#i love her but she was so hard to model simply bc of her hair n lil cape

[weepingalaxy]

legally i cant make smth without making the whole trio. so here you go. The Whole Party Turned Low Poly. no one can have these models theyre so poorly optimized but like.. look at them.... theyre sauuuurrrr cute

ft, of course, @strifesolution's scarlet and @irished-lads' xaiden <3

[toruq]

im sending u these ones specifically bc i know ur less connected to ur mc than to anne muhahaha >:333

12. What does your character look like? Which hairstyle and make up do you prefer on them?

13. What is your character's name? Do you wish to change it, if the function ever makes its way into the game?

14. How do you dress your character? Do you coordinate the outfits between Rider and Horse?

and if u feel like it im curious about these:

23. Which Druid Circle do you prefer? Is there a reason for your preference? Is it tied to the Soul Rider of the Circle?

20. What part of the Main Story is your favorite?

11. How many horses do you own in total? Did it use to be more, or are you still missing a few?

04. Which Horse was your first purchase? Do you still own that horse, and what did you name it?

05. Which Horse is your favorite? Do you own said horse, or are you simply dreaming of buying it?

juni you must hate me or something

under the cut because there's so much to answer (mostly about my mc that i neglect so hard)

12. What does your character look like? Which hairstyle and make up do you prefer on them?

ok, here is ida. i draw her based on the old player model but in the new player model she looks a bit different. I use this chunky highlight hair because it somewhat hides the fact that her ears stick out now when wearing a hat/helmet (this pisses me off the most about the new characters). but she used to have this black hair, and of course dark eye makeup. it's a lot like what i do irl

13. What is your character's name? Do you wish to change it, if the function ever makes its way into the game?

Ida Riverwood! I don't ever want to change it. I actually really like it and I'm surprised my kid self was smart enough to choose that

14. How do you dress your character? Do you coordinate the outfits between Rider and Horse?

you can kinda see how i dress her in those pics of her, usually a dark color scheme and yes I coordinate it with the horse. I actually dress her in a lot of sweaters and typically with proper breeches and tall boots and helmet as if it were a regular english outfit irl. I occasionally dress her and her horse in western gear, or use streetwear if she's off the horse

23. Which Druid Circle do you prefer? Is there a reason for your preference? Is it tied to the Soul Rider of the Circle?

you may be surprised, but I like the moon circle just a smidgen more than the sun circle, though they are in close competition. I just love the aspects of both of them, visions & teleportation. I find it so interesting and quite applicable to real life, at least personally, because of how I experience life with PTSD. it is easy to convey my mind through comics about the powers of these circles.

20. What part of the Main Story is your favorite?

oh my, if you can count the storyline in SSL as a predecessor to SSO, i would say Anne's first trip to Pandoria to save Concorde. in SSO, it's surprising but seeing Anne without saving her must have been my favorite. I was disappointed with the actual saving Anne quest, but seeing Pandoria for the first time in SSO was an experience I won't forget, even though I prefer the atmosphere of Pandoria in SSL

11. How many horses do you own in total? Did it use to be more, or are you still missing a few?

oh my. 64. I once sold the green whinfell because i found it so ugly. But I felt so bad and rebought it a year or two ago.

04. Which Horse was your first purchase? Do you still own that horse, and what did you name it?

this little POS, Carrotwinner. I still have him. pic taken just now

05. Which Horse is your favorite? Do you own said horse, or are you simply dreaming of buying it?

can you logically ask me this question Juni?

just kidding, my favorite (purchasable) horse is this little guy, and I'm so lucky to have him. I think he was either the second or third old fjord I bought, and I have three. the white one, and orange thing I also have.

[bungiri]

Oh, I will ask about Wren 🤭

Number 1! I got this thought since my farmer's first meeting with Lance wasn't the best experience for her, so what was Wren's first impression of Lance? 👀

Number two! What is her favourite skill? (farming, combating, foraging, etc)

Number 3! Has she met Jio and the Following? 👀👀👀 (I know we are all big on SVE more, but I'm curious if your universe has RSV in it too, hehe! ✨)

Number 4 is a lore one. How does she know her mother is/was a witch? Or she doesn't yet? (sorry if this is answered, I'm a little sleepy by the time I wrote these 😅💤 )

I hope you're doing well and your day is well, Bunny!! ❤️❤️

HELLOOOO NIMILLA i am doing good thank u for asking 🤭 and thank u for sending some questions abt wren AAAH i appreciate it 🫂

i hope ur doing good as well <3

also i'm curious as to why ur farmer's experience meeting lance didn't go well 👁️ idk if u have explained it before

questions answered under the cut bc it's kinda long LMAO

⊹ ˚. meeting lance

wren's first meeting with lance on top of the volcano was...disorienting.

she was dehydrated and overheated from the intensity of the volcano, had holes burned into her clothes, and her hair was probably on fire tbh,, then suddenly she's face to face with some mysterious man who literally just poofed into existence right in front of her ?!

also she's honest, she isn't ashamed to admit that the first thing she noticed was how cute he was. she really thought she had died in that volcano and this angelic man was here to escort her to the afterlife.

her first words to him were "...am i dead ? i'm dead aren't i ? ugh, i knew those stupid magma sprites would get me."

it took him bit of convincing before she realized that she was in fact not dead.

safe to say she liked him a lot from the get go. developed a puppy love crush on him pretty quickly.

⊹ ˚. favorite skills

her favorite skill changes depending on how long she's been living in pelican town and running the farm yk.

wren's a former city girl wannabe model so she has no experience with any kind of farming or outdoorsy activities whatsoever. she only knows how to plant seeds in the ground because of a project her and her dads would do when she was a kid LMAO.

so her favorite skills in year 1 would be foraging because you literally just pick shit up off the ground. then fishing once she gets more experience with her fishing rod and help from willy.

as she gets the farm up and running, farming eventually becomes her favorite. she loves her animals and has really tapped into the jam business by the time her 3rd year rolls around.

⊹ ˚. Jio and The Cult™️

honestly i've been debating how i should incorporate ridgeside in wren's lore 👁️ there's a lot to get into and i really need to think about it more

wren has met jio and kiwi like you would in the game. she's wary about The Following simply because of the negative connotations around the term "cult". it's hard for her not to jump to conclusions about this kinda thing, but she is curious about jio, kiwi, and the ridge forest.

she stays away from the ridge forest though until she's more experienced with combat because WHEW she rly got her ass handed to her running in there with nothing but a rusty sword and a backpack full of salmonberries.

wren eventually comes around once she's better friends with kiwi. she's still wary, but she wants to help her little friend out. she ends up really admiring raeriyala and belinda's relationship and becoming good friends with jio and daia as well

⊹ ˚. her mother, the witch

wren does know that her mother is a witch and she's known all her life. it's probably one of the only things she remembers about her.

the reason she remembers is because on the day she was abandoned, her mom spent the morning showing baby wren how she uses magic to take care of the white rose bush they had growing outside of their house.

plus i think her mom would have worn a witchy hat like camilla does so it's easy for wren to put 2 and 2 together.

[loetise]

♡ + allevi 🥺

send me ♡ + a ship and i’ll tell you…, accepting!  ˎˊ˗

who is the most affectionate? they're both soooo affectionate come on now. i think allie wins out in the slightest bc levi is more regulated to me. he has an Inch of resolve over her vs allie who would run on stage during a show to give him a hug if she wanted to. this is why she has to be a model for them on the cross or she would be unhinged.

who initiates the handholding? allie!!! but i don't think there's ever a time when levi won't hold her hand back.

who worries more for the other? allie worries for levi more i think, even if she doesn't quite have a reason too she's just a worrier and tries So Hard not to be which makes it worse. she worries about him but it's not for any one reason and she will go with him and Also do anything he does unfazed. a little bit silly she is.

who is more likely to ask for help? maybeee allie but i don't think it's horribly unlikely for him to either? i think levi sees her as a very vulnerable person and easy to ask for help, and her always asking him for help def helps to me

who is the one always losing the keys? i feel like they're both absolutely horrendous at it. it's the vibes. levi has cool goth metal keys and they're still always losing them.

who leaves little love notes for the other? allie <3 she leave stickie notes all over his stuff. i feel like levi is more prone like. another weird affection thing but idk what ,kjhdghsc

who can’t sleep unless the other is there? mostly allie!! she misses him a ton when they're not together for sure and he's so safe to her :(( i think levi loves sleeping with her he's like. in general just a touch more chill than her.

who is more likely to propose to the other? mmmm maybe levi? allie generally is not a marriage girlie but she just wants to date forever and ever sjdjdjsjkd, the marriage part scares her a bit.

who introduced the other to their family first? levi <3 he’s met all of allie’s plant and animal friends though

who is more likely to play with the other’s hair? maybeeee allie? i think they both love to play with each other’s hair bc it’s very easy to play with and So long. allie has def braided them together JFFGJK

who makes sure the other has meals/stays hydrated? allie, and she really likes cooking for him when he's busy too :((( it's very much a love language for her And she gets to take care of him a win is a win.

who is more likely to stand up to anyone for the other? levi methinks. even if he's not thee toughest guy he has scary guard dog energy and it's enough for allie who falls to the ground when anyone seems upset with her.

who is the most likely to prepare a surprise for the other? theyre both such silly surprise people to me. like with the sanrio plushies. anything big i feel like theyre more likely to talk abt, for allie it's bc she simply cannot keep surprises a surprise that are Very exciting and she's so easy to read.

who makes the other pinky promise not to do certain things? allie core!!!!! it would be very funny and not surprise me at all if levi started doing it too bc of how often she does it.

who puts a blanket over the other when they fall asleep on the couch? i feel like both of them this feels like a both thing. allie frequently falls asleep places and i feel like levi is very similar in that way, they're just sleepy little guys <3

[yourmidnightlover]

i totally lost the ask bc i forgot to put it in my drafts, BUT i remembered which prompts were requested.

this one was kind of a challenge, so i LOVED it.

MINORS DNI

kiss list #5: kissing as an interruption

smut #8: mirror sex

fluff #5: “you smell really nice”

CW: fucking in front of a mirror (duh.), unprotected sex, penetrative sex, fingering, hate sex?, it’s kinda enemies to lovers. *let me know if i missed anything*

it had been yet another new years celebration at rossi’s mansion. another new years where spencer’s pining over what seems to be so untouchable, unattainable. you.

for what spencer would recall as ages, but was actually 3 years, he has been in love with you. he’s in love with the occasional nose scrunches. he’s in love with the way you gently bite your lip when you’re in concentration. he’s in love with your voice, the gentle, soft sounds it produces. he’s so in love with you he can’t say a thing.

in fact, he’s never said a thing to you.

ever.

over time, you had developed a theory that spencer reid simply didn’t like you. at all. he would stare at you until you would look at him, making him break his eye contact. he would never even say a word to you unless it was a random statistic or for a case.

but that was just because spencer was nervous. how was he supposed to approach a girl like you? just walk up to you and say hi? no.

while he’s dressed in a suit and mask, thanks to rossi’s masquerade themed party, he notices a woman waltz in with a beautiful gown, her eyes and the top of her face covered my a matching mask. spencer knew all eyes were on this mysterious person, and he couldn’t help but feel drawn to them.

still, he couldn’t approach her.

or could he?

he was wearing a mask. why wouldn’t he be able to?

she wouldn’t be able to recognize him.

and maybe he needed this girl to help him get over you - that train has clearly left long ago.

using all the courage he could muster up, he approached this woman with a feigned confidence.

once he had gotten closer to her, he had realized she must’ve been there for a while, the faint smell of alcohol wafting from her breath when she greets him.

“hi!” she says with a smile wider than he’d seen in a long time.

“he-hello,” he stutters already, suddenly wondering how he’d manage to maintain confidence long enough to even talk to you.

“my name is - shit,” she stumbled over her dress, effectively falling forward and latching onto spencer’s arms to secure herself.

“what a lovely name,” he chuckled as a blush grew on his cheeks.

“no! shit isn’t my name,” she giggled as she let her head rest on his chest. “wow, you smell really nice,” she says as she let herself be overwhelmed by his scent.

“oh… thank you,” he whispered. “you smell nice, too,” vanilla, he thought.

“you’re cute,” she pulled back enough to poke his cheekbone with a smile. “like a model.”

“you-i’m not very cute when standing next to you,” he tried to be smooth. “that wasn’t very good,” he laughed at himself. “i-what i meant was that you look… you’re very beautiful.”

“you can’t even see my face!” she argued, the smile remaining on her lips. “but thank you.”

“it’s no problem, truly,” he whispered softly.

“wait,” she suddenly seemed all-so-sober as the next couple of words left her mouth. “are you spencer?”

“wha-yes?” he nodded his head slowly.

“what the hell?!” she whisper-yelled before pulling him into the nearest room, which happened to be a bathroom. “what the fuck, reid?!”

“what? what did i do?!” he argued, not sure where anything went wrong as he took off his own mask.

until she took off her mask.

shit.

“y/n?” he mumbled, already knowing the answer.

“yes, y/n! fuck, reid!” she sighed exasperated.

“what’s the problem here?” he stepped back while she tried to compose herself.

“what’s the problem? what’s the problem?!” she scoffed as she rolled her eyes. “the problem is that you fucking hate me and decide to flirt with me at a party! what? you have to wait until i look presentable to want to even talk to me? i actually respected-no, i looked up to you before i came into the bau. i had read your manuscripts and theories and your inserts in newspapers. i was wanting to meet you once i finally realized my hard work had paid off, and i had made it into the bau. but no! the first day i met you, you wouldn’t even say fucking hello! it’s such an easy word! hel-lo! there! i just did it!” you chuckled once more, about to explode again. “god, i didn’t think adults could be as petty as you’ve been. you refuse to even talk to me unless it’s absolutely necessary. you only fucking stare at me until i look your way. why don’t y-“

and his lips were on yours.

in a moment of weakness, or maybe strength, spencer was able to face his fears of actually kissing the girl of his dreams.

and you let him.

at first, you were surprised. the shock was evident in the way she tensed up. spencer was about to pull away, accepting his defeat, before you finally kissed him back. your hands cupped his wrists that were firmly planted on your face as you inches your body closer to his own.

“i don’t hate you,” he breathed into your mouth as you both heaved for air that had been lost amongst the heat. “in fact,” he placed his leg between yours, noticing how a whine had left your lips, “it’s quite the opposite.”

“reid, please,” you tried to grind yourself down on his leg.

“ah-ah,” he chuckled. “if we’re doing this, you’re calling me by my first name.”

“spencer, come on,” you argued with the man, he finally obliged and rose his knee to meet your center. “fuck.”

“you like that? i can make you feel much more than just this,” he growled in your ear.

“please, anything,” you sighed, placing a kiss below his ear.

“come here,” he removed his leg, and in an instant it was replaced my his hand trailing up your leg, underneath your dress. “someone’s excited,” he announced once he felt how wet you were.

“shut up,” you sighed, gently biting down on his shoulder to keep yourself quiet.

“what was that, princess? did you tell me to shut up?” he teased, feeling you nod against his shoulder.

“‘m sorry,” you cried as his fingers entered your heat, quickly thrusting in and out. “oh my god, yes.”

“yea? maybe this’ll teach you to not tell me to shut up, huh, princess?” he chuckled against your ear as your body began relying on spencer to keep you upright.

“wha- oh my god, i’m so close,” your nails began digging into his clothes back as he drew you closer to your finish.

and right before you were over the precipice, he took his fingers out of your heat. a whine left your lips as your body chased his touch, bucking towards him for some type of relief.

“don’t tell me to shut up,” he warned once more.

“please. please,” you whined. “i’ll do anything, please, just…” you began kissing on his neck, gently sucking marks where your lips had been.

“what do you want, princess?” he asked, his hands trailing over your waist.

“you. please, i want you so bad,” you huffed. “please, inside me.”

“you want me inside you?” you nodded eagerly, pulling at his shirt before he pressed his lips back to yours.

he twisted the two of you so you were pressed against the counter, his front to your back.

“so, so bad,” you wiggled your ass so you could feel the bulge that had been forming in his pants.

“lucky for you,” he began unbuckling his belt, “i want this just as bad,” he let his hard cock rub along your folds before entering you.

“oh, shit,” you cursed under your breath, holding onto the counter for stability.

“fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned in your ear before pulling almost all the way out, his tip only inside before slamming back into you.

“spen-spencer,” you gasped out as he set a ruthless pace of slamming into you.

“what is it, sweet girl? you need more?” he saw the pathetic excuse of a nod from your head and reached his hand forward to grasp your hair rather than rub your clit. “too fucking bad. if you’re cumming on my dick, you’re coming from that alone.”

when he yanked your hair back, a pornographic moan was ripped from your throat. you were able to look yourself in the eyes as the man who you thought hated you was fucking you into oblivion. you were more than grateful that the alcohol had worn off so you could remember this moment forever, although not as good as his own eidetic memory.

“you like watching me fuck you, princess?” he lent down in your ear to whisper. “you look so fucking good like this, don’t you think?”

“ye-yes,” you sighed before he let his forehead rest on your shoulder, allowing his hips to plow into you at a relentless pace as his other hand snakes between your legs to pull them further apart.

“there we go,” he chuckled at the deeper angle he was able to reach, places that were untouched inside of you. “you gonna come?”

“please, oh my god, please!” you broke eye contact with him in the mirror to take a breath before he yanked your hair back.

“then fucking do it,” he growled in your ear. “come all over my dick, baby.”

“oh my-fuck!!” he felt your pussy fluttering around his member as he fucked you through your orgasm, helping him near his own.

“shit, so fucking good,” he moaned in your ear. “where do you want it?”

“inside. inside, please inside of me,” you begged him once more.

“want me to fill you up?” he looked up to see you looking at him with pure lust… and maybe something more before he came inside of you.

as he fucked his cum back into you, the both of you could hear fireworks going off in the background.

“happy new year, spencer,” you chuckled before he pulled out and fixed your underwear.

“happy new year, y/n,” he smiled before gently grasping your face and pulling you in for yet another kiss.

here’s to a happy new year and many more with what you’ve come to find is the love of your life.

[pennylaneforthoughts]

Lokius Hogwarts AU

All right my dudes, hot take time:

I’ve seen a lot of Hogwarts AU headcanons floating around, and having thought waaaaaay too much about it, I’m here to add my two cents.

( @sortinghatchats has my favorite sorting system I’ve seen to date, since it goes so much in depth into themes throughout the HP series that good ol’ JK barely touches on in her pretty surface level commentary on the subject, so that’s the system I’m gonna use. Go to their blog to learn more about the way the system works bc I’m too lazy to go more in depth than I already have.)

This is gonna be Hella Long tho so I’m putting it under a cut.

Loki: Petrified Slytherin Primary/Slytherin Secondary - sorting: Slytherin House

Perhaps it may seem trite, but Loki really is a Slytherin Primary at heart. Yes he is ambitious and all that stereotypical stuff, but that’s not really what makes a Slytherin a Slytherin. Anyone can be ambitious. No, he’s a Slytherin because he unapologetically prioritizes himself and the people he cares about above all else. 

“Slytherin Primaries are fiercely loyal to the people they care for most. Slytherin is the place where “you’ll make your real friends”– they prioritize individual loyalties and find their moral core in protecting and caring for the people they are closest to. Slytherin’s reputation for ambition comes from the visibility of this promotion of the self and their important people– ambition is something you can find in all four Houses; Slytherin’s is just the one that looks most obviously selfish.”

However, Loki’s trauma has pushed him to something this system calls Petrifying.

“Whether through death, betrayal, abandonment (from either side), or through never having had any to begin with, the Petrified Slytherin has decided that having important people is too dangerous. Having those strong ties leaves you open to pain and weakness, and the pleasure of those connections aren’t worth the despair that comes from their seemingly inevitable loss. In this way, they close themselves off to meaningful connections out of what is ultimately fear (though from the inside, it’s far more likely to be experienced as a rational, sensible decision given the circumstances of the world), and gives them a stony exterior that seems impenetrable, resolute, and cold.” 

Loki wants love and acceptance so badly, but he is convinced that the kind of attachments and relationships that that comes from are far too dangerous and the risk isn’t worth the reward. He pushes people away, hides behind a mask of self-aggrandizement, and betrays others before they can betray him in an attempt to protect himself from potential pain.

In the series, however, we see him slowly unpetrify and move towards a more healthy style of attachment because of Mobius and Sylvie’s influence on him. Whereas his circle of priorities used to include only himself (and arguably Frigga and later, Thor, in the movie timeline), he proverbially “thaws” enough to let Mobius and Sylvie in, and tragically, because of that, the loss of them hurts him so deeply because by the end of season 1, they’re all he had.

His Slytherin Secondary, however, is obvious in his methodology. He’s the god of chaos. He loves improvisation, and plans only exist as long as another better idea doesn’t come along and usurp it. He’ll change and adapt (quite literally) to best fit the situation in front of him, and he takes joy in that. But beneath all the running and his many personas, he has his “neutral state” that he lets only a precious few see. Mobius gets to see it, and so does Sylvie, and as he progresses through the series, he starts to be more comfortable existing in that state where he’s no longer hiding behind everything he feels like the world expects him to be and he can just be himself. 

Mobius: Slytherin Primary (Hufflepuff Model)/Hufflepuff Secondary - sorting: Slytherin House

People like to put Mobius in Hufflepuff, but honestly? I don’t think that’s where he’d be most comfortable. Yes, he is kind and caring to basically everyone, and we see this over and over again in the series. The man radiates comfort. However, like it says in Inky and Kat’s description of the Slytherin Primary, 

“Wanting to help someone doesn’t mean you’re loyal to them. Wanting to help them at the expense of your comforts, your values, your commitments and sometimes even yourself–that does.”

Mobius is kind to a fault. But he is not kind at the expense of himself. Not to everyone at least. He is kind to the child in France, but he is not kind to the point of saving him from the resetting of the timeline, and he doesn’t feel guilty about that. He believes in a duty of care, but he does not believe he has any obligation to go beyond what he thinks that duty of care is. He unapologetically plays favorites, and this is mentioned on multiple occasions. Above all else, Mobius values loyalty as a virtue. Sure, he cares about the TVA and its accompanying morality, and he genuinely does believe it’s his duty to care about and be kind to others. He seems to vibe quite well with the Hufflepuff ideal of caring about people simply because they are people, but this is all secondary to his personal loyalties when push comes to shove. For Mobius,

“dropping that model in order to stand by someone you love, or in order to protect yourself, doesn’t feel like a failing. Sticking to that modelled morality at the expense of betraying or abandoning one of their own would make a Slytherin feel guilty and wrong. Being able to put the things and concepts you like aside for the sake of the people who need you feels more righteous than any moral posturing.”

It’s for this very reason that Mobius gets so angry and feels so betrayed when he thinks Loki has abandoned him for Sylvie, and when Ravonna lies to him and prunes him.

“Betraying your own is the worst kind of crime. Loyalty is precious and terrible; it makes you vulnerable. It’s given sparingly, deeply, and a Slytherin will stand by their loyalties through the same death and fire that a Gryffindor would brave for the sake of doing the right thing, or a Hufflepuff to help someone in need.”

Loki is Mobius’ own. Mobius prioritizes Loki over almost everything else, sticks his neck out for him over and over again, and is willing to sacrifice his own happiness for him. He’s even willing to abandon the whole of his former ideology and prior friendships for this relationship that has become closer to him than his own self, the highest tier of trust and loyalty a Slytherin can give.

“It’s an extreme Slytherin who would let the whole world burn for the sake of a friend, but every Slytherin Primary would be at the very least tempted.”

And Mobius very nearly does exactly that. Even says the words, “burn it to the ground” when Loki asks him what he’s going to do. And he doesn’t feel bad about it. Especially after realizing what the TVA has done to him and the people he cares about. He kicks the TVA out of his circle of care, and doesn’t look back. And he does it for Loki.

Mobius’ Secondary is where people get his Hufflepuff vibes from, I think. A Hufflepuff secondary is marked by “their consistency and the integrity of their method. They’re our hard workers. They build habits and systems for themselves and accomplish things by keeping at them. They have a steadiness that can make them the lynchpin (though not usually the leader) of a community.” And that is what Mobius is. It’s why he radiates that kindness and comfort. He quietly and carefully works at and invests in the relationships in his life to the point that people almost automatically trust him, and over time he has learned how to read people and figure out what makes them tick. 

He approaches new situations with a steady head and gentle hand that Loki is unused to, and it’s this approach that eases Loki into learning how to trust and rely on people. It’s an inherently Hufflepuff approach, and it’s the key to his success as an analyst for the TVA and an understanding friend for Lokis across the timelines.

Tl;dr - Application to an actual Hogwarts AU fic:

THEREFORE! There’s a compelling narrative to be had with a tiny, first-year Loki coming into Hogwarts. He comes from a pureblood family that’s very proud of their Gryffindor heritage (they don’t talk about Hela, and Loki and Thor don’t even know she exists until later in this story), and his brother had been sorted into Gryffindor a couple years prior, and Loki has heard very little other than contempt for Slytherin House and everyone in it. Loki doesn’t want to be sorted into Slytherin. He doesn’t want to deal with the disappointment and shame from his father and the sad eyes of his brother. But the sorting hat sorts him there almost immediately, and his heart sinks. He wanders over to the table miserably but determined. If he’s gonna be sorted into the “evil” house, might as well just run with it, right? Best not to get close to people though. It’s Slytherin. Who knows when someone will betray you.

Enter Mobius, the tiny muggleborn, bright eyed, bushy tailed, and having no clue about the prejudices between houses. The hat takes a hot minute sorting him, giving him the choice between Hufflepuff and Slytherin and telling him Hufflepuff would love a kindhearted and welcoming member like him. But Mobius has been eyeing the little black-haired kid who got sorted before him and is now sitting far apart from everyone, and he can’t help but feel like he needs to be this kid’s friend. And didn’t the hat just say Slytherin is where you’ll make your real friends? Friends are what Mobius cares about, so he’d like to go to Slytherin, thank you very much, so that’s where he goes, and he happily plunks himself down right next to Loki and sticks his hand out.

“I’m Mobius. What’s your name?”

 Loki looks at Mobius’ hand disdainfully and doesn’t shake it, but he does answer, “Loki.”

Mobius’ eyes go wide, and he smiles. “Loki? Like after the Norse god?”

Loki nods, eyeing Mobius suspiciously. People don’t often bat an eye at his name. Not in the wizarding world, anyway.

“Wow, that’s so cool! I loved reading about Norse mythology in school and Loki was always my favorite. Names have power, you know. If you’ve got the same name, then you must be just as awesome.”

Loki has no idea what to do with this kid, but he’s immediately aware of two things:

He’s absolutely sure that this Mobius kid is in the wrong house. No way a Slytherin can be this excited without a single hint of deception in his face.

He’s going to be eaten alive by the other students if Loki doesn’t protect him. What a pain.

Loki is completely wrong on both of these points.

[chrisevansgoodgirl]

light of my life, fire of my loins. be a good baby, do what i want.

summary: requested: Andy Barber gives me such strong sugar daddy vibes I haven’t watched the show but he just looks like the kinda guy who would spoil the shit outta someone

warnings: smut everywhere. and you know, sugar daddy shit, so. also, doesn’t make a lot of sense. I have a lot more that I actually wrote, I just wasn’t sure where I was going with this. so...prompt sugar andy daddy if you want more???

word count: around 10,400

pairing: andy barber ��x reader

a/n: anon! I want you to know that I started working on this as soon as you requested it! I just wanted to make sure I really got sugar daddy andy down and that it wasn’t steve rogers that I was writing. I am so sorry bc you definitely deserved this a very long time ago! if there are any typos, I apologize, I just needed to get this posted before work.

When you met Andy, you had been juggling three jobs, gaining more debt than you would probably ever be able to pull off even with a degree, fairly sucky grades caused by how much you worked, resulting in stress, anxiety, all that great shit that comes along with being someone in America that dares to want to pursue higher education.

After a few months dating Andy, you had one job that you only kept for autonomy reasons, shrinking debt, excellent grades, and truly, no stress at all. Instead of spending a night waiting tables at the restaurant near the campus, where disgusting men would flirt with you because you were on the clock and literally could not leave, you were in a tiny ass dress, covered in diamonds, drinking champagne, and trying not to be too obvious about the cum dripping down your thighs.

Obscene was often a word that you played with in your mind whenever you were with Andy. Your outfits were indecent because he loved seeing as much of your skin as he possibly could. Your behavior was shameless, you showed up, you laughed, you hung onto him the entire night with the smuggest of smiles. Your willingness, especially in public, was vulgar, the way you let him touch you in front of everyone. Salacious. Indecorous. Immoral. Debauched.

These parties that he took you to were only half of it. According to his son, Jacob, Andy hadn’t been one for socializing before the divorce. He claimed that this was something new his father picked up, something that he theorized was the consequence of loneliness. You figured that you also fell under that category. These people weren’t actually his friends and you weren’t actually his girlfriend.

Andy wanted a distraction and you were just fucked up and high-maintenance enough to be perfect for the job. Getting into the swing of things had been quite the task at the start, much to your surprise. Who didn’t want a gorgeous man to spoil them? Apparently you, if your earlier behavior was any indication.

You had started this with wanting to be as professional as possible. When you had pictured how this would look, it was you listening to him speak whenever he wanted, you would respond when prompted but it would be short, succinct, and your main concern would be maintaining your physical attractiveness. You tried to think of him as your employer, you were his employee, and that meant that there needed to be respect and boundaries. You pictured a lot of pretending. Pretending to laugh, pretending to care, pretending to enjoy his company, pretending to come.

You had also thought you were going to smart. This wasn’t some stupid Lifetime movie and you had dreams and goals and if you played your cards right, this man could put you on a sure path to reaching all you had ever hoped to accomplish. At least, that was what you were telling yourself when you’d had the mental quandary: were you a prostitute?

Thankfully, both phases of resistance had been dropped—possibly around the first time he went down on you. You were no expert, but “professional” probably barred him from fucking you in about 90% of his chosen locations. And whether you were a “prostitute”, an “escort”, a “hooker”, or whatever other demeaning word anyone could come up with, was another unimportant matter. Anyone could call you anything, at the end of the day, you had money.

It was supposed to be clean, a black and white exchange where you showed up and he paid you. At any point, you could step on the brakes, he could step on the brakes—something you had once found relief in, but was now a source of insecurity, not that you would ever tell him that. He didn’t need to know about your life, what you wanted to do after school, who your friends were, your shaky relationship with your parents, the reasons why someone like you wanted to enter this relationship.

But he asked about those things because rules seemed to either not exist to him, or they just weren’t meaningful. And you hadn’t felt pressured to answer or anything, if that was the case, you would have just lied. The fact of the matter was that eventually you told him these things because you didn’t mind him knowing about your life.

He was not supposed to be kind or smart or interesting. He was not supposed to be a good guy. Clearly, he didn’t get the memo. There should be an official organization that lets men know you can’t just be perfect and spoil someone if you look anything like Andrew Barber.

It was the middle of April in Massachusetts and that meant it was still just a little too chilly for the slinky slip Andy had picked out for you, but that was what all the champagne was for. You were buzzing and it wasn’t just that you were getting drunk. Summer was approaching and he often spoke about all of the things he wanted to do with you now that you had more free time and he gave you these looks and you could just get lost in his eyes and plans even though you knew better.

You had been doing this long enough that people had finally stopped staring. The first few times Andy brought you, they were blatant and downright rude, but it wasn’t like you could do anything about it. Despite the disproportionate wealth shared amongst this group, it wasn’t too often that someone brought along a much younger woman that they were undoubtedly paying. Most of these men were married and either brought their wives along or tales of their affairs.

The rich people here treated this like an elite group, so when people like you were around, not everyone was welcoming. The other few women that had similar situations to yours were kind enough and tried to get to know you better—shared experiences create great friendships, right? Andy didn’t think so, he discouraged any type of communication and claimed that it was because they didn’t tend to stick around long. You theorized he just didn’t want you spending time with anyone that wasn’t him.

The woman across from Andy, Francesca, had been around for as long as you could remember. She had long, dark brown hair, flawless eyebrows, a great jawline, and an even greater ass. She was a few years older than him and several older than you.

You often pondered just how much more interesting than you she was. See, she had never hidden that she was attracted to him, but Andy seemed oblivious. You couldn’t tell if he actually was or was just pretending not to notice. You told yourself it was deeper than just the age, that there was another, much different reason that he wasn’t interested in her.

But, of course, you couldn’t ask. You couldn’t talk to him about other women because that was teetering on the edge of possessiveness and jealousy. Those were two of the few luxuries that you would be denied. Romance would not be found here, just a lot of mutual lust and understanding.

She laughed at something he said, pulling you back into the moment. As you sipped on your champagne, you returned to your favorite activity at these parties: people watching. You were starting to pick up on some of the drama and whatever blanks were left at the end of the nights, Andy usually filled them for you.

There were certain types of men that always bred the most scandalous scenarios. Those are the same few men that had only just recently stopped trying to buy you away from Andy by offering you more money than he was paying you. Yes, technically, that was what you were here for, but Andy was not like these men.

For starters, most everyone in attendance was a lawyer. They followed the model of: the worse the job was, the better the pay. Unlike them, Andy didn’t represent sleazy, rich rapists or murderers. That was just the start of the differences. He didn’t get so drunk that he caused a scene at these parties, he didn’t touch drugs, and he wasn’t going through some tragic midlife crisis that he was trying to placate with cars or women.

When you looked back at the pair, Andy was texting and Francesca was eyeing your hand around the glass were sipping from. She was looking at your rings—oh, your rings. You loved your rings.

Originally, you’d thought you weren’t going to ask for or accept anything stupid. You just needed your bills paid, your rent, your car. You wanted to be able to eat more than once a day. Andy quickly realized that you wouldn’t ask, if he wanted you to have something, he was just going to have to give it to you.

(On your very first date, he’d given you a diamond bracelet. You had been stunned, maybe even a little uncomfortable. It was hard to accept such expensive items from strangers. However, you did like it and wore it almost every day even though it made no sense with most of your outfits. You’d simply grown fond of it because it had come from him.)

(On the fourth date, he gave you a three-strand diamond necklace that strongly resembled a collar. You adored it, not the way you adored your rings, but it still gave you butterflies whenever he would clasp it around your neck and then kiss the skin directly under it. These were things that he’d called gifts, but you recognized them for what they actually were, signs of ownership.)

The first ring had been a reward. You’d made it through midterms, so he took you to the jewelry shop that’s on the way back to your apartment from his house. After three hours and a lot of wine—you’d needed to be drunk the first few times you knew he was spending money on you—you left with the tiara ring for your pinky finger. It was a loud piece of intricate curls on top of and underneath a row of tiny hearts. This ring was the most special, the first, you rarely ever took it off—only for school.

The second had been an apology. He’d convinced you to spend the night at his house even though he knew you really didn’t want to. He had kissed your neck and your face and had two of his fingers inside you, he had whispered all the things he still wanted to do to you that night. Around two in the morning, you’d gone to get water from the kitchen. You were in a pair of panties and one of Andy’s shirts that you didn’t bother to button up. That was how you were dressed when you met his son for the first time. Two days later, you had the butterfly ring in its spot at the base of your index finger. It was gaudy and expensive but did little to quell your anger and humiliation. You loved it, nonetheless.

The third had been an anniversary present. This relationship had reached its 100-day mark, he took you to his favorite restaurant, the same one he had taken you to for your first date. Which wasn’t romantic at all, there were a lot of terms being discussed. This time had been much different. He asked you for your hand and slipped the ring onto your third finger without a word, he merely eyed the only empty finger with the unstated promise that that finger would soon have one as well. It was this huge oval cut diamond that covered the width of your finger, atop two bands of smaller but still fairly large identically cut diamonds.

A little less than three weeks after that, it had been…well, you still weren’t quite sure what the fourth ring was. It wasn’t often that Andy didn’t drive you. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, you had only one class so he would drop you off and pick you up during his lunch break so you could get coffee together. On Wednesdays and Fridays, you had more than one class so he would drop you off and he would pick you up when he got off work.

One Wednesday morning, your first class had been canceled so you ended up driving yourself. Andy took Wednesdays and Fridays as his early days off because he didn’t want you waiting in the library too long after your final class let out, so those had become the simple nights when he would come over to your apartment even though he really didn’t like it there—you figured he was struggling with the urge to buy you a much bigger apartment, one that would probably coincidentally be closer to his house as well.

You had made the plan to cook dinner that night so before heading home, you drove to the grocery store… Fortunately, no one was hurt. Unfortunately, at your place just in front of the stoplight, a car in the turn lane drove right into your car. Honestly, it wasn’t a big deal considering your life of absolute privilege and you just wanted to get the whole thing over with.

Andy wasn’t quite as level-headed. The other driver was a middle-aged man so Andy felt no reluctance in throwing a fit. You had been torn between being humiliated that he was fussing so much over you, flattered that he cared, angry that he was treating you like you were a fragile vase, or maybe just a little turned on because he was so angry.

That night, instead of your place, he took you to his house and spoiled the hell out of you. He undressed you and kissed you everywhere, he bundled you up in one of his sweaters and a throw blanket, sat you down on the bed, and made you hot chocolate. You were not allowed to lift a single finger. That was the first night you spent at his house, and since Jacob wasn’t there, Andy didn’t hesitate to fuck you for hours and make you scream as loudly as he wanted you to.

The next morning, when you woke up, the black velvet box was set on the pillow between you and him. He was propped up on the headboard with his laptop and the clock on his bedside table was saying that it was well past noon. Clearly, he decided to stay home from work and if there wasn’t jewelry in front of you, you would have given him a lecture.

It was a princess cut diamond—which he would later explain with ‘you are my princess’—with a double halo and a diamond-encrusted band. It was smaller than all the rest but somehow just went perfectly.

You weren’t bragging, at least not in a petty way. It was just that any time you noticed someone staring at your hand, you couldn’t help but try to draw more attention to it, or the other jewelry Andy showered you in.

You supposed that maybe that meant something, maybe during your little back and forth a few hours prior when he had accused you of being spoiled, he was onto something. Regardless, the only person who could be blamed for that was him.

You almost got lost in the diamonds on your hand when Andy reached out to you, pulling some hair over your shoulder. You looked up at him, he was smiling softly. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“Are you ready to go?”

He really didn’t like these parties; he was always the one that wanted to leave and would slyly place the blame on you. You were tired, you weren’t feeling well, you had a tough week and you just wanted to go home. You never minded because it wasn’t as if you got anything out of these parties either, and if that was the easiest way to pull him out of there, so be it. It was Sunday anyway, he had to work tomorrow and you had to go over your weekly schedule with him before the night was over.

“Sure.”

It started as a quiet drive, just like it always did, but then he placed his hand on your thigh. You glanced at him, arching an eyebrow. He simply smirked and kept his gaze on the road. You opened your legs wide, guiding two of his fingers inside you. “Can you feel your cum in me?”

“Not enough.”

“You’re the one that made me stand for almost an hour.”

“I’ll fill you up again before you go to class tomorrow.”

You snorted. “Lucky me.”

He shot you a look. “Oh, you don’t like it?”

“Never said that.”

“Well, if you don’t, I don’t need to—”

“I was kidding,” you whined.

He gave you a look, pretending he was unconvinced. “You’ve had an attitude all night.”

“You spanked me,” you reminded. The memory, the sore feeling on your ass whenever you sat down, had kept you wet all night. “Hard.”

“You talked back.”

You had because you wanted him to spank you. The first time he had, it was quite the discovery. It was after a drink, after you were feeling a little daring. He told you no, and you really hated when he did that. You couldn’t even remember what you had said, but it was bad, it was enough to get your skirt torn down, you bent over his knee, and well, the rest was a blissful blur.

This time it was because he was in a mood. You were getting dressed and he was watching you and that always meant something. You weren’t sure what exactly, but there were a few things you picked up on with Andy. When he wanted to be in control, he didn’t necessarily just want you to submit completely. When he gave you a look, you knew that he wanted you to fight just a bit. So, he told you to wear a specific dress and you refused initially. Cue the spanking. After your whole body felt hot and flushed and your legs were shaking and your cunt was dripping, you obliged, and he was so damn smug about it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, because my fingers are inside you and you want me to make you come.”

“Well…yes.”

He laughed and you couldn’t help but smile. You loved the sound of it. Andy so rarely laughed but you took it to mean that he felt comfortable enough around you. “If you can be patient, I’ll fuck you when we get home.”

Home. His home. Whatever. “And if I can’t?”

“Then you’re going to have to wait until the morning and I might not feel like letting you come. Deal?”

You nodded. “Deal.”

But he didn’t play fair. He drove slower than usual, fingers still buried inside you, and he moved them. A lot. He tried to cover it with stupid things, like driving over a pothole or making a sharp turn. If you moved your hips once, just barely, you lost. So, you sat there, completely still, gripping the seat like it was a lifeline.

Upstairs, you waited for him to make the rounds. Jacob wasn’t there, thankfully, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been there earlier. Andy went around every door and window and made sure they were locked.

In that time, you got undressed and waited for him. You had a couple of red marks across your ass that you could see in the mirror on the opposite end of the bedroom. He always liked seeing your skin marked up in some way if he was the reason.

When he entered the room, you were sitting on the edge of the bed. “Stand up.”

You quickly did so, turning your back to him so he could see your ass. His palms lightly felt along the marked skin there. “It doesn’t hurt.”

He rarely asked, but you found that he fucked you better when he knew for sure. You just started letting him know and it seemed he trusted you enough to voice any boundaries you had if he ever crossed them.

One hand slowly trailed up your spine and slid across to your shoulder. He pressed you down quickly and you caught yourself on the mattress with both hands. You could hardly stay still as you heard his belt and zipper.

He easily pushed into you, body flush against yours. He let you adjust around him, staying perfectly still as he leaned over you and kissed your back, neck, and shoulders. Andy didn’t move until you angled your hips and pressed back a little more, whimpering nonsense.

This was so unlike the two times earlier. In the closet, after he spanked you, he sat you on top of his lap and made you ride him. At the party, in the bathroom, he stood you in front of the mirror and gently fucked you until he had filled you with his cum. This was fast, rough, and maybe a little detached if you really thought about it.

Andy took your waist in both hands and held you in place as he pounded into you relentlessly. Slapping skin, your soaking wet pussy, the bed banging against the wall on his particularly hard thrusts, these had become noises you were more than used to, noises you had grown to crave. Being with Andy was never supposed to be like this, but you didn’t have a single complaint.

You buried your face in the blankets, hands clutching tight at the sheets around you as your muffled screams filled the room. You knew he was close when his hands began to wander. One carded through your hair and pressed you down more, the other moved under you to reach your clit.

“You were such a good girl in the car.”

Your response was unintelligible, but yes. You had been more than just good. You had waited for him even though he was being a tease, and now, you wanted what he owed you. Which he didn’t deny you, not for a second.

He made you come. Once. Twice. Maybe three times. But after that, it was all just nonsense, satisfying, endless nonsense. He was still holding you by the hair, but he’d turned your head so you could breathe, and he was still circling his fingers around your clit.

Your back arched, allowing him in deeper—one of the tells of your approaching orgasm. You felt your pussy tighten around his fingers and began begging him to let you come. Even in this hazy, fucked-out state, you wanted to please him, you wanted his praise and approval.

He gave you permission like he always did and fully intended to fuck you through it. He only paused because he felt you spilling down his thighs, felt the wet sheets against his skin, heard light drops on the hardwood floor. Fuck.

He pulled you against him immediately, your sweat-slicked back to his chest. One arm draped across your chest, the opposite hand wrapped around your neck. You were watching him, eyes clear with curiosity. “You just squirted, princess.”

You blinked and attempted to voice your confusion. Problem was, his hips were still moving. You had no time to recover and there was no chance your brain had at making sense of anything in that moment.

“It was fucking hot and you’re going to do it again.”

Needless to say, you skipped classes the next day.

Andy liked to celebrate the monthly anniversaries.

He was big on creating traditions, you assumed that was just that part of him that had been hardwired to crave a normal family. He hadn’t told you much about his life and you didn’t want to pry—his dad wasn’t around and his mom had been but she died when he was pretty young. He shared this only after he asked about your parents.

The most personal he had ever gotten with you was one night when he had intended to take advantage of your drunk and thoroughly fucked state, obviously convinced that you wouldn’t remember the question in the morning. Do you believe in love?

It was weird given the setting and that you and Andy simply didn’t talk like that. It was dangerous because this could never be more than it was. You were both only allowed feelings of lust, maybe even obsession, but nothing of the usual sense. And Andy was so strict and controlled, you were surprised he would cross any sort of line.

You tried to play it off, tried to tell him that you had more important things to worry about. He didn’t like that response. He pressed because he was just like that, his career was all about pressing and sometimes, he brought it home. You ended up telling him that you viewed marriage as a waste of time. Your parents divorced, all your aunts and uncles, even the younger friends who got married out of high school were on the fast track to messy court dates and vicious custody battles. You also pointed out his situation. If someone as perfect as him couldn’t stay married, no one could.

It was then that he told you the happiest moments of his life were carving pumpkins or decorating the Christmas tree with Jacob. He had loved Valentine’s Day with Laurie, he was the one that had always insisted on doing something. He even looked forward to the smaller holidays, Independence Day, Memorial Day, any day that got Jacob out of school and him an extra day off so they could have a cookout in the backyard.

It wasn’t his intent, but it had sort of created a barrier between you two. You wished he still had his family even if that meant never meeting him. He was that kind of man, a good man, and you could tell that it weighed on him every day that he no longer had his perfect family.

He’d never pictured his life like this, a failed marriage, a child separated between his parents. He never would have entertained the idea of needing someone like you. He didn’t say that last part, but you knew. Sometimes, it was just in the way he looked at you. You feared he would grow to resent you one day, but you always tried to push that thought far away.

Regardless, the distance was there and he realized it even if he didn’t say it. There was also the matter that school had just let out meaning you had zero excuses for saying no to him when he proposed the trip to New York that would coincide with the 7-month mark of your relationship.

You’d never been and you’d always wanted to see Moulin Rouge on Broadway. He’d decided to drive to New York because you had once made the mistake of telling him you hated airports. It was a short road trip, one you weren’t entirely unwelcoming of. Especially not when he kept his hand on your thigh most of the time. It was late when you made it to the hotel and surprisingly, he had no issues with you diving straight into bed.

The morning was quite different. The hotel window had a perfect view of the city and he felt inclined to fuck you against it as soon as you both woke up. Then, he wanted to take you shopping. For nearly two entire days, he spoiled the hell out of you. Anywhere you wanted to go, he would take you. Anything you glanced at, he wanted to buy it for you.

On the night of the show, he finally took you to Victoria’s Secret. You’d seen pictures of it before, but you had not anticipated how beautiful it would look in person. You went crazy, you took him to the fitting room and tortured him on every single floor with both clothing and lingerie. Several hours had been devoted to teasing him and he let you know that after the show, you would regret your decisions.

Before you managed to get him back to the hotel so you could get ready, he needed to spend another awful amount of money on you. There was a jewelry shop just down the street from Victoria’s Secret and he couldn’t let you leave the state—as he claimed when he saw you frown—without at least one diamond.

You wanted nothing, but you knew the chances of him allowing that were nonexistent. So, you told yourself to keep it small, but one thing that had become a harsh reality since you met Andy: you were a sad, pathetic victim to larger, shinier diamonds. You immediately fell in love with a short string of sizable heart-shaped diamonds, the one larger heart dangling in the center is what had caught your eye.

Regardless of this terrible habit you had developed—this feeling that you craved, the pure joy that you got from people knowing that Andy was buying you diamonds—you tried to protest when he caught you staring. You just wanted a bracelet, really. He rarely ever gave you bracelets.

Instead, he sent you off to get coffee. You knew exactly why that was. He often got rid of you when he was about to make decisions that he knew would make you feel bad. You wanted to refuse, but what was better? Blissful ignorance or sitting there just watching him toss out the money for that necklace?

Learning what Andy liked at Starbucks had been a process. He didn’t like his coffee sweet so that eliminated 90% of the menu. His home coffee was some brand you’d never even heard of, the shops he went to were all nearly older than him. He liked cappuccinos with extra espresso, but he preferred the straightforward coffee he would get anywhere else, so he claimed. However, you knew he liked pumpkin spice lattes. You planned to prove it the day they released them for the year.

When he came out, the bag in his hand was much larger than one that would be used for just a necklace. He smiled at the horrified look you shot him and claimed that he was given a great deal for the entire set.

While you were getting ready for the show, you realized that this was the most normal you had felt with Andy in a while. There had been tension that neither of you wanted to address, but this trip was making you realize just how stupid that tension was. One day, this was going to end. It was impractical to think an arrangement like this was going to have a long shelf-life.

Shouldn’t you just enjoy it? Being here with him was fun. You liked the city and all the noise and bustle. You also liked being with him away from home and the lives you two had created long before you met one another. This was just you two, isolated together. Normally, you couldn’t ask that of him. He had his job and he was a father and you understood that completely, but you liked this.

During the show, Andy whispered to you several times. He couldn’t wait to be fucking you. He couldn’t wait to taste you. He couldn’t wait to hear you scream and cry and beg. He placed your hand over his lap just so you could feel how hard he was.

Back at the hotel, and maybe it was because of all that he had said, you didn’t want to tease. Almost immediately, you stripped completely naked—fuck all of that expensive lingerie, apparently.

He finally gave you your diamonds. He started with the necklace and you couldn’t even be upset. It fit you so well, you loved seeing it against your skin, you loved seeing how he looked at you while you were wearing it. Then, he gave you the matching bracelet. You had said you wanted a bracelet, right? You couldn’t complain. The earrings, you told yourself, were fine because you didn’t have a pair of diamond earrings yet.

You felt weighed down by these diamonds but not in a bad way. You felt tied to him, owned like you were one of his prized possessions. It was temporary, you reasoned, so was there any real harm in that? He watched you climb off the bed he had ordered you on mere minutes ago, arching an eyebrow as you lowered to your knees before him.

Andy rarely had the patience to let you go down on him, despite loving the feeling. Mostly, his main source of pleasure came from the things he could make you feel. He also couldn’t understand what you got out of letting him fuck your mouth. You weren’t much of a fan before Andy, you could admit since you had a total of zero pleasant experiences, but you felt that this was your only way of spoiling him.

It was nonnegotiable tonight, you would throw a fit if needed. You looked up at him for a moment, almost asking for permission. But not quite, maybe more for compliance. His promise was made by unzipping his pants for you and then letting his hands fall to his sides.

You took him out of his pants and opened your mouth. Staring up at him again, you took as much of him as you could. He was fine until he felt you gag, then his jaw set and his hands became fists.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

Moaning around him, you slowly pulled back. One of his hands disappeared in your hair before you could get too far. He had to keep you there for a moment, attempting to calm himself down because he could tell how much you wanted this.

He brought his hand forward, touching your cheekbone. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He slipped his fingers under your jaw and thrust his hips forward gently. He didn’t go too deep and it was at a torturous pace that he pulled out. This man’s control was one of the sexiest things about him. It made him seem so powerful and stable and that was what you craved more than anything in this world.

“Touch yourself,” he directed.

Your hand dove down, two fingers instantly burying inside your pussy. You moaned loudly around him and he cursed again.

“You want me to fuck your face?”

You nodded as well as you could.

He nodded, taking another deep breath. His hold under your face tightened just a bit, thumb and fingers pressing into your jaw. He didn’t thrust, instead, he moved you with his hand. Each time he brought you down on him, he made sure to choke you a little because he knew you liked it.

By the time he was close, your jaw was sore, made worse by his tight hold, your ribs hurt from how hard you had been gagging, the back of your throat was testament that he had lost it a couple of times, and went a bit harder than he meant to. Your entire hand was wet, your thighs shaking and your hips still rolling.

He told you to come with him, told you he wasn’t going to until you did. You pressed the heel of your palm down on your clit and fucked your hand harder. Andy brought you down as far as your throat would allow and held you there, moaning as you attempted to swallow around him.

His hand slid down to your neck and he began to squeeze when he knew you were close, hips moving fast and sloppy. You placed one hand on his thigh to keep yourself balanced, turning your gaze up to him once more.

You felt him start to spill down your throat. He moved harder, hips jerking and cock slamming into the back of your throat each time. The cum that was in your mouth was now beginning to slip out from the sides of your lips.

He pulled out before he was done, one hand in your hair to angle your head back, his other hand stroking his cock as his cum leaked out along your jaw and neck. “God damn, you are fucking gorgeous.”

You stared at him as the tip of your tongue came out to the corner of your mouth where you felt some of his cum.

Immediately, he pulled you onto your feet and shoved you back onto the bed. He was on top of you instantly, using his fingers to collect his cum off your skin so he could feed it to you. As you laid there, licking his fingers, he brought his opposite hand down to your pussy.

“I love feeling your cunt after you’ve just finished.” He teased you several times, just dipping the tips of his fingers in before he pushed two inside you.

You whimpered, lips closed around his fingers. Once he pulled them out, your mouth was free to speak, which was rarely ever a good thing when you two were in bed. “Well, are you going to get inside me, or did you need a minute?”

He arched an eyebrow—it didn’t bother him when you joked about his age, but he pretended it was grounds for true punishment. “Maybe I need several minutes, I guess I just have to keep you coming until then, huh?”

You hummed in protest.

He brought his hand up to grab your jaw, wet fingers pressing tightly into your skin. His lips hovered over yours as he asked, “You’re such a fucking brat, you know that?”

You smiled. “Yes.”

He scoffed. “You’re shameless. I don’t know how you got this bad.”

But he did know, and he would do whatever he possibly could to ensure that you would just get worse. Andy’s success was measured by your bratty episodes. It showed how comfortable you had become with him but also just how much you wanted him.

For the record, you weren’t accusing Andy of being some evil mastermind who had planned this whole…ordeal. That would be insane because it would imply a lot of things that you knew were simply not true about him. He wasn’t a bad person, he was actually one of the best that you had ever met.

But…he was a lawyer. He had picked up some bad habits that came along with that. That meant, that though he didn’t plan this, he was enjoying it thoroughly. In short, you were accusing him of being an opportunist.

The first time you met Andy, he had brought Jacob to that hellhole of a restaurant you used to work at. So, technically Jacob knew you, but he was on his phone the entire time and they were low-maintenance customers, so he’d maybe seen you for a total of 5 minutes over their 2-hour stay. Andy did come back and bring Jacob several times, but it was always the same. He never paid you any mind, and why would he?

So, when you “met” him, half-naked and covered in bruises and bites—something that still made you glare at Andy if you thought about it too much—Jacob already knew you. He just didn’t know you. And after that one encounter, you couldn’t imagine what he thought of you.

This made you realize just how worried you were about how temporary you knew you were. Andy hadn’t said anything so you wondered if Jacob just didn’t tell Laurie. You wondered if she would even care if he had told her. Maybe Andy did this all the time, maybe she just couldn’t be bothered because they weren’t married anymore. You had no idea because Andy rarely spoke to you about Jacob and never spoke about Laurie.

Your grand solution was just trying to avoid Jacob at all costs. Mostly, you were successful, and Andy didn’t seem to mind, per se, but he did not encourage it. He loved his son and he didn’t want part of his life to be completely unknown to Jacob, but you kind of did.

It was one terrible morning when you were a bit hungover from the night before and Andy was making breakfast. He’d just set down a plate of pancakes in front of you, kissed you on top of the head because you were letting him baby you, when Jacob came in, so you didn’t even have an excuse to leave. It would be pathetically clear what you were doing. Were you seriously scared of a 17-year-old boy?

Yes. But you could pretend you weren’t, and you would pretend. There was no other choice. It wasn’t until you were all sitting down for the world’s most awkward breakfast that Andy’s phone rang. He often got calls in the morning and you never minded. Until then.

You shot him a threatening look that he clearly didn’t take seriously. He excused himself and with each step further away, your desire to suddenly die increased.

There was more painfully awkward silence and you wracked your brain for ways to fix it. You could ask him about school, his plans for the day. But that was the easy part. How were you going to word the question casually, unforced? You didn’t have to think on that much longer because he decided to speak first.

“Is my dad your, like, sugar daddy?”

And before you were subjected to having to respond, his friends showed up. Which was great because you couldn’t have formed a response if your life depended on it. But that shock had well worn off by the time Andy returned. He was throwing out apologies and explaining that he was being given an update on one of his cases. He seemed unaware of your silence until he realized Jacob was gone.

“Where’s Jake?”

“He left with his friends.”

“Oh.” He sat down at the table and you glared. “Come on, I didn’t know he was going to be here—”

“He just asked me if you’re my sugar daddy!”

“Well, I am.”

“You are not.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Then what am I? I pay your bills, I buy you things, in return, you spend most of your free time with me. What does that make me?”

You were mad but not about the idea that he was your sugar daddy. Of course, you’d played with that phrase a few times, but it seemed so unrepresentative of your relationship. At least, to you. He clearly saw it that way, and maybe you weren’t even mad about that.

You might not have been mad at all, maybe just scared. You knew that Andy was in love with his ex-wife still and he always would be. She was this terrifying person that you’d never met that essentially held the cards to your life. You figured that if she expressed any anger towards Andy’s relationship with you, that you would be gone. You would have to go back to your life before, like when the carriage was a pumpkin. And the scariest part of that was not that you had no money. It was that you two would just be done as if you never even happened at all.

“Your boyfriend?” he pressed.

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever.”

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” he warned.

“I’m going home.”

“No, you’re not.”

Once more, you rolled your eyes. You pushed away from the table and stormed out of the kitchen and to his bedroom.

He came in moments later after you had thrown his shirt on the bed. You were in nothing more than a pair of panties as you searched for where he’d tossed your clothes the night before. He shut the door and locked it, but you refused to respond to his tactics to make you talk.

“Get on the bed.”

You scoffed incredulously, turning over your shoulder to him with raised eyebrows. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

His hand wrapped around one of your arms and he spun you back to him. You set your hands on his chest to push him away, but he pulled you in so tight that you couldn’t move. He kissed you like it had been years since he last did so, in reality, it had been a little over an hour. It was demanding and fast, he left you no room to protest, but it wasn’t like that mattered because with each passing second, you were giving in.

His free hand slid down between your legs and you broke the kiss to moan. Your head fell back, your body pressed closer to him. It wasn’t a surrender exactly, just a promise that you would get over it and never bring it up again.

But then he said, “Call me daddy.”

You froze, turning your head back to him. “What?”

“Call me daddy,” he repeated. “You want to come? Tell daddy how to make you come.”

It was just a matter of time before it was brought up. Unbeknownst to him, it was on your mind. Unbeknownst to you, it was on his. He hadn’t been the kind for it, then he met you. There was something primal inside him that was triggered when you would whimper and whine, when you were choking on his cock and staring up at him with your beautiful eyes, when you were crying his name. And sometimes, it didn’t completely sound unlike daddy. When you were breathless and fucked good, and nearly mindless. Sometimes, it was close enough that it made him wonder what it would be like.

And you’d been curious too. Ever since he spanked you the first time. You saw Andy as this powerful, good man. He was perfect and didn’t even know it. But all of that was what everyone could see. There were these dark parts of him that made you wet just thinking about. You would never tell him, but once, just one time, he was busy and couldn’t see you one weekend. Meaning you had to take care of yourself. Your dreams were vivid and filthy, and you might have called him daddy in one…so, yeah.

“I’m not going to touch you if you can’t follow orders, princess.”

It took you a moment to find your voice, especially with the way he was looking down at you. “I…don’t know…” It felt weird, like you were admitting this terrible secret. You were aware he had asked you to, but it still felt wrong. Kind of.

“Well,” his fingers slid over you again, a teasing touch that was too light for any real relief, “do you want daddy’s fingers?”

You nodded.

“What about daddy’s cock?”

“Yes.”

“Or maybe daddy’s mouth?” He kissed your forehead first, then your cheek, and finally all over your neck. “Hmm?”

“Yeah, that’s what I want.”

“You know what I want,” he pointed out, pulling back to look at you. “Tell me what you want first.”

He was not letting you out of this and did you actually want him to? Andy was a complete daddy. He spoiled the hell out of, almost literally got off on taking care of you, and he was a kind, beautiful man who had no problems fucking you like he hated you.

“Will you eat my pussy, Daddy?”

Wordlessly, he sat you down on the bed and pushed you onto your back by your shoulders. His eyes on yours, he took you with his mouth over your panties and any doubts you had about this just faded away.

Your breath was shaking as he held you down, his hands gripping your arms tight. You draped your legs over his shoulders and pulled him closer. He pressed his tongue flat against you each time he licked up your aching cunt. “Oh, god,” you blurted out when you felt him at your clit.

He turned his head, nipping at your thigh. It was a prompt.

“Daddy,” you breathed, and he returned his mouth to you. “Daddy, please.”

He hummed. What are you asking for?

“Please, take them off,” you begged.

His fingers slipped under the band of your underwear and he tore them into pieces, without any skill whatsoever, as his tongue sought out bare skin. You’d heard several tears by the time his tongue was inside you.

You arched your back and grabbed a hold of his hair with both hands. He almost instantly took your hands and held them down to the bed again. “Daddy, don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Please make me come.”

He pulled your clit between his lips and you knew that you weren’t going to last much longer. You knew this was your biggest loss so far. He was never going to let you forget that you’d come up here throwing a fit, trying to push him away, only to beg him to eat you out.

Your hips rolled against his face, he seemed surprised for a moment, but he moaned against you, so you kept doing it. “Can I come, Daddy? Please?”

He hummed again, a confirmation.

When you moved instead of waiting for him, you could feel his beard. That was the only reason you kept canting your hips up to meet the swipes of his tongue that were toeing the line of being too good.

He let his tongue drop down to tease your entrance, earning a frustrated whine from you. Your clit wasn’t neglected for long, you felt the tip of his nose hovering just right there. So, if you were to move, if you bucked your hips just right, you discovered quickly just how to get the right kind of pressure there.

Andy loved every second of it, he loved the smell of you and the taste of you, and he knew he was never going to be a better position to indulge in both. You were wild even though he was pinning you down, you were hardly ever this desperate, this upfront with your desire. It was the sexiest thing he ever witnessed.

You finished on his tongue and he let no drop of you go to waste. He was selfish in the way he ran his mouth along the oversensitive parts of you. Before reality had even made its way back to you, he’d placed you on your knees before him. Your body was moving without your brain, like pure instinct. Your mouth opened for him before you even knew you were on the floor and you took him in as deep as you could.

He took a handful of your hair and held you in place, hips slowly, gently moving back and forth. You were gagging around him but he was letting you get used to it, telling you that you were such a good girl, reminding you how well you knew how to suck his cock, how you’d always been so good at it.

He didn’t want to come in your mouth, he just wanted to get close. He threw you down on the bed just as soon as he’d gotten you back on your feet and then he was on top of you. His hand wrapped around your neck as he slotted his hips between your thighs.

His eyes locked on yours, he slowly sunk into you. It was damn near painful the kind of restraint he was using, how he was denying you that fast kind of fucking he knew you loved. He pulled back, using his knees for balance, and kept his hold on your throat.

His thrusts were too gentle, several agonizing times, until you were squirming and whimpering. He didn’t seem concerned with what you wanted then, he merely kept his eyes moving over your body.

“Andy,” you complained.

He tsked. “Baby girl.”

“Daddy,” you corrected instantly. “Daddy, please. I need you to fuck me.”

Instead, he leaned back down and kissed you. He started at your mouth and then moved to your jaw. His hips barely moved, just enough to keep you on this edge of murderous rage. Seriously? After what you just went through? He wasn’t going to fuck you to make it up to you?

He sat back again and tightened his hand when you opened your mouth. It was the nicest way he was ever going to tell you to shut up, but he was telling you to. You were too scared to show any signs of disobedience at this point.

He pulled out and you whined unintelligibly. You received nothing more than a brief ‘hush’ before he was laying down next to you. He was on his side, propping one of your legs over his hip as he slid back into you. He lifted you up so you could lay your head on his bicep and used that arm to grab your opposite thigh, pulling it out to the side so you were completely open for him.

“Daddy,” you mewled. You couldn’t keep doing this, you needed to come. You needed him to make you come. He dragged his cock out and then shoved back in, earning a strangled yelp from you. You brought both hands up to hold the forearm that was still pressed between your breasts.

It was then that he started this horrible pattern of fucking you hard, hard, until you were just about to come. You would be shaking, begging like you never had before, promising you would never talk back to him again, and then he would just stop.

He never denied your orgasm. If anything, he just threatened to, didn’t follow through, then made weak threats that he would next time. It was a nice routine and you weren’t sure why he wanted to ruin it.

He told you to leave your thigh where it was and then brought that hand up. He started at your mouth, he ordered you to close your lips around his fingers. He was choking you still and now gagging you and you were abruptly lightheaded. He’d never given you a safe word, you were sure he never intended to go too far. The idea that he might, though… Ugh.

He pulled his fingers from your mouth and they were soaking wet because he didn’t give you the chance to swallow. He dragged them down your body, stopping to pinch one of your nipples painfully until you gasped, and then down to your pussy.

Tears filled your eyes immediately as he pressed his fingers down on your clit. He kissed the side of your face several times before stating, “I can’t keep giving you what you want if you’re going to be such a brat, baby.”

“I’m not being a brat,” you protested.

“You’re not?”

“No.”

“Okay,” he scoffed. His fingers began to rub circles into you.

You shot him a desperate look. “Daddy, please I need you to make me come.”

He arched an eyebrow, hips still but hand moving. “Oh, you need me to?”

“No one else makes me come like you do.” It was clear that you were just saying anything you could think to make him give in. True? Yes. But were the words sincere? Not at all, and you didn’t want him to know that. Yes, you liked spending time with Andy, you even loved fucking him, but this was not a relationship. It was an arrangement first and you had to protect yourself.

He rolled his eyes at you. “Transparent.”

You let your head fall back into the pillow with an exaggerated sigh. “Please?”

“No.”

You looked at him instantly, eyebrows pulling together. “What?”

“No,” he repeated slowly.

He’d never just told you no. Maybe in a roundabout way, he’d talked his way through the fact of no, but never once had he just out and said it. You had no idea how to reply. After all, he was in charge here. If he said no, did you have to accept it?

He brought his fingers down to where your bodies were connected and pulled out completely. He dipped his fingers into you at the same time he was easing his cock back in.

You bit down on your lip, willing yourself to relax. He was always a tight fit, even without the addition of two of his thick fingers, even on those weeks when he fucked you every day, numerous times a day.

“You’re okay,” he promised. “You can take it.”

You tried spreading your legs even more, hoping that would make him easier to take.

“Good girl.” He pulled his cock and fingers out briefly before working them both back in simultaneously. “How’s it feel, baby?”

“It hurts a little.”

“But you can take it, can’t you?” He kissed along your cheekbone. “You want it, right? Because you’re my good girl.”

You were nodding before you even truly thought about it. You wanted anything he wanted to give you, in reality. You supposed this was not the exception to that rule.

He continued pulling out and teasing back in, going just a little deeper each time.

Your cunt was aching by the time you propped yourself up on your elbows to see. The sight of him inside you was sinful and delicious.

He felt you flutter around him and kissed the side of your face again. “You like when I stretch you out, baby?”

You nodded. That was exactly how you felt. Stretched. It still hurt but not in any kind of way that you didn’t like. Your cheeks were flushed since he’d been denying you a finish, otherwise, you would be blushing terribly. It was a toe-in-the-water of humiliation, you felt a little objectified, or reduced to a single body part. Again, not something you were opposed to because your mind was fucked up enough that your body would respond ecstatically to anything Andy wanted to do to it.

“Do you want another one?”

You weren’t sure, but that didn’t stop you from claiming you did. You watched the tip of his third finger collect the slick on the base of his cock and slide into you. He began pulling out and gently pushing both fingers and cock back in until he was buried several inches and two knuckles into your pussy.

“You are soaked, baby.”

Part of you hated that. How bratty could you be from here on out if you were this wet for him? If your cunt was literally begging him for more of his fingers? That was the pride part of you. The sick part of you stopped to think about how he had 7 more fingers to fuck you with, if he wanted. “Can I have another?”

He smirked. “I think 3 is enough tonight, princess. I don’t want to hurt you too much.”

“I want all your fingers inside me, daddy.”

He scoffed. “Not sure that’s possible, you’re still so tight. But I do have a little more I can give you.” As he pressed more of his fingers in, beyond that second knuckle which made you gasp and squirm because it burned, he also gave you more of his cock.

You were shaking, hand settling on his forearm once more. “Oh, daddy…I feel so full.”

“And your desperate cunt still wants more?”

“Anything from you, daddy. Can I please come?”

He didn’t answer, his hips merely began moving. He roughly fucked into you as he pulled just so with his fingers to keep you painfully stretched.

You were getting close again. That stinging sensation was starting to fade away with the building pleasure. When he angled his hand and let his thumb massage your clit, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer. “Daddy, please.”

“You can’t come.”

You whined. “Daddy!”

“I said no.”

You pressed your hand to his stomach to still his hips, but he paid you no mind. “Daddy, I’m going to come.”

“You better not,” he warned, but didn’t do anything to help you want that. If anything, his hips snapped a bit harder.

“Please stop, daddy,” you begged, voice pathetically small and whiny. You didn’t care how you sounded or looked, you just didn’t want to come without him letting you. You didn’t want to disappoint him. “Daddy, I’m close. Please stop.”

He scoffed, free hand coming up to your face. “You’re such a good girl, you know that?”

You frantically shook your head. You weren’t so good that you wouldn’t come, so really, you needed him to stop.

“You don’t want to come without my permission?”

“No, daddy.”

He pressed his thumb down harder and rubbed faster, earning an unintelligible, sad sound from you. “It’s okay, baby girl, you can come. Daddy wants to feel you coming around his cock.”

You lifted your hand back up to his arm, trying to turn into his body as much as you could. He understood immediately and moved his hold from your neck to drape his arm across you, resting his hand on your back. You set your head in the bend of his neck as you started to come.

He groaned when he felt you get tighter. “That’s it, baby. That’s what I wanna feel.”

Tears were rolling down your cheeks by the time you were coming. Your body had never felt relief so strong. Andy shushed you through it all and told you that you were so good and didn’t stop until he had you filled with his cum.

He let you settle before urging you onto your back. “You okay, baby?”

“Yes, daddy.” You were more than just okay. You were sated and aching, you were exhausted and blissful. It had been a while since he’d spent so much time on you and you felt good, doted on, paid attention to.

He carefully pulled his fingers from your cunt, eyeing your face as he did, but then quickly took your jaw in one hand and shoved the fingers into your mouth. You instantly began sucking on them. “A few things. First, you do not roll your eyes at me. Second, you do not leave the table unless I tell you that you can. Third, do not ever walk away from me. Fourth, when I tell you to get your ass on the bed, you better get your ass on the bed. Are we clear?”

You nodded, speaking around his fingers.

“Glad to hear it.” He slowly extracted his fingers, massaging your jaw with the opposite hand. “When you can walk again, I’ll take you shopping—”

You hurriedly jumped out of bed, rushing for the shower. “I’ll be ready in an hour!”

requests to be tagged:

@onetwo3000​ @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​

[pokemonswshbutionlyplayedsword]

How about headcanons on the galar gym leaders' teams?

This is gonna take a while bc there are so many pokemon in the League. I’m gonna make one headcanon for each pokemon. Hope that’s okay. And also only the team when you challenge the gym because that would be too many pokemon otherwise.

Here’s a quick overall headcanon:

Gym Leader’s teams are officially documented as battle pokemon. They are rotated out all the time. And almost every gym leader has pokemon outside of their teams that they train for events that allow them to use different teams than their official gym team.

Milo:

-Gossifluer is a bit of a brat. He’s picky and will throw a tantrum when Milo changes his food.

-Eldegoss is a very nurturing pokemon. He likes to wrap his cape around people he likes.

Nessa:

-Goldeen is Nessa’s favorite pokemon to model with that’s on her team. Very arrogant.

-Arrokuda is constantly in trouble with Nessa because she likes to chew on Nessa’s shoes and hair.

-Drednaw, as well all know, is a big baby. But they also consider themselves the protector of the team. If the other pokemon is in danger (outside of battle obviously), Drednaw will step in to help.

Kabu:

-Ninetails is a pretty girl and much smarter than Kabu’s other pokemon. She likes to mess with them and look good while doing it.

-Arcanine is a ball of energy and loves anything that will pet him, play with him or feed him. If he hates you, give him a treat and he will be your best friend immediately.

-Centiskorch is constantly a meme. He always looks weird on camera, which means that there’s a new meme of him every month. And they’re all hilarious.

Bea:

-Hitmontop is actually a new addition to Bea’s team. He was added to Bea’s gym team only a few months ago.

-Pangoro actually came from Spikemuth. He was causing problems in the town and Piers was struggling to handle the situation so he called Bea in. As a reward, he let her keep him, and Bea saw a lot of potential, so she started to train him, asking Piers for advice because its a dark type.

-Sirfetch’d spent a looooong time being trained by Bea before he became a part of the gym team. He struggled when he was younger to keep up with Bea’s other pokemon, but eventually he got it and is now basking in the glory of being a battle ready pokemon.

-Machamp is Bea’s assistant pokemon as well as her ace. She uses her to help train her other pokemon. Sometimes, Bea will send them all out on their own and Machamp can train them herself.

Allister:

-Yamask is a very young, yet overly powerful pokemon. Allister doesn’t usually use first evolution pokemon on his team, but this Yamask is oddly strong and he hasn’t gotten the chance to evolve him yet.

-Mimikyu is Allister’s first pokemon. He has been by Allister’s side for years.

-Cursola is the only pokemon that Allister actively sought out. They’re rare in Galar and Allister was fascinated when he read about it, so he went looking for one. It took a while, but he managed to get her and he’s glad he went through the effort.

-Gengar was originally going to attack Allister when they first met in a graveyard. It wasn’t until Allister confronted him that Gengar was like “oh wait I like this kid.” And he was a Ghastly at the time.

Opal:

-Opal’s Weezing is pretty old and grumpy. She bites anyone who’s not Opal. Not hard, though.

-Mawile was not very well known until Opal added her to her team. Then they spiked in popularity around Galar.

-Togekiss was a gift from an old friend. For a long time, Opal didn’t plan on training her for battle, but things changed when a pokemon from Opal’s past team had to retire.

-Alcreamie was Opal’s first pokemon, back when she was a Milcery. Opal spent a long times reasearching Alcreamies to make sure she got the variant she wanted. Also, because she wasn’t allowed to train pokemon due to being a girl when she was a kid, she snuck out into the woods and just found Milcery. It was a long time before she got a chance to catch her.

Melony:

-Frosmoth was a new-ish addition. Melony was peer pressured into adding a really strong Snom to her team as a meme, but then she evolved live on TV, which was wild.

-Melony was really unsure about Darmanitan. She didn’t think she wanted a pokemon that was so volatile and able to become a fire type. However, she was proven wrong, and with Kabu’s help, she’s able to train Darmanitan really well.

-Melony only chose to train an Eiscue because she’s funny looking. She never intended to add Eiscue to her team, but she proved to be a very powerful battle pokemon.

-Lapras met Melony when Gordie was very young. They took a vacation to a nearby warm beach once, and Gordie was swept away by the waves. While Melony was scrambling to get to Gordie, Lapras found him and brought him back to Melony. Lapras followed them around the rest of the day, so Melony decided to add her to the team.

Gordie:

-Barbaracle makes Gordie nervous still. He’s not used to working with him and he’s a bit scared of all the hands. But there’s no denying that Barbaracle is very strong.

-Shuckle, of course, is only there for the meme. He’s also a bit of a secret weapon, though, to Gordie. He has trained this little guy so much that he’s actually one of the strongest pokemon Gordie owns. He uses the power of underestimation against his opponents.

-Stonejourner is a gift from Milo. Who knew he would be so strong? Milo’s very happy that Gordie uses his pokemon on his Gym Team.

-Coalossal was a pokemon that made Gordie realize he wanted to be a rock specialist. He appreciates that it’s also fire type, because it’s a little extra push against being an ice type specialist.

Piers:

-Scrafty hoards Piers’ pillows. Anything soft he can find, he makes a pile on his bed and keeps them. Piers has to wrestle them away from him, and no matter how many pillows he buys for Scrafty, he just wants more.

-Malamar is definitely the ring leader. He’s a psychic type and a lot smarter than the rest of Piers’ team. He likes to use this influence for evil. He’s a jerk, but Piers still gives him scratches under his beak (his favorite <3)

-Skuntank is pretty much a cat. He climbs on Piers whenever he gets the chance. Easily found asleep on Piers’ lap while Piers is idly petting him. Good thing Skuntanks only smell when they’re distressed.

-As well all know based on my fic (shameless self promotion, what about it?), Piers met Obstagoon when he was very young in a dumpster. However, something I haven’t mentioned yet is that when he was a Linoone, he would constantly try to be Piers’ neck pillow.

Raihan:

-Torkoal has bad eyesight. Raihan often has to pick him up and carry him places because he can’t see well and he moves slowly.

-Raihan uses Goodra to present to kids. He does educational presentations about dragon types, pokemon training, and pokemon safety to students in schools. Goodra, because she’s so friendly, is Raihan’s go to for this task.

-Turtonator is actually very shy. He likes to hide in his shell whenever he can. The only time he’s confident is when he’s in battle or training.

-Flygon is Raihan’s personal transport. Faster than any Corviknight. Also makes for a really cool entrance.

-Duraludon loves attention. He loves being Raihan’s Ace and he loves being given all that love. Raihan shows him fan content of people loving him and it makes Duraludon stamp around and make happy building noises.

Leon: (And I chose Sobble so he has Rillaboom, I do make the rules and you cannot change them)

-Aegislash was a gift from Rose when he became Champion. Rose said that Leon needed a pokemon fitting of his title.

-Raihan and Leon were rivals since they were kids. Leon got Dragapult simply to compete with Raihan at first, but they now have a very strong bond.

-Haxorus actually came from a distant friend from another region. He’s also very hot-headed, which makes it risky but rewarding to train him.

-Rhyperior came from the Isle of Armor. Leon caught him while training at the Dojo. One time, while at the Isle of Armor, Hop got in trouble with some Wild pokemon. Rhyperior broke out of Leon’s pokeball and saved him before Leon could react.

-Rillaboom, as well as the other starters, came from Leon’s status. They’re only available in captivity and are very hard to come by. Luckily, Leon is the Champion, so they were the perfect gift for his brother. He was secretly hoping he’d get to keep Rillaboom, so he’s happy with the outcome.

-Charizard came from Mustard, of course, but Leon was originally going to pick Bulbasaur. Right before he made the choice, though, he left to think about it and ended up lost and in trouble. He didn’t have his pokemon with him. It was Charmander that wandered off and found him. After that, Leon had no choice but to pick him.

[eohachu]

Post pictures of your first ever (fictional/celeb) crush to the latest one and tag five others to continue the game.

Ali tagged me, thanks. I guess 😘 @lanzhansmiles​

A’ight so I’m simply taking this as an opportunity to show off my frankly impeccable taste 😌 *coughs into the crook of my elbow with my mask on and from a safe distance* More under the cut, godspeed!

I’m tagging uhh I really don’t want to expose anyone but uh. @morifinwes​ @ttaechwita​ @sunshine304​ @treemaidengeek​ @flamingwell​ no pressure tho!!

Since 2006

Janina Fautz: Die Wilden Kerle, anyone?? Tbh i had a crush on quite a lot of the characters/actors but in hindsight Janina was and is the most influential one. Also probably my first ever girl crush (again, in hindsight bc it took me until 3 years ago to finally find out i’m queer lol)

Eva-Maria May: Yeah well I’m not gonna talk about where I know her from let’s say it was an incredibly bad soap opera my mom used to watch. She was one of the reasons why I went Yeah I Have Always Been Into Girls. I was pretty obsessed with her to the point where mini me secretly printed out a photo of her to look at lmaooo the signs have always been there and it’s truly amazing how I had been missing them for years

Amy Adams: Her as Amelia Earhart in Night at the Museum was also definitely a huge Thing to young me. Again, I had been completely oblivious about this crush for years

David Luiz: HAH! This is the point where we do NOT get into my football/soccer crushes bc this list would get WAYYY too long hahaha. I had to cut loads of people from my list for this post bc I develop a new celebrity crush every 5 minutes basically but yeah. David Luiz was definitely my biggest football/soccer crush out of..... everyone else

M*rvel

I don’t have a lot to say about any of them since I’m not into m*rvel anymore TFATWS makes me want to stick the tip of my toe back into m*rvel waters but otherwise NO THANKS

Sebastian Stan was, if my judgement of my archive is right, the longest highkey celebrity crush I’ve ever had. Mostly because I love Bucky a lot and he was so amazing in Captain America: The Winter Soldier. I must’ve had a crush on him for as long as I had been in the m*rvel fandom

Recent Past

some celeb crushes from last year that were all more or less short-lived tbh

Ester Expósito: As it often goes I didn’t find her spectacular in the beginning but as Élite went on I started to develop a huge crush on her. I still find her pretty hot but I’m not invested in Élite so yeah..... I have no object permanence

Mina El Hammani: Got to know her through Élite, too. She’s so incredibly beautiful. Had a hard time choosing a photo of her bc I’d stare at every single one for ages. Wow.

Danger Days!Gerard Way: Hah! The ones of you who’ve been following me for longer might remember my posts about wanting to dye my hair neon red. Well, him’s the reason and also clinical depression. Ended up with natural red/ginger bc my hair is too thin for bleaching lel. ANYWAY

Maxence Danet Fauvel: Pretty short-lived crush from my Skam days

Ramy Moharam Fouad: So Ramy has a brother, Tamino-Amir Moharam Fouad, who makes INCREDIBLE music. Ramy made some of his music videos (directed them? not sure), that’s how he came to my attention. Idk man he’s just so incredibly beautiful.... gives me a hint of genvy, too......

Janelle Monáe: Became a fan when Make Me Feel came out, listened to the entire album for days and eventually inevitably crushed on her

Lera Abova: Saw her in ANИА and fell in love. I screamed to my friends for weeks about how she was the most beautiful human being I’d ever seen etc etc. Eventually my crush went away mostly, but I still think she’s stunning

Keiynan Lonsdale: Keiynan said FUCK gender and I said 😍😍😍 and that’s all you need to know.

Current

*deep breath* alright let’s gooo

Bright (Wachirawit Chivaaree): Crushed on him for as long as I watched 2gether/Still 2gether lmao. I still like him a lot and sometimes lose my mind over him but I’m not exceptionally Thirsty™

Tul (Pakorn Thanasrivanitchai) and Max (Nattapol Diloknawarit): If you search either of them on tumblr you will have to scroll for a long, long time to find seperate photos of them. However, I’m not patient enough so here we are. Re: Tul, actually I want to copy/paste what Ali said bc DAMN a man who is confident about his masculinity and sexuality really is kinda hot. Same goes for Max tbh. Also Max’ lips look so soft I [redacted]

Lukas von Horbatschewsky: Also known as Lukas Alexander. He did an amazing job in Druck and he’s just a person I admire in general. As one of the few out trans actors in Germany, he had a main role as a trans boy in Druck and also co-wrote Druck’s seasons 5 and 6. He’s just a huge role model to me and, apart from that, Big Crush Material (h i s  e y e s)

Li Wei: Someone suggested him as Hua Cheng for the TGCF live action and my life hasn’t been the same since. While I’m open for whoever will get that role in the end, I could look at his face for hours and not get bored. Major Genvy, too.

Li BoWen and Liu HaiKuan: I will have to deal with these two in one paragraph bc LanLan bc they have the exact same effect on me which is. that they’re not 100% my type but I WILL go absolutely feral about them at regular intervals, if you know what I mean

Song JiYang: ohh honey. oh honey.......... hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I have a natural affinity for aquarius ppl and this one lives in my heart rent free. I’d even make him soup if he’d ask.

Wang YiBo: WELL HOLY SHIT. listen. LISTEN! the hype around him is 100% justified imo he really is That Bitch and I love him so so much for it. Fucking ICON

Honorary Mentions: Gender Envy

Here’s to the People I Thought I Had A Crush On But Not Quite until I learned the word Gender Envy:

Zhu YiLong: Man, this is the person who’s mainly responsible for me finding out AT ALL about not being entirely cis. The POWER he holds!!! His performance as Ye Zun in Guardian was like a breakthrough point for me which. certain people witnessed in real time hahaha oh I love this fandom!!

Zhu ZanJin: HIM. AAAH!! He’s literally so beautiful and whenever I see him I just go ZANZAN!! in my head and in the tags bc. well. hIM.

Xiao Zhan With Long Hair: Look, Xiao Zhan is always amazing but BLESS the person who made these manips. I can finally rest.

Wang YiBo: uhh what’s he doing here again?? Tbh YiBo is one of the few, if not the only person that gives me Major Gender Envy that I would also [redacted] if they asked. Do I want to be him or be with him? The answer is Yes.

I skipped the fictional characters bc I tend not to crush on them 👉👈 Instead I will just directly crush on the actors/actresses lol!

Thank you for bearing with me. As a prize, you can choose between a ladder supported forehead kiss, or a bowl of homemade soup. ❤

[incubae-fics]

Take This Low [AU!Uzaeris]

Pairing: One Sided AU!Erik x Female!Reader, AU!Sam x Female!Reader [[3rd person]] ((bc it’s easy to write love for him bc i fuckin love him asdfgb))

Warnings: Angst, sexual themes, insinuations of sex, etc

A/N: I’m still alive, i still love Sam n I still kinda write

“ I sɪɴᴋ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴍʏsᴇʟғ..”

Erik sinks back into his work chair, breathing out slowly, finally allowing his mind to slip. His shirt was wrinkled, his clothes smelled strongly of a mixture of his own cologne and the perfume of some stranger. Another empty night of trying to cope with his own well deserved ailment. 

Years of using and tossing away the women in his world has finally come to bite him in the ass, painfully so. How cruel his fate is- how cruel he’s been, to love her this much, or to at least feel as though he does. He was only just learning that love was an emotion they could feel. It was supposed to be this beautiful thing- but only when it’s mutual. Only when your love hasn’t fallen so deeply for your brother- a brother that is your complete opposite.

He’d rather it have been James. Someone he could attempt to compare himself to- so he could feel like he had a shot and simply missed due to his own stupidity in the first meeting he had with her. Not his opposite, someone he could never hope to be.

It was only fair. Sam had been through so much in their life in the Demon World. Erik managed to skirt by, only getting punished a small handful of times for things he caused by his own pettiness. He had his fill of gorgeous women with greedy hands and minds. Groping and grabbing and whispering- promising to feed him well but somehow leaving him empty, even as he drank up all the energy they had to offer.

So much happened in a blur, and suddenly he was met with a human who was stunning not in appearance but in actions. Spoke up when she had to, refused to take their shit- someone he didn’t have the pleasure of knowing in the demon world. 

Erik never expected all this. Sam was the meanest of them all, with James coming in at a close second. He wants to question what she sees in him, but he also doesn’t.

The first person to like him as a person and he just falls entirely- does he love her because she treats him like an actual person and not a handsome face? Or does he actually love her?

He’s not sure, he just knows it’s painful. It’s hard to hide his swirling thoughts at home- hard to stop wishing it was her he ended up lying in bed with. Wishing she touched him so sweetly- spoke to him so soft with those warm eyes. He craved her in a way he’d never craved anyone in his life thus far. He wondered what it might be like to be touched intimately with warming and comforting love- not pure cold lust.

What might it be like to hold her hand? To be the reason why she was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. To have her give him those soft doe eyes. How might it feel to lay his head in her lap and have her run her fingers through his hair? Would she visit him at work? Peck his cheek and bring him some coffee?

Had he been different- had he not been how he was, would it be him? Would you have grown fond of him?

The questions threaten to spill out whenever he sees her with his brother. He aches to be the one she gives her affections to- but he also burns at the thought of how his brother would feel. Sam adores her with everything he has. His entire heart is in her hands, and she cherishes it beautifully- he should be ecstatic. Should be able to move on- after all he is the one who got them there. Pushing her to him night after night- listening to her ache over her feelings, questioning if she was right for him while he internally screamed that she was perfect.

“I think you suit him fine.”, he’d said, despite wanting to gush that anyone would be lucky to have her.

She ducks her head bashfully, sending his heart galloping, “Ha..you think so?”

“Sure.”, he hums, taking a sip of his drink, “Just give him a bit, he’s not too great with his words.”

Erik hates how he thought of ways to sabotage- ways he could have swept her away and kept her to himself. Hates how close he was to just... being selfish in a way thats so horrifically wrong. He despises how he thinks of her constantly while at work. Creating dresses and outfits he think would look lovely on her- only to sell them to clients, ecstatic with their orders. Maybe if he parts with enough of them, he can part with her.

Maybe if he fills his aching thoughts with the pretty models he meets with- he won’t feel anymore.

They call to him- moan his name and grasp at his shoulders- they attempt to hold onto him. Keep him with them in their bed in the dead of night- they cling and claw. 

They still wake up to empty beds- he still walks away, sinking lower and lower into himself.

He hasn’t been home in a month- he’s not sure if he’s worse or better. He can’t tell if he’s cured himself of this affliction- if he numbed enough.

“I love you..”

He hears the sweet whispers in what little dreams he ever has, waking to bitter reality soon after.

Is this love? Is this obsession? Is this even healthy or okay? Will he be okay?

“Erik, darling~ I’m back.”, a sickly sweet voice rings out into the silence.

He hates how he mentally caves into himself. How fake he sounds- “Oh, lovely. I do miss seeing you.” Liar-

“Ooh, flattery? That will get you very far..” Ugh-

“I do so hope so.”, he smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes- not that it’s ever noticed.

“Oh come on, admit I’m your favorite- your one and only and we can have lots more fun..”, she purrs, hands already unbuttoning his shirt.

Erik chuckles bitterly, remaining silent and she takes it as some sort of yes. Some type of confirmation, though it’s far from it. He’s numb to her cold touch- he barely recalls her name. He just feels.. disgusting- slimy. He realizes then that.. no matter what he could do differently when meeting her- when meeting you, you still would not love him. He’s just some used toy.

Some pretty used car. Everyone has had a ride- there’s nothing special about him, nothing charming. He has graffiti on the inside and small tears in his pleather. His tires have no tread- he is an accident waiting to happen, and you were just dodging the danger, while hoping to maybe help by being on the outside.

That must be it. right?

Anything is better than you just  not liking him that way- any reason is better than none-

“Oh, Erik..” Stop stop- you’re not her- no one is her-

He never did learn how to stop, and he’s not sure if he ever will..

“Iɴ ᴍʏ ᴍɪɴᴅ, ᴇɴᴅʟᴇss sᴇᴀ. Cᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴛᴛᴏᴍ ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʜᴇᴀʀ ᴍᴇ..”

[dailyarturia]

have you rated the rulers yet? all the four star ones seem your type

yeah whatever let’s go it’s been a while again

remember the part in apocrypha where she starts killing the souls that make up jack left and right and atalanta spits at her that she’s no fucking saint and she coldly replies “that’s right. i don’t think of myself as a saint at all.” of course you don’t bc the anime RUINED IT and the novel translations still aren’t fucking finished. anyway she’s way more hardcore than fgo would lead you to believe 8/10

slippery bastard man whose precise characterisation continues to elude me even though by all means he’s just another emiya type and i should be able to see right through him. his hair is ridiculous i once cut my friend’s amakusa wig and the amount of hairspray in there is positively blasphemous ??/10 he makes a lot of my friends very happy so he can stay

i wish she kept the hat in all her ascensions. do you know how fucking powerful she’d be if she had the hat together with the gauntlets? this woman fucks. 10/10

i [redacted] him so much he reminds me of a darker time and a self i left behind but i really dig the theory that he’s secretly a foreigner class so i guess he gets like half a point for that

AND IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOOOOUUUUUUUUUUU listen how do i even beGIN to talk about what makes the eternal emperor so great when everything about them is what makes them so great. their ego is big enough to eclpise the sun thrice over and they think they’re better than literally everyone else to the point where the difference is so obvious that they don’t bother to keep any distance and are actually surprisingly approachable. they were born in an era of constant wars and believe humans are naturally inclined to violence and cannot be trusted with either themselves or others and, seeing that they were literally more capable than anyone else on the planet, decided that they would simply have to take responsibility for everyone else then. they want humanity to prosper but don’t believe it can unless they personally keep everyone from fighting and so that’s what they fucking do. theyre misanthropic and risk averse but by god did they carve a peaceful future with their own two fucking hands, they suppressed all individuality yet stored any notable individuals at their palace for safekeeping, they forbid personal expression yet filled the capital with art, they became an immortal supercomputer yet insistently claim to be more human than anyone, they carried responsibility for the entire world and all of humanity for 2000 years in a desperate attempt to create a future they didn’t believe in but really wanted to. because they love humanity! so when guda shows up with a bunch of rowdy misfits telling them ‘you got that wrong bucko’ they LISTEN they listen and they consider their options and they have the dignity to not be bowled over by any rando shouting at them but the grace to admit when they are wrong and change course without bitterness or regret because they did the best they could with the information they had, they love humanity and can’t bear to see it suffer for no reason but if there IS a reason if there is meaning in the collective struggle for a better future they can be convinced to take that risk, and only after that do they realize how LONELY they were how incredibly lonely it was to be the only person they could trust and understand so they try to learn they TRY SO HARD to reach out and to understand how people can cooperate, how they can create a better future together as individuals, and they love, guda, so much, they love guda SO MUCH they completely hone in on guda as the shining symbol of the understanding that they cannot yet reach they want to understand and they want to be understood and they give you the fucking elixer of immortality for valentines in a thinly veiled desperate cry of loneliness because the only way they can see that happening is if you become like them because the only person they can understand is themselves THE PROGRESSION IN THEIR GIFT GIVING SKILLS IS SO SWEET by like bond 3 they’re like ‘you want an empire? no? you sure?’ and then they give you IMMOR FUCKIN TALITY for valentines and then by bond 10 they finally got the hang of it and give you a model of their own palace body for on your desk symbolically giving their all to you finally learning to put the weight of the gift in the meaning instead of its value and in the text they ask you to treat them as an equal like you always have because they have seen the world from your perspective and agree that it is so much more vibrant that way THE ETERNAL EMPEROR WAS THE ONLY REAL HUMAN THE ONLY ONE WHO STILL DREAMED OF THE FUTURE FOR TWO THOUSAND YEARS BUT ONLY AFTER THEIR EMPIRE CRUMBLED WERE THEY ABLE TO BE SEEN AND UNDERSTOOD AS A PERSON THE EMPEROR DOES NOT UNDERSTAND HUMANITY BUT THEY WANT TO LEARN FOR THE PERFECT HUMAN IS NOT PERFECT BECAUSE THEY ARE WITHOUT FLAW THEY ARE PERFECT BECAUSE THEY ADMIT TO AND LEARN FROM THEIR MISTAKES AND ARE ALWAYS TRYING TO BE BETTER ALWAYS WORKING TOWARDS A BETTER FUTURE

ok ill come clean i only answered this bc i wanted an excuse to talk about shi huang di but I am dutiful and will list the rest as well

IF YOU USE HER WITHOUT THE MASK YOU HAVE NO RESPECT FOR THE ART OF LUCHA LIBRE 10/10

i dont care about luvia but she shares an artist with moth and yall know how i feel about toh azuma’s blue rulers with big nonsensical hair and tactical skin cutouts so i stan just by proxy

remember folks: love is stored in the

                                                         MOTH 

[jack-fruit]

Paint the Stars

Hey gamers this fic is apart of my personal swap au which I also wrote this for. You really don't need to read that one to understand this one, but its short lol. All you need to know that's mentioned there is Aziraphale is a bat demon so like

-----

When the starmaker first learned to paint, he was going by Anthony. He had no reason to go by an alias, but he had grown rather fond of it after providing it to a rather polite demon. His decision to dip his fingers into what was the original sorry excuse for paint, however, had nothing to do with his name, but everything to do with his title.

He had hoped after the fiasco with Adam and Eve, She would allow him back into the expanse of space to make stars once again. She told him he had more to do on Earth, much to Anthony's chagrin. So he walked among man bitter and with hands itching to create.

They'd only been a few generations into humanity when a girl first found that mixing together egg yolk and red soil would make a substance that would trail bright and stick to the rock. She used it to make crude drawings, which Anthony watched, impressed.

It wasn't until there was a suitable array of colors avaliable that Anthony felt the tug of longing hard enough that he sheepishly approached a group painting across an expanse of cave walls and scooped up some of the yellow paint.

He created starbursts across stone and nebules across rock. He didn't have all the colors he wanted to work with, but the thrill of a challenge only spurred him on. He may have also been there to nudge the Egyptians in the right direction of finding blue paint, okay? Sue him- blue was one of his favorites.

-

It wasn't until around 300 BC that Anthony picked up a paintbrush. There had been other attempts at something similar before, but all the crude sticks and leaves could not capture the fine detail a brush of a fingertip could.

Anthony was perfectly content using his hands and fingers, just as he always had, but the man selling the brushes assured him they were intended for caligraphy. The angel picked up the thin bamboo with animal hair attatched to one end, and decided that perhaps a certain demon would get a kick out of it. After all, Az loved the written word, perhaps he would like a tool to help create it.

He had originally only meant to try it out. To make sure it worked as advertised, but as he dipped it into the ink that he'd purchased alongside it, he slowly realized things were not going to go as planned.

The gentle sweep of the brush across parchment was a sensation he liked almost as much as fingerpainting. And it kept his hands blessedly clean. He created a void in the paper, a sinkhole from which there was no return. He then got up, grabbed his paints, and wove a galaxy around it. He tucked the concept into the back of his mind, deciding to ask Her to let him abandon post for just a while to play around again.

-

He was going by Raphael when he realized that he could paint more than just space. He had been out in the cosmos for a few decades, having gotten the okay to return to where he belonged. He had ended up quite liking the brush idea, which is where the staff came from.

His staff was a long piece of carefully maintained bamboo that he was able to miracle from brush to staff with minimal effort. The staff worked a bit different from an actual paint brush, it didn't even have a proper brush end, really, but the angel would push his power through it in arcs and waves in ways he hadn't really been capable of before.

But he missed Earth, much as that fact irked him. He missed the browns and the greens and the greys. He missed the food and the wind and the sounds. Above all, he missed the sparkling darkness of a certain demon's gaze, which he would certainly never admit.

So he returned to earth and decided to give a new name a whirl. Raphael. When he told Az about it, he laughed, but did start calling him by the new name. It put something at ease in his chest, that approval.

Raphael had known that people painted things other than space, of course he did, but he never thought to do it himself until he saw a man painting a landscape.

"Mind if I join you?" Raphael had asked without thinking. The man looked at him, curious, but nodded his consent and offered Raphael the paints he was using. All earth tones, nothing like the angel liked to work with.

Withholding a sigh, Raphael decided to paint the same landscape. It was more challenging then the colorful and shapeless bursts he was used to, but it was easy enough to get. Sharp bursts of brown-green, yellow spikes of grass, grey-brown bark. It was the same concept, the pallete was just different, the angles a bit sharper.

"What are you doing?" Raphael jumped and whirled to face the fanged grin of his adversary. The original painter and his canvas had vanished.

"Why are you here?" The angel tried very hard not to sound pleased.

"I asked first, Starmaker," Az said, taking his brush from him and narrowing his eyes at the carvings on it. "Are these snakes?"

"Snakes are cool," Raphael hissed, turning back to his painting. "And I'm painting, now you."

"Oh just spreading some chaos here, michief there."

"Which I will inevitably thwart," Raphael noted. "You know, maybe-"

"No! No we are not..." Az's voice dropped to a harsh whisper, "we are not teaming up Ant- Raphael."

"Antraphael?" The angel teased momentarily, before his expression turned thoughtful. "That sounds like an angel I knew- a principality. Wonder what happened to him...haven't heard from him in ages."

"Doesn't matter," Az snapped, aggrivated. "I know what heaven is like. They find out you're helping the enemy and you know what they'll do? They'll toss you out, and thats if you're lucky!"

Raphael's brushstroke shot up, ruining the entire painting.

"Let's go get drinks," he grumbled, waving the project away. It would be years before he would finally rediscover, fix, and finish the damn piece.

-

The name didn't last, of course it didn't. Anthony knew Az was really quite uncomfortable with the name Raphael, despite his insistance of it being fine. The closest the angel got to an answer was 'reminds me too much of someone else. Not you.'

So he was Anthony again when he realized how truly and utterly fucked he was. It was the 19th century, and realism- true realism- was coming into style. The more detailed and real looking a painting looked, the better. And for the first time since paint had been invented, Anthony couldn't master a style of art.

Of course, he would eventually, but at the present everything he painted looked cheap and fake. The concept of shading was new to him, nothing cast shadows in space and his landscapes were more stylized than anything. Along with that, still life was a bit drab to him- lots of looking and staring at inanimate objects doing nothing and feeling nothing for hours.

In contrast, portraits had the opposite issue. The subject was too squirmy, and the constant annoyance and boredom that flared up would effect his brushwork.

Plants were a good compromise, just alive enough to entertain him, but not squirmy enough to distract him. He spent hours trailing greenery across his canvases, adding bursts of color where flowers decided to plant themselves.

He ended up surrounding himself with plants, expresing his annoyance if they began to wilt, which would quickly make them perk up once more. He accidently scared the plants, he thought, what with all his frustrated yelling and the torn canvases strewn across the floor, but it did lead to them looking exquisite. He'd be lying if said he hadn't been hamming up the dramaticness that came with destroying his less than perfect works.

Az had come over once, sitting properly in a plain, stiff wooden chair he summoned while Anthony sprawled out across his own sofa. Az was looking at a half finished painting of a plant.

"Do you ever paint anything other than plants?" Az asked suddenly. Anthony sat up and followed his gaze.

"Space."

"Other than space and plants."

"Like what?"

"People?"

Anthony snorted and fell back against the cushions, "nah, people move too much."

"Oh," Az said. The two fell quiet for a few minutes before Az spoke again. "Well if you like, I could...you know, model for you. If it would help."

"I- you- what?" Anthony sputtered. The demon scowled at him.

"Mind out of the gutter, Anthony. It's simply that...look I can hold much more still than any human could, I would be an easy model to start with to get the human-esque form down."

Anthony was quiet in his consideration. Much as he loathe to admit it, it did make sense. And as much as he loved painting plants and stars, he did want to branch out, if only to prove he could. He was a stubborn bastard that way.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Just...stay there, then," he launched himself off the couch and collected his paints.

"Now?" Az asked, and when Anthony turned to face him, his dark eyes were curious and wide and just...beautiful.

"I- er- that okay?" Anthony asked, taking his brush and twirling it in his fingers. Az nodded; Anthony nodded back in reply. The angel turned his easel towards the demon and, with a slow breath, began to paint.

He had always found Az remarkable- with his intelligent eyes, his soft, slightly singed curls, the curve of his delicate pink lips...

He was practically in a trance, looking more at Az then his canvas. It felt like no time at all before he had finished enough for Az to move if he wished. The demon cracked his neck at an inhuman angle, then stood to look over Anthony's shoulder.

"Oh...Anthony," his breath ghosted across his ear and he had to surpress a shiver, "this is perfect, how have you been having trouble?"

Slowly, Anthony tipped his head back. He let his curls brush against Az's shoulder as he did so, and when he looked to the left he could see how close the demon really was. With his eyes that reminded him so much of his night sky that it hurt.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

"S'not done, still time to mess up," he said over his mounting panic. Az laughed that soft laugh of his and grinned, revealing those delicate little fangs perfect for-

Anthony's entire brain ripped like a canvas in a desprate attempt to get that image out of his head. In the meantime, Az had pulled away and offered him an apologetic farewell. Anthony was still sewing his brain back together when the door closed firmly behind him. He was still stitching his sanity back into place as he found himself setting up a new canvas. He was still lost in a daze as he found himself wondering how many years it would take to draw Az perfectly from memory.

-

The first time he wrote out the name "Anthony J. Crowley" had been on the deed to his studio. A studio he had not planned on getting at all, but when a giddy bat demon bounced up to him only about 60 or so years after the whole gay crisis thing Anthony had no choice but to follow. He wasn't sure if the blindfold made him more or less eager, if he was being honest.

"Watch your step!"

"I can't see, idiot, there's a blindfold over my face."

"Stop sassing me or I'll gag you, starmaker."

"Kinky."

"No!"

Anthony laughed, feeling a warm flutter in his chest as Az very firm stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Then, he removed the blindfold.

"Tada!"

"A...building?" Anthony raised an incredulous eyebrow at the demon.

"It's for your studio!" Az enthused.

"My-?"

"I originally bought it thinking about making a bookshop out of it, but then I realized thst would require me to, um, you know, sell my books? And so I thought instead I'd give it to you. I've already found a quaint little cottage for my books And I to stay, so I have no need for it, obviously-"

"Azzy..."

"No need to thank me, you're just taking it off my hands," the demon pushed on, shoving a deed into Anthony's hands and then bolting like the devil himself was after him. Anthony looked at the deed, then at the building.

It could use some paint...

-

1967, he'd been going by Crowley for 25 years as far as close friends were concerned. Well, close friend. After tonight, though...

He leaned heavily against the door to his studio, against the painted grasses and flowers that stretched across its surface, growing towards glow and the dark stars. Against his chest, Crowley clutched a jar containing a single, wild spark of hellfire. Uncontrollable, untamable, and all Az's.

'What, not going to offer me a lift?" Crowley had quietly asked, sitting behind Az on his motorbike.

Crowley moved as if he were walking through the thickest of oil paints. He entered his room, set the jar on his desk, then returned to the studio itself. Half finished projects were littered everywhere. Crowley looked at them and felt empty.

A soft, pained laugh. 'I know I go too slow for you, Crowley...' Then, the most heatbroken admission, 'I am... quite unsure if I will ever be capable of catching up with you.'

Crowley's whole body began to shake. Hands balled into fists, and then he screamed. He grabbed a wooden stool that Az could often be caught sitting on and threw it right into one of his paintings. It splintered and ripped and Crowley felt good.

He tore paintings from the wall, shattered frames against the floor. He ripped apart each brushstroke, each secret hope. He only stopped when he tore his paintbrush off the chain around his throat and tried to snap it. Lucky for him, past Crowley had enchanted it to be basically invincible, so his efforts simply drained him. He let it expand into his staff so he could lean heavily on it as sobs wracked him. He was angry, he was heartbroken, and he had never felt less holy.

-

In the years leading up to the apocalypse, Crowley hadn't been painting much. Any attempts to bring his brush to the canvas were hindered by the fact that the world was ending, and that in less than eleven years all these things he was making would be destroyed. Again.

He thought maybe after everything, after escaping heaven and hell, he would be able to paint avain. Yet, as he sat with a sketchbook in his lap in Az's livingroom he felt no spark, no drive.

Well, that wasn't true. He felt something, but it wasn't the need to create. He took a swig of wine and looked up to where Az was quietly contemplating his own glass.

"I-"

"It's Aziraphale."

"...what?" Anthony sat up straight for the first time possibly ever. Az flinched.

"My- my name...my angel name. I never," he bit his lip, "all the other demons were changing their names, but I never meant to fall. I liked the name the Almighty gave me, even if She...so, so perhaps you can call me Aziraphale from noe on? Since I guess I'm technically not a demob anymore..."

The name was familiar. It brought Crowley the memory of a flash of white wings and blue eyes watching him work. However, that image very comfortably faded to fit the face of the demon he so loved.

Aziraphale.

"Aziraphale," he spoke it in a way that made one think of blasphamy. He caught the demon's shiver. Slowly, Crowley set aside his sketchbook and his wine and he prowled forward.

"Crowley?"

"Yes, Aziraphale?" He breathed, close enough to count the lashes framing Aziraphale's dark eyes. They fluttered closed.

Lips pressed against lips, soft and full of longing and hope. It took Crowley a moment to realize he hadn't been the one to close the gap. He framed Aziraphale's face in his hands, like the work of art it was, and kissed back.

A gasp and then hands fluttered against his back, gripping at his jacket as the angel pushed him back in his chair, thoughts scattered so only one thing remained.

Aziraphale, Aziraphale, Aziraphale.

-

They laid in a bed conjured earlier that evening. Aziraphale didn't own one, since he was used to hanging upsidedown from the rafters when he slept at all. He made an exception tonight, though, and was now curled up fast asleep in Crowley's arms. He traced the blue-purple-red bruises scattered across his lover's skin and smiled fondly as Azirphale wrinkled his nose and turned in his arms. Slowly, Crowley untangled himself and moved towards the easel he'd put in the room back when Aziraphale was sleeping for a century. He had wanted to be around the demon, even if he was fast asleep with no plans to become concious again until he thought his books were in danger.

He brushed the dust off a blank canvas and set it on the easel. It was facing out the small window, revealing the expanses of space for Crowley to record again and again. He hesitated a moment before changing the angle of the easel, pointing it towards the bed where Azirphale was still curled up.

He looked over at where his brush had been reverently placed on the nightstand at contrast with everything else he'd been wearing previously. He looked at it and then shook his head. He opened a pot of red paint and dipped his fingers into it. The excess dripped from the tips before Crowley set then to the canvas, and he began to paint.

[wcndcr]

                             HSHQTASK033: NEXT GEN

this is going to be the longest essay ever & i’m not sorry bc @irenaemilija & i have a lot of headcanons.

when anton and irena fell in love and pictured their forever, children were not in any part of it. anton never saw himself be a father and irena didn’t want children because her own family experience as a child was so shitty ? after her convoluted abdication, she wanted to live life without pressure or obligations. however, they were nudged about children a lot as the years passed and eventually after lots of therapy, irena began to warm up to the idea. yk what these two are like, when one wants something, the other one will enable it. so these kids were carefully planned and had after a lot of discussion. the pregnancies themselves were traumatic, irena didn’t take to being pregnant very well and anton kept apologising for getting her pregnant everytime he witnessed her discomfort ( he’s soft ok sue me ).

there was parental panic like oh god how do we be parents, how is life going to change, what are we going to do, what if we're shit at it and screw them up, what if they grow up to be the antichrist. ——— this made them grasp blindly at anything and everything they could to learn” books, classes, advice from nice normal people, an equally paranoid team.  AS A RESULT, anton and irena unintentionally eventually became very hands-on and involved ( but also quite rookie, confused and not-as-authoritative ) parents even though they did have help.

              so laura & i present:  ALEN HENRIK & GRETA KATARINA BERNADOTTE                                                ( julian schratter & lyndon smith )

irena named them. these children were put on this earth for the sole purpose of torturing irenton and not in the way you might think. they wanted for nothing and went on many travelling adventures sitting on anton’s shoulders with irena ready to fight anybody who upset them. anton and irena didn’t magically change, when they became parents. they didn’t filter themselves and were simply genuinely curious about their children and wanted them to grow up safe & healthy and find their place in the world. the result shockingly was two individualistic, well-adjusted, secure, albeit headstrong and stubborn people, who unfortunately, really love being around their parents and talking to them about stuff bc they’re fun and therefore will meddle and cockblock and give unsolicited romance suggestions to their own damn mother and father WHO JUST WANT TO BE LEFT ALONE. error 404: boundaries not found. irenton thought they could resume their idyllic ‘let’s run away and do things together’ life after both kids hit 18. this backfired big time. alen and greta are their parents’ keepers. they own them. they fuss over them, they keep them in line, they believe their parents would be lost without their glorious presence. there is nowhere in this world irenton could go where alen and greta can’t find them & join them bc they know their parents too well and lowkey get a kick out of it tbh, they’re demons. irena is secretly baffled that she has managed to raise kids that actually like her & that’s something she is so proud of but also like alone time w anton??? when????? 

ALEN got the best of both parents in terms of looks. it’s hard to tell who he really resembles more, but he has irena’s deep brown eyes and an even brighter smile than vera, anton and sol put together, jaws chiseled like both parents, anton’s enviable hair with a darker hue of brown. he’s unseated anton from his wonderbrow throne because his are thicker. he’s a true creative who unlike anton, has channelled that wild imagination and gift with handling people into something tangible. he had a strong personal style by age six and a really good eye for themes and colours, by his teens he was doing theatre school, dabbling in modelling, and playing the guitar, piano, drums — and for some strange reason, rugby. he received military training as a royal member like his father did, did his MBA and after that his pursuits became more technical in the creative sphere, he became adept at photography, capturing landscapes and shooting film, visual storytelling, and was the media’s favourite darling with his smile, comfort in front of the cameras and generally interesting life — the opposite to irena at that age. he’s a passionate guy, something he inherited from both parents and enjoys his family dynamic, because honestly seeing his peers and their parents really made him realise how he and greta really have it good. he DOES also... have irena’s temper, and is confrontational. he doesn’t necessarily start arguments, but he’s argumentative and will engage when provoked and will finish it — pursuing the matter until the case is closed, he won’t stop once he’s started and won’t let you run away from it.

he and his sister tend to bully and tease their parents in a good-natured way with their quips and pranks, thinking they’re smarter than both parents and have the sheer balls to give their own parents relationship advice. prob have been doing it since they were 5. ( this is anton's fault, who told him to ask toddlers what to buy mommy for her birthday and tell them all his decision struggles? now they think they're cleverer. ) they’re also not ashamed to tell their parents tmi things about their lives and irenton tries to find new ways to die each time.

GRETA got vera and ebba’s startling blue eyes and anton’s hair colour. her features are much softer and rounder ( probably from irena’s mother, but we don’t talk about her in this house ). she was born 2 years after alen, much to his dismay and chagrin. they grew up fighting, wrestling, bickering and picking on each other, but also being each other’s best lieutenant outside of the immediate family sphere. greta is a genius at puzzles, games, complex equations, and does occasionally have the tendency to copy her brother and compete with him, for no other reason than for bragging rights and to annoy him ( it’s ok he does it right back ). she is also the most chill zero-drama albeit sarcastic person in the room who will be like, jESUS cALM dOWN drink some chamomile tea. barbarians really offend her tbh... unless she’s hitting her brother. which she doesn’t really do in public anymore. greta is also the legend who has kindly and resoundingly let her dad know know he isn't hot shit since age 11 months. anton has spent every year since trying to impress her. he’s still trying. other than that she’s loyal, generous, and an activist. she wants to change the world via sustainable technology and has changed her major about 7 times, girl’s just so interested in so many things. today it’s anthropology bc why are you the way that u are? the next it will be finance, and then computer science, then who knows tbh. out of the wider bernadotte family she’s the one who takes charge and plans big family events because her event planning skills are that good, and is gifted at herding a crowd.

[early-sxnsets]

Don’t @ Me

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18215168/chapters/43092371

Chapter 1/10 of It’s A Handheld Disaster

Word Count: 3118

Fic Summary: Teenage life is hard enough, but with the added weight of their lives, both Simon and Baz thrive online in a fandom for the British crime show, Gastrell, about the genius Huxley and his "flatmate" Sam. Through Tumblr, they find each other, and sink into something more than just being mutuals.

Chapter Summary: A shitpost is taken a little too personally, and an argument breaks out. In true Baz fashion, he seeks to prove himself right in the most ridiculous way possible.

BAZ

Morning routines are the most menial shit in the realm of existence of arbitrary tasks.

Everyone seems to have them, yet nobody really has a set one. For example, my step-mum has a long, seemingly pointless hour of simply facial cleansers, serums, and hair products. When I’d asked her years ago why she does it all, she shook her head and said “You’ll never be an aging woman, Basilton.”

I couldn’t quite argue with that.

Regardless, it’s a part of life. The routines. Wake up, morning routine, morning activity, eat, afternoon activity, usually afternoon snack, evening activity, dinner, night-time activity, sleep.

A boring, underwhelming cycle of the day.

Although, I suppose it’s shittier for me, since the homeschooling doesn’t give me a chance to do much besides sit and read. Of course, I have my car and I can drive off to whatever. Hell, father even suggested I get a job to occupy myself, but I don’t quite see the point given how much money we have (and the risk factors with moving around so frequently).

So, here I am. Finishing my classes in a matter of months, then having an entire year of pointless bullshit.

Needless to say, my entire day’s routine isn’t the most thrilling. Wake up at 10 on a good day, check social media and emails, then just lay here until I can’t wait to piss. Piss. Go to eat breakfast and get greeted by screaming children and my poor step-mum trying to wrangle them in. Go upstairs, go back online, see whatever’s on my dash, reblog some shit, then try to do something vaguely productive. Check Archive, check email again. Nothing’s on the emails, ever. Text Dev and Niall, who get awfully pissed since they are in school. Get more food. Eat. Bring tea upstairs, despite the disdained look from our maid (who hates collecting my piles of mugs). Write for a couple hours. Take an afternoon nap, if I please. Wake up and sit there (again). Maybe lonely wank. Go back to the bathroom, stare at myself in the mirror for a good few minutes. Sit on the toilet for half an hour for no reason besides the fact that my phone seems more interesting while sitting there as compared to sitting in bed. Sit then on the bathroom floor doing the same thing. Go back to my bed, listen to music on my phone and work on my laptop. Write, maybe scroll. Get dinner brought to me as they tut that I should be more active. Eat. Go downstairs for an evening workout (they’re right, I shouldn’t confine myself to my bed). Come back, do exactly what I do for half the day until I pass out somewhere around 3 am. Repeat.

Dream life for an 17 year old. Social life of a god.

Somewhat.

It’s shit to say (and sort of embarrassing to share) that there’s sort of a social media presence around me. Not quite the Instagram model bullshit, but based around fan life.

Yes, it’s a laughing stock. That’s where my popularity lies--a mixed grab-bag of various ages gathering around various platforms to enthuse about certain topics. And I’m somehow lucky enough to have the slightest bit of popularity here.

As in, a large following. A large, somehow active following.

It isn’t exactly thrilling as one would like to think. Sure, it’s fun to see a scattered group of regulars pop up, and I have my mutuals, but it’s a sad existence to sit around and make various shitposts with nothing better to occupy my mind. Or, at least, that’s what Dev and Niall tell me.

All in all, I blame Fiona. She’s the one who got me into the show, saying she thought the character was a bit like me. After I saw it, I found the three connections she’d grasped at.

Gay, dark-haired, and violinist.

As if that’s a rarity.

Yet, surely enough, I did love it. The cinematography, the characters, the storyline. It was intriguing--captivating.

It doesn’t hurt that the online community was still on the smaller side when I first got there. The show was only a season in when I made my blog, and I’ve stuck through all this bullshit to get me here. One of the regulars. Reposted everywhere, uncredited usually. Big fics, large interactions. Shitposts with thousands upon thousands of notes. I’m recognizable; a suggested name.

Don’t get me wrong, the attention is spectacular. I love interacting with people beyond this depressing household, and they’re usually fairly nice (usually) (except those ravenous for an argument). It’s just awkward to share at times when people ask why your mobile’s got 99+ symbols next to the apps and you just shrug and say “I’m shit at checking it” to avoid the conversation because most people see it as childish.

It’s a shame, really. Especially since I feel emotionally attached to these goddamn fictional fuckers.

I suppose that’s what makes it all the more personal, then. Even the shitposts mean something to me.

Which is what makes this is a long, winded way of saying fuck whoever’s arguing with me about whether or not Huxley is a fucking Ravenclaw. (He is. Hands down.) How’d I get here, staring at my mobile in disbelief at a brief back and forth post turned fight? Because it feels like a reasonable question to wonder.

I got here because, as almost all mornings, I woke up, opened my phone, read my notifs, then sat here, thinking of something. Anything. Then, in a tired haze, typed out a single text post on tumblr.

huxley gastrell is a ravenclaw send tweet

Following so, I went about my typical morning. Of course. Then--then--I check my phone as I’m going downstairs and I see it. I see the “@bi-sammy mentioned you in a post!” notif, then read the God-forsaken reblog.

@gaystrell op do you take criticism on your posts?

I frowned at my phone, typing out a quick response before tucking it back into my pocket.

@bi-sammy no.

What I hadn’t anticipated, though, was the reply I’d open up to soon after I’d started poking at my morning meal.

@gaystrell well too bad bc ur WRONG and ur opinions are UGLY

#he’s clearly a slytherin this is slytherin oppression #don’t tell me he and bryonie aren’t from a slytherin family

Now I sit, staring and completely awestruck at such a post. Now, I won’t deny Bryonie Gastrell is definitely, in all possible ways, a Slytherin. Cunning and ambitious as fuck, as any political spy may be, but fuck anyone who tries to dismiss Huxley’s clear Ravenclaw leanings.

It takes me a moment to fully process, mouth robotically chewing my eggs as I contemplate my answer.

@bi-sammy there is absolutely no proof of huxley being a slytherin and more than enough support towards him being a ravenclaw. get your clueless negativity off my blog, you utter tit.

With that, I settle my phone face down onto my table and try to enjoy my lovely plate of scrambled eggs, barely ignoring the boiling of my blood.

SIMON

My phone lights up with the new notification, dragging my attention away from my laptop as the words slide down onto the screen. “@gaystrell mentioned you in a post!” I hate to admit that I get a little pattering in my heart, urging my hand out to grasp the mobile as I pause the Youtube video currently playing. As I read his words, I slowly blink out of my excitement.

Tit. He called me a bloody tit.

Of course this fucking wanker called me a tit.

He must think that since he’s this big bad blogger, he can call me a tit right out in the open. (Although, he is talking to me, so that’s a plus) (No! No no no, bad validation, Simon. Bad). What, with his thousands of followers and fans of his own, he thinks he can try to say shit out in the open?

Fuck it. He’s either getting a DM or a bloody fist fight from me. I’ll take a train to wherever the fuck he lives (which is somewhere in England, since that’s what his bio says) (and his aunt lives in London, since he’s posted about visiting her) (I really do wonder where he’s from and how close he might be--what if I run into him one day?) (No wait fuck I don’t want that anymore).

Clicking on his blog, the little person drop down gives me the option of a message. I barely think as I type it out, vision going spotty from the adrenaline of the twinging anger.

bi-sammy: i swear to god there was no point to the battle of hogwarts if you’re just going to go around and absolutely slander the slytherin name and dare say that huxley is not one of them and, rather, is a ravenclaw

At first, I grin at it, watching my lone message appear into the empty chat. It’s so freeing--so powerful to send it. I pride myself, in the moment, for this solid move of communication. Of course I’m fucking proud. I messaged the arse myself and gave him a space to fight.

Maybe Penny’s right, I should dial down the confrontation, but it’s just the internet. Nothing important happens through a stupid little argument over Huxley’s true Hogwarts house (although, I’m sure I know I’m right in my heart), but it is a bit of fun to fuck around with someone. It’s a distraction. And that’s why I’m here, afterall. To have a distraction.

Penny thinks it’s a bit silly, but she doesn’t really complain. All she’s ever said was  “I thought we left fandom stuff behind us when we were 14.” She said it over lunch, watching me scroll through my at-the-time new tumblr.

It’s funny, I thought I did leave it behind when I was younger. It seemed unneeded as life shifted. I’d just found a stable foster home, with someone who was going to keep me for a while. I found Penny a couple months before I deactivated my old account. I was happy; we were free. I didn’t need a venting place.

Shits been sort of hitting the fan recently, though. No uni plans, David’s been getting more controlling, and of course, Agatha dumping me. It all crashed on top of me a few months ago, and somehow, the only place that I could find healthy coping was online. So, I started fresh. Made a blog and settled in. It’s not big, but I’ve had a few posts get noticed. I have a good few hundred followers, and one nice anon who asks me how I am every few weeks. It’s not a lot, but it’s comforting.

I feel at home here, even with a little discourse.

Well, only when the discourse is answered. Which, in this situation, I don’t know if it will be, given it’s been over an hour now and Baz hasn’t answered.

If that’s even his name.

It’s what his bio says, at least.

baz. 17. cisguy (he/him). gay. don’t interact if you think huxley is remotely straight.

I’ve wondered for a while what Baz stands for. He refuses to answer it in asks; he always says it’s too personal. He’s sort of odd like that--never posts pictures of anything that could be linked back. Seems sort of creepy, but then again, a lot of people follow him. It’s reasonable to want space.

Maybe that’s why he’s not answering. He probably wants space of some sort, but it’d be at least decent to answer someone who tried to have a discussion (that’s at least what I’m calling that message I sent--a discussion starter).

I frown at my phone, keeping it on silent as I slide it into my front pocket and settle into my seat in maths. I’ll say it--I sulk in class, a little bitter that I don’t have his attention (despite the fact that he seems like he’s always active online, which seems odd). Eventually, I exhale and try to let it slip away. There went my one interaction with him. My few seconds of the weirdest fucking bliss online, gone.

Then, it happens. As the class is ending, I pull out my screen just enough to see and there it is. A clear notification telling me he’d answered. Oddly enough, it’s just him sending me a link to a Google Doc.

Weird.

I ignore it for the moment being, letting myself ride the wave of relaxation that I actually got a reply. It passes my mind until I’m sitting in the back of Agatha’s car, listening to Penny and Aggie in the front talking about whatever’s on their mind. The rides are sort of awkward as of recently. At least Agatha agreed to drive me home (it’s a good 45 minute walk, if not) after some convincing from Penny, but her and I don’t really chat. It’s just the two of them.

Given that time, I have a chance to pull out my mobile and thumb through what was sent.

gaystrell: https://docs.google.com/document/d/175qFASmqD7hey8lE0eoE-6VhhFYE9DP6bpnI32Aay98/edit?usp=sharing

I click on it, not expecting that much (or, really, not expecting anything at all). Yet, the second it pops up and loads, my jaw drops.

“Jesus fuck,” I say aloud, scrolling through it. Penny turns her head, frowning as I stay locked on my screen.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“No--no nothing,” I say, waving a hand. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s got to be something for that reaction,” she says, keeping turned in her seat as she eyes me up. “Just tell us, Si.”

“I mean it when I say it’s nothing.” My voice gets quieter as I shift, reading the title. “It’s just fandom stuff. It’s really nothing.”

I hear her disgruntled huff as she turns back, mumbling something about me reacting too dramatically to this. “It isn’t even real.” It’s said under her breath, yet it still rings clear in my ears.

It isn’t really fake, either.

Hell, this is six pages of real. “Why Huxley Gastrell is, Without a Doubt, a Ravenclaw”. Shared by Basilton Pitch (is that his actual name?!). Fucking hell, it’s detailed to no ends. You’d think, with this much writing, there’d be pages of pointless filler where he’d just type “im gay hi huxley is also a gay we’re all gay here aren’t we”, but no. It’s full, grammatically correct sentences detailing his points.

It’s a bit much to read in the car, so I settle my mobile face down onto the seat as I’m left reeling. That… was a bit more than I’d expected.

Shit, did he write that for me?

This isn’t real. This can’t be real.

BAZ

Whoever says that having a flair for the dramatics is pointless has clearly never met me, because I wouldn’t quite call this masterpiece of an essay “pointless”. In fact, I should send it to academics. Rename it “A Study In Multi-Dimensional Characters and their Associated Generalized Personality Traits”. I’ll be hailed as a genius, as I deserve to be.

I crack my knuckles, and see the little person pop up.

Surely enough, it’s @bi-sammy’s name that he has listed online, Simon. It’s curious, he has his last name listed as “Snow”. Although, the smallest part of me believes it’s a pseudonym. Given our interactions, I doubt he’s clever enough to think of a solid pseudonym. And, even at that, why pick Snow?

Either way, it’s surprisingly endearing. Simon Snow. Sounds sweet. Sounds innocent.

I watch his cursor turn on, then his icon goes grey after a few moments. My heart starts to trip, making my cheeks begin to flush. Is… he ignoring this?

No. He can’t be. I put in hard work and dedication into this work, and I deserve the respect I’d sent into it. Fucking hell, three fully developed points (his devotion to intellectual work, his effort to step out of public light for Sam’s sake, and his overall lack of ambition for moving forward). I clearly set it out, and ended it properly; I’d proven that Huxley is a Ravenclaw. Case and point, opinion made, the end.

And, here I sit, watching him have the audacity to open it up then close it back. That was my hard work put in there, and he closes it? Who in the name of all that is sacred thinks he’s that above other people to the point where he just ignores--

Oh. He’s back on. Nevermind.

He’s… probably a school student. It’s roughly the time that most classes end, I suppose.

I make a mental apology to him, despite having never ranted directly to him in the first place.

He stays active for a good bit; long enough to show he’s reading. I assume that he’d just close off and message me, but after minutes, I notice a little highlighted comment pop up on the last sentence.

Simon Snow i………. owe you every single possible apology

Each word makes me grin like I haven’t in a while. A wide, cheek-creasing grin. There’s something so sweet to that--so personal. It feels like a note passed to me in a classroom under the tables. Like a cute “Blink if you like me”, although I doubt he has quite an intention.

Nevertheless, it warms my chest, sending my head back as I smile. I’m not sure whether or not it’s the satisfaction of winning, or his words, but I laugh outwardly into the room. It stays with me, reverberating onto my skin and my throat.

I look back at the comment, then leave it untouched. If he won’t remove it, then I won’t either.

With a glance at our personal messages tab, I figure that’s that. Even field, no more argument. No more interaction. It’s a bit of a shame, given the effort I’d just extorted for his sake, that he hasn’t answered in our chat.

While I’m disappointed to close off the document, I smile at it one last time. Sometimes I have to move on from random people, especially when they come on a bit strong.

Except, I find, moments later that I’m wrong about one thing--the moving on. He didn’t just stop his interaction, but instead made a public post.

“@bi-sammy mentioned you in a post!”

This time, I really laugh. A full bellied, hand-covering-mouth laugh.

i guess i have to suck @gayhuxell’s cock now because i was wrong and the bloody arse was right. huxley is a ravenclaw.

#fuck me i guess

I take a minute, rereading over his words a few times before typing a simple answer with my reblog.

i’m available anytime behind a mcdonald’s parking lot

[wydmariana]

well hellooooo beautiful people !!  my name’s dani, i’m one of the admins on the main! i’m 20, i’m from toronto & i also play the hailey fc alanna !! i’m so fkn excited to have wealthy back up & running and to bring my baby mariana back ! she’s the same old girl and if you don’t know anything about her...everything u need is under the read more ! i rly need all the connections rn so like this & i’ll hit you up for plots !!!!

❛ new york’s very own mariana cavello was spotted on broadway street in  christian louboutin’s. your resemblance to selena gomez is unreal. according to tmz, you just had your twenty-third birthday bash. while living in new york, you’ve been labeled as being reticent, but also quixotic. i guess being a gemini explains that. three things that would paint a better picture of you would be fishnets, tequila shots, notebooks filled with lyrics. & ( cisfemale & she/her ) + ( dani, 20, she/her, est )

☇   ❪    ˚･ﾟ ❛ STATISTICS :

full name: mariana marisol cavello

nickname(s): mari

age: twenty three

date of birth: june 4th

hometown: new york city

current location: upper east side, new york city

ethnicity: half mexican

nationality: american

gender: cisfemale

pronouns: she/her

parents names: tanner hastings, liliana cavello

orientation: pansexual but she doesn’t like labels

religion: grew up catholic, undecided

political affiliation: democrat

occupation: singer/songwriter

living arrangements: lives in her own mansion in the upper east side

language(s) spoken: english, spanish

accent: american

face claim: selena gomez

hair colour: x (most basic/accurate/but it changes)

eye colour: brown

height: 5″5

weight: 120lbs

build: petite

tattoos: mostly selena’s canon, but x instead of the music note

piercings: x (both ears)

drugs/alcohol/sex: yes/yes/yes

pets: one cat, 5 years old, named sergio - x

astrological chart: gemini sun, cancer moon, scorpio rising

☇   ❪    ˚･ﾟ ❛  BACKSTORY/CURRENT :

mariana was born to tanner cavello (famous hotel owner, entrepreneur, multimillionaire, been on forbes, think bart bass) & lilliana cavello (hispanic model/socialite)

her parents marriage was very much settling, the two of them cared about each other & were excited to start their life together in effort to please their parents and keep their images pristine

they were quick to fall out of love though, if you could say they were even ever in it

once mariana and her brother became teenagers, their dad started having affairs with his employes, the hot, young ones of course. & their mom found out, but confided in a 16 year old mariana about her father’s actions

( sexual abuse tw ) this infuriated mariana, especially considering the hours she would spend waiting outside her father’s office doing homework while his business partners molested her in the empty conference room starting at the age of 14

she never told anyone about it, although she knew her father had known the whole time, remembering how many times he’d interrupt it by summoning his partners for work or a meeting

mariana began absolutely hating her father, while still yearning for his approval, & this went on for 4 years until she turned 18 and got revenge by sleeping with one of her dad’s business partners & allowing his wife to find out

so his wife threatened to tell the media about this little scandal, unless mari’s dad paid them off, which is exactly what he did but not before taking his anger out on mariana & blaming her for the whole mess

she has barely talked to her dad since & moved out right as that whole situation went down. she does her best to avoid family gatherings, doesn’t visit the house to see her parents too often. she does have weekly phone calls with her mom & tries to see her as often as she can, no matter how much she resents her

she got into the party scene around 17/18 as well, and became new york’s resident “wild child rich kid/socialite” in her teen years, so she has that reputation in the media still to this day

her parents have been rich as fuck since the day she was born, so she’s definitely a spoiled brat, never worked a day in her life, had daddy’s credit card whenever she needed it

music had always been a passion of hers though, being her favorite class in school(on days when she would actually attend)

so when she was 20, she started getting back into writing, sold a couple of her songs to artists like zendaya, the weeknd, etc

when she turned 21 she released her first single & album within the same year, began touring, and got to the top of the charts almost right away & gained a huge fanbase, whom she loves

she’s now 23 and has two studio albums out !! she’s v successful and happy w her music <3 she releases things very sporadically & im probs gonna  release random selena songs along with other voice claims maybe IDKDKKD hope yall dont mind  my  messy ass kskffsk

she works hard though, & loves writing and releasing music now and never wants to stop. it’s truly the thing that makes her most happy in the entire world and keeps her sane

☇   ❪    ˚･ﾟ ❛  PERSONALITY  :

mariana can be a brat, to put it simply. she thinks she’s always right about everything & it’s rare you’re ever gonna get an apology from her when she’s done something wrong (unless she really cares about you which….)

she’s lowkey a softie, bc of her cancer moon tbh. she tends to get herself into relationships and then mess them up for the sake of it or because she stops trusting herself to be in the relationship at all

but when she loves someone, she LOVES them, like w every fibre in her body u know?

and she cares fiercely about people, it ends up being a problem for her a lot of the time

she hasn’t worked through her trauma & probably never will, she bottles that shit up tight & doesn’t let anybody know it’s there. the only way she’s ever opening up is if she’s writing, cause she wants that shit to be real

but she’s still gonna hoe it up, catch her in the club trying to get some dick for the night, u know what i mean?

super depressed if we’re being real here. she’s sad, and she has abandonment issues because of her dad. so her mindset is- there’s no forming attachments, because everyone leaves me anyway

( drugs tw ) she loves cocaine, is most definitely an addict (but who isn’t in this city), tequila is her alcohol of choice, but she’ll drink anything you give her & weed is her creative saving grace

she started popping pain pills on her 21st birthday, opioids occasionally & mostly xanax, stuff like that, is most definitely also addicted to those

we love a bitch who doesn’t care about her health!

her management team frowns upon it, but she does smoke cigarettes pretty often, but mostly only when she’s stressed

mariana’s the type of bitch to call the paparazzi on herself, she loves attention. but with her music career now it’s been 10x harder for her to keep her life private, not that she cares. but at least she doesn’t have to call the paps on herself anymore lol

she thinks it’s important to treat people w kindness and respect, but no doubt she’ll be ready to fight a b*tch if she has to…

catch her at any protest that involves saying “fuck you trump”

her instagram is a big mix of stories of her cat, dumb selfies, ig model posts, her friends, career stuff & political posts. she’s very active on the gram & snapchat lol

honestly thank U for reading this trash if u didnt…i understand. catch her pinterest board for more here & i have a wanted connections page here ! ok bye i love u, plot w me <3

[hircmi-blog]

╰ 𝗦𝗔𝗡𝗔 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗢𝗭𝗔𝗞𝗜, 𝗖𝗜𝗦 𝗙𝗘𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘, 𝗦𝗛𝗘/𝗛𝗘𝗥. hiromi 'mimi' nakamura. twenty-two. heiress/tattoo artist. her family is using her tattoo shop to launder money for a local cartel. glitter smudged underneath your eyes, trading whispers in a dark room, and biting into an apple just to realize it's rotten.

backstory ! (drugs tw)

originally hailing from tokyo, japan, the nakamura’s are legacies. coming from a long line of business men on her father’s side, they were old money even before hiromi’s father and uncle started what would eventually become a multi-billion dollar energy company. 

nakamura industries grew and grew faster than anyone could have predicted. not wanting to miss an opportunity, the nakamura’s packed up and made the move to los angles california exactly a year before hiromi was born. 

turns out they weren’t as prepared for the move as they thought /: one bad investment and the loss of a substantial amount of money later, hiromi’s uncle is the one who made the decision to get help from some more than shady business partners

in return for saving nakamura industries, these new business partners only had one condition: the nakamura’s would have to find a way to help launder money for their cartel. the task had seemed easy enough but as the years passed they only got deeper and deeper into criminal activity. there was a lot of secrecy surrounding the nakamura name because of this, as well as a lot of whispers from other people questioning their success, but nobody could prove anything illegal was going on

she’s the middle child! she has three older siblings ( two brothers and a sister ) and one younger brother. there was a lot of pressure for her older siblings, especially the boys, to take over the family business one day so their upbringing was a lot tougher than hiromi’s and her younger brother’s was. because of that there was a bit of a strain in their relationships, and hiromi was really only close to her younger brother growing up. 

all the nakamura siblings led very elusive lives. since they were all aware to some degree of their family’s involvement with the cartel, they all learned to keep people at a distance and not to talk about family with anyone which kind of translated into making it hard for hiromi and her siblings to really make what felt like real friends ):

not to make her a cliche middle child but....she really was ignored ??? for the most part like her parents loved her and stuff but it was obvious where their priorities and where their attention went. when she was little it made her sad but the more she grew up she kinda just accepted it as the way things were and just used the fact that they weren’t breathing down her neck 24/7 to her advantage

which is why she got really good at finding that validation and attention she wasn’t getting from her parents elsewhere as she grew up (whoring around), and got even better at talking herself out of trouble. turns out she had a talent for words, for knowing when to drop her last name, and knowing when to shut up and bat her eyes. being reckless like this was her own secret rush. she knew it would be dangerous for herself and her family if she ever got into any real trouble, but the possibility of it was so addictive she really couldn’t stop. 

what started out as simply partying turned into a full blown addiction. she was out clubbing almost every night, close with just about every bouncer in beverly hills, always going wild but she made sure to keep her stunts within the four walls of the clubs she frequented. at home she was back to being careful, but when she was alone away from her family she could be whoever she wanted

becoming a tattoo artist had always been something hiromi had wanted to do, so when her parents said for her 20th birthday they’d buy her her own shop, she didn’t turn their offer down. turns out their intentions had little to do with making her dreams come true and everything to do with the fact that they needed another business where they could launder money through. her tattoo shop would become one of many businesses the nakamura’s owned or co owned (some others being a hotel, a strip club, a restaurant and even a hair salon) purely to keep their promise to the cartel 

not wanting the fact that she had her own shop to be completely spoiled, hiromi agreed to let her parents launder money so long as she herself didn’t have to be directly involved. they agreed and she went on pretending like nothing was going own although the thought is always at the back of her head

she managed to build up a good rep for herself though thanks to social media!! being in beverley hills her clientele naturally ended up being a good mix between everyday people, social media influencers, models, and even a couple of actual known celebrities o: now that she has her own actual business she’s tried to keep her wild side in check, but temptation is everywhere!

personality + tidbits !

she goes by mimi, never hiromi. sometimes people call her hiro or romi, but mimi is definitely the most popular of all her nicknames and what she uses for all her social media. 

she’s kind of hard to get to know /: not in the sense that she’s purposely cold or rude, but she can come across as intimidating or detached a lot because it takes her a while to open up to people. even with those closest to her she still struggles, often keeping a lot of personal stuff to herself in a way that gets frustrating when people who care about her see her upset but refusing to open up about it. shes the type of person you can know for years only to realize you barely know anything about her

when she’s partying with you, though, that’s the easiest way to become her friend!!! another reason why she likes to abuse things like party drugs and alcohol as often as she does is because they make her feel a lot more open and receptive to making real connections

she has a bad habit of seeking validation from others, which mostly manifests as her being overly sexually promiscuous to the point where shes kinda dependent on being desired as a way of feeling good about herself </3

not a very good influence.....like....at all DWJDJWDJW will 100% be the person egging you on in situations where she should really be doing the opposite.

she’s just generally....ambiguous with her morals because of the way she grew up. being as impulsive as she is, she can come off as selfish sometimes just because stopping and considering the consequences of her actions isnt something she usually does

but she tries for those she’s closest to! she values her friendships a lot more than she probably lets on. vulnerability isn’t her strong suit at all but shes working on it /: 

shes also the worst at keeping plans or showing up to things on time like JSBJDWBJDW this bitch is always disappearing if you want her to show up to anything you better drive her there yourself 

she loooooves tattooing her pals she’s always trying to sweet talk people into getting more tats! if you know her though you know you better not be getting your tats elsewhere or shes gonna be big mad 

deadass the type to be like no i dont hold grudges (: but then subconsciously hold that resentment in and lash out even though she said she’s over something.....shes a scorpio JSBDWJBDJWBJDWBDJW 

she has a habit of buying friends ridiculously expensive things even the most mundane gifts (like a bottle of wine) always end up costing a ridiculous amount of money and its never on purpose she just gravitates towards the finer things in life and she doesnt even realize

this shit is so long ive been doing this for hours JSBJDWBDJWBDJW i hate intros bc my charas always change once i start writing and rping but thats fine now we all have a base <3333

sum connection ideas

sexy plots period. exes, fwb, ex fwb, enemies with benefits, whatever ! whore rights !

angsty plots period...ex friendships </3 enemies </3 everything i listed above ...

sad plots period! unrequited love mayahps ? idk man im just spitting words

some cute ones too though we love balance.....give me best friends 🥺 maybe someone who can be a good influence on her....some cute crush shit....sibling like friendships <3333

ppl she tattoos, a roomie?, ppl she goes clubbing with, maybe someone she used to go clubbing with but stopped bc one night they were out something bad happened o:, idk what else i really tried JSDBWBDJWBDJWBDJWBDJW