#i tried to find out why the creator was so hated and there were like a billion posts and they were all saying completely different things
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scurvgirl · 22 hours ago
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Learning about my Rook through banter. Just a little self-indulgent writing.
-
Bellara: So...you're Dalish, right?
Rook: Yep.
Bellara: But...you don't have Vallaslin.
Rook: I don't.
Bellara: Did you leave before you could get it?
Rook: No. My father isn't Dalish, and I was born in a city - I joined my mother's clan later. Didn't feel like the Vallaslin would suit me at the time.
Bellara: Oh.
-
Lucanis: Rook, what foods would you like prepared?
Rook: Anything really. Dalish, Free Marches, Tevinter, any kind of sea food.
Lucanis: Good to know.
-
Rook: You know, Taash, you don't have to choose to be Qunari or Rivaini.
Taash: What, you think I don't know that?
Rook: Hold your dragons. I'm saying - I'm Dalish and from a city. I respect the Vhenadahl and the halla. I sang prayers to Andraste and to the creators...before, you know, we knew shit.
Taash: Okay.
Rook: It's all important, and...you're all of it, put together into a unique experience of yourself.
Taash: I'll think about it.
-
Neve: Alright, your accent is not Tevinter, Antivan, Fereldan, or Orlesian. You're a Marcher.
Rook: She's found me out!
Neve: Now to figure out where.
Rook: Do you want me to tell you or is it more fun for you to put the clues together?
Neve: Don't tell me.
-
Rook: Fucking Venatori!
Harding: You really hate them.
Rook: Assholes kill people and use my gods as a fucking excuse.
Harding: You made that one explode.
Rook: Yeah, well, sometimes we deal with personal shit by exploding an evil shithead.
-
Neve: I've got it.
Rook: Oh do tell!
Neve: Kirkwall - Varric recruited you, told you to keep where you're from a secret.
Rook: Good thought but nope. Not from Kirkwall, and thank goodness for that.
Neve: Dammit.
-
Lucanis: You're quite good with that blade Rook. Who taught you?
Rook: My mother. She's a very skilled swordswoman. All of her kids are mages but she insisted we all learn how to defend ourselves with weaponry against Templars.
Lucanis: Smart woman. You have siblings?
Rook: Yeah, two older brothers.
Lucanis: Why am I not surprised you're the baby?
Rook: Because I am baby.
-
Bellara: I don't understand. Why not get the Vallaslin?
Rook: My clan was informed of its true meaning. My keeper started offering everyone a choice.
Bellara: True meaning?
Rook: Slave markings, apparently. Makes sense now with what we know of the gods.
Bellara: That's horrible!
Rook: My brother decided to get his despite that. He said "Whatever they were, they are now how we find each other. How we take pride in who we are." I didn't feel ready. I don't know if I will ever feel ready.
Bellara: That...makes a lot of sense, actually. Thank you.
-
Davrin: You saw the Inquisitor, right?
Rook: Yeah. For someone who has been fighting for so long, she looked great.
Davrin: She's like you - Dalish but no Vallaslin.
Rook: There's a few of us out there.
Davrin: I wonder how she got rid of it.
Rook: Ah. Don't like Ghilan'nain's design upon you?
Davrin: Most days it doesn't bother me, but some days...it makes my skin crawl.
Rook: I'll try to ask her next time I see her.
-
Neve: Alright. You don't have Vallaslin because your clan found out information about them from ancient times. You showed an odd familiarity with the inquisitor. You said you are both Dalish and from a city. You hate the Venatori. You're from Wycome.
Rook: Huzzah! You discovered it!
Neve: You were there when the Venatori tried to take over.
Rook: They poisoned our wells. Blamed the elves in the alienage. They killed so many.
Neve: That means your mother was from clan Lavellan - the same clan the Inquisitor was from.
Rook: That would be my clan.
Neve: No wonder Varric gave you a code name and made it so hard to find anything out about you.
Rook: I was twelve when Miriel, I mean, the Inquisitor, left the clan. We were so proud of her, and so worried for her. When she came back...without her Vallaslin...there was a lot of heartbreak that day.
-
Solas: You knew the Inquisitor.
Rook: I did. And you broke her heart.
Solas: I didn't have a choice.
Rook: From what she's said - you did. You just chose wrong.
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beaft · 11 months ago
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hazbin hotel hate is just fandom purists clutching their pearls. as a gore enjoyer, nothing is actually good or bad in terms of content they just hate the vulgarity.
the creator even had to apologize for making a jeffrey dahmer joke where hes in hell. its wild.
honestly it does kind of seem that way. i have little to no interest in ever watching it, but everything i've seen gives me the impression that people just didn't vibe with it (too edgy, automatic cringe response, whatever) and promptly tried to come up with reasons why it was morally bad.
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mallstars · 16 days ago
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Speaking Up
After months of consideration, I’ve decided to speak up about a deeply distressing experience I had in the Drarry community. 
A little over half a year ago, I was abruptly banned from a community of Drarry writers after a vague statement accusing a member of harassment. I was never told specifically what I was accused of; nobody ever spoke to me or provided any explanation for their actions. When I tried to reach out, I was blocked. 
In a slow trickle of information provided by other people over the following weeks and months, I learned that I’d been blamed for anonymous hate comments left on a fellow writer’s AO3, based on “credible evidence”, which wasn’t shared. 
I want to be very clear: 
I did not leave these hate comments, nor would I ever leave hate comments to anyone. The person who received these comments, as well as everyone supporting their accusations, were people whose work I enjoyed privately and publicly. 
I have no idea what “evidence” anyone could have come up with to support the claim that I left those anonymous comments. Other than knowing that I'm innocent, I've also learned that you cannot determine the identity of a guest commenter on AO3. 
There’s something uniquely jarring and isolating about being falsely accused of having done something bad, without being told what it is and without being given the chance to defend myself, as well as this accusation coming from people I considered friends, in a community that prides itself on being kind and mature. 
Being branded a harasser by people I trusted has had a devastating effect on my experience in fandom, my fandom relationships, and on my mental health. It has made navigating fandom spaces challenging, and had a noticeable impact even on my real, everyday life. I’m still dealing with the fallout of what happened, half a year later. 
For months, I’ve been thinking about how to address this matter. Ultimately, I’ve decided against a more detailed recount of what happened and how it continues to affect me, as I don’t want to invite any further negativity, towards me or the people who targeted me. 
Instead, I want to be clear about who I am and how I engage with the Drarry community. I care deeply about my stories, as well as other creators and the fandom spaces we share. I’ve always strived to uplift others and to be a kind, authentic, and fun participant. As a passionate reader, I will continue doing what I enjoy: reading stories and being vocal in my support of the creators of this fandom. 
Creating and being an active part of the fandom space always went hand in hand for me, and this has been difficult for the majority of this year. As of now, I’m not sure I’ll keep writing in this community, but I’ll take every day as it comes. In the end, I'm a writer with all my heart, and if I end up wanting to stick around, I'll be happy for it. 
In speaking up about this now, I’m giving myself permission to move on. It has seemed imperative to me to understand not only the What of the situation but also the Why. However, in the end, none of my guesses hold much weight. I’ve not been able to find a sensible link between myself and the person I was made out to be. I’ve exhausted myself and my options, and am finally giving myself permission to stop trying to understand the motivations of those who accused me, and instead focus on the positive aspects of being part of this community. 
Finally, I want to say that I strongly believe in open communication. I wasn’t given the chance to respond to the accusations when it mattered the most. Still, I am, and always have been, genuinely happy to talk. To anyone who’s reading this and would like to chat, whether you know about this situation or not: My DMs are open. 
I'm so very grateful to the people who've listened to me, created new safe spaces for and with me, and cared while I did my best to navigate this situation. I'm grateful, too, to those friends who cracked jokes about this mess long before I was ready to. Thank you for being the brightest part of my fandom experience. Your friendship, as well as the incredible stories I’ve gotten to read in this fandom, will stay with me, and continue to shine brighter than anyone could diminish. 
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showtoonzfan · 5 months ago
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Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel is concerningly a trojan horse of white feminism. White feminism identifies with white patriarchy and strives to find a place of power within it, whether or not they acknowledge white men would never see them as equals. This type of feminism enforces the same patriarchal values that hold them down.
On both shows, the male characters are favored, the actions of the shitty male characters are justified to be right and that they are to be sympathized with little to no regard to their victims that are made to be at fault for being being imperfect at reacting at the abuse they receive.
And what is most perplexing to me as an outsider, is that Medrano is supposed to be a victim of abuse by some guy, and yet identifies and upholds her abusive male characters. In her attempt to humanize them, she disregards the weight of their actions. Her actions with her ex-employees and ex-friends show that the victim became the abuser to regain a sense of power, which is typically what white feminism is.
I know I shouldn't be psycho-analyzing her as a distant observer, but I'm tired of people mystifying a suffering deer with fungal-mutated horns and not thinking there's something wrong with it and that it needs help.
No you’re completely right. Vivienne has shown for many years that she isn’t a girls girl. On the outside she’s tried to paint herself as pro feminism and that she cares about other women, when in reality she’s transphobic, has put other women down, and has slut shamed them in her work. She’s basically that obnoxious girl in middle school that acts like she’s a girls girl but in reality is constantly and desperately seeking male validation, like how she once made a tweet questioning why she hasn’t been acknowledged for being a famous female content creator in a world dominated by men even though there were many other female content creators before her that were already rising to the top. I never came out of watching or reading something she made and thought “she hates men”, cause she doesn’t. She hates women and it shows in how she writes them and uses them. Her males are allowed to be 3 dimensional yet 90% of her females are one note. Viv also caters to the male audience who lusts over her female characters and I don’t need to explain that one.
Meanwhile she hasn’t got a single favorite or popular female character. There’s a reason why for years she’s said her favorites are Alastor and Angel and how she loves writing Adam, hell…she confirmed Adam is her favorite HH character. She doesn’t care about her female characters and only her males, whom she can find enjoyment in, either woobifying or sexualizing them. I think it kinda tells you something when you learn that Val is supposed to be based on her abuser yet she constantly likes tweets by Val apologists and sexy/silly fanart of him.
Meanwhile (as everyone has been saying), her content is for white queers/white fujoshi’s, no one else. She tries so hard for some reason to act like she’s new and progressive, challenging the world that’s been dominated by white people and their bland perspectives, but she hasn’t really added anything new to the table, and the way her fandom (and she herself at this point) treats black people is fucking nuts.
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phoenixblaze1412 · 11 months ago
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may i ask for a child reader (again), where the reader is a veeery picky eater? i can imagine confused Iota almost making a ruckus. (Iota is so silly xd)
-🧊
Of course! You can request as many as you want after all^^
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Eat Your Carrots.
Every day, a certain segment would be assigned to be the one to handle your meals and feed you. A strict order was ensured that you must not have sweets unless you finish a meal.
Yes, you must eat the vegetables too.
Your worst enemy.
Iota was the one assigned to be feeding you lunch. He was excused from feeding you breakfast since Dottore was the one who fed you that time.
"(Y/n), if you could just stop being so picky then you could eat your damn sweets!"
Iota was holding out a spoonful of sliced carrots in front of you, your plate almost empty except for the sliced carrots. He was happy you were able to cooperate with eating the broccolis when he promised to double your dessert for today. But the carrots were the last thing that you didn't want to consume.
He tried every trick he and the other segments could use when feeding you but you still won't open your mouth and Iota is not having it.
"Nuh uh! I don't wanna eat those things!"
"Eat the fuc-.. stupid carrots!"
"No!"
Iota sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He was so close to pulling his hair out if you keep saying no. He knows his creator would be disappointed at him if he finds out you haven't finished eating your lunch yet. Besides, Iota doesn't want Theta or Omega to always be the reliable ones.
He prefers to be the only segment that you favor most.
Letting out a sigh, he stared back at you, who was looking at him with your arms crossed and a pouting face. If you didn't want to eat the orange vegetable then there's gotta be a reason to it, and he's going to find out why.
"Why don't you like eating the carrots?"
The question caught you off guard as you uncrossed your arms and looked at Iota. You watched as he pushed the carrots in the middle of your plate. You only grinned and told Iota the reason why.
"It's because they look like Uncle Childe and I don't wanna eat Uncle Childe because I like him."
You don't wanna eat the carrots because they look like a certain ginger war freak?
You? You like the eleventh harbinger?
You didn't notice it but Iota was already glaring down at the carrots and planning a certain someone's death. Well, he did notice that the harbinger would hang out with you first whenever he comes back from a mission. Now Iota is also starting to hate carrots too.
"If you eat the carrots, I'll go and ask Epsilon to make you those macarons that you've been craving for a while now."
Now that got your attention, Iota noticed you looking at him with stars in your eyes at the mention of macarons.
"Deal!"
A grin spread across Iota's face as he watched you quickly munch down on the carrots until you finally emptied your plate. Iota got up from his seat as he took your plate away before making his way back to you and ruffled your hair.
"Aren't you a good mutt? Let's go find Epsilon, yeah?"
---
You were happily eating the macarons Epsilon baked for you as you sat upon Iota's lap while watching him read some of the files Beta handed to him.
The door to the office was opened and Childe peeked in with a smile.
"Hey, (Y/n)! I was thinking we should go and visit the town--"
Childe moved his head away from the door at the last second as a scalpel pierced through it. The blade managing to leave a small slice through the harbinger's cheek as he looked at the segment in front of him.
"They are not going anywhere. Thank you very much."
Iota hissed as he glared at the harbinger, his other hand covering your eyes while you kept eating the treats. You didn't really mind if your eyes were covered, this would usually happen if your father or the segments doesn't want you to see anything.
"Oh? I didn't take you to be protective of the mini 'ttore."
"That is none of your business, Tartaglia. I suggest you go on to your merry way or else I'll tell Lord Dottore that you are trying to take his child away again without his knowledge."
Childe only raised his hands in defense as he chuckled nervously.
"Come on now, no need to be so mean. But of course, I'll take my leave now. See you later (Y/n)!"
The hand that was covering your eyes was immediately moved away as you looked at Iota who was muttering and cursing under his breath.
"That damn carrot-boy. I oughta make a potion that turns him into a carrot and feed him to a horse.."
Iota let out a sigh before looking at you curiously when you held out a macaron in front of his face.
"Don't frown anymore, Iota. You look better when you smile. Have a macaron, this always makes me smile."
"Ick..."
You pouted at Iota's response as you let out a huff before placing the treat close to his face before shoving it in his mouth. Iota looked at you in surprised as he sat up straight before rolling his eyes and eating the macaron.
"You're too sweet, you know that? I feel like I'm having a toothache from all your sweetness, mutt."
You let out a squeal when Iota grabbed both of your cheeks and started to pull at it with a grin on his face. You tried to get out of his grip and telling him to let go but Iota wouldn't budge.
"I'll let you go if you promise me that you'll eat your carrots."
"I will! I will!"
"Good mutt."
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thestarlightforge · 25 days ago
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Why “I’m Billy Maximoff” Mattered to Me — A Queer Disabled Person’s Journal
10/17/24
***
Call it silly if you like. But I feel actually healed. Because these stories, they’re not just “superheroes”—they’re modern mythology. They’re how we teach each other and our children who deserves a place in the world.
When I watched WandaVision, like a lot of people, I identified with Wanda’s grief/depression/trauma journeys. And of course saw myself in the queer kids she gave a loving home, more so the more Young Avengers books I read. But with the WandaVision versions of Billy and Tommy in particular—more so even than the comic books—I also read into it the disability/childhood terminal illness allegory. It’s something on Schaeffer’s mind while writing them—leaked audition tapes from actors not cast as the boys revealed as much—even if it didn’t occur to all the viewers.
But I wasn’t supposed to live, either. Wasn’t even supposed to be born.
I don’t talk about it a lot because it’s hard to talk about. But when my mom was pregnant with me, doctors in Tennessee (pro-life peons they claim to be; it’s all an act) tried to get my parents to late term abort me, all because of a genetic condition they suspected I had—which I don’t even have lol, turns out I had a different handful of impairments, but anyways. A lot of people with the genetic conditions I DO have die within two hours of being born. My whole childhood was spent ducking in and out of hospitals, I had eleven major surgeries and almost died a dozen or so times before I turned twenty… I am so pro-choice it’s insane, but I was one of the “inspiration porn” kids that white, southern Republicans used in their crusades, screaming their “pro-life” BS at the Democrats who gave MY mom the right to choose my life.
I know. It’s WILD.
All that to say, though: It hit me in a particular place when Wanda married her trans husband, had queer kids who the entire world screamed at her (either weren’t real or) shouldn’t have been allowed to live, and then believed in them and loved them. With her everything. Thanked her queer, disabled kids for the honor, for choosing her to be their mom. (And Multiverse of Madness asked us to hate her. It baffles me to this day.) She didn't give up on them, did everything in her power to rescue them on the faintest hope they had survived (calling out for help in the Darkhold), even as some of the most powerful mages on SEVERAL worlds gaslit her for years... And when the gaslighters finally convinced her they were right, she destroyed the artifact that could be used to hurt anyone like her boys ever again.
For years, since Schaeffer had to relinquish creative control to the Multiverse of Madness team, I have felt that “the only creator amongst my favorite stories who feels like I belong has had to let us go, and the people who follow her don’t even believe we deserve a chance… we’re crazy, imaginary, and the world is better off without us.”
A slam-the-door narrative, Doctor Pandemonium & Avengers: Disassembled come again, the likes of which Byrne & Bendis would be proud.
But Agatha is an anti-hero/anti-villain story about ALL misunderstood, outcast people who deserve a second chance, no matter what the world may think.
The fact that Billy’s story in the MCU is now a meta-commentary on that publication history narrative… That Schaeffer took the episode to say, “I don’t know how many times or in how many different ways I’m gonna have to spell this out for y’all, but Wanda’s kids are HERS. They are and were REAL. They have their OWN SOULS and they BOTH DESERVE to FIND THEMSELVES and FIND LOVE and LIVE.”
I can’t think of a better way to have honored us. 💙
“It’s nice to see you again, Billy” 😭
(for the record, Agatha saying this totally genuine and with tears in her eyes—she will never be a villain to me, not ever again 💜🖤)
Thank y’all for listening. ❤️
This one’s for Tommy 🥹💚
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isackwhy · 6 months ago
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still high but cooking. I SHARE COOK
isaacwhy x chubby! reader hc’s sfw
(small mentions of ED)
sfw
AS SOMEONE W EXPERIENCE
gym rats love us
as much as we want to deny it bc of insecurities they love us
so pls don’t be worried about that w him. i get it but he’ll reassure u each time that it doesn’t matter to him
plus i’m pretty sure yumi was talking about the new gamersupps girl who was chubby like the new design or whatever and that isaac liked it. which he didn’t deny
i need to re-find that podcast if anyone knows LMK
if ur a content creator and get the occasional hate on ur body and it gets to it isaac is immediately distracting you
telling u it’s bullshit
“some days they get me. other days they don’t.”
“yeah? fuck them. you’re hot.”
the first few times he asks if u want to go to the gym u say no out of fear and bc in ur head he was saying u needed to go
he assured u that’s not what he meant and that he just wanted to spend time w u anywhere :)
if u guys were bffs beforehand he knows every little warning sign that ur getting insecure about ur body
even if u aren’t he learns quickly
he notices how ur suddenly counting calories or eating less or staying in pjs and not wanting to be intimate
u feel bad. feeling like it might just be repetitive at this point for him
“you always help me when i feel like shit, right? everytime i stress about a video or feel like it’ll be shit you help me. and that’s kinda often. why wouldn’t i help you?” is what he says everytime u feel bad
obsessed w ur thighs
always grabbing onto them, laying them across his legs
love handles? he puts them to use 👍🏻 ykyk
if ur like me u don’t like whoever ur dating to touch ur tummy while ur cuddling. like it’ll remind them it’s there
this man will kiss ur stomach the first time it happens and honest to god u kinda hate it but he’s whispering such sweet things u can’t stop him
“you’re so pretty. so so pretty.”
“alright alright stop please.”
“not till you believe me.”
u hate when u smile bc of ur double chin that always makes an appearance but isaac has a whole folder labeled “y/n’s smile” so pls take a breath
“i’d look better in that if i was someone else,” u point to the somewhat fitting dress on ur screen
“if u don’t buy that right now i might have a stroke, babe.”
u buy it. well. he buys it. it comes in the mail and u we’re not leaving the house that day
ur known to his community and when rumors start to swirl that u guys might be dated, there was also hate that came w it
“isaac would never date someone like that.” a comment reads
that’s a fear of urs ofc but….he’s currently laying next to u and not some other random person so
soft launching until u just give in and hard launch
u guys were already all over each others stories and social medias but after u guys start dating and want to slowly reveal it u guys post a picture of each other every month on the date of ur anniversary w out any context
it’s fun lowkey
will always back u up
the boys and him make sure they don’t fat jokes around u
u told them it’s fine bc it’s a thing between them but isaac could see how uncomfy u got w then sometimes
when he can tell ur mental state is affecting how u see how u look he won’t talk about the gym around u and makes sure the boys don’t either
just the little things
he tried to give u hoodies but u refuse bc ur scared they won’t fit u
he has oversized hoodies and looks at u like ur crazy
“this will fit you babe,” he shakes the black hoodie in front of u as u shiver from the breeze in his backyard
“no. no. i’m fine.”
“lifts ur arms up—“
“wha—“
“lift!”
u comply. the hoodie fits.
“told u.”
nsfw >:)
u didn’t wanna show him ur body the first time around
u left ur oversized hoodie on, isaacs hands snaked under it to hold ur boobs
body worship bruh
kisses every part of u, leaving marks and little bites along ur thighs
u also made him leave the lights off until recently
“i wanna see you properly baby,” he says between the kisses of a heavy makeout
you pout, “isy—“
“you’re gorgeous. you’re amazing and i want to see all of it,” he says, attacking your neck in kisses
how could u not give in honestly
at this point the hoodie is gone everything and u try and use ur arms to cover urself but he won’t let you nope nope nope
fucks u in front of a mirror everytime u feel like shit
“look how pretty, hm? u can’t see what i see? i’ll make sure you do. don’t worry, hun.”
he said that while holding eye contact w u and u nearly lost it there
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rizzrack · 6 months ago
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Do you feel it? Yes. I feel it.
He nodded to himself continually as his stream of affirmations carried him on. Rizzrack had been on this journey for days, restlessly driven by a force he fully submitted to. He traveled the roads both day and night. Sleep could not reach him as visions from the future buzzed in his mind. What lay ahead of him? New challenges? New adversaries? Would there be more trees? His longstanding fear of arboreal giants no longer gripped him like before, its foundation now shifted by a new understanding. Like himself, trees were nothing more than tools to be manipulated by greater forces. They were all passive creators of their own fates. No longer was his soul burdened by the need to fulfill his own selfish desires. It was no longer for himself. It was for a greater Being. A truly universal purpose!
And to fulfill that purpose, he needed to retrieve his bloodstone.
Gaining ever increasing clarity of the bigger picture, Rizzrack chuckled to himself, once again recognizing irony. His identity and purpose was once an inescapable prison. He was cursed with a self-imposed sentence that stretched ever longer the more he served his time. Only by accepting his place did he finally find freedom. He no longer looked out from behind bars. He looked in and down with contempt at a world corrupted against him by the very force that tried to destroy him.
Finally, one early morning, the landscape became familiar. Rizzrack paused for the first time since his journey began and surveyed the area. The moment he stood still, his legs and knees trembled uncontrollably and exhaustion was mistaken for excitement. He recognized the fields as well as the barn far off into the distance. He was close!
….
Although it was morning for those beyond the city limits, it was enough to be just outside the gates to see nothing but oncoming night. One would have to have to take a longer walk down the road if they wanted to leave the sphere of influence. That was what one of the guards did for his short break, conveniently extending it by a degree or two of time.
" 'Bout time you came back, Garner. Thought you got lost. Now's your turn to do the checks so I can get a stretch in." The queue became two traders shorter and the working guard took his chance to stand up while Garner took his place. He leaned and twisted as far as the thick leather armor he wore would allow, and when he was finished, he yawned and leaned back upon the wooden beam that was part of their makeshift 'office'.
The line dwindled away, and soon there was nothing to do but wait until the more travelers came (or their shift ended).
"Gods…" Garner groaned. He pushed his chair back and kicked his feet up onto the wooden table that served as their desk. "Tell me Cruis…" his head rolled back and mouth hung open as he stared boredly at his post buddy. "… Why haven't we got promoted yet?
Cruis was hardly faring better than Garner, practically slumping down the support as he tried to pretend he was keeping alert. "Huhm? Well…" He yawned and straightened up only to resume his lazy leaning. "We haven't cuz we're not kiss asses to the commander. Not like that bastard Marron."
Garner scoffed. "If I was in charge of watch I wouldn't be making my guys do this dumb shit. Increased vigilance for what? Why? Because of that secret lab shit? It's over, it's gone, what else is there to do but clean up the mess?"
"And why do we get the shittiest shift?"
"Yeah, why DO we get the shittiest shift?"
"Maybe it's 'cause of the bakery."
"Huh?"
"Maybe they thought we were slacking off."
"If it's my goddamn break I have every right to grab a roll! That's not slacking off, brother!"
"I bet Marron saw and snitched on us. I hate that guy."
"If he ever becomes my boss I'm done with this place." Seeing a new wave of comers aproaching, Garner groaned and dropped his feet down. This shift couldn't be over fast enough.
Sigh. …. "Purpose of visit?" …. "And your length of stay?" …. "Have a good evening. As always."
The guard logged another entry down. As he was midway through, a noticeable murmuring began to rise from the queue. Intending to finish the last details, he couldn't resist looking up when the discontent became more apparent. It was only then that Cruis finally spoke up behind him.
"'Xcuse me, sir? Sir! There's a line! We don't expedite here!" Garner sat up, his look of confusion quickly changed to a brow-furrowed look of disapproval. He then leaned forward, having to lift slightly from his seat if he were to see what seemed to be a keen, a small-keen to be more precise, beyond just his eyes.
"Sir, you need to wait your turn. The line is back there."
"Turn? For?" Rizzrack glanced to the side and his eyes met with a line of displeasured glares. "Oh I'm not here for… whatever that is. I'm just here to get in."
Cruis stood more attentively now. Was this the end of boredom? Was he going to get his chance to bodyslam a beligerant shorty? He then saw Garner look back his way with a face that said 'you seeing this?'.
"Sir, that is The Line to Get In."
"Well that wasn't there before. Are you telling me I have to pay?"
"No, I'm telling you that-"
Suddenly a (small) handful of gold coins were dropped onto the table. "Here. This should cover my entry fee MANY times over." Rizzrack stood up on his toes and reached an arm over the table to sort the coins in a row. Nine pieces of gold. Both of the guards were momentarily stunned. Garner glanced up at the line knowing very well just how this looked to the disgruntled spectators.
"No. Bribes." He placed a hand on top of the coins and slid them halfway back across the table towards Rizzrack who proceeded to swipe them back towards the guard.
"Look! I just need to get in, okay?" Rizzrack barked. "Right now. I don't need to stand in a line!" Suddenly his eye brows lifted as he remembered something. "Do you know who I am? I know the Warden!"
Cruis frowned. That was quite a bold claim to make. If he was telling the truth and they gave him a hard time, well that would just mean they'll get a hard time too. "Just let him go through." He leaned in further towards Garner to add: "He can be someone else's problem. At worst he's just crazy. I mean look at him."
Garner glanced down at the jittering small-keen. It was more than apparent he hadn't sleep in days. "Okay. Go." He hissed through his teeth. Rizzrack's demeanor switched from irritation to sudden gleefulness.
"THANK you! Now wasn't that simple? I'll put in a good word for your cooperation!" The small-keen chirped as he practically skipped his way into the city.
The guard's eyes rolled . With his pen he quickly pretended to log an entry. This didn't stop a few of those waiting in light from voicing their anger. "Alright. Next." He didn't get paid enough to care.
A place like Weeping Rose should have served to be a constant reminder to Rizzrack of the suffering he's inflicted. It should have, but it didn't. It wasn't because Rizzrack forgot. He remembered, but those memories belonged to the old Rizzrack. He was a new Rizzrack. The Radiant's Rizzrack. A Hero. No looking back. Only forward. ONWARD!
Rizzrack traveled through the city that was once a maze to him. It still was, but now he knew exactly where he was going. He FELT it. Not even the crowds of the markets could stop him as he deftly weaved on through. He knew he was almost there, he just had to-
Rizzrack stopped, finding himself at an intersection. He knew where he was. He know where the lab was. He knew where his bloodstone was. Yet he was being told to go somewhere else? Not towards the shop?
He stood as motionless as he could. Everything within him pointed him to turn down another path. But his mind felt otherwise. Perhaps this urge had changed. Perhaps it was the old him within? The corrupted force. The FEAR. Yes, the fear of returning to the lab. No, he REFUSED to let it get the better of him! Resisting his urge to turn, he continued on down the alley.
Time had passed since the discovery of the lab, enough so that damaged structures could be secured and the rubble of the ground cleared away so that a proper baricade could be erected around the hole. Rizzrack stood nearby, glancing up at the front of the stall at a sign that brought attention to the hidden just within:
Cheap! Reposessed. Previously keen-owned workshop space for sale. Stipulation: Basement space under Quorum control. No Access.
An idea struck him. What if he could own the shop? He could make great use of it! Reeaaaaally put the bloodstone to use with a NEW. SAWSUIT. YES. He excitedly entered the stall and ran towards the back space. He reached for the door but found that it was unfortunately locked. Dammit. Who did he need to get ahold of? He stepped back out to glance back at the sign. There was no other information, save for that singular mention. "Whelp!" He clapped his hands together. "Time to find the Quorum!"
And he did just that, realizing now that feeling was right all along. His new inner guidance would never fail him!
The taps of heeled shoes echoed down the hall. She didn't like how she could be heard coming. Today was the wrong day for these heels. But how was she to know she'd have such an urgent message to deliver? The young woman was nervous but she refused to falter. She stepped with haste to the Warden's office. She hoped he was there. If not, she would have to wait. No notes could be left. No papers, no scrolls, not even a strip of parchment…
She abruptly stopped and took a few steps back. She nearly passed his door. She quietly sighed and straightened her skirt and brushed a loose strand of hair her face. She then gave to firm knocks. … She debated giving a second, louder knock. As she raised her hand she heard a response from within. There was some relief knowing that this would be a mercifully quick encounter. She never liked having to leave her desk duties.
"Good evening, Warden, sir." She began. "I'm Korierre from City Hall. I'm sending a message on behalf of the Quorum. Permission to enter?"
@nortromthesilencer
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toomanyideasandfandoms · 6 months ago
Note
Hello!
I bring brain rot to you once more! Imagine Clorinde being the one to find the notebook from the death seeking creator and just how many of them are her name.
Being the "vanguard" of Fontaine's military of sorts, it's her primary duty to deal with stuff like executions and stuff, so she tends to be the one sent out whenever there is Impostor sightings!
Also, imagine she was also the creator's favorite (she is mine for sureeee... aside from the buttons doing Celestia's work, ofc-), so maybe she finds that in the notes at first! Here is a little concept of what it could look like.
"I met Clorinde today. She was prettier than she looks in game! The graphics didn't do her enough justice at all... but she killed me, too. She did it without hesitation, and I... I thought she would trust me. I put hours into her build and player her for days, I spent thousands just to make sure she was perfect... and she hates me. Just like everyone else
Maybe there is something wrong with me..."
And finally, imagine that the creator didn't know of the whole Impostor deal until a couple hundred deaths later, so they thought there was something actually wrong with them instead of the whole impostor au stuff.
For some fluff, maybe she tries to be the one to bring food and like comfort towards the creator as they heal, and try to build the trust they had on her, and like she's wholesome about taking care of her and like she slowly falls in love with them as time goes on and stuff :3 (maybe becomes yandere too, you never know~)
Anyways that's it for me for now! Have a good day, fwen!
🍌anon
Ohhhh that is GOOD!!!!
So for the Cloride stuff I don't got much too add, I genuinely love it! I'm not too familiar with her character (I know them better once they become playable) but I can see this happening 100%! And honestly she probably would be asked to be the creator's bodyguard since she was/is Furina's.
Also yes yandere, Death Seeking au very much will always end in yandere even with the wholesome mental healing because the fact that these guys would be obsessed to the point of killing those who looked like the creator (very much something I would see as something The Primordial One and Celestia put as a rule in order to make sure creator can't come back at full power) means they were never gonna be normal lovers.
But oh oh that bit about creator not knowing. You my friend brought up such a nice idea honestly. That would severally fuck up creator's mentally GOD. The confusion, the hurt, it would be so much more intense due to them having no clue as to why. They probably wouldn't be able to comprehend it at all once the truth got out and the characters tried to reason with them.
Like wdym you only were killing me to worship me?? Wdym there's a creator? Yeah that's the Primordial One. Hold up what are you stopping? No don't stop! It was getting fun! Don't take the only purpose I have away from me!
That is so deliciously fucked, full course meal of mental anguish and trauma.
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arcane-vagabond · 11 days ago
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Hey, y’all. Not really sure how to start this, but here goes.
I started using Tumblr in the far off year of 2012, when I was 16. I started off in the Hunger Games fandom right as the movies were coming out, and I made so many amazing friends on here. I eventually moved on to different fandoms, namely SuperWhoLock (The combined fandom of Supernatural, Doctor Who, and Sherlock. If you know, you know). There were ups and downs, but fandom was a community I could rely on. Strangers on the internet were supportive of me, even if we weren't necessarily close, people made an avid effort to interact with each other and have conversations with people on here.
I took a break when I started college, trying to navigate my way through my newly aqcuired adult status, and Tumblr kind of fell by the wayside after a while. But, when I left there was still a thriving community in fandom with people interacting with each other, coming up with theories for things, coming up with theories and headcanons about beloved characters. Comments and reblogs were plentiful, and fanfic, fanart, etc. were a two sided conversation. You didn't even have to write fanfic or make fanart in order to get interactions.
I came back a couple of years ago, logging in here and there to lurk and read fanfic on my old blog. I discovered Top Gun: Maverick and felt compelled to write my very first fanfiction: Don't Hang'em Til Noon. I was so excited to share it because I saw that no one else had done a Wild West!AU, and I was excited to share my work and talk about it and the actual movie with people on here. I did find people who were as excited as I was, and that was great. But then I got one of my first anonymous messages.
"You really need to calm down."
Calm down? Why? I thought the whole point of fandom was that we were all excited about this one thing? I was so confused.
I kept writing, and the hate anons kept coming. I was accused of thinking I'm better than everyone on here (why, I still don't understand), I was accused of thinking I run the fandom (probably because I pointed very obvious things out), and more. I take it on the chin usually, but of course words still hurt. This was not what I remembered fandom being like, and I found that the longer I kept doing this, the more it started to feel like a chore versus something I genuinely enjoyed.
I get hundreds of votes in my polls for what to update or what to do next, but the notes and interactions are not reflecting this. I got more interactions as someone who didn't create fan works twelve years ago than I do as a content creator now. The attitude towards fandom has changed.
It's no longer a community, it's a popularity contest. People put down others to make themselves feel better, which was always a thing, but not it's more prevalent. It's become a numbers game, and it shouldn't be. People say that they're too afraid to comment or put themselves out there to talk to creators, but guess what? It's terrifying to put your work out there to be seen by so many people and to be judged. And it's discouraging to see the amount of people who like but won't leave a comment or reblog. Do you actually like it? How am I supposed to know?
Some of you are so jealous of others, that you've let it consume you. You attack me for my AUs, claiming that they're boring and uninteresting, and yet? There are some of you who've seen how invested some people have become with my stories and have tried to emulate them. You're not venturing into AU because you genuinely want to. You're doing it because you see that there's a market for it. You're the same people who mocked me for doing it in the first place.
There's a whole group on here that are so bitter and insecure about their own abilities, that they feel the need to put others down, and I'm not mad. If anything, I feel genuinely sorry for you.
There have always been problems with fandom, but not like this. I don't know if this is all specific to the TGM fandom, but y'all? I'm exhausted. I'm tired of putting so much of myself out there to only here crickets or demands for more. What happened to actual conversation? Waht happened to interacting for the sake of interacting?
I've made some genuinely amazing friends on here, and I talk to them pretty much every single day. However, I need a break from this website. I need to find my love for writing again, and I won't be able to do it on here while things continue to be the way they are. So, this is my long ass way of announcing that I'm officialy going on hiatus for a little while, at least the month. I will be focusing on writing We Abide as an original story the way it was originally intended to be. I will not be on during this time. I will not continue to pressure myself to update for you all when you give me next to nothing in return. And if this makes me the villain? Then so be it.
For those of you who've been a constant source of comfort, laughter, inspiration, etc.? I love you. From the bottom of my heart, I'm so grateful to all of you, and if at the end of my month away I decide to come back, I hope you'll still be here to read what I give.
Until next time.
-Liz
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occatorcreator · 5 months ago
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Second Chances
Links - 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6
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4 - Friendship Lost
It's always one step forward and two steps back for Purple. An unexpected reunion between the color gang and a long lost friend threatens to tear apart Purple with jealousy.
Time flies. Months rolled by since that argument and the gang kept true to their word.  They did their best to not start unsanctioned fights whenever they got upset or angry. At least, while in front of Purple.
But that was fine by Purple. Without the worry about a potential fuse blowing, Purple felt more at ease being around them. Visits to each other’s desktops became more frequent as a result. Purple found himself chilling on the Animator’s desktop more often than his own as the year went on, entertained by the creative ways the four played with Minecraft and other games.
It distracted him from the pain. A pain that was lessening in intensity every month, but Purple could still feel it. The thoughts nagged at him; how would Orchid and Navy feel about what he was doing? How long is this friendship going to last, really? 
“You know, we were originally created to fight each other for eternity,” Yellow confessed to Purple privately one day as they showed him around their website.
The mention of being created for the purpose of fighting made Purple’s stomach clench uneasily.
“This was where we were meant to be,” Yellow said, gesturing to the blank white walls, “to fight for the rest of our days until one of us won.” They dropped their hands to their sides. “We ended up declaring a truce two weeks in.”
“Why?” Purple asked. “What made you stop?”
“Look around,” Yellow said. “I like this place. I come here whenever I need space, but it wasn’t like that initially. Imagine you were created to hate four other people, and your creator put you in a box with them, and none of you could leave that box.”
Purple’s eyes widened slowly as he tried to imagine, yet he couldn’t. Suddenly, the sparse decor and white color felt oppressive. Yellow smiled sadly.
“You understand, even when you like it, fighting grows monotonous here,” Yellow said, “I still have these thoughts of attacking them when we’re just hanging out, doing nothing… sometimes I see in their eyes, they have the exact same instinct that I have. But, I think we’ve been getting better at handling them. Thanks.”
Why are you thanking me? Purple thought, I just pointed out the obvious without even knowing how you lived.
He still didn’t know them all that well, did he?
“How did you get out?” Purple asked softly.
To that, Yellow looked away, shoulders tense.
“A stick figure broke in, somehow,” Yellow said, letting out a bemused huff, “that Orange kid… they came looking for a fight for some reason, but didn’t even have a proper fighting stance. When we saw the wall was broken down, we were so happy to be free and almost ignored them! They were chill enough to show us around the computer” He sighed. “But then Alan deleted us.”
Purple nearly tripped over himself. “Alan deleted you?”
“We spawned right back here,” Yellow said, so casually as if the fact Alan deleting them didn’t warrant further explanation, “We couldn’t do much until he refreshed the page, and when he did, the desktop was a mess. Orange had fought Alan and ran off.”
“As they should!” Purple said, crossing his arms, “Why are you living with Alan after what he did to you?”
“I mean, well,” Yellow cleared their throat, “Alan really regretted what he did. I don’t think there’s a day that goes by that he doesn’t, probably why he treats us so kindly now. We came to forgive him after a while, but I get it if you feel differently after knowing that.”
Purple didn’t know what to say. Had Yellow said nothing, Purple would still be blissfully ignorant and see the Animator as yet another kindly human. The shock of it left him stunned.
“He asked us to find them, and helped us search. We went out into the city putting up flyers…” Yellow kicked the ground. “But we got nothing. We tried for months before we just gave up. It's been almost two years since we last heard of them.” Yellow whistled. “Hard to believe it’s been that long, huh?”
“Yeah,” Purple’s heart hammered. He nodded, feeling uneasy at the mention of the passage of time. “Can hardly believe it.”
The year wrapped up, and soon Purple’s birthday reared its ugly head again. They already celebrated the gang’s mutually shared birthday, so of course the others wanted to celebrate Purple’s in kind. Purple should have known better than to have told them his birthday was coming. He should have expected it when they invited him to their desktop that day without warning and surprised them with a large cake.
“Happy birthday!” 
Purple eyed the cake, staring at the numbered candles that read “18” on it.
That can’t be real, can it?
“Eighteen, eh?” Green walked up and playfully nudged Purple’s shoulder, oblivious to how still Purple was. “What’s it feel like to be a certified old person?”
It was meant to be a joke, so Green couldn’t know how much it hurt Purple to hear. 
Old. Somehow time slipped past him, and Purple was now officially an adult. And yet he didn’t feel like he was. It didn’t register that he was older now, aging. He would have been a senior by now, a couple months from graduating. He could picture it clearly: wearing the cap, the gown, his mother staring at him with pride…
But no. He was here, a high school dropout, spending his life in a game made for children instead of going to college or finding a job. His mother was gone, and she would never get the chance to see her son become an adult.
She died young, he realized, as he watched the cake with its light pink frosting drip. But she died old.
Would the same fate happen to him?
“Purple? Purple, what's the matter?”
Purple couldn’t hear Blue’s concerned voice over the sudden, gross sobbing that seized him. Purple hid his shame in his hands, trying to push the tears back, but the sobbing wouldn’t stop.
“Hey, was it the joke?”Green asked, shocked, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
He trailed off, unsure as to what had set him off. None of them saw Purple reduce to such tears in the year knowing him. Purple wouldn’t have allowed it before.
“Please, no,” Purple tried to speak through the blubbering, “I’m not ready – I don’t want this. Please.”
Arms wrapped around him, and Purple felt himself being ushered off the desktop and sat down somewhere else. Purple gulped air down, wiping away the streaks as he heard the others trying to calm him down. He noticed that they brought him to their webpage, sitting around the card table. Yellow and Green were beside him while Red and Blue looked across anxiously.
When the sniffling died down did Yellow ask, “What was that all about?”
“Really, Yellow?” Blue frowned at Yellow.
“What? I have no idea what happened!” Yellow said. “I’m sorry Purple, but that was… kinda scary. Did we do something?”
“Is it something about your birthday?” Red asked.
Purple shut his eyes and willed himself to breathe slowly and evenly. Thankfully, they stopped asking their questions as he tried to calm down. 
I never did explain to them about my mother, Purple thought. Despite knowing each other for a year at this point, he found that there was never a good time to explain all of his mess. Of his loss, or why certain days he wanted no contact from them. It was daunting, frightening to even tell them of it.
But when he opened his eyes again he saw the faces of his concerned friends who only wanted to celebrate with him.
They told me their issues, he supposed.
“There’s something I didn’t tell you all…” Purple confessed quietly. “What happened before we met…”
=
“This is where you buried her?”
Purple could only shrug at Green’s question. “There was no body to bury.”
It was a week after his birthday. A week after he shared about his mother’s death, his father’s abandonment, and his reasons for hating his birthday. When Purple admitted that he had not visited her grave since her death, it was Blue’s recommendation for him to go. She emphasized that he didn’t have to or could go alone if he wanted, but he insisted they visit.
Purple forgot that seasons passed for the city, and it was winter. Here they all were, standing in the chill with little in the way of protection. The tombstones were covered in thick piles of snow. The Minecraft daisy they placed before her grave blended in with the ground. 
“It’s strange,” Purple said after a moment of silence, “some days I don’t feel much of anything, I hardly think of her. Other days it hits me like a train, and it hurts so much.”
Yellow let out a small hum in acknowledgement, but otherwise was silent. He, Blue, and Green stared at her grave in silence, while Red was looking around the cemetery, eyes darting from grave to grave.
“You alright, Red?” Purple asked.
“Huh? No, I’m fine,” she said in a rush, made awkward by Purple’s question. “It’s just…” she looked up at the sky, straining to think. “…a lot of graves here.”
“We are in a cemetery, Red,” Green said with bitter sarcasm.
“I know. It’s just… a lot of dead rest here,” Red said, quietly, “it’s been weighing on my mind, I guess.”
Guess she’s just uncomfortable and bored, Purple thought. He empathized with that feeling. He was dreading coming back to the cemetery the whole travel time, fearing that he’d repeat his gross sobbing again. But he didn’t; no tears were shed.
Despite how morose he felt standing before her grave, he felt also at ease with his friends by his side.
“So,” Purple announced, clapping his hands and startling them. “I don’t think you guys really got to see the sights around here. How about you follow me?”
=
Purple didn’t have any cash on hand, so he couldn’t treat them to lunch. But there was a park nearby with a track and field. He figured they would like physical activity even if it was cold.
“It's so lovely out here!” Blue said, taking in the pristine landscape.
“Look! A squirrel!” Red pointed up at the trees.
“I don’t see anything,” Yellow said, trying to peer up through the bare branches. “Are you sure a squirrel would be up during winter, Red?”
Purple and Green stood off to the side, Green chuckling. “I’m not surprised that Red and Blue adore the place.”
“I used to come here a lot when I was a little kid,” Purple said.
“As little as them?” Green asked, pointing out to the field. Children were running around, screaming, throwing snowballs, and making snowpeople. “Wow, they are very small…”
Right, you never really had a childhood like I did, Purple reminded himself. It made him realize that his mother and father were the same as Green; they also never had a childhood the way Purple and his high school peers did.
“You know, you should be grateful you skipped that stage,” Purple said, “I have so many embarrassing memories, let me tell you.”
He waited for Green to say something in response, but when none came, he turned to look. Green had come to a standstill, looking at a nearby park bench with eyes stretched wide in surprise. Purple turned back to try and look for what was happening but didn’t find anything out of the ordinary. There were kids running about, parents eating at a park bench, an orange teen playing swords with their younger brother…
Wait, Purple paused upon seeing the teen. The distinctive hollow head was something Purple only saw once, but couldn’t forget. They were talking with his old high school friends about him...
“Be grateful you never met him. He’d be horrible to you too.”
And Green was staring at them with the biggest grin on his face.
“Guys! Come quickly!” Green called Red, Blue, and Yellow over, waving, “It’s Orange!”
“Orange?” Blue exclaimed as they ran over. She rubbed her eyes like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, “It is! They were here this whole time?”
“What are we waiting for?” Red said, taking off after them. “Come on!”
Green, Blue, and Yellow quickly raced after Red, leaving Purple in the dust.
“Ah! Wait!” Purple chased after them. A little too late, as the group already went skidding up to Orange. The golden child they were playing with, surprised by five random stick figures coming up to them, rushed to Orange's side, hiding partially behind their back.
And Orange shared the same look Green had earlier, shock turned to a disbelieving joy.
“Green? Red?” they said, “Blue and Yellow too? I thought you were-”
“Yes!” Green laughed. “We’re here! And we’re okay, see?”
“Oh my goodness!” Orange jumped up to hug Green, “I thought you were dead!”
“We got better!” Yellow said, joining in the hug. “I thought we would never see you again!” Red and Blue joined as well, creating a rainbow group hug.
You only knew them for a day and haven’t seen them in years! Purple balked at the sight of his friends hugging a stranger. He stood off to the side, staring and then looking at the child who looked just as bewildered and confused as he felt. 
This kid feels familiar too, but I can’t place where I saw him?
The child regarded Purple with similar recognition, his eyes squinting in judgment. Recovered from the shock, they charged into Orange’s friends, trying to shove and push them off of the hollow head.
“Get away from Second!” He shouted, smacking Red with his shoulder.
“Hmm?” Given that the child was half Red’s size and bulk, she broke from the group and looked down with curiosity. “Who’s this?”
The others broke the hug and turned their attention to Gold. Upon seeing muscular teens and his pitiful efforts to push them off, the kid shrank back a couple steps.
“Come on, Gold, don’t be rude!” Orange said, rubbing the kid’s shoulder, “Guys, this is my little brother, Gold.”
“Aww, a little brother?” Blue cooed.
“Hey! Same color as me!” Yellow said, holding his hand out for a high five.
Gold eyed their hand nervously. “I’m darker,” Gold corrected, crossing his arms.
“Only a bit,” Yellow said, holding his thumb and index finger an inch apart.
“How did you get a little brother? What have you been up to this whole time?” Green asked. “We tried looking for you…”
“You have?” Orange said, placing a hand on their cheek, “this whole time? I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”
Green exchanged a concerned look with Yellow and Blue as though that was a strange statement. Only Red didn’t seem bothered.
“Oh, come off it,” Red waved her hand, “you couldn’t help it! We should just be glad to meet again despite it all!”
Orange beamed at Red. “Yeah! You have to tell me what you’ve been up to?” They said, their eyes turning to Purple, “Like, who’s this?”
The suddenness of being acknowledged caused Purple to flinch slightly. Their curious stare made Purple feel like he shouldn’t be there at all.
“This is our friend, Purple,” Green said, “We met him through Minecraft!”
There, it was - only for a second, but Purple could see the moment Orange registered the name. The smile dimmed, eyebrows lowered before returning to normal.
Were they wondering if I’m that Purple their other friends talked about? He thought, feeling his palms sweat. The horrible high school dropout?
If they did, they didn’t comment. Instead they turned back to Green to continue the conversation. “Minecraft?” 
“It’s a video game!” Green said, “Ah, man, we got so much to tell you.”
“Same here!” Orange said, “It’s time for lunch anyways, and I have money saved up.” They looked down at Gold. “How about you, feeling up for some hot chocolate and pastries?”
Gold looked up at Orange like it was a bad idea before nodding anyways. 
“Awesome! I’m starved!” Red said, pumping her arms up.
And I feel sick, Purple thought.
=
That fateful meeting changed everything. Now that the gang was reunited with their old friend, they were desperate to reconnect. Purple and Gold felt like accessories, watching as the five conversed with each other.
Only, Gold joined in to ask his curious questions more often, slowly warming up to the new stick figures. After the conversation was over and it was time for them to head home, Gold had taken a strong liking to them.
Purple couldn’t say the same. Orange spoke of school and their after-school curriculars. They were positively thriving: a Straight-A student, getting an A+ in an honors math class no less, becoming their soccer team’s team captain… Oh, and on top of being brilliant in sports and academics, they were a prolific artist. They even pulled out a stunning piece of art from their pocket to show them.
Oh, how Purple hated them. 
He thought he couldn’t hate anyone more than he hated his father, but no, that didn’t hold a candle to the burning disgust he had for this stupid and apparently perfect stick figure! Didn't help that the others loved them to bits. Even after heading back to the desktop, with promises to meet up again, they talked about Orange the whole way back. Purple tried to tune them out, but it was impossible, because he couldn’t stop thinking of them either.
No one can be that great, Purple thought, stomach churning.
“Hey, Purple?” Blue said, “You’ve been quiet for a long time. Are you feeling alright?”
Purple turned his head, his face turning to stone less he expressed how he really felt. Blue was quicker to detect something was wrong, but her concern made Purple rankle.
Oh, I’m sorry, am I bringing down the mood after meeting your better friend? He thought. 
“I think the hot chocolate didn’t sit well with me,” Purple said instead. 
“Need some milk then?” Red asked.
Purple shook his head. “I think I’ll retire for tonight.”
Yellow frowned and looked down at the desktop clock. “It’s only 6-”
“Good night! See you tomorrow!” Purple shouted before booking it out of there. He raced towards his room and closed his door with a slam loud enough to spook nearby villagers. But he couldn’t rest, even when night did fall. Nothing he did could settle the newfound distress in his chest.
It only got worse as the months rolled on and winter melted away into spring. The gang started making plans to visit Orange more often. They wanted to hang at the arcade, the parks, the mall, Orange’s soccer matches and art competitions. They wanted to play with their little brother, Gold. Purple was invited to tag along, but it felt like a formality, as Purple hardly felt included in their conversations when he joined.
Some days, they played Minecraft like normal, adventuring like usual. But there was always that shadow of Orange. So many mentions of “Orange would love this game!” or “Can’t wait to tell Orange!”
Purple struggled to find anything really wrong with Orange personality wise. And believe him, he scoured for any dirt. They were polite, if cautious. They were an attentive listener to the gang’s wild stories. They cared for Gold and their mysterious father figure, Mango Tango. It seemed like the small family were openly proud of Orange’s accomplishments, given the times Gold bragged about Orange.
The gang were unabashedly proud of Orange too, so happy when they met up.
He couldn’t help but wonder, had Orange not run away, would they even be friends with Purple? Was he just a pathetic replacement to tide them over until they found Orange again?
I hate this. Purple thought with resentment. Why am I not good enough for anyone?
At some point, Purple had enough and tried avoiding Orange whenever he could. He declined outings, blaming Alana or some villager for his “full” schedule. Eventually the others could tell he was full of baloney, but they did not try to challenge him on it.
Time played in reverse. At first, they tried to be consistent with their meetups, then they started missing those. Eventually they hung out occasionally every two weeks, then once every month. And the times they did meet up felt stilted, awkward. The games they played weren’t as fun as they were before.
It all came to a head on Gold’s birthday.
The gang wanted to get a present for Gold and invited Purple, out of formality. Much to their surprise, Purple took the invitation instead of declining. Purple wasn’t exactly sure why; he hated Orange and found Gold annoying. But he missed the gang.
How did it get to this point? Why can’t we go back to before you found Orange again?  He wanted to ask, but he kept those words deep in his heart.
Orange met up with them at the mall, greeting them with hugs. 
“Oh, Purple, you’re here too!” they said, standing awkwardly before Purple.
“Yep,” he grumbled, giving them a half-hearted wave.
Just like that, a stilted awkwardness hung over the group. They walked around, looking for a good store and discussing what gifts Gold would like. Usually, Orange lead at the front in these endeavors, but this time they hung in the back, walking beside Purple.
“Sooo, it’s been awhile since I last saw you,” Orange said after some point of silence, “How’ve you been?”
Stop pretending like you care, Purple scowled, only bothering to shrug in response. I’m not your friend.
“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Orange continued, not discouraged by Purple’s coldness, “Do you know someone named Chestnut? Or Periwinkle?”
Purple squinted at Orange. “I might, I might not,” he said, “Why do you ask?”
“Because they might have mentioned you,” Orange said, “that you used to go to our school, but you stopped coming two years ago…”
“Oh, really? Did they tell you because they were worried about me?” Purple asked, “or did they just want to spread some juicy gossip about me?”
To that, Orange looked elsewhere.
“You could clear it up,” Orange said, “they didn’t say many kind things about you, but my friends–” they looked to Red and Yellow arguing with Green and Blue about some tangential thing, “– really like you. And they’re worried about you too. They’ve mentioned you’ve been kind of distant lately.”
“Oh! Oh, really? Because that’s news to me,” Purple snapped. It stung. If they were concerned, why did they not tell Purple? Why tell Orange instead?
No, Purple doubted they said anything. Orange had to be asking for an alternative reason.
 “So you’re trying to see if it’s my fault?” Purple growled, pointing a finger at them.
Orange waved their hands in a panic. “No! No! I’m not-”
“Then why bring it up?” Purple continued. “Right after mentioning my former friends? Oh no, your friends wouldn’t do anything wrong or have the wrong idea. It has to be Purple’s fault! He’s up to his old manipulative ways again! Well, I’m not the one who goes to Alan’s to see if they want to hang out, and finds they’ve bailed on me to go see you! If anything, it’s your fault!”
Orange’s eyes stretched and narrowed. “My fault? It’s not at all my fault they wanted to hang out with me,” Orange challenged. “Besides, they say that you decide to pass when meeting here. They’re allowed to have other friends, Purple!” 
“If they didn’t run into you, everything would be as usual,” Purple yelled, “We would be hanging out and going on adventures! Instead, we’re going shopping for your dumb brother.”
“Don’t you dare call Gold dumb.” Orange yelled back, and it was the first time Purple saw a murderous anger burn in their eyes. They jabbed a finger in his chest and it hurt. “You apologize right now- ”
“Or what? You’ll hit me?” Purple pushed their hands back, “That would make you look real bad, huh? You’d look like a temperamental jerk if you did. What have you been telling them about me? Have you been calling me an umbrella thief? Or an absolute flake? Have you been trying to turn them against me?”
“Shut up!” Orange was shaking with rage. They raised their fists. “What is wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with you?” Purple repeated.
“Stop it!” Green came in between them before either could say or make another move. “Stop it, both of you!”
Red and Yellow had rushed to Orange’s side to pull them back while Blue grasped at Purple’s shoulders. Both stick figures pushed the offending hands off of them.
Green was looking between them in bewilderment. “What is going on?”
“Nothing,” Orange said, crossing their arms, “Purple’s being a real jackass.”
“Ha! I could say the same about you!” Purple laughed, “You were about to hit me!” 
“Purple,” Green warned, “this isn't like you. Why are you starting fights?”
“Why are you accusing me?” Purple yelled, “You’re taking their side!”
“We’re not,” Blue said, moving beside Green, “but Purple, you’ve been acting really different for a long time.”
“Becoming very bitter,” Yellow added. “You hardly want to hang with us.”
“I hardly want to hang out with you? Me?” Purple snapped. “Maybe I don’t want all my hangouts to be with a loser like them!” He pointed at Orange, and Red had to pull Orange back again. “You guys hang off them as if they can walk on water!”
They all had the gall to be stunned by Purple’s statement. Were they that oblivious to how Purple felt the entire time?
“Purple, we thought we’d never see them again,” Green said, “They thought we were dead for years! What’s wrong with wanting to spend time with them after all the time we lost?”
“I never said you couldn’t,” Purple growled, “but it’s funny how you knew me for longer, and you chose to hang out with them! Every time! Right after I showed you–” He stopped, recalling Orange was there and observing.
Like he’d ever share his past to them.
“Why didn’t you say anything to us?” Red asked.
“I thought it was obvious!”
“We’re not mind readers!” Green snapped, pointing a finger at Purple, “You always do that! You sulk and get mad at us without ever telling us jack! I thought we were over this?”
“Why didn’t you ask?” Purple asked. “You noticed I was being different, and you never thought to ask?”
“You… make it hard to ask…” Blue said, rubbing her arm.
“Right, of course, it's all my fault again!” Purple growled, turning away. As he did, he saw the crowd of shoppers around them, having paused to watch the argument unfold. Given their judging stares, no doubt they saw Purple as the one in the wrong again.
“Purple! We’re not accusing you! We just asked you to tell us,” Green said. He placed his hand on Purple’s arm. “We’re friends. You should feel comfortable telling us how you really feel!”
“Are we really?” Purple asked, yanking his arm back. He glared at all of them, hating how they stood beside Orange. “Are we really friends if you keep blowing me off for someone else?”
Green looked helplessly at him. “Purple…”
But he added nothing more, and Purple turned away.
“Guess that answers it,” Purple said, “I guess this is it, then. I’m leaving. Don’t you dare follow me!”
“Purple!”
Purple ran and didn’t dare look back. Despite what he said, part of him hoped that one of them would run after him, to stop him.
They didn’t.
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roxxiies · 6 months ago
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I'm new to the mlbb fandom/game and I developed a crush on Alpha but most of the content here is about Dyrroth and Fredrinn (no hate to the characters or the people who like them, they are both cool) so I was wondering if you could do anything with Alpha? Sfw or nsfw it's all up to you! I just want to see more love for him. Thank you!
𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑
FLUFF, GN!READER
a.n.: you confess to Alpha here. ALSO thanks for the request!!! There are only like 2 posts abt him i think? huhu, I wasn't sure what you wanted 🥹 so i settled for sfw but it you want nsfw, man ive already got an idea
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“So… you can tell what I'm thinking just by staring at me?” You inquired, leaning over the control panel before you. Your wondering eyes were waiting for a response from this new creation your father had worked on.
You weren't supposed to be here, though. Your father has prohibited you from going close to his so-called creation ever since that incident happened. That's the reason why there's a firm glass wall containing him, resulting in separating you two.
Your father once said that once he's adapted to more human behaviour and not to how he was coded, he's going to be a pure threat to humanity. He's too dangerous, your father would warn you endlessly. But you can't help it—you always find yourself yearning to be in his presence. You're kind of betraying your father, but hey, you did feel guilty, but that was quickly thrown to the other side.
Now that his eyes are trained on yours as if scanning your face for each and every detail, he processes the best response you might love to hear.
He murmurs, “Correction. I can detect what someone's current emotions and thoughts are when I scan their expressions. However, know that this is still newly installed on my program.”
You hummed in disappointment but an idea popped in your head. He watched your every move as you ducked to grab something and pulled out a clipboard with a smile on your face. “Here we go! I could help you improve it, start by scanning my face.”
The tech behind the glass wall was hesitant, thinking that following someone else's order other than his master might result in disloyalty. However, as he weighs his options, something in the back of his mind tells him to obey you. He tries to reason that maybe it's because you're his master's daughter or someone who genuinely makes him feel a little more human.
You stood still as you patiently watched him scan you. Though, midway through scanning, he stops and clears his throat again—like he found something he shouldn't have—then he continues, “Scan completed. You currently have emotions of curiosity, nervousness, and a strong sense of affection…?”
You immediately pull back to cover your face with the clipboard in your hands, and sheepishly laugh, “I– uh, cough really? You could tell all that by simply looking at m-me?” You tumble in your words as red hues spread across your face, embarrassment evident in your tone.
“I do. And... May I ask, where are these emotions towards to?” He hesitantly asked, afraid he might be overstepping your boundaries but also disappointed as to why you have to cover your face suddenly. He leans over the glass, “May I also ask why you're hiding your face?”
You hesitantly lower the clipboard so that your eyes can only be seen, but your eyes were still not meeting his, which causes him to frown. You mumbled, “It’s complicated... and stupid too.”
“What kind of thought would seem stupid to the smart daughter of my creator?”
Your cheeks flushed red again. You felt a bit delirious—was the man in front of you flirting, or was it something else entirely?
He stared worriedly, clearly not wanting to cause you more embarrassment. "I didn't mean to intrude," he whispered. "If you can't tell me, then it's alrig—”
“No!” You instantly covered your mouth, both of you were shocked by your outburst. You quickly tried to compose yourself. “I’m sorry, but I've had this strange feeling for you ever since my father introduced us—a-and I know it sounds silly. It's just... You were there one moment and then gone the next. If it weren't for you, I would have died in that breakout.”
You covered your face with your hands, hoping for the answer you were praying for. Instead, there was a deafening silence that made you wish you could just bury yourself alive. Soon, tears threatened to drop to your cheeks. 
“Don’t cry,” he whispered lowly. “Please don't.”
He groaned, and you gathered every bit of willpower to look at him, bracing yourself for a disgusted or pitiful expression. But instead, he was covering the lower half of his face with his hand, his cheeks flushed red. As if a normal human blushing.
He spoke slowly. "You... I mean, I was afraid I would make a fool of myself if I were the one confessing to you. But it seems you're feeling the same way... I mean—who could resist you? I-I sorry, what I mean…”
You sniffed and suddenly burst into laughter, shaking off the embarrassing emotions from earlier. Alpha felt relieved to see you joyful again. He couldn't help but smile unconsciously, loving the sound of your laughter.
You paused to take a deep breath, and your eyes searched for his, filled with adoration for you alone. Your lips curled into a melancholic smile. "If only I could free you from their doing," you murmured, "I wouldn't hesitate for a second.”
He chuckled quietly. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, to save you from my master's scolding." But then he looked a bit worried, "However, um, I might not be able to love you like a true human could.”
You let out a hum, nodding in understanding as you processed his words. A warm smile spread across your face as you looked at him. "Don't worry," you reassured him, your voice gentle. "I'll be here to guide you every step of the way."
He stared at you for a moment, feeling grateful to have someone like you around, and it seemed like he was amazed by what you were offering. You watched as he reached out, placing his hands flat on the other side of the glass wall. "That would be great," he said. "But if it ever gets too much for you, just let me know, okay?”
You let out a sigh, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders as you placed your hand where he was on the other side of the glass. He leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "Let's just enjoy this moment for now," he said softly.
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back to all my work . . .
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thoughtsfromlayla · 1 month ago
Text
26 Ways of Taking You: K for Kleptomaniac
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Summary: You, Lucienne, and Johanna Constantine have decided to go on a girl's trip. Therefore, Morpheus was not invited and in his desperate yearning to have you by his side again, he steals something of yours.
Notes: ~ 1.5k words, kinktober? maybe. tenses? Don't know that bitch.
Warnings/Tags: MDNI - 18+, male masturbation, stealing of underwear, Reader only pop up for the first segment
Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist
J for Joyride ⇆ L for Lactation
“This is the life,” you groan as you deflate even further into the sun chair. A pina colada is in your right hand and an open book on your left. 
Lucienne hums in agreement, simply basking in the sun after spending several years holed up in the library and often drab weather of the Dreaming. The sun shining, waves crashing, people laughing, and no one screaming for the librarian for any help. 
“I think I’m burnt,” Johanna comments as she picks at her arm, her skin growing red as she hides further under the large beach umbrella. 
“Your complexion is far too white, dear,” Lucienne comments absentmindedly.
“London doesn’t have any sun! This is too much sun!” The necromancer tries to defend herself but it’s lost to the sound of another crash of the waves. After another beat of silence, she speaks again in a teasing tone. “Y/N, do you wonder what Morpheus is up to? Perhaps missing his beloved?”
“Nope,” you answer quickly, taking another sip of your alcoholic drink and your eyes never leaving the words of the book. "This is our last day, so I'm savoring it."
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According to human laws and morals, Morpheus knows what he did was wrong. But, he tells himself that he’s not human so he doesn’t and won’t abide by any human laws or morals. All he does know is that he has missed you and that he has missed you desperately. 
The Dreaming just isn’t the same without your presence there each night. It didn’t matter where he found you within the realm, he simply needed to know that you were there, with him. He misses the times he comes to you, having tea with Cain and Abel, gossiping with exaggerated gasps. Or in quieter times where he would have your back to his chest, simply enjoying the company of each other.
Morpheus needs that, now, your presence with him. 
So, that’s how he finds himself in your bedroom, digging through your dresser, looking for your underwear. He has a favorite, though he’s never told you, and he’s rummaging through the different colorful ones until he finds the black one made of laces and silk. 
You only ever wear it for special occasions, but he wished you wore it more often. It looked so good on you for the few seconds he saw it before he ripped it off. 
Oh, cursed creators above! Why did you have to leave him alone and go off on some “girl’s trip” with Lucienne and Johanna? What could you possibly be doing that he wasn’t invited to or privy to know? He hates the ward that Lucienne put up around the three of you, so even if he did try to find your subconscious, he couldn’t. 
His fingers find the smooth feeling of silk and he pulls the underwear from the drawer, unfurling it from its neat fold. Perfect.
Morpheus tells himself that it is just so he can keep it as a souvenir, to remind him of you, his sweet love. Nothing else. But, it’s not even a few hours later when he craves more, the small piece of fabric in his robe pocket doing nothing to satiate his needs and desires. 
His fingers trail down the center, where he imagines himself cupping you as you writhe and squirm beneath him, tracing and teasing the slit up and down slowly just to see your reaction. He’s seen it so many times, it plays like a cinematic movie in his mind; taunting him with what he does not have. 
Morpheus pulls his hand out of his robe pocket, trying to focus on the task at hand and instead trailing his fingers through the fraying papers of the old book. His jaw clenches as he thinks about running his fingers down the length of your spine instead and how your back would arch under his simple touches. 
Morpheus just wants to touch you. 
To feel your skin under his fingers, how your warm body would shiver against his hold. It had only been a couple of weeks but he had already missed the way your hips would buck impatiently against his. The way you craved the delicate type of friction that only he could give. 
The book slams shut with a loud noise, the air pushing the smell of rotting paper into his nostrils. 
“Matthew, why have you not finished the task at hand,” the Endless almost sneers at his loyal raven. Morpheus had given all of Lucienne’s tasks to the raven, thinking the two are equal enough in intellect to maintain the roles. Lucienne was once a raven after all, it should not be that far of a leap (or a flap of the wings in this instance).
“I don’t know how else to tell you this, dude—my lord,” Matthew corrects himself. “I don’t have thumbs.”
“Right.” Morpheus thins his lips, he wouldn’t call it a pout, but Matthew might. Morpheus is getting absolutely nothing done at this rate and if the uncomfortable hardness that presses against the seam of his pants is anything to go by, he has more important matters to attend to. “Continue, Matthew.” 
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Morpheus felt so juvenile, stripping himself on your bed, smelling the pillow you last slept on, like those dreams of young teenage boys and their first crush. Yet, the Endless couldn’t help himself, not when he was like this, almost panting, wanting, yearning to feel you against his body again. 
To think it’s only been a couple of weeks makes it all the more embarrassing. You have him wrapped around your little pinkie and you didn’t even know it. 
His first thought was what you could possibly be wearing now. A bikini? A sheer dress that shows off all of your skin, perhaps. Or, maybe you weren’t wearing anything at all, tanning the entire expanse of your body—the sun wrapping around your skin like Helios weaved golden yarn across your legs. 
Morpheus groans as he takes himself into his hand, the warmth of his palm nothing compared to how it feels when you take him deep into your body. There’s no shuddering or whimpering, just the silence of the room and his own ragged breathing. Morpheus drapes the black silk underwear he stole over himself as well, pretending the softness was your tongue, but it lacked the warmth he sought as he pushed himself deeper into your throat. 
Pleasure sparks along his length as he moves his hand in a steady rhythm, images and inappropriate thoughts overcome the last as if fighting for a spot in his mind. Each fantasy, each fleeting desire, did not stay in his mind long enough for anything sufficient. 
The thought of your first anniversary, one he didn’t particularly feel was all that special. But if it’s human custom to celebrate then by all means he will indulge your whims. All complaints from him were gone as soon as he saw you all tied up with that smooth red silk, a giant bow for him to untie. A gift, you had told him that night and he ravished it all the same. 
Morpheus’ hips rut into his hand as the memory fades into something else. His grip turns tighter, faster,  as he imagines the night you decided to take control. He was opposed to it, it should be you who is worshiped not him, but Morpheus remembers how he couldn’t stop the way his body reacted to the way you bounced on his cock. How physics seems to grace his endless lifespan with the sight of your tits bouncing as you slammed yourself back onto him. Morpheus can still feel the way your nails clawed down his chest, how they left perfect red lines across his alabaster skin, and how he didn’t heal for weeks just as a physical reminder of your touch. 
He groans again, curses even, as he’s pushed further from sanity. Morpheus wants nothing more than to grab you, his mind once again flashing with images of your curves, the swell of your breasts, and how they always looked better when his hands were ghosting over them. If it wasn’t his hands, he wants it to be his mouth—sucking, nipping, biting, and claiming each inch of your skin. 
Morpheus gasps again, his hands moving faster, the silk of your underwear like a dull reminder of what could, no will, be his soon enough. The image of your lips is what tips him over, his back growing taut and his thighs spasming as the plump of your lips whispers his name. It’s always so… perfect how you would say it—like a priest at the altar, the whisper of his name like a devotion of worship. 
Your name leaves his dry lips, his tongue smoothing over the cracking skin as he cums, the white substance staining the black silk that is still wrapped around his prominent arousal. His fingers start to move again, finding that he still craved more of your touch. 
Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Morpheus will have you when you finally decide to come back home to him. 
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Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist
J for Joyride ⇆ L for Lactation
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Bow chika wow wow
I had to ask my partner with help with this one and he was useless just like all men are
♡ Yours, Layla
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m1d-45 · 2 years ago
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You know, I've been thinking. The stars in our world often look quite dim, especially in areas where there is light pollution. Suddenly, I'm imagining that in the Imposter!AU, the Creator looks at the stars at night, captivated by their brilliance. Perhaps Scaramouche or Mona (Whichever you prefer, you may also just write another character you think fits this scenario :D) find them. The Creator looks at them, then back at the stars.
"They're very lovely, you know? The stars never shine this brightly back home. It's a lovely sight..."
They smile. "I'm happy that I'm able to see them, even if it's in another world. I appreciate you letting me look at them before I die."
Perhaps the character takes pause... And sits next to them.
It's a lovely night.
in the stars
word count: ~1k
-> warnings: violence, blood, both of those in your future so technically you’re not hurt yet, not written for mona mains, sorry, didn’t work with the plot :/ also diona/klee/qiqi/nahida/sayu mains are on thin ice with this one. questionable plot. barely edited.
-> lowercase intended
taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie
< masterlist >
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the stars never lie.
mona clutches her catalyst to her chest, wide eyes turned to the sky. she whispers to them, hoping they’ll change, shift into something she’ll understand, anything.
they don’t.
her head lowers, inspecting the book. thrilling tales, the spine reads, the cover a simplified dragon with a sword through it. she tries to read into it, to try and pick apart the motives behind the weapon, but all it returns is a simple needlepoint.
a compass. one she’d followed ever since she caved into the pull on her catalyst, one she’d followed out of the city at dusk and into the plains, hiking up starsnatch cliff at its behest. her twin tails had lost some of their curl on the journey, her hat flopping sadly. it was late, later than she’d normally be awake, and she stumbled once on a rock before quickly catching herself, checking to make sure you hadn’t moved.
you, sat at the peak of the cliff. you, surrounded by cecelias, face turned to the stars. you, who turned at her short cry.
“are you alright?”
she couldn’t bring her hands to shift her catalyst into its attack position. her hands, free from their usual gloves, dug into the cover of the book, shaking both with the chill of night and with… she couldn’t tell, couldn’t pin whether it was fear or nervousness, or something else that blurred the line between panic and excitement.
“just fine, thank you.”
her voice was harsher than it should have been. she could tell you were being genuine, the way the water in the air shaped around you like it wanted to cling made that clear enough, the stars shining down on you as if you were the only being on the planet.
the stars never lie. so why were they saying you meant no harm?
you turned back to the stars, your hands shifting back to weave into the grass between the cecelias.
"they’re very lovely tonight. the stars, i mean. they never shine this brightly back home….” against her better judgement, mona glanced up. the sky was particularly clear, constellations shining down unhindered. “it’s a beautiful sight.”
orders from the knights echoed in mona’s head, orders extended from a god she’d never met. she knew the knights wholeheartedly meant what they said, truly believing the words they were told, but you…
hesitantly, she brought her hand in a circle in front of her, scrying for your constellation. you didn’t have one, unsurprisingly, and she relaxed slightly in the knowledge that you didn’t have a vision.. still, there was something strange about the empty space where yours would have been. swapping the sigils and rotating the outer edge, mona decided to read your future.
all the air was sucked from her lungs, the images depicted in the water making her mouth dry. the water warped and bubbled a dark color, as if it itself hated to show what it did.
you were on your knees, tight steel chains wrapped around you and latched onto hooks in whatever you were sitting on. in front of you stood the favored, the creator’s most prized, their weapon drawn. their form was taught with anger, nearly seething. it was strange, so uncharacteristic that it froze the astrologist in place for a moment.
no matter how fiery the disposition, vessels of yours were calmer after being wished upon, heart stiller for being by your side. they, the most prominent on your team of them all, should be at most handling such a severe situation with a tick in their jaw and quiet fury in their eyes, not…
she watched with sick horror as the favored attacks once, your chest caving once, twice with hitched attempts at breathing before you slumped over, blood trickling from your neck. the favored stepped back, weapon dismissed, and mona closed the illusion before it played any further. she hadn’t meant to look all the way to your death, only a few-
…only a few hours.
her hands shake where they’re still clasped in front of her, the remains of her scrying circle swirling in her palms. you didn’t even have a day.
she let the water fall, sending it towards the cecelias around you, willing them to stand brighter as she approached. she couldn’t bring herself to summon her catalyst, not now that she knew what your fate held.
the grass was damp beneath her, seeping slightly into her nightclothes. you didn’t say anything, simply passing her a flower that you had been twirling in your palms. she willed it to heal, restored the color to its petals and the strength to its stem, then passed it back. she had no use for it, not when you…
you chuckled as you took it, staring down at it for a moment before turning skyward once more. mona followed your eyes up, spotting a well known constellation directly above you. nearly perfectly straight up, glowing like a beacon, was the constellation of the favored, six stars making themselves prominent against the dotted sea of night.
“beautiful, isn’t it?”
she swallowed, eyes flicking down to you. you were still watching the stars, probably tracing the shape of the constellation above you. unknowing of what it spelled for your fate, unknowing of the warning written above you.
mona settled into the grass a little more, taking her hat off her head so it wouldn’t fall when she looked up again.
“indeed, it is.”
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exhaslo · 5 months ago
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Hey girl!!! I was wondering if you could write something about yandre!miguel x shy!reader to IFHY by Tyler The creator. If not that’s okayyyy
I had to google the song lyrics to know what it was about haha. Def different for sure...Personally, not my cup of tea, but I can try and make it work.
Also, my next story after Over-Time will be a Yandere!Miguel x Gamer!Reader! So I hope you enjoy that one when it comes out!!!
Warning: Language, thoughts of murder, possessiveness, stalking, thoughts of abuse, kidnapping
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I never would've thought that Feelings could get thrown in the air 'Cause I accidentally caught that I need some new boxing gloves, shit got hectic whenever I fought back For example, ten minutes can't go past without you brushing my thoughts That's fourteen forty a day so I'll say a hundred and forty four times I think about you or something like that Lost match, the fucking thought of you with somebody else I don't like that cellular convos getting left in the wrong 'Cause I get so fucking mad when you don't write back This isn't a song I just happen to rhyme when I get emo And find time to write facts (fuck) I love you
How could anyone ever thought about claiming you as their own? Especially since Miguel had decided to make you his. Not that he officially told anyone, but it should be common knowledge. Miguel spoke to you and that was enough.
He didn't want these feelings at first, because he knew what would happen. You plagued his mind constantly, unable to let him breathe for even a minute. It all started out simple enough, but then it kept getting worse as time went on.
Miguel loathed the thought of someone dating you.
For every second the two of you share a room and you don't look at him, oh it boiled Miguel. How dare you not give him the attention he deserves? How dare you not give your love to him as much as Miguel does for you.
Miguel knew everything about you. Every like and dislike. Miguel knew your pattern going home. He knew how you worked. Miguel followed your every movement.
Miguel did everything in his power to understand you. He would always be right behind you, no matter what.
Don't you realize how much Miguel loves you?
How much you are supposed to love him?
I fucking hate you But I love you I'm bad at keeping my emotions bubbled You're good at being perfect We're good at being troubled Yeah
I fucking hate you But I love you I'm bad at keeping my emotions bubbled You're good at being perfect We're good at being troubled Yeah
Miguel had done so much for you. He had tried to hide these obsessive feelings, but how could he? You were beautiful. Miguel went out of his way to make sure you felt loved.
To make sure that you relied on him!
So why the fuck were you not giving him more attention?
Why the fuck were you just stuck at giving Miguel hugs and pats on the shoulder?
Miguel was starting to lose his temper. What did he have to do to get you to understand his feelings? To get you to understand your feelings for him?!
WHY WERE YOU DOING THIS TO HIM?!
Girl you fucking with my emotions The fuck is all this noise about? I even considered picking up smoking You turned to a bitch, who let the dogs out? But in my dog house My bitch is the raddest Crazy who makes me the happiest Can make me the saddest Look, Alice Let's get lost in your wonder-er-land, fuck an atlas You're perfectly perfect for me What the fuck is this, practice? Actually, if you even consider leaving I'll lose a couple screws in due time, I'll stop breathing And you'll see the meaning of stalking When I pop out the dark to find you And that new dude that you're seeing with an attitude Then proceed to fuck up your evening Make sure you never meet again like goddamn vegans 'Cause when I hear your name, I cannot stop cheesing I love you so much that my heart stops beating when you're leaving And I'm grieving and my heart starts bleeding Life without you has no goddamn meaning Sorry I'm passive aggressive for no goddamn reason It's that my mood change like these goddamn seasons I'll fall for you, but I love you
Miguel was furious. How dare you play with his feelings like this? How dare you agree to date anyone else while Miguel was right there for you?
Oh, how Miguel considered following you home.
Oh, how Miguel considered killing that scum of a boyfriend you had.
You were just confused. You just needed to practice with someone, right? You just wanted to be perfect and ready for when you finally confess your feelings to Miguel.
RIGHT?!
Miguel had to keep his cool. He knew that this was just a short-lived practice for you. He still had to be there for you. To show you your mistakes. After all, Miguel couldn't live without you. You belonged to him and you knew that.
You fucking knew that, so why the fuck were you playing this game?
I'm bad at keeping my emotions bubbled You're good at being perfect We're good at being troubled Yeah
The sky is falling, girl, let's try to catch it The sky is falling, girl, let's try to catch it The sky is falling, girl, let's try to catch it tonight The sky is falling, girl, let's try to catch it The sky is falling, girl, let's try to catch it The sky is falling, bitch, let's try to catch it tonight, come on
The smile Miguel hid as you cried onto his shoulder. Your practice boyfriend didn't understand you as well as Miguel did. He kept hurting you like this. Making you feel like you've done something wrong.
Which you did.
Miguel would just welcome you into his embrace. Comforting you as he thought of about killing that son of a bitch. You were made for Miguel. You were his.
So, Miguel was going to give you a chance to redeem yourself.
This was your last chance.
Come on baby Even though I hate you I still love you I love you And Salem I know I'm passive aggressive (I'm sorry, fuck) (Come here) I like when we hold hands (You're the best around) See I get jealous (fuck) And if I see that nigga (if I see him) I just might kill him (look) (Look, I wanna strangle you, till you stop breathing) Love, love, love (Spend the rest of my life, looking for air) (So you can breathe, or we can die together, you and me) (Fuck, look) I'm in love (love) I'm in love (love)
You were so beautiful. Miguel could never hate you.
But he did.
But he loved you.
You were still with that practice boyfriend, holding his hand as he joined for a work dinner party. Miguel just smiled as he burned holes in that fucking asshole's head.
How dare he claim you.
Unable to withstand this pain, Miguel pulled you to the side. He needed to hear your voice alone. He needed you to want his attention. Miguel just needed you to admit your feelings for him.
As the two of you talked in the balcony, Miguel withheld his breathe as you reached for his hand.
The smile you gave him was unlike any other.
Miguel tuned out your words as he watched your lips move. The temptation to take you away and make you his. How sweet Miguel would treat you.
"Miguel, I'm sorry...but we should see each other less."
And then you had to fuck it up.
You blew your last chance.
I fucking hate you But I love you I'm bad at keeping my emotions bubbled You're good at being perfect We're good at being troubled Yeah
Yo, so why is Samuel such a fucking dick? He isn't such a badass actually He's only here because he ran away Because some shit happened back, home he's actually a dweeb Yo, what happened?
Washing blood off was no easy task. Hiding the body was much easier.
If only you had admitted your feelings.
If only you weren't being difficult.
Making his way to the basement, Miguel hummed lowly as he faced you. The light was dimmed, but Miguel could see you clear as day. You had a new look in your eyes.
Fear.
Miguel just smiled as he approached you, watching you flinch as he went to hold you. This was your lesson. This was your punishment. You should have listened to Miguel.
Now, you were Miguel's little prisoner. His darling girlfriend. You were never going to go against Miguel's wishes ever again.
"I love you so much, (Y/N)." Miguel chuckled as he kissed your head.
His hand stroked your cheek, waiting for your response.
"I-I....I love you too."
There is was.
Why did it take so long for you to admit that?
But it didn't matter anymore. You were now where you belonged.
With Miguel.
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Hope you enjoyed, def different than what I usually write.
Hope I did a decent job with the song tho!!!
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its-yours-truly · 16 days ago
Text
Predicting Lunchly's downfall and why.
There's a lot of reasons why Lunchly's downfall will happen. From the 'beef' between the creators and reviewers, to the controversies, and to the ridiculous advertising, I'll lead you through all of that today.
So what I'm first going to talk about is the 'beef' going on between the creators of Lunchly -KSI, Logan Paul, and Mr. Beast- and other big YouTubers -Dan TDM, Tommyinnit-. A lot of people have ruled out buying Lunchly because of how KSI was treating Dan TDM over valid criticism, saying this is like a money grab. KSI then posted to X -formerly Twitter- a YouTooz of Dan TDM as if to say he's 'money grabbing' as well. KSI as well has a YouTooz made. A video of Dan was also linked onto X of him reviewing snacks as if to say he was a hypocrite. It was revealed the video was sponsored and he never told his audience to go and try these foods. A lot of fans thought that it was bullshit that KSI was trying to find ways to 'call out' Dan TDM because he made a valid point. The three stooges made a product that child fans can buy and buy again, which is something you can't do with merch.
A few weeks or so after the KSI vs. Dan TDM drama, Tommyinnit had mocked Lunchly, and Logan Paul was not having it. So he began to pull out screenshots from past conversations, and tried to find things on him people would 'hate' Tommy for. The internet sided with Tommy in this, including Jacksfilms.
I also think this product will eventually flop because of the controversies surrounding Mr. Beast. Parents and adults are not blind to what's going on. If you don't know, Mr. Beast is facing multiple allegations, from having child predators hired onto his team, from treating people's safety on the set of 'Beast Games' horribly. A YouTuber by the name of DogPack404 has been covering this drama along with 2 other platform creators, Rosanna Pansino and Jake Weddle. They've come out with their experiences, as well as reviewed videos, proving parts are faked. Mr. Beast not responding to these allegations is not smart because it shows he must be guilty of some -if not all- of these allegations, or are trying to make them go away.
Lastly, the design and creativity is horrible. It's an exact knockoff of Lunchables, with little to no difference besides a Prime and a Feastable. They have no new or fun products, the designs on the packaging are bland, and the colors contrast too much. If you look at the Lunchables packaging, they have warm and bright colors, and sometimes have characters on the packaging, like Transformers One characters. Lunchly has red and blue packaging with big text. Nothing cool. And they only have 3 products while Lunchables have at least 4, with multiple pizza, nacho, and stack'em variations. They also have other products, like dip'ems, kababels, and even grilled cheese and sub sandwiches. I will admit, having 'actual cheese' rather than a cheese product is great, but the marketing is awful. Mr. Beast, KSI, and Logan Paul did not know what they were getting into when they started to make this product. No amount of 'Thick Of It', marketing, or 'Lotteries' will get me, and many others to buy this product.
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