#im NOT proofreading this

[gratisdiamanten]

The uninitiated may ask WHO IS ANDRAŽ POGRAJC. Well he is Primož's neighbor and childhood friend + they grew up in a village of literally fucking 70 people in the hills above a small town + his dad was their trainer + double context that makes me projectile vomit blood when Primož got married his dad Zvone and NOT Andraž was his best man + anyway Andraž was a decent and now retired ski jumper but had some flashes of brilliance i.e. winning the teams event at Planica in 2013 with THE Peter Prevc, former world record holder for the longest jump in the world. He is 2 years younger than Primož and if you had a younger friend or you were the younger friend trailing your older friend around like a puppy you understand the dynamic. The dynamic never died. But now Andraž is the ski technician for the Finnish national team and Primož lives in Monaco and god knows how often they even talk at this point

[yifftwiceplz]

high as fuck thought i had a walking adventure simulator paused on my tv dave darling love of my life that is saw 6 you paused an hour ago to reply to someone

[limitlessscion]

February 6th 2008. Kyoto prefecture, Sakyo ward. Gojo Clan estate

The clan had scrambled to prepare for the unannounced visit of their young scion, who'd simply arrived and declared a meeting of whatever prominent members were currently present at the estate. Some might note that he took the seat at the head of the audience chamber as servants scrambled and various clan members trickled in, slouched with his elbow against his knee propping up his face with a fist.

Karasu didn't show any hesitation upon the sight to take his usual defensive position just to the side and behind that seat reserved for the head of the clan, but he shot apprehensive glances at the young boy. The challenge was clear as day; Satoru had never been a subtle child. Everything quieted as another demanding presence made his entrance, the clan head Masato striding in with his head held high and a forced calm informing every step that took him up to the spot that was his by right.

"What is the meaning of this?"

He knew; they all knew. Satoru didn't meet the old man's eyes through his darkened glasses, his face scanning past him as if looking for someone in the crowd; a deliberate disrespect, Karasu knew. The boy didn't need to look for anything.

"I'm relieving you of your duty. Thank you for taking care of business in my absence, but now— buzz off. I'm taking my rightful place."

Karasu had never in his long life seen the old man freeze up as he did just now, lips twitching as if struggling to form words that his brain couldn't formulate. A few second passes and Satoru shifted out of his lazy relaxed stance on his seat, leaning forward and finally fixing his eyes on the elder's as the entire atmosphere of the room changed. For all who could sense the presence of cursed energy it suddenly became hard to even breathe, a weight settling on every one of them so suddenly and with such force that a few people cried out in surprise, and Karasu's hand twitched to draw his knife.

Few people understood what true power meant. Karasu's eyes widened as his gaze was drawn to young Satoru as it was for everyone else in the room, as realization hit that he had simply let go of the control over his cursed energy output. That was it. The message to the previous head of the clan was loud and clear: fight me for the position, or get out. He was every bit the weapon the clan had hoped to create and more.

Stiffly, the old man bowed, then retreated.

The pressure in the room lifted instantly, like the flick of a light switch. Karasu took a breath for the first time in what felt like minutes, the display of sheer control from the boy grabbing back onto his power just as impressive as the overwhelming weight of it.

"Karasu Hoshino and Minoru Gojo— you two, stay. Everyone else, you're dismissed."

The room buzzed with confusion and apprehension as it slowly emptied, some moving out in a hurry as if afraid of hat would happen if they lingered, while others slowed their exit as if trying to catch some whispers of what must be future upheavals. Karasu met eyes with Minoru as the room shrunk down to the presence of just the three of them.

Satoru hopped onto his feet, gesturing for the two of them to join him and they did. The boy stretched, pacing on the spot, and clearly not as comfortable seated down had he had appeared. "You two are the only ones I can trust around here. I just needed to make sure of that."

Satoru suddenly spun on the spot to face the old guard, and Karasu stopped obediently just behind, not missing a single beat. It's only been three years since he'd been at the young boy's side night day, responsible for his safety, and that old role came easy to him.

"Karasu-sama," the boy regarded him carefully for a moment, and even Karasu wasn't sure what to read behind those too-dark lenses. Three long years had changed the boy a lot. "With the full authority of the Gojo clan, I hereby relieve you of all existing vows you hold with us."

There was power in those words, cursed energy poured with intent and Karasu's eyes widened in shock. Binding vows decades old shattered their hold on him as a reckless grin crossed the young boy's face as if pleased with himself that he'd guessed something right. The chains holding Karasu down had been a secret, one meant to restrain his power, keep him a secret from the world outside the clan; to ensure his loyalty. He felt dazed without the weight of them; he'd long been content to take those chains with him to his grave.

"Okay, now get out."

Karasu blinked at the sudden command, then a smile split across his own face. "Sorry kiddo, I don't gotta follow your orders anymore."

The boy's grin softened with approval, then turned to face Minoru. The woman stood straight and proper, not sparing even a glance at the drama that had unfolded just at her side. Satoru considered her for a long moment. "I don't know if it's wise to actually trust you, but you've always been on my side haven't you?"

Karasu recalls the days before Satoru had left for Tokyo against the wishes of the clan, when the young boy had pulled rank on old Masato to everyone's surprise. For all his life the boy had been kept blind to the real power he held within the clan itself, believing himself to be subject to the head's every whim just like everyone else. Someone had breached that unspoken rule and informed the young heir just how much influence he really had; Karasu now had an inkling now who had done such a thing, it'd explain why Masato had been alienating his previously favourite assistant since.

"It's natural for me to want only the best for you," she stated neutrally.

Satoru nodded. "I choose to take that at face value for now. I don't have many people I can rely on; I'll need both of you with me."

It was kind of a marvel seeing the boy standing face to face with Minoru, who returned his gaze steadily and at equal heights. His brilliant blues matched deep chestnuts that drew the same sharp lines.

At that moment it was hard not to see the resemblance between mother and son.

"Right then!" Satoru clapped his hands together eager, breaking that single fragile moment and spinning once again to head for the door. "Let's get to work!"

[figofswords]

whats wrong w post new52 jason todd im not hip

everything reboot through task force z is written by scott lobdell who is a creep of a human being and can't write for shit. also, jason was really at the start of his redemption journey post-under the red hood, and the reboot cut off that emotional arc. jason and the outlaws had potential because i do think pairing him with roy harper (who has had similar themes throughout his arcs and is another black sheep of his superhero "family") was a really fantastic idea but unfortunately it was written by lobdell who doesn't plan story arcs, apparently doesn't do research on existing character lore, and cannot write realistic characters or dialogue to save his life. 

i will point to the "Cheer" storyline in batman: urban legends 1-6 as an actually really good modern take on jason, but that's a short story in an anthology series. his more major appearances are dogshit. i haven't read task force z even though it's a new writer because i frankly do not care for the suicide squad as a concept and i don't like the team he's been paired with (bane??? come on). it feels like another way to lump him into a very un-nuanced antihero role without examining the things that make him a complex and interesting character. lobdell's run did a lot of damage to his character and continuity and putting him on task force z is not where that is going to get fixed.

honestly the only really good jason writing (aside from cheer) is by judd winick (under the red hood, etc), who was responsible for his resurrection and who took a subtler approach to dealing with the complexity and managed to craft a really layered, compelling, and most of all believable character. just compare jason's encounter with tim in teen titans 29 (total crap, bad writing, cartoonish villainy, zero nuance and poor characterization - not lobdell, but lobdell is not the only guilty jason writer) and his encounter with mia dearden in green arrow 69-72 (winick again. complex, interesting, actually in line with jason's characterization, subtle!!!!). again, lobdell isn't the only guilty party - grant morrison's jason immediately before the new 52 reboot is completely off the rails in terms of cartoonish villainy - but before new 52, jason's story was predominantly handled by winick and was restricted to appearances in other comic runs. he didn't star in his own run until red hood and the outlaws, which means it became the authority on his continuity and character post-reboot, which is unfortunate because all of it was written by lobdell. who didn't get fired for forever because he was in with the boys gang at dc. which is crap.

anyways. sorry to go off i just have a lot a lot a lot of feelings on this matter. tldr new-52-and-onwards jason sucks because scott lobdell is a shitty writer. holding jason in my hands and sobbing baby boy what did they do to you

[hydr9]

the perception of all-rounders and "out-of-place" members in kpop

I watch a lot of full-focused/choreo-focused cams of groups, and 2day I got sucked into a small itzy choreo-cam rabbit hole, and now I'm in the mood to talk out of my ass.

itzy, obviously, as a group of their fame and status, has a lot of expectations, and a constant flood of commentary, praise, and criticism.

so, as the resident advocate for simplification, let me simplify it for you: itzy is a performance-based group

its not about having the best vocals, its about having good and stable vocals. its not about being able to sing flawlessly and with good technique and unique color, its about having good power that you can execute while doing equally good high-energy choreo.

and lia, as we've seen, faces a shitton of criticism. her vocals are too weak, her dancing is too weak, she's out of place in itzy. this gets thrown at soo many different idols, and i honestly think its mostly a downright stupid take. with how cutthroat the trainee system is, and especially with how small itzy is, do you not think there is intention behind every choice?

lia has something to offer that no one else in itzy does. that's the point. it's not about every member excelling at everything---something kpop stans seem to be obsessed with nowadays---its about being greater than the sum of all your parts.

thats why its a group. all-rounders or aces are special, of course, and theyre to be admired, but theyre not necessary. it doesnt make a group better than any other group. positions can be limiting, sure, but its important to acknowledge a member's strengths. before a group becomes famous enough that each idol will be known for what they are good at, they all have a role. something to take care of individually so that when they are together, they mesh and perform something that is the unique combination of them.

lia has this sweet, romantic, honey-voice quality that the other members dont. there are definitely some performances where her stage presence is weaker than others but she is absolutely not incapable of having a special aura about her while shes on stage. her dancing is not as powerful as the rest of the girls. but then again, for example, yuna's voice isnt as powerful as hers either. and ryujin can't capture her sweet and honey-like aura.

being an 'all-rounder' doesnt make you better at any of this. doesnt make you stand out. doesnt give the audience something to chew on, when you have average-to-good singing, dancing, and rapping skills. when idols are pigeonholed into this position, it almost makes me feel more like they dont have any actual standout skills rather than that they are actually good at everything.

this is why, for example, han from stray kids and soyeon from gidle are not all-rounders/aces just because they sing rap and dance (which most idols do, for the record). it's because they have something special to offer in each of these things. they are rappers (something many idols cant claim). and they are singers. they are all of these things, they dont just possess the capability of all of them. this might seem arbitrary and like im just picking at semantics, but i hope my point picks up.

rm from bts, for example, has a good voice. but for most of his career, he was only seen as one thing: a rapper. he didnt fight that, wasnt necessarily trying to break out of that box. he was a rapper, and that was the one thing he really cared about. he dances because he's part of an idol group. he doesn't sing, because that's not what he does. people joked about it, but no one tried to claim he was talentless because all he did was rap.

and then he released his fools cover with jungkook, and the fans were Amazed. years of joke-bad singing, and suddenly, he is singing. maybe his voice is not as strong or versatile as jungkook, but he had his moment to show another skill, and it wasnt a bad thing. because he didnt have to be good at singing. he was good enough at rapping. there wasnt any shame in that, to have one skill, one thing to be proficient at that no one can argue.

and what is this tangent to say? its that now, if an idol is bad at something, its as if its a great shame. its a great shame to say, they're the main vocal, it's okay if their dance isn't as strong as others. they're the main rapper, it's okay if their voice isn't that strong. and any combination of these things!!

i don't understand kpop fans attachment to taking any group you like, or want to support and always claiming it's a group of all-rounders. they're all always main vocals, dancers, rappers, visuals. i don't think there's any pride in that.

i think it's great to let some members step out of the spotlight when there's something they're not good at. i think it's okay, and it should again be acceptable for an idol to joke that they're not a good dancer, or a good singer. and yes, it's never okay to bully or harass or insult them, but i don't think fans should act as if there's shame in it. aren't you making it worse? to say, fuck you, my idol is better, they're all-around perfect singers, rappers, AND dancers? as if being one of these titles isn't enough pride?

and this all goes into my problem with the hate towards lia. maybe there is members of groups that are shoved into a concept that doesnt suit them. but before you jump to that, acknowledge the value they have in that group. how they can show that concept in a way no one else can.

how seungmin from stray kids, with his "pure and romantic" image can portray thunderous, an aggressive and loud song, in a way changbin with his "tough rapper" image can't. how eunchae with her young and cute image can portray antifragile in a way that yunjin with her confident and powerful image cant.

in fact, even chaeryeong has a feminine and graceful quality to her dancing that's different than yeji's powerful and precise one, and even to ryujin's fluid and heavy one.

in FACT, imagine how the fuck seventeen, a group with THIRTEEN MEMBERS, manages to have SO many different concepts, and still manages to excel at all of them, with no one feeling out of place. because there's an intent and a positive to every member, no matter how different they seem.

as usual i'll always end by unnecessarily praising seventeen. have a nice day

[cadaverousdecay]

community is fun cuz everyone is so self obsessed, not just on a group level (which they very much are) but on a personal level. they each think they’re the main character. it’s blatantly obvious with jeff he has to be the most cool, suave, attractive person in the room. with abed it’s a literal thing where he thinks he’s the main character, he finds himself the most interesting and is lost in his own world most of the time. shirley thinks she’s the most righteous, annie thinks she’s the smartest, brittany thinks she’s the wokest. pierce is basically just a reflection of jeff. and then there’s troy. tbh he’s probably the least self obsessed. he started out with his ‘im the most athletic guy in the room’ but he had an arc early on that showed although he’s insanely competitive over it, he was able to admit that abed was better. while other characters had their egos checked throughout the show, they still have the self absorbed traits while troy didn’t really hold onto that. as his character develops he has other things too that he’s really good at, he’s a god at ac repair, but he never really gloats it. even in the battle to the death he wins the competition easy as breathing, but instead of letting it go to his ego at all he just makes a rule that they can’t be evil and leaves. he’s happy just to be in a supportive role most of the time, in his friendship with abed he lets abed take on the role of the ‘main character’ almost every time. i guess that way of thinking does make his whole become-his-own-man-plotpoint more impactful. though i feel like that’s more about troy and abed’s codependence than troy not seeing himself as a main character. if the show was concerned with troy becoming a stronger character they would’ve yknow, kept him as a character on the show to work on. (ofc there are forces outside the narrative like actors lives n stuff i’m just still sad he left lol)

anyway, i digress. the greendale seven are all so self obsessed in slightly different ways (troy is still way self obsessed group-wise, they all think they’re the specialest group at greendale) and it makes the show work so well cuz there’s so much possible conflict and tension and development there. jeff and pierce, britta and shirley, and annie and abed all have similar enough subjects of their self esteem that their egos clash often. and if you want to see into the insides of any character you just create a situation that puts their ego on the line and see them unravel <3

[the-least-undefinable-ordinal]

I agree with everything in this post, but I think an important component is the hero of the story will probably keep fighting crime or whatever.

Like if I was a normal person who had the chance to kill a mass murderer once, I'd take it in a heartbeat, but the protagonists in these stories probably encounter such a problem on a weekly bases.

Beside the probable emotional toll of killing people weekly, I feel like if you start accepting murder as a solution it will get more tempting to apply it as you keep normalizing that behaviour in yourself.

One last thing is we, as the audience, usually know for a fact someone is a villain beyond redemption; but a character with no such privilege wouldn't always be able to know this and the more they murder people they deem evil, the more likely they are to eventually kill an innocent person.

It's kind of like trolley problems in the sense that they are interesting problems to think about but they are detached from reality by the difference in information available to the people involved.

if a supervillain said "you wont kill me thatd make you just like me" i would simply say "no it wouldnt id be saving millions of people" and the villain would say "but youd be dooming yourself. could you really live knowing youre a killer" and id say "well id certainly have trouble. ill probably be very sad about it. definitely a lot to unpack" and theyd say "so you wont do it" and id say "oh no im still gonna" and theyd say "what" and id say "youre a supervillain responsible for countless deaths and yet here you are desperately trying to bargain for your life. you want to live. which means you can easily live with yourself after being responsible for countless deaths. i, on the other hand, will at the very least have tremendous difficulty with even killing just one person and at worst might just jump out a window right after i do it. the very nature of this whole conversation about whether we are the same has proven to me we are very much not the same and i am certain killing you to save millions is the morally correct decision here" and theyd say "what" and id say "get killed idiot"

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

shouto cannot, for the life of him, stop thinking about you washing his hair.

it’s been almost an hour, 45 minutes have passed since you’d helped him wash his hair in the shower, you’d already showered before he got home, but you still wanted to help him, you’d insisted. he found it a bit strange, but he’ll never say no to spending extra time with you.

except now he can’t stop thinking about it—them. your hands all up in his hair that’s been getting longer, scrubbing and scratching at his soapy scalp. globs of soap falling against his shoulders and your pants getting wet as you sat on the corner of the bathtub. he wished you’d just get in with him, but he worried you’d feel uncomfortable if he asked, so he’ll leave it for another time.

and besides, he doubted he could get any words out with how good it all felt. he’s never had anybody wash his hair like this, taking their time and softly humming a song stuck in your head, so gentle and with such gentle smelling soap. soft and melty and malleable just like his brain felt with your hands in his hair.

46 minutes have passed now, but he wants to take a shower again.

his hands are warm, a nice aftermath of the bath he’d just taken, his cheeks are too as they squeeze into your neck. when he’s relaxed like this, shouto forgets how heavy he is, like when big dogs forget they don’t fit into people’s laps anymore. his pro hero mass presses against you and you have to hold yourself up against the counter. a fond smile makes its way onto your face as your arm makes a way into his now fluffy hair, also a nice aftermath of his bath.

“hello,” you giggle. shouto huffs against your skin, nuzzling into it like a cat. he offers you a hum and you both stay there quietly for a few more minutes.

“i want to do it again.” he mumbles against you. you raise a brow.

“do what again ?”

his hair tickles your nape, it’s been getting longer again. he presses a kiss to your skin, then another one “ i want you to wash my hair again,” another kiss on your shoulder and his arms tighten around you as you stop scratching at his hair. “please ?”

“sho, it’s been less than an hour,” you snort, checking the kitchen clock to make sure, shouto lets out a noise similar to a little whine into the crook of your neck.

“..please ?” he tries again, you laugh. shaking your head at how endearingly spoiled your boyfriend was.

“how ‘bout this..” you start, “i help you wash your hair tomorrow, how’s that sound ?”

shouto sits unmoving for a few seconds, then he nods. his nose runs against your neck as he lifts his head up to look at you. “will you come in with me ?”

you splutter. head whizzing to look at him slowly blinking at you. his hair hangs and falls in front of his eyes as he stares expectantly. you clear your throat before responding with a somewhat stable sounding "sure, okay." stable sounding enough despite the slight tremble in your throat and fingertips. shouto smiles up at you softly nuzzling into you again.

"i'm looking forward to it." he sighs.

[colorful-horses]

thank you for tolerating all my "monster high resurrected" posting. im now going to ramble about it aimlessly while i wait for my melatonin gummy to kick in. trivia under the cut

- my draculaura has the responsibilities+control freak nature of g3 drac, but the bubbly cute personality (and accent) of g1. like she's dependable but she's not a Mom Friend you feel me

- frankie is indifferent to their personal pronouns. they'll respond to he, she, they, etc. its a nonfactor to them

- i think clawdeen and draculaura would be rivals (but mostly on draculauras side)

- frankie is boy crazy. clawdeen & draculaura are not

- lagoona is pink because i like her pink

- in my monster high, they live in The Underworld. humans are fiercely disliked and considered dangerous/super unwelcome

- clawdeen is a human enthusiast. don't tell anyone, but she thinks she has evidence that all monsters used to be humans!

- my clawdeen has her glamorous style and attitude from g1, but her interests and human conspiracy theorist personality are meant to reflect g3 clawdeens interest in monsters

-decided to make twyla and spectra bffs because spectra always wants a story, and twyla always has one to tell

- spectra doesn't know why she's been banished to the catacombs. she woke up there one day in chains

- twyla can see out of her plush bunnys eyes. she enjoys leaving it places to eavesdrop on people

- on one hand, i think g1 lagoona being Australian is clever (because shes from "down under" lol) but i also like g3 a lot. i can't choose. so my lagoona doesn't talk. she is just a fish. her voice can be whatever you want

- lagoona is pescatarian

[sublimitymp3]

Do you, brother?

Pairing ✵ Aegon Targaryen/Younger sister!reader

Warnings ✵ Hotd season 2 spoilers, incest, swearing, smut (Dub-con, p in v, fingering, choking, slight breeding kink), mentions of death, mentions of child loss, descriptions of birth, and heavy themes

Word count ✵ 2.6k

Summary ✵ The death of your son leaves behind a shadow upon everything, and after an overwhelming funeral procession for him, your evasive brother finally comes to you in the night.

Jaehaerys

Your little boy. Jae-hae-rys. The syllables roll off your tongue in a smooth manner, as they always have done. Sweet Jaehaerys. The very thought of the name conjures memories in your mind of the day you labored him and his twin into the world, screaming and writhing in pain as you felt as though you were being torn apart at the seams. He was a small, splotchy babe, who exited you covered in blood and wailing and squirming in the maester's arms. But even through your delirium and searing pain, you knew then what love was.

He was a precocious boy, eager to learn and to explore the world. "He has the makings of a very fine king," you recall your grandfather telling you once. The thought of Jaehaerys on that throne made your stomach feel uneasy, and the words loomed over you, lingering in the back of your mind and refusing to leave.

Even now it still lingers.

The once dreadful notion has been reduced to a silly daydream, for Jaehaerys will never be king. He will never grow, never explore the world, never ride his dragon, and you will never cradle him in your arms again.

It feels wrong to carry on. It feels wrong to do much of anything with the knowledge that your sweet Jaehaerys will exist only in memory now. Your mother tries to console you, to hug you in her cold arms, but you do not want her now. After all, what does she know about losing a child? The funeral procession your grandfather insisted on felt even more wrong than anything else.

Your son, the martyr.

Hundreds of the smallfolk clambered over each other to catch a glimpse of your little boy, and you. Your tears bought their sympathy and a new resentment for Rhaenyra, but it mattered little to you. They had sewn his head back on, you saw. It was an ugly sight, where black thread met severed skin.

Jaehaerys

How you longed to climb over to the cart carrying his body just so you could hold your boy one last time, but your mother's steadying and sobering grip on your knee kept you from doing so. "Deepest sympathies, my queen!" "Curse Rhaenyra!" "We love you, our queen!" Their shouts of support felt more like a ringing in your ear than anything. You didn't want this. You only wanted everything to be quiet.

You had a headache and felt nothing but exhaustion, and you couldn't even bring yourself to weep any longer. It was as if you were wrung dry. You cursed under your breath at the seemingly endless flights of stairs in the Red Keep, for all you wanted to do was to go and lay in bed. But then you saw him. First, you saw his hair, hair much like yours, only it was messily cropped short. Next was his eyes, violet in color and mirrors of your own. The scowl upon his handsome face, well, you didn't care for it, but you couldn't pry your eyes away. You found yourselves gawking at each other on the stairwell, and only then did you remember how much Jaehaerys looked like Aegon.

"Your grace, I-" Is all you can say before Aegon quickly turns away from you and hurries down the steps. You stand there, watching as the head of silver hair swiftly disappears from your line of sight. You snap your mouth close, pressing your lips into a firm line and continuing up the stairs. 'Foolish girl, when has he ever confronted anything in his life?' you cannot help but think.

You don't see your husband for around two weeks. Fleeting glimpses in the hallways, mentions of him from your mother, and murmurs about the king from the courtiers are all you have of him during that time.

As you prepare yourself for bed, you try to banish all thoughts of him from your mind to get some semblance of much-needed sleep. The nights seemed so long and torturous now, and yet you hardly could find sleep no matter what you did. Tonight was the first night in what seemed like centuries that you finally felt tired, and you wasted no time settling into bed to drift into a slumber.

You dream odd things, nonsensical things you'll forget when you wake, mostly. And even more odd, you begin to dream of Aegon. Of his strangely soft hands on you, of him pushing your nightdress up to your hips, and of him maneuvering you onto your back. It feels real, but you know it isn't. He won't come near you, no, not now. But even your mind begins to suggest otherwise.

With an irritated whine, you feel yourself being pulled from your sleep. It is only when you open your eyes to curse at what you assumed was a maid disturbing you, that your assumptions are quickly proven wrong.

Aegon is on top of you, staring unblinkingly into your eyes. Salty, hot tears drip from him onto your face, and his hand clamps down over your mouth before you can question him. You must make a face unwittingly, for he begins to speak,

"Shh, shh, it's alright, it's just me...just me," Aegon soothes, and you smell the wine on his warm breath. He's drunk. Or at the very least near drunk. "I-I am sorry, sorry for you, sorry for our boy. Oh, my poor son," his words are ever so slightly slurred, and he retracts himself to sit on the edge of the bed and weep in his drunken stupor.

You sit up, a bit startled to discover your nightgown bunched up by your hips. Your smallclothes were even pulled down a bit, but not fully. You realize now what he was attempting to do, and you can only sit in a tense silence with him. "He was my son too, you know," he mumbles like a petulant child, once he catches a glimpse of your resentful face.

"I grieve him just as much as you, mayhaps even more. He was my heir, my only heir," his words linger in the stagnant air, not sitting well with you. His gaze unnerves you even more, staring at you expectantly. The implications in his voice are clear to you; he means to beget another heir.

"Take another wife then, I am tired," The brazen words escape you (before you can think) in a whisper, and you lay back down, wasting no time to turn your back to him. "I don't want to again, I can't again. No more, Aegon." and you close your eyes, letting your tears roll down the side of the face.

You refuse to subject yourself to it all over again. To the aches, the uncomfortable swell of your belly, and the terrible pain birth brought. You know what it will all end in. It's a deep knowledge that has burrowed itself between your bones, embedded itself in your brain, and wrapped around your heart.

The Stranger will come for you all, surely.

The bed dips again as he shifts himself closer to you, and he grabs your shoulder in a bruising grip to turn you onto your back. His face gets so close to yours that the tip of his nose nudges your own, and you feel his warm breath fanning against your lips.

"I wasn't asking what you thought of it. You're my wife, my little sister. You were born for me to have. A king needs an heir, surely you understand that? You're not a stupid girl," he brushes his thumb against your bottom lip, mockingly, almost.

He manages to wedge himself between your thighs, and you feel his wandering fingers pull down your smallclothes. "Aegon-" "Don't say a word, don't say a damn thing," he interrupts, irritated by your unwilling mood. "Wouldn't it be nice to have another little babe to rock in your arms? Hm? We'll make more, yes? Enough to fill this fucking castle," Aegon grunts, pushing his fingers past your folds. A whine involuntarily escapes you at the invasive feeling, and even more so as he pumps his fingers in and out.

In and out, in and out, in and out.

You feel your body give into his ministrations and get wet. 'Betrayal,' you think. A pleased hum escapes from him as you leak onto his fingers, and you feel your cheeks burn with shame. This isn't right. No, no after what has happened.

"You weep down here too, did you know, sweet sister?" He mumbles, pulling his fingers out of you just to drag them along your dripping folds. A shiver runs up your spine at his actions, forcing you to bite your tongue to muffle any noises. You don't want him to hear you. You don't want to give him that satisfaction.

He fully retracts his fingers, and you know what is next. He undresses himself quickly, untying his breeches and tunic with a practiced speed before pulling your nightdress off of you, leaving you vulnerable and cold. He chuckles at your little shivers and the way you wrap your arms around yourself protectively. "Shh, do not worry, you'll be warm soon enough," he laughs as if this is a lighthearted moment between two lovers. Your stomach churns slightly.

"You're so beautiful, you know. I've never thought otherwise. So pretty like this, all for me," he whispers against the shell of your ear as he lines himself up with your cunt.

The burning stretch of the intrusion is what you feel first. It has been long since he bedded you, and your body had forgotten the feel of him. "F-Fuck, how are you so tight? Like you're trying to squeeze me to death," he groans against your neck, before suckling bruises into your soft skin. He bottoms out completely, and you feel his tip brushing against your sweet spot.

It's overwhelming for you. It's too much. You close your eyes and let your mind drift to happier days. Days long before you called Aegon husband, days when you would play with your sister by your mother's skirts. Days when the most daunting task was getting out of bed or letting the maids bathe you. It almost brings a smile to your face. Almost.

Your blissful daydreams and nostalgia are interrupted by Aegon gently slapping your cheek repeatedly, rudely reminding you of where you are now. "Hey, hello, where are you? Look at me, for fucks sake," he grumbles, slowing his thrusts you only now are noticing. He grips your face in his hands, forcing you to stare into his familiar violet eyes.

It's cruel to have to stare into your own eyes while this happens, you think.

"Don't do that again. Think of me," he whispers against your lips, his voice a bit shaky and heavy with lust. "Only me, and this."

His thrusts resume, and his lips are soon pressed against yours. He kisses you with a greedy, bruising force as if he's trying to devour you whole.

"Messy girl," he muses as he wipes drool off your chin with his thumb, and the action is oddly tender to you. The tip of his cock keeps brushing against your sweet spot, making your mind turn to mush and your legs turn to jelly.

You hate how Aegon has this talent to make your resolve slip with only a few touches and kisses. You could be upset with him for weeks on end, and yet all he had to do was hold you down and you'd soon forget whatever grievance you held against him.

"A-Aegon, brother, please-" you whine, even more so as he maneuvers your knees to press against your chest. He holds you down like this and the new angle allows him to push further into you. The sound of skin against skin reverberates in your chambers around you as he drives into you at a faster pace.

"Stay still, stay still. Quit squirming, don't you trust me, sweet girl?" He huffed, still irked by your light resistance. His hand reaches back down to your weeping cunt, and his thumb rubs gentle circles into your bud. The added stimulation makes you cry out with overwhelming pleasure, and you feel like your very bones are gyrating.

"There we go," he smirks, dragging out his words. He's found the combination that makes you fall apart around him and he finds it satisfying. "You like that, don't you? 'Course you do, sweet girl. You were made for me, made to take my cock and bear my children. You were born to be mine. Nothing more, nothing less," He groans, his own peak beginning to build up.

His words ignite a fire in your belly, and it feels so wrong. His words are mocking, demeaning even, and on any other given day and situation you'd have retorted and isolated yourself from him until you calmed down. But this night was not simply any other night. His words and his movements bring you closer and closer to the edge, and the coil in your belly tightens up as it prepares to snap.

"Aegon, gods, keep going, please don't stop-" you moan, lost now in the bliss of it all. You selfishly buck your hips against his, desperate for your own impending release.

"I got you, pretty girl. Go on, let go for me, sweet sister," and with his words, the tightly wound coil in you snaps. It is a white-hot pleasure that wracks through your body, and you feel as though you are floating.

You come to when you feel Aegon increasing the pace of his already rough thrusts. He is close, you can tell. You have no strength to tell him to pull out, to beg him not to finish inside. He's fucked you too good for that. Maybe that was his plan after all, you think.

"F-Fuck, I'm so close, sweetling. I'll fill you up, make sure you're nice and full with my seed. In nine moons time, we'll have another little boy, hm? Another silver-haired beauty," he pants, before his grip that still pushes your knees against your chest tightens. He brings one hand to squeeze around your throat, and you feel his fingers dig into the sides of your neck. There will be a bruise there in the morning, no doubt.

His movements are rough and fast as he chases his release, and soon, his steady pace falters and his hips stutter to a halt. "Gods be good," he moans, slumping over to bury his face into the crook of your neck. Spurts of his warm and sticky seed coat your velvety walls, a familiar feeling. Surely you will be with child by the next month.

Exhaustion is what you feel. Exhaustion, and a pang of sadness in your heart. Another babe you will have to labor into the world, another pawn in this war. Another victim of this needless bloodshed, as brother and sister tear each other apart.

Aegon gently kisses your lips, rubbing your stomach with his hand, no doubt imagining you are pregnant already. "I love you, I really do." He whispers, holding you close and breaking you from those thoughts of impending doom.

Violet eyes meet violet eyes, and you gaze upon his features that are not dissimilar to your own. The very same blood that runs through you, runs through him. The same blood that ran through your son, you think. You do not know what to make of his drunken declaration, and it is like your body speaks for you then;

"Do you, brother?"

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[mekakitsune]

jinx x fem!reader | minors dni

kinktober 2024 prompts i found :p (overstim, biting, oral sex)

something to know about jinx? she will give it her all, especially when it comes tou you. she relishes in pushing your limits, much to your dismay.

you lay beneath her, top long discarded, her form mirroring yours. her kisses were feverish, harshly prying apart you lips to taste everything you could give her. her hips moved against yours, slow and desperate. a small groan left her lips as she pulled away.

taking in her form, you couldnt help but stare. chest moving rapidly, her long, blue hair tied behind her ears, strands falling wildly. her lips are swollen, red and surely bruised. her chest, small, round breasts adore with sweet little barbells through her stiff nipples.

"youre staring baby..." she purrs, grinding her hips farther into you, leaning in close.

"cant help it....look at you." i giggle at her flushed cheeks, fingers brushing some hair from her sweaty forehead.

with a roll of her eyes, she moves to settle herself between your legs.

"s'nough sweet talk, yeah? wanna taste this pretty pussy..." she rasps, smirking as you squirm at her words. her cold fingers rub at the fabric covering your cunt cause you to gasp and buck your hips into her hold.

another giggle. "youre so sensitive, havent even done anything yet." she teases as she kisses at your thighs, fingers pressing into your hips. her tongue licks the inside of you thigh, so close to where you need her, making you moan softly.

without much warning, she sinks her teeth in. wild giggles fall from her lips as you whimper at the pain, the metallic taste on her tongue is enough to make her see stars. her tongue rolls over the bite, soothing the sting as she kneeds your hips with her hands.

"jinx..fuck i-"

you're undeniably soaked. she takes your plea as motivation to continue and pulls your underwear down, letting them fall to the floor.

"s'wet for me baby, so fuckin pretty." she groans at the sight, wasting little time before she dives in. her tongue finds your swollen clit immediately, making small yet intense strides.

your fingers find her hair, pulling at the strands, causing another moan to rip through her chest. she laps at you like her life right now, depends on it.

fingers move to prod at your hole, easily slipping in with a small hum of approval from jinx. moans and the sound of slick skin fill the room. her fingers continue thier assault on your inside as her tongue moves messily around your clit.

"jinx...m'close" you moan wantonly, feeling yourself definitely coating her face.

"gonna cum babygirl? lemme see it." she muttered against your clit, making you throb around her. "yeah? fuckin cum f'me."

like a dam breaking, your orgasm crashes through you fast and hard. jinx fucks you through it, groaning as you spill all over her face and fingers. her pace stays steady, making you moan and writhe against her. soon, the throbbing assault became too much to handle.

"too much...s'too much...hah fuck-" you buck against her wildly, her head still unmoving.

"you can give me another yeah?" she taunts as she pulls her mouth away for a moment, her fingers still slamming into you. "know you can baby...cmon, make a fuckin mess f'me." her lips find your cunt again, abusing the swollen flesh.

"fuck oh god...its too much jinx...hurts." you whine pathetically, sentences broken apart by whimpers and moans.

"s'okay baby, just let it go, i know you can" she encouraged, eyes looking up at your disheveled form.

your second orgasm of the night hits you like a truck, feeling spurts of cum fall from your pussy. jinx doesnt let any go to waste, slurping obscenely while moaning at the mess you were making. tears of overstimulation burn in your eyes as you buck against her, pushing her shoulders, hoping shes had her fill.

she pulls her head away from you, panting wildly as she slides her fingers out. she brings her fingers to her mouth and cleans them of the stringy substance, moaning in satisfaction as she looks into you eyes.

"that was fuckin hot." she teases, giggling as she moves to hover you again. she leans in and places a searing kiss to your lips, the taste of your orgasm still on her lips. a sigh leaves her lungs as her lips mold with yours, fingers finding your side and rubbing softly.

"did so good f'me." she whispers against your lips as you both catch your breath.

a silent beat passes, basking in the warmth of each other as she speaks again, eyes glinting with something mischievous.

"you got one more in ya, right baby?" she smirks, fingers moving to toy with the waistband of her pants.

[catscidr]

// taking care of your dogboy (hsr edition!) //

i. note — sry i havent been posting yall i got a job + ive been working on three cosplays at the same time bc my local con is coming up lmao (´ཀ`」 ∠) however the brainrot never stops. it only takes a break. a little break of approximatively. a month. ish. ......... anyways dog hybrid hsr boys brainrot !!! lmk if we want more of this with more boys •ᴗ• comments and asks are appreciated hehe ii. includes — blade, gepard, boothill and gn!reader iii. cw — slice of life stuff turning into smut, possessive behaviour, overstim, slight dom/sub dynamics, real messy stuff, manhandling. use of the word "hole" to keep reader gender neutral iv. wc — 1,9k

blade is a mutt riddled in scars and dirty bandages from living on the streets and fighting to survive.

you think he might be some german shepherd mix, but he refuses to let you swab his teeth n gums for a dna test (last time you tried you narrowly avoided a punch to the face. he apologized in his own way afterwards), so whenever people ask, just say he’s a rescue to avoid revealing that you actually just… don’t really know what breed he is. they usually drop the subject and simply go on their merry way, seeing as he wasn’t the type of pup to appreciate affection from strangers anyways– it’s rare for you to leave the house in the first place, though.

you had to switch to a remote job because blade is just so persistent when it comes to you. although possessive is a much better descriptor, because he doesn’t let anyone near you. whenever you leave to get groceries he ends up practically breathing down your neck from how close he gets— acting as if he were your literal shadow— glaring at everyone that gets too close to you. you’ve made it a habit to always go to self-checkout lane so blade doesn’t scare off the cashiers.

the second you get home he’s all over you, determined to rid you of that outside stench and replace it with his own. you started packing your grocery bags in a way that nothing will break if (read: when) you suddenly drop them on the floor, all because you’re so familiar with blade’s impatience.

he holds you still by engulfing your body with his, knees caging your hips as he grinds into you, shallow and deep. blade’s growls and huffs fill your ears just as much as his cock fills your hole, his knot kissing your tightness from the outside.

“do you like this? like how i have to fuck you every time you decide to go outside again when you could stay here,” with me blade omits, his tail swishing back and forth on the bedsheets behind him, the sound just barely grounding you to reality.

your grocery bags were long forgotten on the foor (as they usually are), your mind too foggy to function. clawing at the sheets, you try to crawl away from blade’s grip— to no avail.

he tuts, craning his head to bite down onto the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. “i might just need to mark you for extra precaution,” he bucks into you, knocking the air out of your lungs. you hear squelching, the constant plap! plap! plap! from his thighs smacking against your ass and whine, broken babbles leaving your kiss-bruised lips.

“b-blade, y’can’t- ah,” he shushes you by plugging you full of his lengthy cock, his knot almost threatening to press inside of you. you whimper, feeling lightheaded from a mix of both nervousness and arousal.

he soothes the hickey he left on your neck, licking it languidly as he stills to bask into the way your hole throbs around him. warm and tight and oh so tempting.

“shit, wanna fill you. wanna… have everyone know they can’t have you. you’re mine, mine to love ‘n mine to fuck,” you’re not lucid enough to process his thinly veiled confession, too busy writhing your ass back against him in a feeble attempt to get him to continue moving.

you might want to invest into some good concealer or into those skin coloured tattoo patches to cover the bruises and bite marks blade’ll leave on you if you want to continue being a functioning member of society. you can’t really be walking around in public as if a dog had just mauled you right before you left the house, can you?

gepard is a golden retriever because of COURSE he is. similarly to blade, he likes to invade your personal space a lot— not because he’s possessive, but because he’s extremely protective of you.

the random bruises you used to randomly notice on your body faded as soon as he came into your life. gepard’s soft, lingering touches healed them; gently placing a hand on your hip before you bump into sharp furniture so it doesn’t hit you, redirecting your head to his shoulder as you nod-off in the train before you bang your head, and so on.

it’s a full-time job and he’s working 24/7, always on the lookout for anything that could possibly hurt you as you saunter off… wherever, without a care in the world— because he took care of everything!

he would clean the apartment for you, cook (though you usually insist you do the cooking; a human doesn’t have the same taste in food as a hybrid), and even act as your own personal alarm clock. gone were the days of being woken up by loud, blaring beeping. gepard woke you up with forehead kisses instead, making your mornings much more pleasant.

but poor geppie, he’s always taking care of you; so take care of him, won’t you?

every so often you’ll sit in his lap to help him get rid of whatever stress he held in his body. your hands will knead at the muscles in his broad shoulders, all while you simultaneously kiss away the strain in his face. his brows are furrowed as you do your best to soothe his muscles; you never forget to smooch his cheek, nose and the corner of his lips.

though the attention and gentle acts of affection always ends with your hands lower than they should be.

“ah ah, no touching, remember?” you murmur in his ear playfully. you had been at it for what felt like hours; gepard’s cock and abdomen was smeared with the remnants of his cum, skin tacky from his previous loads. your hand shows no sign of stopping, not even when he begged oh so sweetly.

“c-come onn. just… jus’ wanna kiss…” and who were you to deny your sweet boy? your lips find his in a heartbeat, his tongue swiping over your own sloppily as he breathes you in like a depraved man.

the only condition you had when you did this was for him to keep his hands to himself— at least until you both decide to move on to something else. until then, his fists clench the sheets beneath the both of you, and his ears stay flat on his fluffy head.

“i’m… i’m close again, g- aah, please, please…!” he begs, cock weeping precum as you continuously jerk him off. you smile, absentmindedly rocking your hips to the rhythm you held him prisoner to— gepard was too engulfed in the warmth of your hand to notice, anyways. “cum whenever you want sweet boy,” you purr, and he keens as he buries his face in your neck, his hips lifting off the bed ever so slightly as they meet your hand and he thrusts, riding the high of his orgasm.

sticky cum coats your hand for the nth time; you relent your grip on his cock for his sake, instead choosing to shower him with chaste kisses all over his face. gepard whines, taking ahold of your waist weakly as he breathes into the crook of your neck.

“geppie, your han-“ he cuts you off, swiftly switching positions so you’re now laying on your back as he hovers over you, chest rising and falling quickly, catching his breath from the intensity of his orgasm. gepard’s tail wags slowly behind him as his hands creep up from your waist to your chest just as slowly- you feel his cock harden against your pelvis, precum spilling from his pinky tip.

“‘ts my turn now,” he huffs, leaning down to nip at your neck.

boothill is the most obnoxious dalmatian hybrid you’ve ever seen (not that you’ve seen many, or at all). but he’s made your life so fun so you can’t be too mad at him

he’s always dragging you out of bed to go do something— could be going to the park nearby or sit in the living room playing video games on your dusty console, it doesn’t matter because he’ll MAKE you step out of your cozy nest!!

you’re glad he’s friendly, because you’re not sure how you would handle such an excited hybrid when you left the house. people come up to the both of you to chat and he indulges their questions, essentially leading the conversation (while you stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to say).

boothill is also great with kids, unexpectedly. 9 times out of 10 when you go to the park he ends up playing with someone’s child, bright smile on his face as he messes up their hair with a rough hand. they’ll throw a frisbee for him to go catch and he’ll do it happily, or he’ll even… teach them how to beat people up.

(you stare mortified as he teaches a little girl how to throw a proper punch only for her to then punch her parent when she leaves boothill’s side. you go up to them and apologize profusely, forcing boothill to bow with you.)

he also loves to help you out, even though he’s not the greatest at household chores— but he definitely tries! though he is a stellar cook, which never fails to surprise you whenever he’s on dinner duty. he just… really sucks at everything else.

it’s… mostly because he just has so much energy. he sweeps the floor? nope, he’s picking off the pieces of the broom off of the floor because he accidentally broke it. he’s fixing your bed? nuh uh, you’re throwing out the ruined bedsheets because he accidentally tore them to shreds somehow.

so, with all of these accidents happening because he’s just brimming with energy 24/7, you started purposely exhausting him. or, rather, gave him the green light to exhaust you until he tires himself out.

“booth-aah, w-wait, you’re being too…!” you fall over on top of his hard chest, keening at the new angle his cock reached inside of you. he repeated his assault on the spot that made you see stars as your jaw gaped, broken moans leaving your lips.

“don’t tell me y’re tapping out.. haa, already!” boothill grunts, his grip on your hips tightening. he throws his head back with a loud moan, abs tensing as he nears yet another climax— the 5th one of the night. maybe, maybe not. you lost count after the third one.

you bury your face into the crook of his neck, focusing on the feeling of his cock plugging you full instead of the soreness, the burn in your muscles that came from your knees holding you up on his lap.

watching you riding him will always be his favourite thing in the world, even if he always ends up fucking up into you and taking back control at the end of the night.

“gonna cu-uum…” you whine, clenching around his length almost painfully tightly, hearing his breathing hitch as an orgasm is ripped out of him in consequence to yours. boothill’s fingers dig into your ass, his hips lifting off the bed as he cums deep inside of your sloppy hole again, sticky fluid building up beneath the sheets.

you collapse on top of him fully, chest heaving against his own as you come back to your senses, slowly but surely. boothill’s ears perk up, hearing how your breathing had evening out.

“so… got another round in ya?”

[zephyrchama]

I wonder if humans and demons in Obey Me! might have different taste receptors and experience taste slightly differently. Not for all things, but for really random stuff, like how some people irl enjoy cilantro and others think it tastes like soap.

Lucifer trying to pridefully power through the dinner MC made for him and failing because he's already gone through five drinks trying to mask its taste, and MC is getting suspicious.

"What is this incredibly sour vegetable? I've never tasted anything so... acrid."

"You mean the sweet potato? Are you saying this sweet potato is what's making your lips pucker?"

"There's absolutely nothing sweet about this potato."

[erwinsvow]

shy reader sending rafe nudes for the first time🫢

rafe was so nice to you. his new favorite hobby seemed to be spoiling you—it seemed there was an endless influx of shopping trips and things getting delivered to your house after being mentioned once. you don't know how he always got it right, the exact color you wanted or the perfect size. especially when you weren't even sure which style was the best or were having trouble picking between two. rafe would decide for you, usually picking right or just ending up buying both.

he was very good at this whole thing, and though you had trouble accepting his genoursity at first, you felt you were growing into it quite nicely.

the constant denial that you wanted something turned into a sweet, grateful smile when rafe offered to get it. worrying about how expensive something was long-forgotten, instead you gave rafe a kiss on the cheek instead of mentioning it.

and the best part was that he liked it, liked taking care of you, liked making sure you had the things you wanted. he'd even gotten a shiny silver credit card with his name on it, had insisted that you use it for things.

"what kinda man am i, huh? if my girl has to buy herself nice things. that's no way to treat your best girl, huh?"

mostly he just wanted to hear you call yourself his girl, but it was getting easier and easier to swipe it out and about.

you fell into the trap of the saleswoman at the lingerie store—you'd come once before to buy some nighties when you started sleeping over at tannyhill every single night. you'd handed her the silver card, thinking about what rafe had in store for you if you showed up wearing what you'd just bought, when she snapped you out of it

"is that all for today mrs. cameron?"

she'd transported you into a completely different spiral. so you had returned with a craving to hear yourself be called that again, buying anything and everything that caught your eye, but mostly things that you thought rafe would like.

on your way out, still elated from the sheer headrush of being called mrs. cameron, you don't even notice the missed call and texts from rafe, not until you get home and put on the first of many new outfits.

rafey: what the hell is la perla. the fuck did you buy for $500??

dolled up in your new outfit, you angle yourself to snap a couple of pictures with your phone, the first showing your tits spilling out of the pretty, floral bra and panty set. then you laid down, trying to capture your ass and the best arch you could manage without rafe there to push your back for you. trying on another thing you'd bought, this time a pretty white babydoll, you take a selfie showing just enough of the fabric.

sending the photos without any caption, you wait patiently for the response. but seconds turn into minutes, minutes into ten and twenty, while you wonder if you overstepped, if rafe was displeased at your purchases, at the waste of money.

rafe opens the door so hard it slams, and you flinch.

"get on the bed. now." like always, you comply. you guess he wasn't so mad after all.

[ohcruel]

          you know how much his drawings mean to him ,  so for him to be this angry was expected. you don't care much for the grip on your shirt or if it ends up ripped  /  you're more worried about the cross around your neck which you reach for ,  to check it didn't get grabbed and possibly broken in the process .

          you also know that you shouldn't laugh ,  especially not when he's threatening you .  partly being you're nervous ,  but mostly because he could have said anything !  and he went with  is there something wrong with that brain of yours ?   "  who's to say ,  really -  "   he knocks against your head and you're still acting like it's funny .  because yeah ,  there is something wrong :  there are countless times you act before you think and it gets you into trouble ,  times you're reckless ,  and careless ,  because most sense already got knocked out of you !

          he scares you when he's angry ,  sometimes ,  but right now doesn't seem to be the case .  even as his frustration is so obvious by the way he speaks ,  with the rush of adrenaline making your heart race ,  you're too busy focusing on the fact he's paying attention to you ,  instead of acting so disinterested like before .  you'd much rather have him be angry than indifferent ,  acting like your presence doesn't even matter or bother him at all .

          "  there's no need to ask ,  you're doing a great job saying what's wrong with me ~ !  i'm selfish ,  i ruin everything ,  i'm pathetic ,  anything else ?  "   all things you've said about yourself before .  fingertips digging into your face hurt but you don't care ,  and you're still smiling .  your own blue painted nails grip the arm near your face and start to dig in ,  too ,  and you let your face get closer to his even despite it hurting to do so .

        "  why -  why don't you keep telling me just how unimportant i am ?  tell me again how i'm not a priority ,  how you can't stand the sight of me ?  tell me how much you hate me ,  minichen .  "   you don't care anymore ...  at least that's what you'll tell yourself now ,  in the moment .  no doubt his words will cut deep later on ,  when you think back on them .  eyes lock with his and you make another hasty decision ,  as if to prove his point that there's something wrong with you ,  spitting right in his face .

a lot of things happen in quick succession. the moment that the hand deliberately knocked over your americano onto the paper of your sketchbook, you launched out of your chair and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. the material is stretching from your grip on it but you don't care, you wouldn't even give a fuck if it ripped from the harsh grasp. honestly, he's lucky you aren't ripping him apart right here and now for the stupidity he just demonstrated.

" do you wanna die, huh ? คุณโง่มากค่ะ. is there somethin' wrong with that brain of yours ? should i fuckin' knock some sense into you ? " your other hand lifts, it knocks against his head a few times lightly but it wouldn't take much to actually do it. you know this and you're sure they do too. " that drawin' is for a client. it's my job. that's why it's more important than you. but you have to be so selfish, don't you ? you can't take the attention being on something else for once so you have to act out like a fuckin' child. "

your words are dripping with bitterness, a volatile fury burns inside of you. every word is spat out, venomous and biting. you are a snake sinking fangs into the flesh of your prey. " well, are you happy ? are you satisfied ? you ruined it .. like you ruin everything. " you reach down to grab your soaked sketchbook, still clutching their shirt as you shove the sopping wet papers in his face. coffee drips everywhere. you don't give a damn. " seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you ? "

any attention is good attention to him. it's disgusting how low he'll go for scraps. you slam the book onto the table, liquid splattering from the impact. then you hiss lowly as you shove the hand holding his shirt against his chest, rough in execution. " fuck you. " hands shift 'til they hold his face tightly, fingertips digging into skin harsher than usual. " you're pathetic. "

[simplyreveries]

octatrio when a customer is being mean to you

azul ashengrotto

he usually keeps an eye on you throughout the day when working, even if he isn't always around because most of his time is spent in the VIP room swindling students. he'd giving you some sweet smile as he passes by and sometimes ask how everything is going- he considers himself quite lucky to be there to deal with this unpleasant situation.

azul is quickly by your side in a matter of moments as soon as he sees the guy giving even an ounce of irritation towards you. azul gives this blatant, fake, professional smile "oh dear... is there an issue here?" he'd inquire pretending like he really does care what this boy thinks. it's easy to deal with, because he is the manager of the place.

he is good at deescalating the situation and if it really comes down to it he'll bring in someone like floyd or jade to escort them out, that'll end up scaring the living daylights out of them. when they're out of sight he'll sigh shaking his head and adjusting his uniform, muttering how "troublesome" people are. you are the only thing he cared about feeling okay. he shows concern for you, but he still can't help but feel lingering frustration that you were even bothered like that in the first place. he'll tell you if there's a chance he isn't around and that happens again just get floyd or jade :).

jade leech

jade could see this situation happening from a mile away. he is painfully observant and already knew what annoyance this customer was going to bring. he was already lurking beside you ready to swoop in and save you from this guy. standing tall right behind you putting a hand on your shoulder, he'd have a calm and like azul an ever so fake look of concern for the customers wellbeing giving a "my, what seems to be the problem?".

he is so incredibly passive aggressive with the bothersome customer. showing such an unnerving look to them-- jade would actually be quite surprised if they tried to make any more of a scene, knowing who he is to others at school.

so, he manages to deal with the situation very easily. he almost finds the whole thing amusing to him if I'm being honest. chuckling, he'd give a small, graceful look of reassurance "fufu i hope you know not to take these things to heart, (name)." nevertheless, jade always seems to look out for you when he's got shifts with you. he knows how much of a bother some people can be.

floyd leech

he usually finds situations like these almost entertaining when shifts are tedious and boring- though he feels his mood goes sour and annoyed when he sees the guy making you upset and being mean. floyd is probably already next to you when you're approached by him. considering how he likes to annoy you and be clingy on shifts.

seems to have no patience and immediately gets defensive over you... like straight up gives a disgruntled expression and is like "eh? what's your problem?", "ok and?" zero formality. he has no qualms getting in people's face. the customer would most likely 1) completely backing off terrified of floyd or 2) getting even more upset because floyd just retorts back, even teasing him. if anything, it's someone like jade that needs to step in, so he doesn't do something out of line (ok as if jade is really any better???).

floyd will grumble and tell you how much that guy made him pissed off. yet his mood turns a 180 when he tries to cheer you up, he'll drag you claiming it's time for your break AND he'll even cook you up a lunch!!