voice cracks. "He ruined my life."

"He ruined much on that faithful day," Splinter admits as he approaches her, gently cupping her face. He tries not to see Shen in her teary eyes. "But our lives are not yet over. He cannot take anything else from us if we do not let him. Leave his influence behind. Your mother... She would not want this for you."

"I don't-" She pulls her arms to her chest, closing her eyes to bow her head. "I don't know how."

"What do you think we're here for?" Raphael demands with a dismissive bat of his hand at the open air. "Decoration?"

"Let us help you." Splinter translates. "Let us teach you."

"C'mon sis." Michelangelo says, smile weak but genuine. "We deal with April and Dona every day. You'll be a piece of cake."

"Hey," A baffled April says at the same moment that Donatello weakly hits his plastron. Michelangelo laughs, Raphael snickers, and Leonardo shakes his head to hide his smile.

She pulls away, and Splinter lets her.

"Okay." Miwa announces with a smirk, though her confidence does not reach her eyes. "I'll try."

Splinter puts his hands on his cane and nods, "It is all we ask."

Also does Donnie ever feel like she has to live up to this ‘expectation’ that is/was Miwa before they find out about Karai? Does Donnie feel the need to be a good daughter or does she feel like a replacement or replaceable because of that or not? Idk I just thought about that.

Definitely during her younger years. It’s one thing to be the adopted sons who don't comprehend depression and death knowing that he spends a decent amount of time mourning his daughter and wife.

It’s another to be an adopted daughter who doesn’t comprehend depression and death who’s watching him distance himself sometimes to mourn a different daughter that she’s never met when she’s standing right there.

Thankfully (from a Donnie-development POV), Miwa ‘never’ got the chance to grow up. So there isn’t actually any notes to take to fill her shoes and meet expectations. Whenever she actively tries to be like Tang Shen (as she understands her mom from his stories), it only seems to depress Splinter more.

On the day that Splinter gives them their weapons, she entirely expects to be given the one that was meant for Miwa. Then he hands her the bo staff and tells her that it’s perfect for her, and she doesn’t know what to think. It’s the first time that she’s completely confident that he sees Donatello instead of Miwa when he looks at her.

Whenever she needs a reminder of that, she looks to her staff.

By the time that she goes up to the surface, she’s grown to be comfortable in that part of her place in the family.

…And then they meet Karai.

Now, if this does revamp her worries about her place in the family, it’s never directly mentioned in any episodes. Donnie’s main issue with Karai is that she’s always let her imagination run away with her big sister’s image, drafting what Miwa would be like if she survived.

And Karai. Is not the person who Donnie imagined her to be.

"I have been loving this btw and hope you are taking care of yourself"

Right back at you!! Thanks for the Ask!!!

[solarwynd]

I don't know if you have heard of the popstar academy docuseries on netflix but it's about the group katseye and how they debuted and stuff but anyways. their main goal is for them to find a global group that will essentially carry the company from now on like they want this group to be their next BTS but mostly focusing for success in the US. theres this girl there that was a trainee and she was very talented and had star quality but they weren't as interested in her because they felt she was not "the cool rebellious girl" US fans will love and that got me to think about jungkook and jimin. the tattoos, piercings, muscles, the pr smoking incident, him drinking on lives deleting his instagram vs jimin who only does lives at the company, doesn't even like to talk about alcohol in fans vicinity, timid, tries to keep a clean image, the goody two shoes (said lovingly)

now it makes sense to me as to why they push jk so hard especially in the US. he is much more marketable and what supposedly US fans want in male pop artists. they know that the rugged bad boy sells and jimin isn't that

Yea I did. I’ve been in eyekon business for a day or two now lol. I even started watching the show but I haven’t made it past the first episode. I’m really just privy to the Manon drama, but I have seen screenshots of Bang and his foolishness.

“Cool & rebellious” are interesting buzzwords. Two that I can’t exactly say aren’t popular because it sounds like aespa and blackpink. And kpop stans do love that. But what’s really popular right now is the newjeans aesthetic. Which is exactly what Touch was in “sound” and also why I’m confused on what they’re going for in the group’s image. It sounds like they don’t even know. The only thing for certain is that they wanted a multi ethnic group. I listened to their EP and it doesn’t seem like they’re gonna have a set sound and I don’t think that’s an issue. Their music is nice, most of the songs give real summery coming of age vibes. (I liked tonight I might, im pretty and my way) kinda wish they would’ve stuck with that throughout the album cause debut and touch seem like the odd ones out.

Back to the actual topic, Yes I think that cool and rebellious image has more of an advantage for a male popstar for obvious reasons. Jimin not fitting Hybe’s image has been discussed as a possibility as to one of the reasons he’s not getting pushed before but to actually see they confirmed what their ideal is let’s me know how shallow their vision of a true artist is. You’d think they see the results, hype and intrigue Jimin pulls just being him and see that ideal doesn’t hold that much weight as a standard but w/e ig lmao. JK didn’t even fit that stereotypical “bad boy” mold up until recently imo.

Anyway the way HYBE seems so intent on finding the next BTS and strictly speaking in business terms, I really do wonder how much longer BTS themselves are in this for cause to me, it seems like there’s a clock running and Katseye does not seem like the long term solution to me. I know it wouldn’t be smart to wait until BTS calls it quits to then try to build a new group, but they give new jeans. I believe that they’ll find success somewhere down the line, especially if HYBE starts pushing them. But might fizzle out after some time. Touch seems to be gaining some traction and they are building a fanbase. But if they want BTS level fame, it’s gonna have to be a devout one that actually moves for them and not one built of male gg stans that use them for a twitter layout and move out once they get bored. Fandom>>>GP

[fuckmeyer]

Wiggins!) the bizarre thing about the vampire men in the cullen family all seem to be at least subconsciously what Smeyer wants Bella to have but can’t seem to get over her initial vision of what she saw in her drafts or whatever. It’s odd that every single one of the Cullen men are like strongly devoted (but mostly devoid of personality because it’s so Bella centric) but when you compare them to Edward they seem interesting in some ways. Like Narratively we’re supposed to have this threat that Edward is constantly holding back from killer her but I don’t feel like we see that. Conversely, Jasper is constantly the one who is suffering about human smells and is the more vampire-like. But he’s also a glorified lap dog. So it’s like ‘oh he’s a monster but he’ll never hurt me” (things Alice has said out loud. Man even psychics slip up. I swear her powers weren’t so accurate until Smeyer needed an excuse for plot reasons)

Emmett feels like when some women say they like waifish guys because they don’t want to seem like they’re vapid for liking “big dudes with muscles” so of course you pair Emmett with the “shallow blonde”

Carlisle, I swear only exists so Edward has someone to model but I would also argue that he’s proto-Edward before whatever reworking she had to do when writing Twilight for a YA audience and brought him back as a different character.

Yeah a rant

hello again bestie Wiglet! (note to self: learn Photoshop so i can shop Jacob's bad wig onto a pic of Piglet)

this is such an interesting take! thanks for sharing. i totally see what you're saying. in all the Cullen men we see both a blend of softness & devotion *and*, interestingly enough, a patchwork of patriarchal ideas of what a man "should" be. & this idea comes to the forefront with the depiction of the love interests

smeyer wants us to see Edward as the chivalric gentlemen from the Days of Yore. we see this in the opening doors, the cutsey little romance taglines ("you are my life now," "look after my heart; i've left it with you," "so the lion fell in love" etc), the knight saving the damsel in distress, the expensive tokens of his affection, etc.

at the same time, in both Edward & Jacob we see the crude traits of the Patriarchy Dreamboat kinda guy. if i had to sum it up, it's like the guy you see in 80s movies. "bad boy." "opposites attract." he's a jerk. he's a hunk. he's domineering. he's allowed to show emotion only & especially if that emotion is anger. he's persistent in his efforts to get the girl, going so far as to kiss her without her consent if it's For a Good Cause (Edward in New Moon post-Volterra, Jacob in Eclipse). he's a cool guy who's In Control 👉😎👉

perhaps that's why the Twilight saga appealed so such a large swath of women & girls. the women, who grew up with the notion that they could have the true love of their dreams so long as they submitted to the patriarchal social contract, saw the contract being fulfilled in Edward. (i.e., "you can be the king if you treat me like a princess.")

on the other hand, the 90s/00s girlies who grew up in the midst of a feminist revolution & who could see the glimmer of a dismantled patriarchy on the horizon were attracted to Edward for the flashes of radical feminist love they saw: the unapologetic expressions of emotion, the honesty of him sharing his vulnerabilities & weaknesses, Bella's ability to override Edward's will when necessary, etc.

sorry, i know this isn't really the crux of the rant you submitted, but it is extremely interesting to see these contradictions playing out in all the male characters of the saga. it's almost like smeyer is having this internal debate with herself without even realizing it...

[terrence-silver]

What would poly Terry and John think of blind beloved?

would they like her less because she can’t see their karate?

would they be more protective?

---

Sigh, will people crucify me if I say that for John Kreese and Terry Silver, a disability is a clear pipeline to even more control? Because it would be. They're villains. What can you do.

Sure, they're protective and they're territorial, but there's shades at play here; for John, especially, beloved's innate vulnerability and handicap is only reason more for him to do as a man does and be their muscle, their defender and the wall between them and the whole world, but for Terry, it also has something to do the with the ego.

With the 'I'.

Because...beloved has no ability to see him. Perceive him.

Him.

That's the worst of it.

They'll never see his face. His eyes. His body. His hands. His hair. His lips. And that profoundly irritates him. Because they should. They should see him. Or, oh, what if they could see him and John together? He's self-assured that if they could, they'd love and desire him / them even more. And he wants to be desired. Loved and worshipped even more. Coveted. A certainty conflicting with the idea that the very fact beloved cannot see him and still love him is only proof all on it's own that their affection for him is anything but frivolous and shallow, but truth is, Terry yearns to see primal, carnal desire reflected in their eyes and the very fact that's something he's bereft of is deeply infuriating. The very fact he has no control to change it is challenge fuel that cannot be sated and validly, it is profoundly and fundamentally aggravating to Terry. A top notch operation should be paid for! The best doctors and surgeons in the world should be at Terry's beck and call! He should gouge someone's eyes out and give them to beloved as a healthy replacement because how dare someone be able to see if his beloved doesn't! He has no qualms going quite as far as necessary to go about fixing what he feels could be a fixable problem. He is undoubtedly more proactive surrounding the issue of beloved's health and improvement more than beloved themselves is. Probably bugs him more than it bugs them too, even though they're the one having to live with it every day. Terry Silver doesn't want anyone around him just 'living with something' because that eerily sounds like capitulation and surrender and he doesn't do capitulation or surrender. When life fucks you he tends to fuck back harder. He both 'likes' the disability because it leaves beloved open to his influence (and he relishes being influential), but he loathes it because beloved has no business not perceiving him to the fullest capacity they could possibly perceive him. When he tells someone 'look at me' he actually wants to be seen. Feared. Yearned for. Admired. Simultaneously, his controlling nature might in a sense relish the blindness too, in ways, because hey, if beloved cannot see him and John, they might as well not see anyone else either.

It is only fair.

As for John Kreese?

Hilariously, considering it is John Kreese, he somehow comes off as the party out of the two who is far more conventionally accepting of beloved's disability in a very traditional sense. Alright, so they're blind, and now what of it? He's more prone to living with it and letting beloved live with it too and even going as far as teaching them as much self defense as the boundaries of their disability allows being convinced that in the absence of one sense, they should develop another instead of allowing themselves to be helpless and accepting defeat. He doesn't want to change beloved, he just doesn't want them to, as he'd probably phrase it, wimp out and wallow around. He's not always nice about it but he's very practically effective, but then again, John Kreese is the only one allowed to be not nice about it. Anyone else dares and there will be hell to pay.

[anonymous-dentist]

wrings u out like a cloth for all ur worth. bad romance 🥺? maybe? canon typical fucked up love sort of 👉👈? introspective .💞? maybe cellbo pov if u want (but if the reason ur writing the fic in exclusively roier pov is important to future plot than nvm)(also u can literally write whatever u want forever i just really like bad romance)

(Set during the ‘surgery’ in chapter three)

-

Cell, for the first time in his life, is pulling a weapon out of a man, and he doesn’t really know what he’s doing.

Roier is unconscious beneath him, breaths shallow and skin pale and blood so beautifully, terribly red. It stains Cell’s fingers as he digs around for the bullet, not really sure how he’ll know it when he finds it.

Bullets shatter, right? But this one didn’t hit bone, he knows that much, Roier can still somewhat use his arm. So it’s lodged in the muscle somewhere in one piece, and all Cell has to get it out is a pair of too-big industrial pliers and his own bare hands.

Roier’s shoulder muscles spasm against his fingers as he jams them back into the hole for his fourth attempt at finding the bullet. Yuck.

Roier is… strange. Strange even by Cell’s standards, and he’s a cannibal. But Roier? He’s-

Cell lets out a breath, adjusts himself where he’s sitting straddling the poor passed-out idiot.

Roier trusts Cell completely and with his entire being. He’s in love with Cell even though they don’t really know each other. He’ll do what Cell says with no hesitation, but he’ll pull a knife on him if Cell tries ordering him to do something he doesn’t want to do.

…He’s very strong. He keeps complaining about missing wearing long sleeves, but, honestly, Cell doesn’t know how Roier could even wear long sleeves with arms like those. He’s an escaped prisoner, he knows what a crime looks like, and hiding biceps like those has to be one.

Cell’s fingers brush against the bullet, sliding right off, both they and the bullet are so slick with blood. No problem, this is what the pliers are for.

An hour later as Cell deposits Roier into the dead bastard’s bed, he’s briefly stopped by a hand loosely grabbing his wrist.

Cell rolls his eyes, and he shakes Roier free, and he goes to take a shower.

[dreamtydraw]

Hi from fishbowl this isn’t a red flag but I just thought of another ick I get from otome games/vn’s that I wanted to share and ramble about!!

When the male love interests all have the same stupid washboard abs, SPECIFICALLY AND ESPECIALLY when it makes no sense for the character to be built like that. Like, I know a lot of people find abs hot, but I always lowkey hate it when I see it. Unless it makes total sense for the character to be built with a six pack I’m just like immediately no </3

Idk what it is but there’s something about abs that just… doesn’t attract me, in fact it kinda deters me lmao. It is kinda funny though since there will be times where there’s a scene where the guy’s shirtless or something with his abs all out in the open and it’s obvious that the game is trying to get you to be like “Ooh la la~” meanwhile I’m sitting there like “Oh… Mmkay……” (I have a specific game in mind when I’m saying this cause there was a game that I played a while back that I remember did this all the goddamn time and it would immediately take me out of my immersion so it’s like personal beef at this point lol)

Sorry this doesn’t really align with your question at all I just spontaneously thought of the ick and wanted to share-

-🐟

Hello again fishy !

I think what I dislike about this trope is how shallow it is.

Usually giving M Li abs when they shouldn't have is a result of unnecessary fanservice that sometimes goes directly against characterization and for me ruins the narrative experience. Also usualy since they want to have abs but not too many muscles most of the LI with abs looks like they are behond deshydrated.

I think the only game where shirtless fanservice abs worked for me was Roadkill which btw is funny because they did it right for one of the Li and totally ruined their good writing by giving them second M li also abs...

But why does Howie's fanservice work on me ? Because it make sense.

The game gives you a reason as to why he has abs: He did sports with the only goal to have a musculature that would make people stop picking on him for being a theater kid.

the game's use of fanservice is a part of the story: Roadkill is a big love letter to horror movies and the entire premise is that your life turns into a horror movie that is cliché. The fact this guy undress in the middle of a snowy road to give you his shirt ( is not only cute- ) but also understandable because HE'S THE CHARICATURE OF A HIMBO !

That a good way to impliment fanservice in my opinion. I know it's not a must, not all game needs to have perfect writing but it would be nice if it became a standard that fanservice (both for men and women ) was written in a way that makes sense to the story and dosen't feel like a pity grab of attention for horniness.

Also as an ace folk having a game that doesn't force you into fanservice is always a nice touch. LET ME CHOOSE IF I WANT TO SEE BOOBS OR NOT !

Anyway live, life, laugh, and play roadkill I swear it's a funny game.

[lnkedmyheart]

@themoonawaitsherexecutioner

So about how skk would hit different if one or both was a woman is less in regards to how it changes the overall story but how the general energy changes.

For starters if either one of them was a woman while the other stayed a man, the biggest change in their interaction and by extension in the way they are perceived would have been their dynamic. Nobody would have denied the way their interactions are heavily charged with some kind of tension. Sexual or romantic or whatever there is a pull there in canon but with one of them being a woman nobody would deny that they have some kind of subtext there. From Dazai waiting for Chuuya to show up, their banter moving from vitriolic to friendly teasing, to the dead apple scene with the princess-prince analogy, to Dazai catching Chuuya in his arms in sb, the silly little love confession and admitting Chuua was part of the reason Dazai decided to live at the time and even the current meursault situation with the line about the moments where their hearts connected. Remove the mlm or wlw aspect for half a second and people will automatically begin to notice all the subtext present in the story and interactions.

We also know that Dazai is a womanizer who broke many hearts back in the mafia and that his interactions with women tend to be pretty shallow (except Yosano and Koyou) and I think it would have been interesting how that would have changed had Chuuya been a woman. There is a distance between Dazai and the important women in his life, there is also a distance between him and the men, all of them, including Oda (at least from Oda's perspective he never fully grasped how much he meant to Dazai). That distance is entirely absent with Chuuya and it's repeatedly brought up not just in the text but also in their interaction. Dazai has a way of talking to Chuuya and Chuuya can read his words like they're his own thoughts. Dazai is also very physical with Chuuya in general, constantly ignoring his own boundaries all the time. I would love to see how that would change had Chuuya been a woman. It would also lead to a scenario with a woman as the muscle and the man as the thinker/damsel.

The same is true vice versa, how would their interactions with each other change if Dazai was a woman while Chuuya stayed a guy? Chuuya is stated to be very respectful to women by the creators, we know he has a soft spot for little old ladies, but he doesn't underestimate them as was the case with Yosano and he has been raised by Koyou. The point is how would things change in that situation? It would be more traditional, yes. Dazai being the damsel and Chuuya being the rescuer on a surface level but not entirely because Dazai is never actually helpless. I also think the most interesting thing about Dazai as the woman is actually in how it changes a lot of the subtext in general with everyone else in the series and not just Chuuya. Dazai would perhaps be less feared in the mafia as the demon prodigy as a woman because of the potential to underestimate her or maybe even more feared idk. How would it alter her interactions with the men in her life normally. How would Dazai's depression and suicidal tendencies be viewed and treated in the story and how they would affect her. Would there be any major change at all or would there be none.

And lastly if they were both women, again, most of the above points still hold true for this scenario. However there is more here given that there would be heavy subtext with 2 women instead of 2 men. In this situation there would imo be less change in how they interact with each other and more in how the others interact with them and perceive them. (Also I'm a lesbian, wlw is always more fun to me than mlm or wlm lmao).

On a negative sidenote, had one of skk been a woman it would have been less popular of a ship because it would have been a het one.

[louhilainen]

Angsty Kanan fanfic with a dash of Kaina×Olympia

TW: Suicidical thoughts and fantasies

“Kanan, Olympia and I are getting married.”

Kanan stared at his older brother as he took the news in. Well, they weren’t really news, but confirmation. After all, Kaina and Olympia had been spotted more than a few times together. Walking on the beach together (according to rumors they had even held hands) and having lunch on the plaza, sitting so close to each other that not even a fly could have squished between them (he had seen that himself). Kanan also knew he had been going more and more to Douma’s house, in his words “to get prepared to become the next leader of Yellow.” But Kanan knew better. Maybe his brother was more serious about becoming the leader of Yellow, no doubt thanks to her influence, but seeing even a glimpse of Olympia must have been his main reason to visit that grumpy Outsider. 

Kanan gathered himself. “Well, I suppose congratulations are in order. You are a very lucky man, brother. Maybe luckiest on the whole island.”

So unfairly lucky. But then again, Kaina always got what he didn’t.

“Thank you, Kanan.” Kaina scratched his head and swayed on his heels. “I know this is really insensitive… “ Then why are you even asking? “...but were you also in love with Olympia?”

Well, well. His brother was more observant than he had ever imagined.

“Not at all. I’m just curious about her as she’s the last White. Who wouldn’t be?” Every muscle in Kaina’s face screamed doubt. Really, Kaina. You’re usually good at hiding things under that cheery smile, but sometimes you let your mask slip. You won't stand a chance with Shura and other leaders like that. “Besides, what difference would it make? You’re the one she chose.”

“I know. Sorry, that was a weird question to ask.” An easy smile appeared on his face. That's better.

“There you go. I wish you all happiness.” He had to get rid of his brother soon. If he had to keep this disgusting bravado up any longer, his dinner would come up and then he would have to clean the floor and he hated cleaning. “But I will write that article of you two. Don’t expect me to go easy on you even if you’re my brother.”

Kaina laughed. “I know, I know. I wouldn’t expect anything less of you.”

“It’s actually a good thing you’re the one marrying her. My readers will surely be amused that the fiancee of Olympia thought that babies are born because Hiruko-sama sends them to womens bellies. ”

“Hey, I was only six then!”

They both laughed. Ha. Ha. Ha-haa. The same metal, shallow laugh they both pretended was real. Maybe their laughter had been genuine when they had been children, but little by little, it had changed.

When Kaina left, Kanan walked up the stairs to his study. He leaned to his desk full of papers and pens. For a moment, he thought of sweeping it all to the floor. He scoffed. What use could a tantrum like that have? Instead, he sat on the chair and took a key from his robe and opened the upper drawer. A gun was lying there. He took it out. Its black surface gleamed. Truly a work of art. The people Outside were geniuses in crafting a weapon like this. It was clearly meant to be used on humans, on short distance. The fact that they had the need to make weapons like this had always fascinated him. 

He twirled it with his hand and allowed himself a childish fantasy. What if he used that to shoot his brains out? Right here and now? Who would find his body first? Probably Nagusa. He would wonder why he wouldn’t come to dinner at his place tomorrow evening like he had promised and would come to search for him. Or Hairi.

When Kaina would learn the news, he would be devastated. But maybe a little relieved. Olympia would console him and they would organize someone, maybe even for Riku to perform…. Wait. If he killed himself his body would be burned and his ashes spread to the ocean. Nagusa wouldn’t bother to spread the ashes of someone who committed suicide, but Kaina would, with Olympia on his side.

Then life would continue like he had never been born. His brother and Olympia would have lots of cute White daughters, each as beautiful as their mother. Maybe Kaina would tell stories about how he had a younger brother, how they played together and how much he missed him. Nagusa would miss his ally, but he would get over it soon.

Nothing would change even if he was gone. In fact, maybe Kanan and Olympia would be a bit better off without him here.

He put the gun back in the drawer and locked it.

He had an article to write.  

[paleparearchive]

Bazille Is A Worrier?

Bazille's initial 2★ story (1/1)

Location: garden (morning) ; morning sky ; Renoir, Monet, Sisley & Bazille's room | Characters: Bazille, Monet

Bazille: For God's sake… He's not even here, huh?

Monet said he was going to take care of the garden, but where did he go? Jeez… He didn't even go back for lunch, so I came to see how engrossed he was. I don't think so, but he didn't forget to hydrate himself and collapse somewhere, did he?

Monet's voice: WOAAAAH! What a spectacular view! It's so niceee!!!

Bazille: … This voice, is it Monet? God, where is he?

H-Hey! What the hell are you doing on the roof!?

Monet: Oooh! If it ain't Bazille! The view from here's awesome! Ya should climb up here too! Just put your feet up on the fence there and you'll get a good show!

Bazille: Who would climb that! It can't be that easy. No, I'm not a monkey. Generally speaking, gazebo roofs are not made for people to climb up. Get off before you fall!

Monet: Now now, don't say that. It's breezy and awesome!

Bazille: Listen up. Why are you even there in the first place? It's not safe!

—

Monet: Well, the flowers in the garden have started bloomin' and they look great! I just thought it'd look even more beautiful from up here!

Bazille: That's why you climbed up on the roof. … You really are a simple-minded guy.

Monet: Huuuh, why? When something's beautiful, ya just wanna see it from a better angle, dontcha think!?

Bazille: Well, I can understand that mindset... We're artists who pursue beauty after all. But I guess it's part of human nature to use reason in face of danger…

Monet: Noo way! Sometimes a painter's passion for beautiful things can get out of control!

Bazille: Jesus Christ. Don't be a sophist and get the heck off there! What if you fall and break a bone in your hand! You might never be able to paint the pictures you love again.

Monet: D-Don't scare me like that!

Bazille: It's not just a threat. It's a prediction of the worst possible future that could happen as a result of your shallow actions.

Monet: Uuuuugh… Gotcha, I'll just get off. Jeez, ya worry too much, Bazille.

Woah!?

Bazille: MONET!!!

—

Bazille: Hey, are you okay!? Stay strong!!!

Monet: Owowowow… Aaaah, I feeeeell…

Bazille: You're still alive, right!? Are you injured? Where does it hurt!?

Monet: Aaaaah… I'm okay, I'm okay… aaah, it hurts!!!

Bazille: You're not okay at all! Let me take a look at it. Where is it? You don't think it's your arm, do you!?

Monet: No, my leg…

Bazille: Your leg... It doesn't seem to be broken. Let's go back to our room and patch it up. Can you walk?

Monet: Y-Yeah. Thanks, Bazille.

Bazille: … Whatever.

Aaah, alright! I'll lend you a shoulder, don't try to force yourself to walk! You'll only make it worse!

—

Bazille: I can't believe you fell off the roof and only sprained your ankle. You're very sturdy.

Monet: I am! I'm workin' out like Manet-aniki! It's good muscle trainin', wanna do it too, Bazille?

Bazille: I won't do it. Mostly because I don't even want to climb up there.

Monet: It's good to change your perspective once in a while.

Bazille: Just be glad it wasn't your arm that got injured.

Monet: Uuugh… Okay. I'll be careful.

Bazille: Right. From now on, no more climbing up high places. And of course, no tree climbing as well.

Monet: Huuuh!?

Bazille: Don't go out too much for a while. If you walk around with poor protection, you'll lose your physical balance and it will affect your brush strokes. Oh yeah, muscle training is also prohibited.

Monet: W-Why!?

Bazille: You're the kind of guy who, if he moves his body even a little bit, is definitely going to want to move around more. At least stay put until you get better.

Monet: But I'm fine…! I'm not that dumb…

Bazille: If you don't understand it, I'll make a picture of you in your stupid bandages and hang it all over our room, okay?

Stay put. Got it?

Monet: O-Okaaay…

[hellishtrickster]

Reverse AU

Happy Birthday @thelibraryismytardis / @ineedmyfriendback!!! I hope you have an amazing day! Here’s a new starter for you. 

Orianna’s eyelids fluttered as she dreamed. Her long body floated slightly in the cave she’d sheltered in as the ocean’s currents moved. She could see multiple faces flickering in front of her. Orianna knew many of them were her own. She also knew the other faces all belonged to one person. It made very little sense, even with her gifts with illusions, and even with her celestial parentage. It was like nothing she’d seen.

She woke to slapping on the surface of the ocean with a start. Orianna drew in a deep breath, her lungs taking in the water as though it were oxygen. Her father’s voice filtered to her from miles away.

“Orianna, I’ve travelled as far as I can without getting into Neverwinter, it’s time to come ashore.”

Orianna was sure her mother was the reason she’d always been able to hear her father’s calls to come ashore. Thassa was neutral when it came to the world, but she had a deep well of love and compassion in her nature. Even if Orianna had only seen her mother a handful of times and mostly in the distance, she knew there was some affection for her. Even if it did feel cold and distant at times. She offered her thanks to Thassa all the same, and swam at supernatural speeds to shore.

Her hands and feet were webbed in a similar fashion to the Tritons. These were physical features that only appeared in the water. She listened to her father’s splashes continuing on the surface to locate him. It was a familiar sensation by now, and an eerily similar instinct to the sharks who were her siblings. 

The odd things you put up with having a godly parent.

As she made her way into the coastal shallows, and onto dry land the webbing on her hands and feet disappeared. Her entire body dried quickly as she left the waves behind. Long dark hair flowed behind her, pale skin shone in the first rays of sunrise, and her dark eyes quickly found her father whose features she shared.

Orianna had also shared in his height. Her father, Ander Stormwind stood at six foot, two inches. She stood at five foot eleven inches. In another universe it would have surprised the people who knew her to see her so tall, but then she hadn’t struggled for food in this universe as she had in the other. It also meant, she was well muscled, suiting the supernatural athleticism granted to those who were apart of the sea domain.

“How was your mother? In a gentle mood I hope,” said Ander.

“There wasn’t so much as a cloud last night, let alone a storm. I’d say that’s as gentle a mood as she gets,” Orianna replied.

The father and daughter duo grabbed their belongings further up the shore. Ander still kept a sword at his waist, despite his adventuring days being well and truly behind him. He’d needed to go to Neverwinter for some supplies, and thought he’d accompany Orianna as she found her next job. She carried two gladius swords at her waist, two daggers at her thighs, and a trident in her hand. Orianna hoped to find an oceanic adventure this time.

As the pair moved into the trees, and onto the path to Neverwinter they heard a distant crash. Orianna stopped short, the sound of crashing waves in her ears in the aftermath of the sudden sound. It was a sure sign Thassa was intervening, urging her to investigate.

“Need to go?” asked Ander.

“I’ll catch up soon,” said Orianna.

Ander waved her off, and kept moving.

“You know how to find me,” he called over his shoulder.

With that, Orianna went charging towards where the sound had come from. The sound of the ocean got louder in her ears the closer she got.

[kalira]

(navigatorsghost here on main btw) For the writing game I have to ask what's the deal with Mates and Memories, just because omg, Van Helsing?! Thank you!

Van Helsing! Which I wrote a little for back in 2010, and . . . never again. XD (I cleaned up one of the bits from back then earlier this year and posted it, first thing I ever have for the fandom; I don't know if there's anything else salvageable - or, rather, that I feel like reworking. XP)

BUT that process did make me think about it again, and I rewatched the movie (still excellent; I love Roxburgh's Dracula to bits, he's so fucking strange and Extra and delightful), more than once, and. . .

Mates and Memories is a WIP that is for a Small Fandom Fest prompt (which I obviously missed this round, whoop; perhaps I'll get it done for a future round? X'D), left in 2012.

The general premise is that Dracula isn't dead, and Van Helsing is still a werewolf, post-canon (prompt left open 'writer's choice how'), and at some point under a full moon, looking for his mate. . .

(I have also done entirely too much research for this; I have scrutinised forestry maps, elevation maps, conservation records, and a handful of other things for this very important background setting information for Van Fucking Helsing monster smut. Hello, it me, I am Like This.)

My spin for that 'how' is that as Van Helsing isn't exactly human to begin with, he wasn't quite a proper werewolf, either - which means a) the cure didn't work on him properly, and b) Dracula was ripped to hell harder than anything else could manage, but not actually killed.

Also, as a still-somewhat-werewolf . . . Van Helsing isn't going back to the Vatican. For some reason. Fast-forward to winter, and wolf mating season, and. . . >.> (Featuring monsterfucking, some dubcon on both sides tbh, Dracula being his Very Dramatically Extra Self (he is such fun to write, FYI), and hints at the History between Van Helsing and Dracula.)

Have a snippet below the cut! Snippet is from closer to what will be the end, in theory, after a huge gap of Things Needing To Be Written (including, you know, the actual smut and most of the point of the prompt).

Gabriel roared as his body reformed, bones crunching and muscles wrenching, shrinking back into something more familiar. He thrashed, falling back and away from chill, tacky skin, claws digging into the dirt a moment before they sank back into blunt nails.

He shuddered, pushing himself up on his aching knees - a throb, and then the ache faded . . . at least that one did - and-

A sinuous stretch beside him, both hellish red and ashy grey flesh fading into pale but human skin, and Gabriel twisted, falling backwards. ‟Fuck!” he breathed, eyes widening, flashes of the night twisting through his mind painted in heavy shadow and silvered moonlight.

Dracula laughed, lifting a hand and pulling a lock of his hair out of his face with his smallest finger, then tossing his head and meeting Gabriel’s eyes. ‟You’ve already done that.” he pointed out, rolling his shoulders. ‟Though you’re welcome to give it another try. Perhaps with less fur.”

A ragged gash torn out of his shoulder and the base of his neck slowly filled in as Gabriel watched, growing shallower and pulling together until there was nothing but unmarked skin. Gabriel swallowed, then licked his teeth, remembering the feeling of that flesh tearing beneath his teeth, muscle flexing as Dracula fought him.

Or. . .

No, he hadn’t . . . quite. He had fought, but-

‟You let me.” Gabriel said, rather than any of the other dozen things that wanted to spill from his lips.

Dracula looked . . . taken aback. Just for a moment. Then he laughed again, head falling back, and Gabriel tugged his legs in, frowning.

‟Ah, Gabriel.” Dracula grinned at him. ‟You never disappoint.” He paused, then arched his brows. ‟In any way, my old . . . friend.”

‟Friend.” Gabriel repeated. ‟I tried to kill you. I thought I had. How are you still alive?” he demanded.

Dracula rolled his shoulders. ‟You did kill me, once, Gabriel. Is that not enough for you? My, my.” His smile turned sharp, though his fangs were still hidden.

[timeoverload]

Today was a pretty easy day for me. I had 29 cases but it wasn't as stressful because they weren't moving too fast. Nothing bad happened except I still haven't found that muscle hook. Hopefully it turns up tomorrow. I was happy that I got to eat breakfast and lunch and it wasn't terrible.

I did get very angry with the morning team lead earlier. He started telling me how he feels about trans people and I do not agree with his opinions. I told him I didn't want to have a debate about it but he wouldn't stop so I sort of blew up on him. He was telling me that he thinks trans people are mentally ill and he refuses to treat them with respect because he doesn't believe in that. He's always preaching about God and going to church every Sunday but obviously it hasn't taught him how to be a compassionate person. I remember a verse from the bible that says, "Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself." I think he needs to read the book again. I believe if God exists then they created trans people and Jesus loves everyone. They have always existed and it's not a trend. He tried to argue that they are just "seeking attention" but I don't believe that's the case. I think all humans can be attention seeking and that's just the way we are. He needs to stop hating people just because he doesn't understand them. He said that we will have to agree to disagree and I was so mad that I had to leave the room. I also don't think that was an appropriate conversation to be having at work period. I don't want to be forced to be around a transphobic asshole. I barely said a word to him the rest of the day. He says so many horrible things and thinks it's funny. I don't think he realizes how mean he is. He was talking about one of the surgical techs and couldn't remember her name so he referred to her as "the ugly bridge troll". He makes so many disrespectful comments about women. He told me he would leave his fiancée if she didn't shave her legs and I think that's shallow as fuck. He believes a man should make all of the decisions in a relationship and I don't agree with him. He is just so rude and has the biggest ego. He's always pissed about something. I know I have been complaining about him a lot but I am forced to spend hours of my life working with him by myself. I hate coming in to work in the morning now. I think maybe karma is starting to catch up with him because he has been having a lot of bad things happen to him. He has been having a health issue and may need to go on leave. I don't want anything bad to happen to him just because I don't like him but it would be nice to not be around him for a while. He said he is going to come back to work the next day after his procedure because he "lives to work". He's crazy and irresponsible. He also spends at least half of his day talking instead of working anyway. I already know his doctor isn't going to let him do that. He thinks it's fine for him to come in to work anyway and is expecting everyone else to wait on him and bring him stuff to do while he sits. I'm not doing that and that's a bad idea for so many reasons. I really need to stop talking about him but I have been bottling it up and he has been driving me bonkers. I am going to try to stay away from him as much as possible. I'm sorry for going on a rant.

Anyway, there was an add-on at 4:15 and that didn't get done until 4:45. I didn't leave on time because it took me a while to get everything cleaned up but it's ok. I'm so glad I'm home and that it's almost the weekend. I am feeling strange right now. I think I might be getting sick but I can't tell. I have a sore throat but it's not that bad so maybe I will feel better in the morning. I am very tired and achy though. I'm sorry I haven't been on here as much. It's hard to use my phone at work and when I get home I am so sleepy. I am probably going to order a new phone on Friday. I have fallen asleep several times lately with the light on and my keyboard in my lap. I think I need to go eat something really quick and get ready for bed. I need to relax because I have 32 cases tomorrow and it might be a rough day but I hope it isn't. I don't like Thursdays very much but I will try my best to make it a good day.

I hope everyone else has a wonderful day tomorrow!!! Thank you for listening to me vent because that means a lot to me. Talking about stuff usually helps me feel better. I love you all!!! :) 💖💖💖

[thecurseisinourblood]

Grey

I took the stereotypical PA picks out boss’s tie trope to the extreme. Yes, I've come to hurt you because I love you. Ok, but for real this just popped into my head the other day. Imagine this is set not long before Frollo breaks and confesses to Esmeralda that he loves her even if he doesn't want to. This implies Frollo never bought a striped suit. A reminder that Gregory is the man pursuing Esme at the theatre for a few months. He's successful, appropriately older than Esmeralda with dark hair and has a very amiable demeanor. 

Also-- Happy Holidays everyone! ~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Gregory was suave, confident, with a gentle smile, and looked good in an array of palettes….

Mirrors at every turn, Lucy watched from an elegant sofa not far off from a shallow platform, stood upon by a notably tall and slim client. The fit of this new suit was not as precise as expected, from what was obvious by both the tailor and the minister. Unfortunate, considering this was the final product, past the final fitting.

Lucy never saw her boss in a mere dress shirt and tie except for these fittings, and if it weren’t for the tailor offering to take in the vest, she wouldn’t have scrutinized the judge’s body. Always attractively lean, he very clearly took it upon himself to maintain muscle. According to the elder judges, Claude had never just been skinny. She presumed he was always conscious of looking too thin because if he didn’t, that’s what he would be. Scrawny, even.

Watching more acutely as the tailor began remeasuring, it began to dawn on her how much the tailor was saying he must take in. Lucy’s gaze lifted back to Frollo’s face. His brow severe, his expression cold and indifferent, but she detected him bristle, even if he did not look at her.

Oh.

Staring still, Lucy perceived his frustration, not toward the tailor, but himself. It was like she could read his thoughts. He never would have brought her here if he had noticed the weight change himself. Never in the mood to be ‘talked to’, it seemed it was imperative that she did not today. The minister was terribly on edge recently, and it would be significantly worse if she mothered him.

Perhaps her eye was not as acute as she had always given herself credit for. Always trying to figure out what he needed, since he could never seem to very well trouble himself to share, she thought he just needed extra space. That is what he wanted, wasn’t it? He always came around in time. Simply having her along at the tailor was a rarer luxury than it once was. For whatever reason, her boss was even more distant than before. This entire year had been different and winter was fast approaching.

Whatever company he thought he wanted when he told her to come along seemed to turn into a decision of regret. She could almost see it, Claude chastising himself for not coming alone. ‘Just like he knew he should have.’

Disengaging, Lucy decided that it was best to remove herself. Pretending not to notice Claude’s black mood, she told them she wanted to browse the dresses since it would be longer than expected. Her eyes lingered just long enough to see him ease.

Exiting through a doorway lined with curtains, a gentleman from the shop approached her with a binder. Showing off the new styles that could be altered, he gave examples of the different fabrics they could be made with. Covering the modestly sized shop, Lucy noticed how much time had passed. Even for an alteration, the minister seemed to be taking longer than expected. Frollo was ‘one of’ this tailor’s finest patrons, but in the heart of hearts, Lucy could tell the older tailor held a fondness for ‘the boy.’

Once Claude set his eyes on the best option, there wasn’t another. He’d been coming to the same man for twenty years now.

Lucy reappeared in the private fitting room to see the judge alone. To her surprise, he was wearing a different vest, a dark, slate, neutral grey, that fit much better than the last. He was debating between two ties. One, a dark amethyst, the other, cerulean. She knew the minister had many ties like the first one, but there were subtle textures flecked across the surface, in a nearly unnoticeable pattern with diagonal lines. Looking to his right hand, she saw a sample of black suit fabrics subtle stripes of dark grey.

This grey vest looked like this one was supposed to be the commissioned and fitted one. If he had commissioned this one too? That would mean… he expected not to maintain his weight. Her heart lept. Did there always have to be something he was hiding?

“I have not seen you labor over a tie like this in years,” not since he was ambitiously attending dinner after dinner to prove himself worthy of the title of minister. Delice flitted threw her mind, but Claude had never gone too out of his way to impress her. He didn't have to do anything but be himself. She tilted her head and watched his face continue to stare at the choices as intently as if they were a ruling. Fastidious was normal, but obsessive?

“Have you been…” more anxious than usual. Lucy trailed off when he looked at her, his eyes warning and filled with an austerity that struck her with a cold gloom. “You don’t even like stripes,” she said instead.

Frowning, the minister looked back down and dropped the sample.

“I like stripes,” he said with a small sneer.

Lucy did not even want to blink. It was hard to notice his weight when she looked at him for so many hours every day-- for years. She missed the change, but she was determined not to let something else slip past. Whatever this was--

“You have not worn stripes once in your life,” Lucy pointed out.

Claude’s lips became this hard and grim line before turning back to a binder filled with lighter colors, any of which would look good with his grey ensemble. Her eyes scanned the selection, waiting for him to speak up.

“All of these would look terrible on me,” he gestured. Even his flourish was rigid as if his muscles were coiled. “And I don’t need something else aging me.”

Lucy’s eyes flew back up to his. It was the first time she ever heard him express an opinion, nonetheless distaste for his looks. Never had he been thrilled, but not once had she heard him complain about his premature aging. It suited him. He was so gloriously handsome, that even he managed to make her loins ache from time to time. Claude had always been vain, but this?

His accomplishments spoke for themselves. Lucy knew he could have looked like a balding frog and still been successful. Frollo knew that, too. The way he behaved when courting Delice was enough to tell her that he knew his worth, and although she saw his doubts, he never expressed them like this.

“The cerulean would look impeccable on you, sir.”

Peeling off the ocean tie from the counter, she threw it around his neck. She liked tying his ties. It was one intimate thing she allowed herself, despite his reluctance. After all of these years, his body still went rigid. She didn’t believe in crossing boundaries, but she believed he needed some form of physical affection. Despite being uncomfortable, he never protested. Mistaken for his wife all throughout his career, that was often how Lucy behaved. Except, he paid her. She was still an expert, even if they were family. It wouldn’t have mattered if he cared for her if she hadn’t proven herself to be a consummate professional, he would have fired her long ago.

Fixing the tie beneath his neck, she was aware of how he was watching her face, like a hawk.

Taking a small step back, she looked at him. The tie complimented his grey-blue eyes and she felt her heart skip a beat as she smiled. He didn’t look older, but he did look different. Whether that difference was good or bad was up to the minister.

He looked in the mirror, and while she was smiling, waiting for him to see himself through her eyes, his brows furrowed.

“I don’t look friendlier… I just look older... silly.” the disgust in his voice, it was like shrapnel in her chest. Her face fell in concern, a concern she knew he didn’t welcome.

But why after so many years was he looking at all of these new things? Why did he want to look… nicer? Lucy quickly recovered and squeezed his arm.

“Usually, if you want to look friendlier, you just relax your face and smile a little. It’s all about how you carry yourself.”

Claude’s frown deepened and his eyes pierced hers with an intensity that sent another chill through her. She desperately wished she understood what he was translating her words to. Why was he so upset?

“I suppose, people would rather have a shit-eating grin and pretend to enjoy each other’s company instead.”

The minister’s fingers darted between the knots of the tie, loosening the offending item quickly. Lucy continued her careful gaze, intrigued and wary of this restless behavior.

“Instead of what?” She dared to ask. “Instead of… how you act?”

There was no need for a response. The judge often displayed how adept he was with his silver tongue. Sharp and clever, he navigated social discourse like it was child’s play. Especially when it came to the prime minister, but she knew how he loathed doing it. Frollo thought everyone was a liar because that is what he was when he smiled and joked. If they weren’t lying, he didn’t understand it, because he didn’t feel the same way.

So… why did he feel the need to lie and manipulate someone’s perception of him? Who did he desperately want to lie to? Himself?

Watching in silence as Claude picked up another tie, not the purple one, but the one he had made with the vest, she saw how his eyes narrowed with scrutiny. Lucy could not deny that she preferred his usual palette. He looked regal, mature, and sharp, but he seemed even unhappier.

“Grey is just as boring and plain as people say,” he murmured, but she sensed the defeat in his voice. He wore so many dark colors, but most of them had a muted and ashy tone to them. Grey was one of the minister’s favorite colors. "And imposing.”

Lucy didn’t take her eyes off him and realized he must be looking at himself through someone else’s eyes. But whose? The public’s? If anything Claude spent his entire career orchestrating this untouchable persona. While he was outwardly proud of his titles and his status as the Marble judge, she did see cracks every once in a while. They all believed him when he said he wasn’t lonely…. But after she told him to break it off with Delice, he had given up entirely. It seemed his ambition to find a mate finally went out like a snuffed candle.

And she couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible for it. Perhaps Remy was right, that she should have let him make his mistakes.

“I think you look even better in this color,” Lucy piped up. “You aren’t trying to make a statement with gaudy colors. This says: you are the statement, and that’s always what I’ve thought about you,” she paused, “and you like this color, don’t you? That’s why you picked this to be tailored,” her fingers pinched the grey vest at the top of his shoulders.

Those intense eyes flicked to hers on high alert because of the comment. That was the only insight she needed not to press him further. If the past was a lesson, she would have to until he was out of this fight or flight mode to figure out what he was going through. Yes, he must have expected to drop his weight, but was optimistic enough to think he could fit in the other vest. Perhaps this disappointment was the real reason he was upset. Well, and the fact that this was drawn to her attention.

As Claude turned back to preening, she saw him return to the sample of black fabric. The one with the dark stripes. A moment of long silence passed and Lucy decided she could no longer keep quiet.

“Sir… are you thinking about… courting again?”

To her surprise, he didn’t immediately get upset.

“Why?” he scoffed. “I’m already married,” he parroted what was always said about them.

Such a common misconception, but one that struck her again with that piercing kind of sadness. Her blue eyes glossed over, affected by his clear refusal to try.

“Claude… you know what we have is different.”

Although merely looking at his profile, she could see how he darkened. The room seemed cooler. The light behind his eyes dampened as he visibly left the present moment. Her heart sped up. He was shaken. Recovering quickly, he blinked and came back to her, she watched his crow's feet tighten and his lips press together in a nearly undetectable wince.

Lucy acknowledged how unwise it would be to goad him into telling her what he was feeling, but her mind was buzzing and she felt like if she didn’t reach out, he would just be gone one day. Because that is exactly how it would happen. There would be little warning larger than this. He would just decide, and she would get a call.

“Aren’t you the one who believes that people should just be themselves?” Her eyes were still glossy. “If they expect you to wear the blue tie, then they don’t deserve you in the grey one.”

A bit frenzied, Lucy felt like she was beating a dead horse as he just stood there, refusing to look at her. Each moment was an eternity as she watched his heavy, furrowed brow. Claude swallowed.

“It’s not about the tie,” his voice was so tight that his volume was quiet. “The grey tie isn’t working.” It didn’t work with Jehan, it didn’t work with Aurore, and it wasn’t going to work with Esmeralda.

Oblivious to his thoughts, a few tears slipped down Lucy’s cheeks as she wrapped her hands around his arm and squeezed, wishing to express her deep love for him.

“But it is. You have me, Remy, Jean-Pierre… we all love you. I know someone else could.”

Letting him off the hook, she stepped away from him. It was important to her that he knew she wasn’t holding him to a response. She grabbed the sample square of striped fabric.

“Monsieur,” Lucy called out to the back office, just loud enough to grab the attention of the elderly tailor. “If you have an example of this fabric prepared, Minister Frollo would love to try it on.”

“Of course,” the man smiled. “He’s always modeled the stripes well, perhaps he’ll finally order one.

Lucy’s mouth parted in shock, snapping her head back to the minister. She could see the amusement in his grey eyes and the faintest, coy smile.