#ironic that i’m talking about this on tumblr now that i think about it.

[sp0o0kylights]

Adopt a Jock Part One / Previous Part / Part 10.1 (you are here)

A03

Chapter 10 is complete and will be fully uploaded to A03 this weekend when I can get around holiday shenanigans. It's very long so tumblr gets it in parts. I'm sure I could make a Thanksgiving food pun there if I tried hard enough but alas I am not Steve nor Dustin.

Apparently, if you stumbled into supernatural shit, you were rewarded with a mountain of legal paperwork so absurdly thick that Gareth was almost positive it included a government-approved execution clause for anyone reckless enough to speak about things better left unsaid

So, here they were: barely a week past the lab incident, eating lunch, keeping their heads down, like their entire world hadn’t been turned upside down.

(He couldn’t even appreciate the pun.)

“She keeps looking over here.” Tiff’s pen tapped out a furious rhythm, her gaze fixed on one Nancy Wheeler, “And she’s been following us.”

“Well according to Steve she knows about--you know.” Gareth said, keeping things vague in hopes it would prevent any visits from men in black suits.

“I’m sure she just wants to talk.” Jeff said with a note of sympathy.

The fucking traitor.

“I’m sure we’re not allowed to talk.” Stewart muttered darkly, pushing his peas around his lunch tray with a fork.

“Only with people who don’t already know.” Grant tried to argue, and that rapidly dissolved into an argument regarding NDA’s and tricky legal language that Gareth tuned out in favor of his new found hobby--doing his level best not to think about anything beyond his lunch and what new D&D character he wanted to play.

His last one died in the prior game, and though Eddie had--weirdly and entirely out of character--offered to revive it, Gareth had waived him off.

They needed some normalcy right now, and if that came at the cost of Gareth’s beloved druid meeting her maker, then so be it.

Plus a new character was a great distraction.

(He was set on playing a noble elf known as ‘Gregg from Accounting’, but a second dwarf named Iron the Chef had been tempting…)

“She’s coming!” Tiffany hissed, slamming her pen down.

Mourning the loss of an easy, drama free lunch, Gareth sighed and prepared himself.

“Hi.” Nancy said, announcing her presence with quiet determination, books stacked in her arms and chin raised defiantly.

No one said a word back.

“Jonathan let me know what happened, and I wanted to say that I’m sorry you got pulled into all of this.” She paused, clearly thinking her words over, before adding; “Steve, Jonathan, and I used to practice.”

Nancy stopped again, this time blatantly waiting for one of them to say something.

She got more stares in return.

“Given that things sound a little open ended, and that there were injuries, I thought it might be good to start up again. Steve suggested if we do, you all should come too.” She finished, bulldozing right through her own awkwardness.

“Practice what?” Grant asked, confused and trying to cover it with suspicion.

“Defensive measures.” Nancy answered.

Seeing their unchanged blank stares, she gathered her books in one arm, formed a finger gun with her free hand, and mimed shooting in such a deadpan manner that Gareth almost burst into disbelieving laughter.

While he was haunted by visions of Nancy Wheeler holding a gun, Tiff loudly picked her pen back up, making enough noise that all eyes went to her.

“You beat my score on Mrs. Click’s practice test by two points.”

“Uh--yes?” Nancy said, blinking at her.

Tiff's eyes narrowed. “I’m kicking your ass on the final.”

Another dumbfounded blink.

“Okay?”

“Tiff’s coping, as are we--no…defensive measures necessary.” Jeff said, in a desperate bid to soothe things over, “We appreciate the offer.”

She nodded, seemingly placated by his response. “Actually, where is Steve? I wanted to talk to him too.” Nancy asked, changing topics with ease. “I haven’t seen him all day.”

“Ah-ha.” Tiff muttered under her breath, as if catching out what Nancy really wanted.

Stewart kicked her ankle.

“He’s with Eddie.” Grant said, covering the sound of their resulting scuffle.

“He’s been spending a lot of time with Eddie lately.” Nancy noted, in that same neutral tone the Feds spoke in. All fake nice without giving a single thing away.

It was a little terrifying.

“We all spend a lot of time with each other.” Tiffany shot back, hackles very much raised and not bothering to hide it. “We’re friends. That’s what friends do.”

“Man, we are vicious today!”

“She’s really sore about that grade.” Stewart covered, offering a sympathetic pat to Tiffany’s shoulder (who looked an awful lot like she was going to bite his hand for it).

Did Nancy Wheeler even know about the weird academic rivalry Tiff had with her? Gareth took one look at Tiff’s gritted teeth, and thought better of it.

“I wouldn't be if I was able to properly finish that essay,” Tiff motioned to the now hopelessly crumpled paper underneath her pen, “ instead of rushing it because I had to pull someone out of a lab--”

“Nancy’s right.” Jeff cut in, in another desperate attempt to distract them all from eating each other. “I haven't seen much of Steve or Eddie today.”

He turned expectantly to his right. “Gary?”

Gareth frowned back at him.

“Why would I know where they are?”

“Oh,” Stewart said, far too innocently. “You haven’t realized you’re their assigned zookeeper?”

Wadding up his napkin was second nature. So was launching it at his friend's head, who expertly (and unfortunately) dodged.

“So you’re saying you don’t know?” Grant asked, a smile creeping across his face.

Gareth opened his jacket, fishing around for a moment as if he was searching for something, before pulling his hand back to show off his extended middle finger.

Pity he actually had the answer.

“They’re in the drama room. Steve sweettalked Mr. Barns into letting them set up early for Hellfire’s game.” He grumbled, ruining the entire effect.

“See?” Stewart said smugly.

With deliberate slowness, Gareth raised up his other middle finger before waving them both in a circle.

“Fuck you, fuck you--”

“Not in your lifetime.” Tiffany answered, to multiple chortles.

“Don’t bother them, Wheeler.” Gareth continued, ignoring the assholes he called friends to turn back to Nancy. “They’re setting up for the Hellfire’s last game of the year and Ed’s is a little…obsessive about it.”

As in he was known to be a complete and utter terror in the days leading up to his grand finales but Gareth wasn’t telling her that.

These games were a big deal for Hellfire as a whole. Precious things they looked forward to and the finale game was something they often worked several months, if not a solid year, to reach.

This year's game had more riding on it than any one prior. Hellfire’s shared sanity, for example, and a shining piece of normality they all found themselves desperately needing.

(Plus the problem of Eddie flunking again--and not telling anyone.

See--Eddie had been touchy the first time he hadn’t graduated and even with the appearance of monsters and government lackeys, Gareth expected this year to be even worse--but the Steve of it all added a rather explosive emotional element.

“You still have most of Hellfire.” Gareth had pointed out, when he’d hitched a ride home a few days prior and found the paper declaring Eddie’s super senior year a lost cause. “You know you’ll still have them after they graduate too, right?”

“Because they’re going to be looking forward to their old pal Eddie while in college, sure.” Had been the clipped response.

“They will.” Gareth said, with a level of assurance he hoped Eddie could feel. “And if that’s the concern, then you’ll definitely still have Steve.”

Who hadn’t gotten into college, and openly admitted to refusing to try now that monsters were back.

“I guess.” Eddie had said, looking like a deflated party balloon.

In typical Munson fashion, he seemed to realize he was giving away more “real feelings” than he’d intended too, and changed the subject with an energy that Gareth knew was fake.

He hadn’t called him out on it though, and equally, he had not called out the mania Eddie had slowly been succumbing to since that fateful day. He’d get over it--Gareth knew he’d get over it--if they could just make it past the point where Eddie’s own brain informed him the world was ending to prove it.)

All of them deserved a break, and a place to put aside all the stupid shit and simply have a good time, and heading off Steve’s nosey ex-girlfriend before she could cause problems would go a long way to help.

“I’m sure they can spare two minutes.” Nancy was saying, mid creation of the exact problem Gareth was hoping to avoid.

“No--uh,” He flailed about for a reason she couldn’t, and the longer she frowned at him the more his brain simply vanished all forms of higher thought. “Don’t?”

Nancy’s expression soured, mouth twisting in a line Gareth very much did not like. “I’m sure they--”

“Tell us what other things you practice. Besides, you know. The pews.” He interrupted frantically.

Under the table his foot struck out, and though he had no idea who he’d struck he hoped whoever it was understood what exactly he was trying to do.

“The pews?” Nancy echoed, after a painfully long moment.

“You know? Pews!” Gareth mimed a gun, and then made “pew” noises while firing it.

Besides him, Jeff gave a very Harrington-like sigh.

(He’d been doing that a lot lately, Gareth made a mental note to mock him for it.)

“You cannot tell me you guys only practice with guns.” Tiffany huffed. She had not been the kicked party, but thankfully, hadn’t needed the nudge to catch on. “What happens if you run out of bullets?”

Nancy gave her an odd, almost calculating look.

“We use whatever else we have on hand.” She said flatly.

Which just boded so fucking well for the rest of this conversation (and Gareth’s life, given he was uncomfortably aware of the things that went bump in the night.)

“Well, give us an example.” Tiff continued, and given the now increasingly concerned looks that the rest of Hellfire was darting between her and Nancy, Gareth knew the rest of his idiots hadn’t caught on.

On a piece of paper he scrawled--and the underlined twice, for good measure;

‘Go. Find. Byers!’

--and then chucked it at Grant’s head. Who thankfully opened it, even if he made a face while doing so, before proceeding to pass the note around as Tiff and Nancy traded increasingly pointed words about weapons training.

“When you’re in a situation, you use whatever you have on hand. I would assume you knew this, given what I heard happened the other day.”

“Yes, but wouldn’t it make more sense to train and carry with backup weapons rather than just hoping you find something on the way? What if the--what if we’d been in the woods?”

Gareth watched the note travel from person to person, until it was dropped back in front of him.

‘You go find him.’ Someone had scrawled, followed by multitudes of doodles, two of which featured army-hat wearing dicks driving tanks.

Then and there, he decided that perhaps his friends truly did deserve death should a similar situation arise in the future.

Useless. They were all useless.

“You’re welcome to make a suggestion, Tiffany.”

“I will. I’ll make a list even.”

“Good.” Nancy smiled, with all her teeth.

“Fine.” Tiff returned, looking half feral.

Was this some type of weird mating ritual between academic types? God, they were scary.

‘Well, that definitely won’t come back to bite us in the ass.’ Gareth thought wryly as Nancy stormed off in the opposite direction of the drama room, tapping the note against the table. He glanced at the rest of the group, who appeared to be attempting to tempt Tiff out of her snit by way of asking her what dramatic bullshit she thought Eddie would be pulling in the finale.

If nothing else, he decided, they’d prevented ruining Eddie’s day--and possibly, their entire night.

Nothing, save more fucking monsters or equally evil government lackeys could manage that.

(Pity that Gareth had forgotten the third most powerful force on the planet when it came to wrecking plans.

Middle schoolers.)

xXx

The day had dragged but they'd made it, and Eddie in turn, had made that wait worth their while.

The lights in the drama room were low.

The entire table had been set up with such care and drama that Gareth almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Goblets lined both sides, each filled with a dark red liquid Gareth knew damn well could not be wine.

Candles--real ones, had been lit, casting shadows across Eddie’s face as he lounged in his throne, a master in their element.

A castle, meticulously crafted out of wooden sticks and painted a dark, forbidding gray towered in front of Eddie down at the end, with the layout of the insides crawling down the table atop carefully gridded paper.

Monstrous figurines stood in a row off to the side, like little soldiers, planted right in front of a plain, if not comically large, cardboard box.

It was elaborate, meticulous, and half the items had clearly been stolen from Steve’s house, if not outright decorated by the man’s own hand.

“Welcome, my friends.” Eddie purred, breaking the spell that had fallen over Hellfire.

“Oh my God.” Grant breathed, jostling Gareth’s shoulder as he pushed inside.

“Dude, you outdid yourself!” Stewart added, voice awed as he took it all in.

“He had help.” Steve confirmed, materializing at Eddie’s shoulder. He leaned forward, adjusting something in front of Eddie, ignoring the immediate angry swat and hissed warnings about “ruining the moment, Steven!”

“Glad to see you putting your mom’s party planning skills to good use.” Jeff teased, but no one missed the way he ran a hand down the table, staring giddily at the spread.

Steve gave him a shrug, but even in the dim light Gareth could see how pleased he looked.

It was magical, and Gareth felt something come alive in his chest that he’d privately thought the manticore had killed.

A childish sort of excitement, bubbling up as he realized he was about to have a damn fine time.

This, of course, is when the actual children came in.

“I made a timeline.” Dustin announced, shouldering his way in between Jeff and Grant to slam down a massive piece of paper.

“Oh my God where did you come from!?” Stewart yelped, started as more and more children suddenly swarmed Hellfire’s table.

“The middle school is literally next door. We walked.” Max rolled her eyes as she took a seat next to Tiffany. “What idiot let you guys light candles in here?”

El fell in right next to her, stealing what was clearly intended to be Grant’s chair.

Who looked like he’s about to say something about it until he caught sight of her delighted face.

Gareth would have laughed at the obvious way Grant’s shoulders slumped as he accepted his fate, if his own chair hadn’t just been usurped by Michael Wheeler.

“A timeline?” Steve asked, before Eddie could surge to his feet and kick the brats out.

(They all watched him jerk anyway, like he’d intended to do just that and barely caught himself.)

“Uh, everything?” Dustin scoffed, waving a beat up folder in the air. “We took it all the way back to when we first met El.”

Next to him, Lucas had stepped up to the table, running a hand down it in much the same way Jeff had. “We decided it might help us figure out where the manticore came from.” He said absently.

A riot of emotion exploded over Steve’s face, made all the funnier by the fact that it was entirely at odds with the setup he’d so lovingly created.

“I’m sorry, did we not hear the Chief of Police? He’s investigating this, our involvement is over.” Steve made a slashing motion with his hand, as if that would hold them all off.

(Gareth, who once watched all of these children fight each other over an arcade score for three consecutive days, knew it was a lost cause.)

Dustin made yet another scoffing sound in return.

Given how often he seemed to make them, Gareth wondered if he had problems with a sore throat.

“I thought we all widely agreed Hop’s investigation skills are terrible.”

“Hello?” Stewart said irritably. “We were about to get started?”

Eddie swung himself into a sitting position and made like he was going to stand up, likely to pounce on the opening Stewart had just given.

Pity Steve once again, beat him there.

“Yes, but he’s not investigating, is he? We,” Hellfire’s jock made another motion, this one a circular twirl of the hand. Gareth was starting to wonder if the gestures are directly linked to his stress level. “already did that part. He can now do the part he’s good at, which is fixing it.”

“He’s not good at fixing it, look at what happened with the demodogs!”

It was at this moment Gareth made his fatal mistake. In hindsight, he should have known better than to ask out loud,

“Okay, can someone please explain what the hell’s a demodog?”

Several protests, groans, and pencils are flung his way for it.

(“Do you know how often that word has been thrown around!?” He’d defend much, much later. “You guys keep saying it but not what they are!”

“If you stopped eavesdropping all the time maybe you wouldn’t be wondering about such things.” Eddie had responded snidely.

“It’s not my fault you keep talking about this shit when I’m right there you asshat--”)

“What, you didn’t think there were actually feral dogs in Hawkins did you?” One of the kids asks incredulously, like he can’t possibly believe anyone is so stupid as to buy into it.

“They were like the manticore, but small and more, well, doggish.” Dustin dismissed, this time with a Harrington flavored hand waive of his own. “Ask Steve, he was there.”

Gareth turned to do just that, D&D campaign be damned (He would not apologize for wanting to know what else might be out to kill them all even if the finale was technically on, sue him) to find Steve had slipped right into mother hen mode.

“No.” He spat, charging forward as he flapped his arms around, like the children are a flock of birds he can scare away. “You are not sucking anyone into this, and we are not getting involved! You heard Hop!”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a coward, Steve.”

“I’m not a coward, I’m someone who doesn’t need another near death experience! There’s not a reward if you have five in a row, dickheads.”

Seething and not bothering to hide it, Eddie picked up the massive gold goblet in front of him and took an obnoxiously loud sip out of it.

“I’m also going to remind you that Henderson here,” Steve stopped behind Dustin to rattle his, “is going to camp in a few days? I believe the rest of you also have similar engagements.”

It was Mike’s turn to scoff.

“Lucas is only in summer school until 3 and camp doesn’t start for another two weeks. We have plenty of time!”

“It’s not summer school,” Lucas protested, eyes darting to Max and back as if she wasn’t aware the kid was a nerd. “It’s a creative writing program--”

“Yeah, well, the rest of us are busy.” Steve fired back. “So any theories you have, you can take and shove right up your ass.”

“Why is it always the ass with you Steve? Do you have an ass fixation?”

Gareth watched as Eddie immediately choked on the dyed Mountain Dew he had been chugging down, hacking so hard tears welled in his eyes.

Jeff shared a pained look with Gareth over the table as Grant pounded him on the back.

“I do not have an ass fixation, Henderson--”

“Okay.” Tiffany clapped her hands together, the sound ringing out throughout the drama room.

“Here’s the deal. Summer break is two days away. Steve is right--most of us here are working, if not preparing to go to college. No one needs to go snooping around where we aren’t wanted, and we definitely do not need anymore injuries. Kapeesh?”

Henderson immediately turned on her. “So we’re just gonna trust the guys who fucking started all this!?”

“Given they also have better ways of handling it, yes. We are. Hopper told them about Stewarts goo, they sent some suits in to kill the manticore, and thanks to El’s heads up we caught things ahead of time for once. Can’t we just enjoy that?” Steve was beyond worked up now, repeatedly running his hands through his hair, only to fix it, pick at it, and then repeat the process again. “For fucks sake Dustin, Eddie just stopped limping!”

“I don’t think it’s over.” Mike muttered angrily, pushing a finger against Tiffany’s water bottle.

She grabbed it before it toppled over, glaring at him.

“El, do you feel anything?” Steve spoke like he was invoking a god and not an undersocialized twelve year old.

“No.” She admitted, after a long almost uncomfortable pause. “I do not.”

Steve pointed at her victoriously. “There you go!”

“But--”

“No more buts!” Steve shrieked, before seemingly to realize he’d done so. He coughed, and then said; “I thought you dorks would be storming in here trying to get Eddie to DM for you, not harassing us about the Upside Down.”

“You guys are playing D&D?” Lucas asked, as if he hadn’t been salivating over the spread for the last five minutes.

“I really like your cleric.” Will said quietly to Jeff, having leaned over to look at his character sheet at some point during the argument.

“Will, aren’t you a Dungeon Boss?” Steve asked, to the horror of those around him. “Why don’t you go sit by Eddie, I’m sure you’d enjoy seeing how he does stuff.”

A wince rippled through the members of Hellfire.

There was simply no way Eddie Munson, a man known to be possessive at best, would ever allow any of them to even glance at his notebook, let alone his entire spread laid bare behind his screen.

Those were his secrets--the result of too many late nights and an easy contributor to his failing high school yet again--and this was the grand finale.

Steve sitting next to Eddie had been miraculous enough--and that was with Eddie actively demanding he sit there, in a vain attempt to drag Steve out of his issues.

Fearing the worst, Gareth snuck a glance at their glorious--and notoriously ridiculous--leader.

Eddie sucked on his teeth, the noise painfully loud in the abrupt silence, eyes on Byers the Younger before they drifted back to Steve.

Who clearly had no idea he’d put his foot in it.

Tiff looked ready to break a pencil, eyes glaring a hole in Eddie’s head as if daring him to disappoint the group's golden retriever while Grant, Jeff and Stewart had all magically found something else to look at.

Gareth himself hunkered down, waiting to see how this would play out.

One more painful, pulsing second and then Eddie seemed to come to a decision, rolling out his hand and gesturing Will closer.

“Indeed Baby Byers,” He dropped into one of his many DM voices, something deep but alluring. “come closer and learn from the master of masters. Perhaps you’ll find something here to take back to your own campaigns. Something truly…terrible.”

He waggled his eyebrows at Dustin as Will’s Party groaned, though none of them put up much of a fuss once they saw the sheer smile that overtook Will’s face.

With the unique combination of embarrassment and pride, Will took his place next to Eddie.

Steve beamed in the corner, clearly pleased with himself and it was not lost on Gareth (or anyone else in the know) that Eddie preened only after sneaking an obvious look at Steve’s face.

“God he has it bad.” Stewart muttered, only to hiss when Jeff not so subtly jabbed him with a pen.

Gareth just shook his head, and gave Eddie a grin that said he would absolutely be getting shit for this later.

“Stevie, be a dear and fetch more chairs would you?” Eddie drawled, as he settled back into his throne, baby Byers happily checking out the items he had laid out behind his DM screen.

Which Gareth supposed was Steve’s punishment for inviting the kids along, but then, Eddie may as well have been bossing the jock around all day regardless given the look of the place.

(He’d certainly taken advantage of doing just that while his leg had been healing.)

That was their mess though, and Gareth happily put all thoughts of monsters, murder, men in black and every other awful M word aside to inside pull out his luckiest D20 die.

“Hellfire,” Eddie boomed as the all finally settled, “It's time to show the kiddies how it's done. Let’s roll!”

“And Dustin bitches at me for my puns.” Steve loudly complained as he came back into the room with chairs.

Eddie shushed him again.

[byuteablanc]

Modern Aesthetics

Another one of my think pieces, it’s not as long. It’s more of a complaint this time but we’ll crafted. TW for body insecurity, I guess

I’ll never get over how the aesthetics I try to fit into and dress like, are some densely populated by those way more skinny than me. No offense to these people, but it almost feels like subliminal messaging.

“To get like us, get smaller! Then you’ll be truly “aesthetic”

It doesn’t help that I’m black either, having to search up anything and add black girl at the end but add midsize too?

It almost like subliminal messaging to me. When I see smaller bodies I think about how good they look in the style I wanna replicate, but I will never replicate it to a T. I will always fall short of fitting in.

In conclusion, fuck outfit inspo, you make me insecure /nsrs

[raeathnos]

Sketchy dump!

Trying to get better at drawing humans/humanoid creatures by sketching shippy art of my two ocs. Bonus- updated ref sheet wips :P

This is Sky-Shifter (left, bottom) and Night-Stalker (right, top) two of the main characters from the webcomic I want to eventually do. They’re both half-demons, hence the human and feral forms.

Humanoid forms above, feral below.

I’m a messy sketcher, I’m sorry guys Dx

[heeseungiez]

» XO, Miss Decelis

pairings! rich kids!hyung line x fem!reader, choi yeonjun x fem!reader briefly synopsis! perfection used to be all you strove for, keeping everything that didn't fit the image a secret from the world, but an accident that nearly took your life made you reconsider what kind of person you truly wanted to be... warnings! smut (mdni! 18+), mentions of bullying, joking about past trauma to cope, angst, jealousy etc. (warnings will be added) taglist! open a/n! never thought i'd be back to writing fanfic on tumblr but here we are... i guess even 6 years later, i'm still the same person i was when i was 15... just btw, the pairings can change as i write more since right now, i have only officially written the first sooo... don't take it for granted

RESOLUTION 1: actually enjoy a party... (Lee Heeseung x Reader)

synopsis! lee heeseung has known you your whole life. he has always kept you at an arm’s length due to his childhood pettiness after being forced to spend time with you as kids. but now that you were back in town, going to school again, he finds his resolve to dislike you at all costs crumbling between his fingers. as if it hadn’t always been chipping away throughout the years.

word count! 5.4k

read here!

RESOLUTION 2: not be a virgin anymore... (Sim Jake x Reader)

synopsis! sim jake has always liked you, but as heeseung’s best friend, he felt weird trying to talk to you. now, with the rules around you loosening, jake refuses to miss his chance to win you over.

word count! 8.4k

read here!

RESOLUTION 3: become popular at school (Park Jay x Reader)

synopsis! park jay always thought of you as the annoying little miss perfect who could do no wrong in the eyes of his, yours and heeseung’s parents. he wasn’t fond of you in the slightest for that very reason. but when you dropped the act after your perfect image had shattered in front of everyone, he can’t help but feel drawn to you. when he discovers another one of your secrets, he thinks he might truly have to ruin you for the whole world to know how far from perfect you truly are.

word count! 12k

read here!

RESOLUTION 4: maybe get a boyfriend? (Park Sunghoon x Reader)

synopsis! park sunghoon always preferred admiring you from afar. because to him, you were untouchable. as the daughter of his career’s biggest sponsor, he was scared that the smallest slight upon your person could make your father withdraw. but you were not the fragile pretty flower sunghoon thought you to be. it was only his luck that you ran right into his arms when you didn’t know what to do about the rest of his friends.

word count! 15k

read here!

Good morning, Decelis! Guess who’s back?

And no, I’m not talking about myself at the moment, but rather, a princess of a successful empire, and our beloved black sheep of the school. It’s quite ironic, isn’t it? In a place where money is power, she has none despite the billions she’s meant to inherit. Poor girl, wouldn’t you say?

But rumours have it that our princess is back from her prolonged summer break abroad, and she’s different than we remember.

It seems that the good girl image has been thrown to the wolves, and the princess is back with a bite of her own.

I’m most definitely looking forward to what this year brings us.

XO, Miss Decelis

[bluerthanvelvet444]

‧₊˚♫ ⋅* ‧₊✮𝐓𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥✮‧₊˚ ⋅*♫ ˚₊⋅

Tate Langdon x fem!reader

tags: smut with a plot and some fluff.

warnings: obsessive behavior, kind of a switch!Tate, oral (f receiving), dry humping, p in v.

summary: Tate encounters a Tumblr girl. (Inspirated a lot by the song I linked under.)

character count: 12k.

full fic under the cut ↓

.⋆.‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧.⋆.

2014.

Tate had never really cared about looking ‘stylish’ or ‘fitting in’ when he was alive. He had his own style, which wasn’t trendy nor one of a kind just…his. He didn’t need anyone else’s approval to believe he was cool, mostly because the girls that were attracted to him were just as fucked up as him and the popular ones tended to ignore him.

Ironical how that changed in his afterlife, once he saw you. After dying, Tate’s time was spent either with the other trapped souls or by himself. Hardly ever people moved in the Murder House, and whether they did, they were a low-budget couple in their 40s. So Tate’s knowledge of the modern outside world was poor and lacking, especially when it came to his ‘peers’. That’s why when you first moved in the house, Tate was stunned, if not flabbergasted even.

You were struggling with carrying your heavy luggage, muttering curses as the wind blew your colorful hair in your eyes. The first word that came in Tate’s mind as he watched you from the front window was “cool.”

He spent the first days of your sojourn watching you from afar, admiring the way you acted. Tate found out the way you styled your outfits in the fashionable way, how you talked to your friends in slangs and how you spent your evenings taking pictures on your polaroid and on a glowing little box, that for some strange reason you called phone, to post (that’s the term you used) on a little blue icon marked with a white t. He didn’t know what was considered popular now, but he was sure you belonged in that category, judging by the way you looked and the way your pictures had high numbers under them whenever you uploaded them. He needed wanted to approach you, and the perfect opportunity showed up when he saw you type on your glowing box:

“PARTY in the MURDER HOUSE tonite!! >_< :33!!”

.⋆.‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧.⋆.

The house had never been so full of alive people having fun. The doors were open, colorful lights were shining and high volume music was blasting. Tate tried blending in, although the more he looked around the more he felt…lame. The drunk teens around him were all different from each other, and none of them matched his vibe. And he even wore his favorite sweater!

Still, he had nothing to lose, so he took a deep breath and searched for you in the crowd. Tate made his way past people as they pushed him to the left and to the right. It felt weird to be seen, to be touched. He found you circled by people asking questions about the house. Was it haunted? Were there ghosts? All of which you answered with a simple “No.”.

“Of course there aren’t any ghosts, I’m keeping them away from you.” Tate thought. Since he was too nervous to actually take a few steps and start a conversation with you, he figured he’d get some punch, just to loosen up a bit. He walked towards the punch bowl, and as soon as he reached to grab a cup, his hand met yours. You both grabbed the same solo cup.

“Sorry! You can have it.” You giggled as you let him take the cup. Tate blinked a few times, eyes locked to your bright smile, before grabbing the cup and filling it up. “Be cool, Tate. Don’t mess it up.” He thought.

“Uh. So…this is your party, right?” He gulped, eyes darting around the house as if he didn’t know every single inch of it by heart.

“Yes! Thought it would’ve been fun to host a party in a so-called Murder House. Plus, this house is giant, it gets lonely after some time…You live near here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you.” You smiled.

“Oh…yeah. My name’s Tate. I live nearby.” Tate’s eyes trailed upon your figure, he had never been able to see you from so close. You simply nodded, sipping from your cup. He cleared his throat.

“You know…I used to live in this house.” He added nonchalantly, trying so hard to sound interesting.

“Really?! No way!” Your giggles rang in his ears.

“Mhm. You probably noticed some of my things still laying around in my bedroom. No one has stepped in since I last did.” He nodded.

“Oh, do you wanna see? Maybe there’s something you left that you want back.” You replied, slightly raising your voice so that it could be heard over the music.

“I uh-There’s no need t-” He was interrupted by you grabbing his hand and leading him upstairs anyways. You opened the door of the bedroom and kicked out a couple that was making out on your bed.

“Ugh!! I should’ve locked the door!” You exclaimed, closing the door behind you two. Tate looked around, some of your things were laying around, but it was mostly all his.

“Dude you left everything here!” You giggled. Tate forced out a chuckle, everything was of course still there, since he ‘lived’ there normally and never moved.

“Yeah, uh…Guess I left in a hurry.” He muttered awkwardly and grabbed some of his Nirvana CDs.

“There they were…!” He pretended as if he didn’t just play them everyday before you came.

“CDs? Didn’t you use an IPod or something?” You gave him a confused look.

“Oh uh…no, I prefer CDs.” He nodded, as if he knew what an IPod was.

“You don’t use your phone?” You asked, raising up your glowing box.

“No, I…don’t have one.” He gulped.

“Damn, how do you handle that? I could never live without Tumblr or Instagram.” You chuckled.

“...Yea, um…just not my thing, y’know?” He cleared his throat, trying his best to change the subject.

“Oh, yea. I’ve met some people like that. I envy y’all, y’know? Tumblr’s literally addicting to me. Can’t help it though, love when people comment nice stuff and see you as inspiring, y’know?” You chuckled, sitting down on his your bed.

“Uh…can’t really relate. I’ve always been pretty invisible.” He shrugged.

“Oh…you don’t seem so bad. I like the whole grungy vibe.” You grinned, pointing to his outfit.

“Oh- uh…thank you.” He hoped it was a good thing to be ‘grungy’...or whatever you said.

“Yea, looks good on you. Doesn’t really fit me tho.” You giggled.

“You’d look gorgeous in anything.” Was what Tate wanted to say, but he didn’t wanna push his luck too far, so he just forced a shy chuckle.

.⋆.‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧.⋆.

You spent something like 30 minutes just laughing and getting to know each other while laying on the bed. During this whole time, he couldn’t help but think about how breathtaking you were: your smile, your eyes, your body, your personality, your whole being. You were perfect. Perfect for him. He found himself to be completely mesmerized by you, he needed you to be his, he needed you to make him feel loved, alive. He wondered how you did it, how ever since the first second you spent next to him, his heart started beating for the first time since he died. His body felt warm, his skin didn’t feel so cold anymore, he started breathing again. He was addicted to this feeling, so he did the only reasonable thing he would’ve done if he was actually alive, he gently grabbed your cheek and pressed his lips against yours. Everything felt just better after he kissed you, as if after that whole hell he had been through he finally reached paradise. He felt even more surprised when you kissed back, your lips moving in sync with his. He moved to lay on top of you, balancing his weight so he didn’t crush you, his lips never leaving yours as his fingertips danced across your body. His tongue slipped in your mouth, swirling around yours in a passionate dance. He let out some deep throaty groans, he felt his desire grow as it coursed through his veins. He needed to feel you, so he deepened his kisses. When you moved your lips down on his jaw and then his neck, he almost lost it. He felt embarrassed for moaning so much and basically becoming a mess under your touch, but he relaxed as soon as he felt your lips curling up in a smile against his skin. He moved on to devour your neck, grinning as he felt you moan now. His hands gripped every inch of your body.

“You’re so…beautiful…” He mumbled against your skin, grabbing your breasts through the fabric of your shirt. He looked up at you while tugging at your shirt, silently asking for consent to peel it off of you.

“You can take off whatever you want...” You winked, giving him a cute smile. He immediately peeled off both his and your clothes, groaning at the sight of your body. His lips worked hungrily on your collarbone, leaving marks that will most likely turn into hickeys the next day, then placed kisses on the valley between your breasts, a tiny whine leaving him when his fingers failed at desperately trying to undo the clasp of your bra.

You giggled and helped him, throwing your bra somewhere on the floor. He immediately took one of your nipples in his mouth, suckling gently while looking up at you with those brown puppy eyes of his. You smiled and twirled a strand of his blonde locks between your fingers, soft moans escaping your lips. He kept switching between sucking your left then right nipple, his hand groping the one he wasn’t attacking with his mouth. He felt himself getting harder as he felt the warmth radiating from your body, so while his mouth worked wonders, he desperately brushed his growing bulge from under his boxers on your leg. He let out some needy whines, and he couldn’t help but mutter sweet words against your skin as he lowered down to trail kisses on your tummy.

“So perfect f’me…” His words came out muffled as he trailed his kisses down, pressing his lips against your inner thigh and then on the fabric of your panties. You moaned when his fingers hooked under the waistband of your underwear, slowly pulling it down, as his lips immediately worked on your clit.

“Ah…just like that Tate…don’t stop…” You moaned when he started to suckle gently, soft whines leaving his mouth as well. As he got more needy himself, his mouth lowered on your entrance, his tongue gently brushing against your wet folds, finally entering you after teasing you a slight bit. What you felt was pure bliss, unholy sounds leaving your lips every time his tongue sped up. When you looked down, you found Tate looking up at you with those brown doe eyes from between your legs, as he worked his magic. The sight only drove you to the edge, your moans getting louder as you came on his face. He groaned and cleaned you up with his tongue, making sure not to miss any single droplet of your cum.

“So good…you taste so fucking good…” He moaned into your ear, pressing wet kisses on your neck and collarbone.

“Wanna be inside of you…please? please let me…” He whined while rubbing his hard dick against your flesh. You nodded and just like that he didn't waste any more time, he abruptly pulled his boxer down, groaning as the cold air hit his shaft, and lined up with your entrance. While you were still coming down from your high after the intense orgasm, Tate pushed his dick inside of you slowly, moaning uncontrollably once he felt your tight walls clenching around him. You were relieved that this encounter happened when you threw a party, or every single soul nearby would’ve heard the throaty groans and moans leaving his lips.

“Mh…tight…so tight…so pretty-can I move please? I’ll be- ah…I’ll be careful-please-” He whined against your neck, as his blonde strands caressed your face gently. You agreed, and just like that he was thrusting in and out of you, first slowly, then at a steady pace. The room was filled with filthy moans, yours and his, and the repetitive sound of skin against skin, as your sweaty bodies were sliding one against each other. He felt like he was going insane as his mind couldn't help but focus on you and you only. Every moment was more pleasurable and he felt like he was closer and closer, so he muttered in your ear, still thrusting into you.

“Close…so close…don’t think i’m gonna last-ah…longer…please please please…want you to cum too…” He babbled as his brain turned into mush.

“Ah-! Mhm…m’close too…” You breathed out, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten even more.

“Please-mh…cum on my dick? yeah? wanna feel you..please…” He whimpered, he felt like he couldn’t contain his upcoming orgasm. You couldn’t even respond as the repetitive brushing of his tip against your G-spot drove you to the edge. Letting out a loud moan, you came for the second time while he was still inside of you. That caused Tate’s eyes to roll back, his groans only filling the room as the feeling of your cum dripping on his length and your walls squeezing it, was too much to bear. He quickly pulled out and came all over your stomach, then he collapsed next to you.

He spent the next moments cuddling up against you, thinking about everything. His hands were playing with your hair, and when he looked down he found your eyes closed and your breath steady. He smiled at the sight, wanting every night of his afterlife to end like this and determined to make that happen. He kept placing sweet kisses on the top of your head, while he wondered how he was gonna explain to you that he died before Tumblr even existed.

.⋆.‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧.⋆.

taglist: @cxndiedvi0lets @angeldollw @doll3tt33 @marchsfreakshow @fear-is-truth @dykejugheadjones @happy74827 @evpeters87 @dont-look-behind @brightanshiny

a/n: rahhhh tate's such a loser needy boy. BTW spent sm time on this fic, I'm pretty proud of how it turned out!! hope you like it! this is for my tumblr girlies🩷

all rights reserved!!

[cleo-fox]

Conquer

Part 1 of 5

Series Masterlist

Summary: The king intends to take a bride.

You just never thought it would be you.

(Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex (fem receiving), teasing, p in v sex, vaginal fingering.

A/N: I’m kind of fascinated by the concept of a soulmate AU where Loki wins and this is just another take on that thought. If you've read my fic Surrender, this one is a different universe (an AU of an AU? Is that a thing?)

I am indebted to @infinitystoner, who was kind enough to talk me through some of my doubts about this fic. This one is for you, K. (Also, everyone should go read her work, it's fabulous).

The king intends to take a bride.

At first you think it’s just a stupid rumor, but with time, it becomes clear that it’s not merely a stupid rumor, but a true rumor about a stupid plan. He hasn’t found his soulmate; the speculation is that this is about producing an heir or something similar. Which is also stupid because he’s the one who took over your fucking planet. He can make new rules for succession if he wants to. He doesn’t have to make other people suffer.

You, like most people, still harbor a lot of anger and resentment toward Loki.

You don’t know who he’s going to rope into this plan, but you feel bad for her already. Imagine not only having to be married to that monster, but being in this weird second place to whoever is unfortunate enough to be his soulmate. Imagine having to fuck him, to try and have his kid, all the while knowing you’ll be discarded once he finds his soulmate. Imagine having to go along with all of this and never being able to say what you really think.

The only person you feel sorrier for is whoever turns out to be his soulmate.

Later, all of this will strike you as absurdly ironic.

But you don’t know any of that yet.

*

You took a job at the hotel because you needed a change of pace after Loki took over. It was just a front desk job—you checked people in and out, answered questions, and said “let me get my manager” whenever there was a serious problem with a guest. It wasn’t glamorous or fun, but it was straightforward and you never had to bring work home with you.

The one thing that you never really considered was whether you were inadvertently choosing a job that would bring you into closer proximity to the man you were trying so desperately hard to not think about at all.

You probably should have considered it—you knew when you took the job that he did a fair amount of travel. You never really understood why—he conquered the entire fucking planet, you think he’d be content to just chill in his palace or whatever. But no. He was constantly on the move, constantly showing up and demanding to be accommodated, and people put up with it because what else are they supposed to do? You can’t exactly persona non grata the guy that successfully took over your planet and made himself king. If that worked, he wouldn’t be here in the first place.

You kind of assumed that he wouldn’t show up to your hotel—it wasn’t conveniently located to anything useful and while it technically had a five star rating, you didn’t think it offered the same caliber of accommodations as the places he was known to stay.

As it turns out, you were wrong on all counts. Hilariously wrong. Because now his steward is here in your hotel lobby. Or his…emissary? You’re not sure what this guy’s official title is. You recognize him from the news—he can often be spotted in the entourage of guards and staff that accompany Loki everywhere, but you don’t know his name. He is rattling off a monologue of sorts—the king requires accommodations, only the finest rooms, and so on. You feel as though you are having an out of body experience as you click through the booking software and confirm that the penthouse is available. You breathe an inner sigh of relief—it would have been manageable to evict whichever rich person had booked it, but it would have fucked up the cleaning crew’s scheduling for at least the next week and you know that corporate is already up Marisol’s ass about your location’s overtime.

You don’t really expect him to show up during this transaction. If you had, you would have said “let me get my manager” and washed your hands of it—you don’t get paid nearly enough to deal with self-proclaimed kings. But as you are booking the room (who the fuck are you supposed to list as the guarantor on the invoice? This wasn’t covered in your training), Loki storms in, followed by a cadre of guards.

You’re not really prepared to see him in person—that’s partly why you freeze. He’s so tall and well…real. It sounds stupid, but it’s jarring seeing him in front of you instead of on a screen or in a picture. He’s not exactly more frightening, but looking at him makes your pulse quicken.

He’s scolding the steward (emissary?) about something—you’re so distracted that you miss exactly what it is that has him so annoyed.

And then you realize that the mark on your left wrist is burning.

You swallow hard. No. Not him.

Loki looks up and his eyes lock with yours.

Fucking hell.

*

The wedding is a spectacle, to say the least.

Your dress is fucking ridiculous. Instead of the traditional white, you are draped in yards of green fabric covered in thousands of emeralds and diamonds and painstakingly embroidered with thread made of real gold and silver. It is very much a statement about who you are and who you belong to. You don’t care for it, but you don’t really have a choice—the details of the ceremony have been largely left to other people to decide. Part of you thinks they must have been planning for this for years, based on the number of things that are already prepared. Or maybe having access to magic negates the need for planning ahead.

You are much too angry to actually ask Loki about any of this. Not that you see much of him before the ceremony anyway.

You go through the motions of the ceremony, trying to keep your cool. It’s only been a week since he found you at the hotel, so the fact that you haven’t consummated your soulbond is more akin to an annoying itch than anything more disruptive, but when he kisses you at the conclusion of the ceremony, it's…intense, to say the least. The mild ache that settled itself between your thighs last week seems to swell, sending a fresh wave of arousal to your core. When he slides his tongue past your lips, all you want to do is release a wanton moan directly into his mouth and rub yourself shamelessly against him. The fact that you’re standing on a platform while the entire world looks on is really the only thing that stops you.

The fact that this is your immediate reaction scares you a bit. You know it’s biology—soulbonds are meant to be consummated isn’t just a saying—but there’s part of you that feels like you should have a stronger handle on that impulse. You are mad at him, you remind yourself. He took over your entire planet, installed himself as king, and then had the audacity to be your soulmate. Focus. Be angry.

You wonder if your family and friends are watching. Your phone ran out of battery the night after he found you and you haven’t had the heart to charge it. You’re barely managing your own emotional reaction—you’re not ready to invite anyone else into it just yet.

The rest of your wedding day is a blur. You meet a bunch of important people and retain exactly none of their names or roles. There is an elaborate multi-course feast and you manage to eat without spilling food on your dress, which feels like a small miracle. You meet more important people and somehow retain even less information. You dance—a few dances with important people whose names you’ve forgotten, but mostly with Loki. The sun sets. They bring out an elaborate dessert course. You dance again. Loki’s hand on your waist fans the flames of desire that you’re trying so hard to ignore.

Finally, you’re whisked away to prepare for bed. It took three people to get you into your dress, and it takes just as many to get you out. They help you into a nightgown that you also didn’t get to pick out—and in fact, it’s the first time you’re seeing it at all. It’s almost too pretty to sleep in, though you suppose that’s the point—you’re supposed to fall asleep naked and sated in the arms of your new husband (god, it’s so weird that you have a husband). You’re not so sure that this is the specific fate that’s in your cards, but you anticipate the nightgown will be coming off at some point this evening. In the interim, you look stereotypically virginal in white lace and chiffon, a glittering emerald pendant resting in your cleavage.

You’ve been staying in a guest suite since he found you, but tonight, they bring you to his rooms. Your rooms, you suppose. Somehow, you doubt he’s the sort who believes that husbands and wives should sleep separately.

The lights are on, but it’s quiet. You wonder if he’s even here.

You approach the couch that sits in front of the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the city. You can see fireworks and twinkling lights of different celebrations and your stomach clenches like a fist. It’s supposed to be in honor of you. Earth’s new queen. A title that shouldn’t even exist, let alone belong to you.

You turn away from the window and sit down on the couch. You stare at the wall, hands twisting the delicate fabric of your nightgown in your lap.

You hear a sound in the other room—his study, you think—and your heart leaps to your throat, practically buzzing with an emotion that feels like the strange cousin of anxiety and anticipation.

You keep your eyes locked on the wall as you listen to his footsteps draw closer.

“It’s customary to announce yourself when you enter someone’s quarters, you know.”

You pause for a moment before letting your gaze trail to him. It’s a conscious, obnoxious power play on your part—you are trying to show him that you still have agency, that he has not yet won your respect or admiration.

You’re not even sure that it registers, which only serves to irritate you further.

He is still wearing most of his wedding clothes, though he’s taken off the fine surcoat from the ceremony, exposing the soft tunic he was wearing underneath. He is smirking—that seems to be his expression of choice, you’ve noticed.

“Aren’t these my rooms too?” you ask. “Is it customary to announce myself in my own space?”

You are trying to be rude, but it doesn’t seem to matter: he simply laughs.

“You are spirited,” he says, looking you over appreciatively, stirring a wild and burning need in your hips, slickness collecting in the lacy white underwear that had been chosen for you.

“And you intend to break me, is that it?” you snap with more venom than is perhaps wise.

“Of course not.” His answer surprises you, though you are determined to not let that show in your face. “Your will is part of your appeal. I’d no sooner crush a rose beneath my boot.”

You are skeptical of this claim given the amount of damage he did to New York City, but your traitorous cunt throbs at his words nonetheless.

“I’m not happy about any of this, you know,” you say, hoping that your anger will act like roiling floodwaters on the firestorm of lust that’s continuing to build in your hips.

It doesn’t, of course. What’s worse: he laughs. Again.

“I’d gathered,” he says. “You are wonderfully unsubtle when you’re angry.”

“I mean, are you surprised?” you say irritably. “I didn’t even get to pick out my own wedding dress, for fuck’s sake.”

“This is the burden of the office, I’m afraid,” he says. “Your wants and desires are often secondary to the needs of the crown.”

You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from screaming at him. “I think you’re missing the point.”

“I think you’ll find I’m not.”

You let out one long breath. “Are you trying to irritate me?”

Another smirk. “I’m afraid I simply have a gift for it.”

You finally give in and scowl. “Great. This is going about as well as I had expected.”

His eyes drift down the column of your throat to the emerald pendant resting in your cleavage and then to the bodice of your nightgown. “Perhaps it’s time we concern ourselves with activities that require less talking.” He licks his lips and brings his gaze back up to yours.

“I’m not entirely convinced anything would stop you from talking,” you say.

“I suspect letting me bury my tongue in your cunt might do the trick.”

For the first time today, you are entirely speechless. The fire burning low in your hips roars into an inferno, like someone has poured accelerant along your nerves and Loki has struck a match. You take in one shaky breath, your heart thrumming in your throat.

“That’s what I thought,” he says with a dark sort of smugness. “To bed, wife.”

You steadfastly ignore the way your stomach jumps when he calls you ‘wife.’ Why is that hot? It shouldn’t be hot.

You’re tempted to argue with him some more—you don’t like giving him even the vaguest impression that you’re following his orders or anything like that—but one smoldering look from him has your heart pounding and another wave of fresh arousal flooding between your legs. You follow him to the bed, trying to keep your expression neutral and indifferent.

He pulls you firmly against him and you wonder if he can feel your heart pounding in your chest. There’s no space between you—you can feel his stomach muscles expand and contract with every slow intake of breath, the press of his slowly hardening cock against your stomach.

He tilts your face up to his and claims your mouth in a devouring kiss, and this time, the moan that you’d held back during the ceremony slips from your lips almost immediately. He makes a low growling noise in return, his hands sliding to the row of small pearl buttons that hold up the back of your nightgown.

You suspect that beyond aesthetic and functional value, the purpose of these buttons is to facilitate a slow, sexy reveal; Loki undoes exactly two and a half buttons before roughly pulling the edges of the fabric apart, the remaining buttons snapping from their threads and pinging against the floor.

You pull away from him, immediately annoyed. “Do you make a habit of ruining other people’s things? What if I wanted to wear that again?”

He laughs, tugging the fabric off your shoulders. “Perhaps you forget the extraordinary powers I have at my command,” he says, staring greedily at your breasts as he tugs the nightgown down your waist, pulling it off your hips so it falls to the floor. “I could tear this gown off you every night and remake it every morning with no more than a click of my fingers.”

Fucking magic powers undercutting your goddamn fucking point.

“Yeah, well, you’re still a jackass,” you say sourly, unwilling to concede the point any further.

His smile is sharp in a way that makes you shiver and he slips his hand into your underwear, his smile growing as he feels how slick you are. “It doesn’t seem to bother you all that much, does it?”

You try to keep your expression stern, but his fingers find your clit and you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips.

“Your sweet cunt is so ready to come.” He slides a finger into you and you whimper. “It’s obscene how wet you are for me.”

You bite back a plea and kiss him instead. His mouth is rough on yours, teeth nipping at your lower lip, tongue plundering your mouth. He slides a second finger into you and you keen.

“Yes,” he groans against your mouth. “Take it like a good girl.”

You clench around his fingers and your hands seek purchase in his hair. You tug on it lightly and he growls with pleasure before he pulls away, his hands moving to the waistband of your underwear and tugging it off your hips.

“Get on the bed.” His tone brooks no arguments. “Now.”

It’s tempting to talk back, tempting to resist. You are still angry about every aspect of this relationship and this stupid fucking wedding. But you know you need this—the dull ache in your hips is only growing more pronounced with every passing moment and the brief feeling of his fingers on your clit was nothing short of heaven. Soulbonds are meant to be consummated and your body seems to be doing everything it can to propel you toward that end.

You kick your underwear the rest of the way off before sitting down on the bed and lying back on the pillows.

He pauses for a moment to look you over, his gaze trailing lazily over your bare skin, his hand absently moving to palm his cock through his trousers. “Spread your legs,” he says. You do and you catch a breath of a groan from him as he stares at you. Your cunt throbs in response and you bite your lip to keep yourself from whimpering.

He allows himself one moment before he crawls on the bed to join you. He kneels between your legs, staring greedily at your exposed cunt, running a thumb along the edge of your folds. Your hips rock upward involuntarily, chasing his hand, seeking friction.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he murmurs. “So soaking wet, so desperately needy for my touch.” He pauses again, licking his lips. “I think I might need a taste.”

Your breath stutters in your chest and he kisses the inside of your thigh, slowly licking and sucking his way upward in a tantalizing preview of what’s to come. You’re already soaking and you can feel yourself growing wetter as his sinful mouth draws closer and closer to your aching need.

You’re not entirely sure whether it’s a moan or a whine that passes your lips when he finally licks that first long, lazy stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit. He groans low and wanting against your cunt, his tongue rolling over your clit once more before he catches it between his lips and slowly begins to suck.

There is no getting around it: Loki is a pro at eating pussy.

It would be easier if he wasn’t, you find yourself thinking somewhere in the haze between orgasms. If he were mediocre, it would make it so much easier to be angry at him, to resent your current situation. This is not to say that you’ve abandoned your anger at all—you are still mad. But your anger feels so much less effective when he’s spent a solid ninety minutes with his head between your legs and you’ve lost track of the number of times he’s made you come.

He is—predictably—infuriatingly smug about all of this.

Your first orgasm arrives so quickly that it seems to take you both by surprise. And indeed, he lifts his head moments later, already smirking.

“That was awfully quick, wife,” he says. The glint in his eye tells you that he absolutely noticed how you reacted to that name earlier and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from scowling.

“Maybe you’re out of practice,” you say. Even as you say it, it doesn’t sound convincing (it doesn’t even make sense when you think about it later) and Loki laughs outright.

“I think not,” he says, carefully sliding one long index finger inside of you. “I think your poor cunt has been sorely neglected, either by you or some subpar lover you took to ease the ache of missing me.” He adds a second finger and you bite your lip to keep in a moan. “I think you’ll be begging for me before the night is out.” His fingertips press teasingly against that spot inside you and you take in a sharp breath.

He starts lazily moving his fingers in and out of you and while it feels good, you know it’s not going to be enough to get you there. You suspect, from the way that he’s smirking, that he knows this, too.

“Do you want my mouth again? I don’t think you’re done.”

“You’re trying to be a jerk and I don’t like it,” you say.

He laughs and draws his thumb briefly over your clit. “Darling, I only want you to tell me what you want.”

Your eyes narrow. “Why?”

“I think you can understand the appeal of hearing a beautiful woman beg for your touch.”

His compliment immediately clashes with the suggestion that you begging for him is a possibility.

He smiles, catlike, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“You need my mouth again,” he says, fingers curling inside you. “You need more. I can feel how wet you are, sweet thing.” His thumb presses against your clit and retreats as soon as your breath hitches.

“I could keep you like this for hours. Days, even,” he says, lazily stroking his fingers inside you. “I could keep you right on the edge, begging for your release. But I don’t think you want that. Even I don’t want that. I think you want to come again right now and I think you want my mouth.”

“I’m not begging you for it,” you say.

“I’ve only asked you to tell me what you want,” he says. “I’ve merely expressed that I find the idea of you begging very appealing.”

You want to smack him. With your luck, though, that would turn out to be one of his kinks and then you’ll really be in for it. Your fingers flex against the sheets.

“Do you want to come, darling? Do you want my mouth again?” he asks with a feigned innocence that suggests it’s not a loaded question, even as the glint in his eyes tells you it is.

You’re silent for a beat and then his thumb returns to your clit, pressing and stroking as his fingers curl inside of you. Your hips rock with his hand and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning aloud when he stops a few seconds later, his eyebrows raised like he’s expecting your answer.

This exchange repeats four more times. On the fifth, you finally break.

“Please,” you whimper. You sound more desperate than you would prefer, but your overwhelming need to come has quickly superseded whatever shreds of decency you have left.

“Please what?” he asks, radiating smugness.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl, which he only laughs at.

“I’m waiting…” he says, his fingers curling in a teasing way.

You know there’s no getting around this. “I need to come.”

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, like he’s expecting more.

You resist the urge to sigh. “I need your mouth. Please.”

He barely spares a second for a wicked grin and a growl of praise that only elevates your need before he’s lowering his mouth again to your clit.

Your second orgasm is somehow even quicker than the first, only this time, you’re already whimpering for the next one as soon as you catch your breath.

Mercifully, he doesn’t lift his mouth from your cunt this time, though he does give you a wicked look that more or less says the same thing.

His fingers are wonderful, but you know they’re no substitute for his cock. And while he has made you come so many times already, the need to have him inside of you continues to grow, settling into a dull ache in your hips.

“I need you to fuck me,” you finally breathe as the aftershocks of your latest orgasm fade back to that ache.

He lifts his head for a minute. “I intend to, but I don’t think you’re done yet.”

Your eyes widen as he seals his lips back around your clit.

“I mean, I’ve just—fuck—I’ve just had more…c-consecutive orgasms than I’ve ever had before in my life, you’re—oh my god, yes—you’re not exactly leaving me wanting—oh fuck.”

He stays silent, but it’s because his tongue is working over your clit. You, on the other hand, are in the process of undercutting your own point. A few more strokes of his tongue and you are coming again, your hips jerking hard against his mouth.

He doesn’t stop after that, either—he draws more orgasms from you, groaning into your cunt when you pull on his hair.

Your pleas for him to fuck you become increasingly desperate with every orgasm, until he finally lifts his head.

“What was it that you wanted?” he asks with a smirk that tells you he needs absolutely no clarification whatsoever.

“Fuck me, please. I need to be fucked, I need your cock,” you say. You feel restless and desperate, the ache inside you growing with every passing second.

“Oh, darling, all you needed to do was ask,” he says, his tone overly cloying.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl. “I have been asking. Repeatedly.”

He laughs and begins to undress. You suspect he’s doing this to torture you—you know he could remove his clothes in one go if he wanted to.

He peels his shirt off first and your lips part involuntarily as you take in the firm expanse of muscle of his chest and abdomen, your fingertips itching with the need to touch him. You grip the sheets instead in the vain hope that it might make a difference (it doesn’t).

But even the enticing expanse of his chest is no match for what’s to come.

He removes his trousers with achingly precise slowness. You expect him to be hard; what you’re not expecting is the primal response that it invokes in you. His cock is long, thick, and hard, the head already slick with pre-come. It’s not just for you—it’s because of you.

You swallow hard as he turns to face you fully. You’re so distracted by his cock that you almost miss the smug smirk, which he makes no attempt to hide. He knows he’s hot, he knows he has a beautiful cock, and he knows that you are absolutely aching for him. It is profoundly irritating.

He wraps his hand around his cock, wetting his lips as he casually strokes himself once. “Do you want me?” he asks with the sort of tone and expression that tells you he absolutely knows the answer.

You could yell at him. The prospect is certainly tempting. But you’re not sure that it’s worth it, not with the way your cunt is throbbing with the need to be filled with his beautiful, thick cock.

“Loki, please.” It comes out as more of a whine than you’d like, but you decide that you can live with it.

You are treated to a particularly wolfish grin before he starts stalking towards you.

There’s a large part of you that expects him to flip you over and take you from behind, rough and fast and impersonal. But instead, he climbs on top of you and draws you into a kiss. It’s deep and slow and heightened by the heavy weight of his bare cock pressing against your belly, drops of pre-come smearing against your skin.

Your back arches and your right leg snakes around his waist, trying to pull him closer, urging him to finally ease the ache inside of you. But he takes his time, kissing you slowly, running his hands over your breasts and hips, rocking his cock against you, but not inside of you.

You don’t like begging—it feels too much like offering up a vulnerability—but it becomes increasingly difficult not to give into the urge the longer he stays on top of you like this.

“Loki,” you finally say when he starts peppering sharp, sucking kisses against your throat.

“What is it, my love?” he asks with a faux confusion that you can see through right away.

“You know what I want,” you say as evenly as you can manage.

“Mmm, let me hear you say it just once more,” he says.

“Please fuck me.”

You’re expecting another negotiation, another battle of wits, but instead, he gives you a rather sharp grin and adjusts his hips so he can rub the tip of his cock up and down the length of your cunt. And then, to your surprise, he lines his cock up at your entrance and slowly begins to ease inside of you.

There’s a part of you—a large part of you—that’s surprised by how careful he is. He’s gentle, slowly pressing into you, giving you time to adjust, his movements careful. He does this all in such a way that you might not notice if you didn’t think to look—he wants you to think that he’s not doing any of what he’s doing. He wants you to think he’s not thinking of you when he is, that the care and precision of his movements are merely a pleasant coincidence. You’re not sure how you know this, but you feel certain.

He waits to kiss you until he’s pressed fully inside you, and you realize this is another illusion, another cover so you don’t realize that he’s giving you another moment to adjust to him.

It’s oddly considerate—irritatingly so. The coals of your anger still burn bright in your heart, but they flicker for just a moment.

But then he begins to move and coherent thoughts flee your mind entirely.

He feels so good. You’re not sure if it’s the soulbond itself, the dopamine and serotonin, or if he just knows the perfect way to move, but the first thrust has your toes curling and that warm heat stirring in your belly. You’ve already come so many times tonight that it feels impossible that your body should be capable of more, but you know immediately that he’s going to bring you right back over the edge if he keeps moving the way he is.

And he’s showing no signs of stopping, either.

“Norns,” he breathes, pressing a kiss against your neck, “you feel perfect. So warm and tight.”

You shiver, your cunt clenching reflexively around his slowly stroking cock. He grins and presses his lips up against your ear.

“Do you like hearing how your snug little cunt fits me like a glove?”

You would prefer to be able to lie in this particular moment—instead, your body immediately betrays you and your legs tighten around his waist as your cunt shudders around him.

You can practically feel his sharp, hungry smile as he nips at your earlobe. “I can feel how much you do,” he murmurs. A devastating swivel of his hips has you uttering a gasping whine that you are not at all proud of.

“That’s it.” He’s swiveling his hips on every other thrust now and you know the moment he switches to that exclusively, it’s all over. “You’re so close,” he purrs with confidence that annoys you just a little, even in your pre-orgasmic stupor.

But then he swivels his hips again and you shudder before you can hide it and he notices…and does it again.

And again.

Fuck.

Your orgasm starts barreling toward you at an impossibly fast pace and his eyes glitter because he knows.

“You’re going to come for me.” It’s not even a command—it’s just a statement as he rolls his hips in those devastating thrusts.

You whimper, your back arching.

“Give into it. Let me feel you.”

One more push of his cock against that sweet spot inside you and you can’t fight it any more. Your muscles tense one last time and you cry out as you come hard on his cock.

“Oh, beautiful,” he groans, his eyes closing as he fucks you through it.

It seems to last a long time, drawn out every time the head of his cock drags against that sensitive spot that sent you over the edge in the first place. He pauses briefly to bring your legs up over his shoulders, which makes his cock hit a spot even deeper inside you that feels so good it pulls a strangled sob from your throat.

Loki groans, his pace increasing, one hand falling between your legs to rub at your clit. It’s so much, but it feels better than anything. You feel another orgasm rising in your hips and you whimper.

“Good girl, fucking take it,” he slurs. You can tell that he’s getting close from the way his thrusting is becoming more frantic, how he tips his head back and grips your hips even harder.

“Come for me,” he growls. “I’m going to fill your lovely cunt with my seed. Come for me.”

Your vision whites out and your back arches as you come. If you were capable of rational thought, you would be angry that your body simply obeyed this simple directive; as it is, it’s hard for you to process anything other than how good he feels inside of you.

You can tell he’s approaching his end and he’s utterly captivating to watch. His eyes are screwed shut, brow furrowed and lips parted as he lets out a low groan that makes your toes curl.

His eyes open in the final throes and he surges forward to kiss you. He moans softly into your mouth as he comes, his whole body shuddering.

You feel dreamy and sated as he slows to a halt, lowering his head to the crook of your neck. The restless ache inside you is finally quiet—at least for now.

You expect him to roll off you and fall asleep—the portrait of a cliche. Instead, he stays with you, the warm heat of his breath ghosting over your shoulder. You can feel his cock still throbbing inside of you.

You should push him away, reclaim the distance between you. You’re angry at him, after all.

But also…it feels nice.

It’s just the endorphins, you tell yourself. It’s hormones. It doesn’t mean anything.

You can feel the lie prickling at the edges of the thought, sharp and needling, like ground glass pressing against bare skin. It means a lot of things; you just wish it didn’t.

Be angry.

His lips brush against your shoulder. More of your muscles relax. It’s nice.

Be angry.

You’re tired though. It’s been a really long day and the bed is soft and the weight of Loki on top of you is oddly reassuring.

Maybe just for tonight. Maybe just this once you’ll allow yourself to fall asleep in his bed.

“I’m still mad at you,” you say. It feels too sharp, too strident. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. He doesn’t know you, though, not really, and so you can only hope that he misses the subtle catch in your voice, that little note of uncertainty.

“I’d expect nothing less.” His voice is slightly muffled against your shoulder.

Goddammit, why does this have to be so comfortable?

He shifts slightly, easing out of you. You feel the resulting mess vanish before it even hits your thigh. At least he’s considerate.

You scowl at the thought.

“Sleep,” he says after a moment. “You’ll need your strength to rage at me in the morning.”

“I can rage at you in my sleep,” you say as your eyes slide shut.

“I’m sure you can,” he says. “Sleep.”

And despite all your complicated feelings—your anger, the inherent feeling of ease you get from his embrace, your unease with your new title, your homesickness—you find that the pull of sleep is too tempting to resist and the world slowly fades away.

Next chapter

[celestie0]

hi friends, i won’t be posting or updating any of my works for an indefinite period n will be on hiatus from this blog as well.

i’ve unlisted kickoff & ihm on ao3 (haven’t deleted, they’ve just been made private) and i’ve unpinned my masterlist here on tumblr (again nothing’s been deleted so you could probably find the chapters if you searched my tags)

but the reason i did that is because i don’t want any new readers finding my works during my hiatus because i don’t want to potentially upset more people in the event that, during this hiatus, i decide that i would no longer like to write my fics

that would be an insanely sad decision to make. i put so much thought into my stories not because i am trying to make them entertaining, but it’s because they genuinely mean so much to me and are cathartic in ways i can’t describe. i have spent a great majority of my life self negating for the sake of others, and so writing was just a form of expression where i could talk about all the things i’ve suppressed over the years - anxiety, career stress, financial stress, avoidance, depression, loss, coming of age, navigating love, etc

but lately, and i do think it’s been a build up of just some careless words from a handful of people over the months, i find myself steering towards a practice of writing that is no longer asking the question “how can i put as much of myself in this piece as possible?” but rather “how can i make sure people won’t criticize this…i feel awful that it doesn’t have what they want it to have…other creators are doing xyz, should i be doing that too?…i’m just scared to share this”

not exactly sure when that shift in headspace began, but as of right now, it’s as strong as ever. and i understand that those questions may seem irrational, and i just have to try to not focus on the feeling, n i wish i was someone that could compartmentalize those thoughts better, but here’s the thing — the whole reason i started expressing myself through writing in the first place was because i’ve spent my whole life compartmentalizing. it would feel so ironic & untrue to the lessons i’ve learned in this journey if i just chose to “suck this up” and continue pushing forward until i reach a point of burnout simply because i don’t want to upset anyone

i’m really sorry i couldn’t focus on the positive. especially with all the insane n incredible amount of love n support i’ve received for my works. i’ve said this time n time again but when i started posting kickoff to ao3 back in january of this year, i had NO idea it would be this loved by so many people…i was like ok can’t wait to interact w these four readers for the rest of the year…and then BAM, i find myself fully sobbing after each chapter update because i was so touched by all the sweet n kind words. i don’t want this decision to come off in a way that makes it seems like i don’t love u guys sm or that i’m ungrateful — i’ve always taken pride in respecting my audience. even for a simple hobby, i try to put effort into my works. i proofread, i plan out, i edit in length, all because i am, well, for one, i’m a bit of a perfectionist LOL but also i think there’s a great deal of honor in respecting an audience that gives you their time n attention

but i already am struggling in my life to focus on the positive. medicine has been such an incredibly daunting career to pursue, i’m honestly only doing slightly better now because i’m just filled with relief that i got into med school to begin with lol it’s still surreal to me, so the stress has been kinda manageable so far on that sense of optimism, but dear god the shit i went through to get here…and the shit i know i still face ahead of me. i spend all of my serotonin on trying to stay positive in the face of my responsibilities. so all of this time i’ve spent trying to stay positive for the sake of my stories too has just left me with so much exhaustion — i just don’t see why posting my works should be anything less than fun and endlessly exciting when it’s a hobby that’s supposed to help me thru the actual brunt of life.

anyways, i’m getting a little carried away here. all this to say, i just need to take time away from posting my works so i can see writing as something for myself n not for others again. i don’t want the thoughts swimming in my head to be thoughts of anxiety over people potentially criticizing me n my creative decisions. i want the thoughts in my head to once again be positive, excited, and nurturing towards my stories. i don’t see how i can accomplish that at this point unless i start writing for myself once more, and not for others

i still have a great deal of passion to write, which is why i haven’t formally taken down my works. i anticipate that i may be able to come back in the future to share my writing again. but as of right now, i just want to heal the relationship that i have with this hobby, and i feel like that’s gotta happen in private (lmfao it sounds like im tryna freak my writing)

i’m sorry that i turned off my asks n my replies, i know so many of u care about me n want to support me n i just am beyond thankful. i don’t anticipate this is a forever goodbye, but i do just need some time rn away from all of this.

hope u all have a happy time!! and take care of yourselves :) much love

- ellie

[spurious]

what was the moment where you said yes to McShep?

OKAY SO.

Obviously you, audioletter my beloved wife know all this but. I’m not sure I’ve talked about how I got into SGA/mcshep on my tumblr so.

After finishing the x-files in 2022, my wife’s Zaddy Husband Mitch Pileggi beckoned us to watch Stargate Atlantis (because we couldn’t stomach Walker Texas Ranger). We’ve both been in fandom for a Long Time and thus remembered the years that McShep reigned supreme, and starting the show we said to each other “haha wouldn’t it be funny if we became ride-or-die mcshep shippers?”

……..yeah.

From the very start of the show, basically every single time John and Rodney were on screen together we’d go “haha mcshep lol”

So now I’m like. trying to excavate my memories to figure out when it Became Real for me.

I do tend to love buddy slash pairings and ships where one person is shrill while the other is chill so it’s not, like, surprising to me in hindsight that I did end up shipping mcshep? And then the SGA fandom being so friendly and active just…allowed my fixation the space to flourish.

But anyway, let’s see what the first McShep thing I saved to my camera roll was!

*drumroll*

It’s this art by the amazing @luluxa:

So at this point I think I was still at the “no no, I’m saving this fanart to my phone ironically” stage.

Now, this was October 30th. By November 3rd, I have photos of a trip to mandarake where I was really hoping to find SGA doujinshi cause I SWEAR I’d seen it before (I’ve not managed to find it yet. Japanese fans why. You guys love generic white guys mcshep should be massive here)

The first fic I have bookmarked is from November 2nd with the note “oh no I have feelings about McShep now” and it is Counting Down by @alienfuckeronmain, which is a post-trinity fic.

HOWEVER. I also have a Grace Under Pressure coda bookmarked from a day or so later, and this tracks with my impressions: this is the episode that most intensely sticks out in my mind as being emotionally memorable and something I needed to be reading fic about. Soooooo I guess it was Rodney that got me, and the need to process my emotions about episodes by reading other people’s processing, and, uh, now here I am almost two years later!

SO. To get to the actual question, several paragraphs and approximately a day later, I don’t know that there really was a single moment that put me there, as opposed to a series of moments enacted onto an already-primed pump? Because truly I should know by now that the danger of doing something ironically is that you end up doing it ronically, but. I remember devouring the fic I could find that was non-spoilery as we were watching (lots of episode tags) and it definitely shaped my perspective on John and Rodney’s interactions.

But essentially, this is a ship archetype I tend to like, and Rodney McKay is absolutely the type of horrible little gremlin man I tend to like, and the fic was good, and. Here we are lmao

[tinfoil-jones]

For Your Own Good: Intermission

Askbox? Open

If you don't know what this post is about, "For Your Own Good" or tagged as "Early Amnesia AU" on tumblr is a dialogue-only Gravity Falls fanfiction I've been working on that kinda-sorta follows a Mystery Trio -esque timeline, where Ford doesn't build the portal. To sum it up, the whole fanfiction boils down to:

Researcher Ford: I told you I never wanted to see you again.

Mullet Stan: Dude, I don't know who you are or WTF you're talking about right now, but I'm leaving this town and never coming back. You are never seeing me again after this. I'm probably going to forget you in like five minutes.

Researcher Ford:

Researcher Ford: *immediately kidnaps him*

You can consider chapters 1-10 to be Act 1 of the fanfic, and I’m taking a break for at least a week, most likely longer. The chapters so far were already written out in advance, and so was a huge reveal, but I still need to tie things together.

Here’s some authors notes/extra stuff about it, some of it might have already been put in the AO3 before or after notes. These are in no particular order:

This takes place 10 years after Ford and Stan were separated, currently they are both 27 about to be 28. Fiddleford is slightly older than them, being in his early 30s.

Ford is unironically the only person who finds Stan’s really dumb jokes funny.

Ford is the one who displays the most behaviours that would be seen from Mabel and Dipper decades later. Like Dipper, he views washing clothes as a waste of time, and like Mabel he ate an entire tube of toothpaste (granted, it was on accident)

While Ford is the more likely of the two to display traits that later present in Mabel and Dipper, it still happens with Stan as well. Stan has a similar nervous-chewing habit that Dipper displays in the OG series, but his only comes out when he’s particularly anxious. In this case, it was because he had nicotine cravings.

The 'That motherfucker is ugly' line that Stan used on Ford can be considered extra ironic because of how much the Stan Twins look like their dad.

Bill Cipher was originally supposed to speak in Times New Bastard (which is Times New Roman except every 7th letter is jarringly sans serif, a meme from tumblr), but AO3 and tumblr don’t let you change the font.

Stan goes out of his way to avoid using Ford and Fiddlefords given names- but this isn’t because he doesn’t know what they are. In the few times he has used their names, it was a sign that he was being sincere.

If you want to wonder whether or not Fiddleford likes Stan back, consider the fact that he could have walked away at any point, and either washed his hands of the whole thing, or just outright reported Stanford to the authorities. 

Bill is more like Discord from MLP - he’s just chaotic, often to the detriment of others, but he isn’t outright malicious (anymore), and he’s too busy SIMPING to cause any real harm. Basically, Bill is Fords patron for studying weirdness - he helps Ford in his research, but the cost that Ford pays is that Bill is able to possess him when he sleeps, and has unlimited access to his brain.

If Ford knew Rick Sanchez, why didn’t Rick see how similar Stan looked and put 2-and-2 together? Easy; Rick didn’t give a single shit about Ford, so he never committed his face or name to memory. Ford himself only remembered Rick because Rick was such a massive, egotistical asshole. If anything, Rick would think Ford is the lesser version of Stan.

Chapter 10 was the first concrete proof that the Stan we’ve been following likely is Stanley Pines and not some similar conman named Stan Malone. The last time Ford saw Stan would have either been when they were teens, so other than Stans commercials for his failed products there’s no way Ford would know what an adult Stan would even look like, and he’d have to use himself as a reference.

Stan has given some insight on his Thalassophobia (fear of the ocean / large bodies of water). In Chapter 10, he told Ford a number of things he escaped, including the trunk of a sinking car, and cement shoes. Cement shoes are either when you tie someone to a cinder block and throw them into a body of water, or when you literally incase their feet in cement, wait for it to dry, and then toss them into a body of water, so they’ll drown. Presumably, these are still things that would have happened to him even if he didn't lose his memories, so why would it give him a fear of the ocean now? Stan Pines in the OG still had a lot of positive memories associated with the ocean - he grew up on the coast, and had a lot of his hopes and dreams tied to the ocean. But without his childhood memories, he has no positive associations with it, only memories of times he almost drowned. 

Ford himself is not a touchy guy. The reason he hugs Stan even though it isn’t reciprocated is because from his perspective, this is his twin brother who is in pain and has been suffering all by himself for a long time. And Stan - at least how Ford remembers him - had a very touch-based love language. Fords doing it because he thinks it’d comfort him.

Stan seems pretty calm and chill for someone who’s been kidnapped by a ‘stranger’. This isn’t because he’s an overall chill guy because of amnesia, no he’s super pissed and the second he knows he’s free he will let them know that with his words, and incredible violence. He’s remaining calm because he’s been imprisoned and kidnapped enough times to know that pitching a fit or lashing out at his captors won’t do him any favours.

Fiddleford is still married to Emma-May and they do have Tate. But it's one of those lavender marriages (they're both gay and mutually bearding each other)

[writer-kermit]

Cognitive Bias in the Mortal Kombat Fandom

❥ GENRE: EXPLORATORY ESSAY

❥ COMMISSIONED OR SELF MADE: SELF MADE

❥ W/C: 1,314 (W/O SOURCES)

ঞ SUMMARY: The world is changing, and so is our perception of media. So why are we against these changes? What if everything remained the same from the beginning?

ᰔ KERMIT'S NOTE: I haven't made an exploratory essay since 2022. Mostly because I was afraid of what people might perceive me as. But for a while, I gathered the confidence to start writing more essays based on my personal views. Maybe that will help my writing skills. If you wish for more content like this, feel free to ask! Thanks for reading!

ʚ TAG LIST: @fsfghgee @laismoura-art @loiola00 Thank you for giving me the courage to write again 🫶

ʚ WARNING: Spoilers (maybe???) Racism, Misogyny/Misogynoir, and other graphic content.

Before I start, I just want to say that I only know Mortal Kombat through NetherRealm Studios, so I will be referring to them more than Midway. Now, I’ve only been a fan of Mortal Kombat for two years. I first started getting into it when my friend showed me a video of the Mortal Kombat 9 gameplay in 2022. Since then, I’ve been consuming so much of the MK media. From video games, to animations, to fanfiction, you name it! However, as I delved deeper into the Mortal Kombat rabbit hole, I noticed that there is a strong “bias” within the fandom. Now don’t get me wrong, there isn’t anything bad about having biases. In fact, some biases can improve problem solving skills by identifying different patterns and thinking accordingly to solve the problem. But since I’m talking about Mortal Kombat here, there won’t be as much problem solving. When it comes to NetherRealm Studio's interpretation of Mortal Kombat, fans and critics are quick to have some sort of cognitive bias. 

So why specifically cognitive bias? What even is a cognitive bias? Well, cognitive bias is a systematic thought process caused by the tendency to simplify (or fully reject) information through a filter of personal experience and preferences. But if cognitive bias helps with problem solving, how can it be harmful? In most cases, cognitive bias can contribute to poor and unfair judgment, especially when that judgment can affect the way we consume media. From my experience in Mortal Kombat, fans have the most bias between different characterizations; whether that’d be race, gender, or sexuality, plot, and even the companies itself.

Race/Ethnicity: Black female characters such as Jacqui Briggs, Tanya, Cyrax (MK1) are more prominent to be discriminated against based on their appearance, motives, and depiction throughout the MK series. Unfortunately, this isn’t just a Mortal Kombat problem. In fact, black women in different media are heavily underrepresented and often looked down upon. In the scholar work “Art Imitates Life: The Representation (Or Lack Thereof) of Black Women in Video Games” by Bug Gadson, the author makes an important claim that because of the systematic racism built on white supremacy and misogynoir (racism and misogyny), the “historical evolution of Black feminism in the United States not only developed through [black stereotypes],” but also how the media consume these types of harmful portrayal and use it to characterize all black women (Gadson, 2021). This is almost ironic because Mortal Kombat is known for its diverse characters. As a black non-binary student, it’s very painful to see racist comments of these black characters on Reddit, YouTube, and even Tumblr.

Gender: Along with racism, misogyny in the Mortal Kombat fanbase is no secret. As Mortal Kombat progressed over to NetherRealm Studios, women have grown to be less sexualized and played more dominant roles throughout the series. Because of this change, most fans complained that the women were ‘unattractive’ and threatened the NRS developers to revert to their revealing attire. One example of this outrage is when YouTube commenter, TrueUnderDawg made a petition on his Twitter and YouTube community post to enforce “cyber-swimsuits” for female Cyrax and Sektor, further engaging with the sexualization of female characters in video games. With Sektor and Cyrax being gender-swapped in MK1’s DLC: Khaos Reigns, fans believed that the gender swap was only implemented to add more relationships within the new timeline. While it’s true that Sektor and Cyrax were intended to pursue romantic relationships, I believe that it doesn’t overall deter their characterization. In fact, any form of relationship can build up motives and create a sense of agency for that character. For Sektor and Bi-Han's relationship, both share goals and concepts of building the Lin Kuei, so even if there is a gender swap, their relationship does make sense to a point (it’s also hypocritical to criticize Bi-Han/Sektor to justify Bi-Han/Sareena as both ships have their flaws). Tumblr user @fsfghgee made some pretty good points on Bi-Han and Sektor, so I recommend looking at them for more information.

Sexual Orientation: Since 2015, there has been a new splurge of canon and implied relationships in Mortal Kombat. In addition, there have been a handful of LGBTQ+ characters. Examples being Sindel, Mileena, Tanya, and Kung Jin. However, it didn’t stop fans from creating their own LGBTQ+ ships; with the most well-known ships being SubScorp (Scorpion x Sub Zero), Johnshi (Johnny x Kenshi), JadeTana (Jade x Kitana), and many others. With the new changes in MK1 (and Khaos Rain and Tanya’s relationship), most fans were claiming that NRS were erasing queer characters and relationships. For reference, I am pansexual. So, my personal view on ‘cis relationships’ might be different. While I do believe that NRS’s interpretation of relationships can be improved, it does have greater potential than Midway (sorry older fans). What really pisses me off is when fans were so quick to call “queer erasure” when non-canon ships weren’t implemented in the game. I’m not trying to say that NRS shouldn’t have more LGBTQ+ representation, but being blatantly cisphobic to the already canon ships within the series takes away actual queer erasure that purposefully diminishes the existence of the queer community throughout any other media platforms.

Writer’s Perspective: Ed Boon and Dominic Cianciolo are the main writers and directors for Mortal Kombat in NetherRealm Studios. As of 2023, they released a reboot of Mortal Kombat named Mortal 1 Kombat. After the dissolvement of the previous timeline (MK11), newly demigod Liu Kang resets the universe to create a more peaceful timeline. With the significant changes in the story, it’s almost difficult to adjust to the new storyline. Personally, I don’t like all the changes either. And I think it’s even more difficult to find someone who does like all the changes. Nevertheless, I believe that providing different perspectives can accommodate and even further regulate the story. It’s important to take note that the earlier timeline is nearly irrelevant to MK1. So rather than trying to implement older lore, why not use what is already canon and interpret our own theories? For example, let’s take Hanzo, who is a child in MK1. Hanzo’s survivor guilt could parallel Tomas (Smoke). Rather than accepting the death of his clan, Hanzo’s emotions could turn him to be vengeful and become more irrational and radicalized. Another example could be Bi-Han/Noob Saibot (The corrupted version of Bi-Han). His irredeemable actions and hatred towards his family could symbolize the corruption of leadership and foreshadow his ultimate downfall. Now here’s a side note: I know some fans believed that Bi-Han should’ve gotten a redemption arc, but this man openly claimed that he is willing to kill his OWN FAMILY to remain in power. So, like... I don’t know if he could redeem himself if tried. That being said, there is nothing inherently wrong with ‘maliciously evil’ characters if written correctly. However, there is a difference between ‘bad’ characters and ‘bad character writing’ (AHEM AHEM KOTAL KAHN AHEM).   

Overall Thoughts: I want to make it clear that there is nothing wrong with criticizing Boon and Cianciolo and giving them feedback to help them improve future games. However, there is a difference between constructive criticism and harassment. The NRS developers aren’t blocking people in different media because they can’t handle criticism, they’re blocking people because they are continuously being harassed and receiving death threats. Regardless of these changes, Mortal Kombat is still an enjoyable game and shouldn’t be torn apart by its own hypocrisy. There is nothing wrong with having bias. Sometimes, biases can help us interpret different information in a nuanced way. But know that change is necessary for the world to function, even if some of the changes can kind of stink. 

[nikethestatue]

I feel like sjm has really lost a lot of the fandom at this point. Not that it matters, she’s popular enough without the fandom. But most all my friends don’t care anymore. I think there have always been dry periods since acosf but people came back for hosab for the crossover and for hofas. But now so long has passed without a hint of acotar news and I really think BB has let it be pushed too far. Maybe it is the printing change that’s caused no news, but I am not so sure. I’m just like, where is the damn book announcement already???

A lot of people expect huge outcry when the next book is announced but I honestly think people aren’t as invested as before. You’ll have a small segment that will be upset and a segment that will cheer but I don’t think it’s going to have the insanity that was expected.

If she really was still drafting in April, I think the book could still be done and printed before 2026 but I wonder if BB would decide to push it to early 2026 anyway.

Yeah, I was talking to a mutual just last night, and we felt the same--yes, she will sell, but I wonder if in some ways, the train's left the station for her?

We started to talk about Azriel specifically, and how she really was the OG creator of the 'mysterious winged shadow man' in Azriel. And how, after ACOSF, and the bonus chapter, the interest in him was RABID. Like people were utterly insane for him.

And instead of capitalizing on this wild adulation for him, she and BB completely dropped the ball.

It's really bizarre and I think they'll look back at this time in 10-15 years and say, fuuuuuuckkkk, did we fuck this one up.

Because now, every mediocre writer and their cousin have a shadow daddy in their lame romantasy books. And there is nothing original about the concept anymore. In fact, there are too many now.

And SJM, who decided to play the stupid shipwar game, instead of striking the iron when it was hot, absolutely pissed in her own pocket. Like yeah, people will read the book, sure, but the novelty, the anticipation, the mental agitation is all gone now. And for what? Gwynriel vs Elriel?

Dont know who is making decisions or doing the marketing, but it's like when Yahoo didn't want to buy YouTube, but instead bought Tumblr, and Google swept in and bought YouTube.

It's kinda like that.

Well, I don't know. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

[writteninscarlet]

Hello!

This is long overdue. I’m so sorry about the radio silence. What absolute dead air this blog has been. It was never the intention. Life got busy, then busier, and I don’t think it’s better but I think maybe I’m starting to juggle things. Some stuff has been tough, other things good. I was off around America for three weeks and radio silence with almost everyone - so not just you guys! But I am sorry, I never meant to simply disappear.

I’m struggling and debating over returning. I love Wanda so much and love to write. I really enjoy talking and interacting with all you mutuals (if I have any mutuals left, can’t blame you for leaving). I didn’t think anons could get to me, but they did. It was tough. What they said is one reason why I hesitate about returning. I would LIKE to come back, but I’m not sure how as I wouldn’t presume to jump back in as things were. Perhaps a fresh start, new blog. Maybe come up with a reason here… I’m not sure.

I’m sorry about the absence. I’ve not had discord either. New phone with new number and suddenly I couldn’t get back on, it slipped my mind, and I really can’t get on now! Id love to catch up with people. Id love to talk. I’m not up to date with tumblr. But I’m up to date with Wanda! And Moon Knight (spent far too much on Mk stuff but the loungefly and variants were worth it), and Kitty, and Iron Man and everyone. Or mostly everyone. If anyone wants, I’ll be around on this awful tumblr im system to chat.

I have missed everyone! I am sorry. Things happen? But also it was just tough to come back when I was gone. Anyways… here is a wall of text!

[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

girl yeeeesssss spill the fucking tea 😫 don't go hiding that drama in the tags

Okay, so originally I wasn’t going to say anything because I did not have the energy or desire to rehash all of this to a community that I hardly interact with besides post-dumping every ~4 months. But then, ironically, two people DM’d me about this this week and now I’m feeling spiteful again, so let me regale you with the cringe tales of the Tumblr g/t community and why it gives me a headache to think about. And you know what? This bitch is being a pinned post, too, because I’m not going to let it be swept under the rug anymore. I’m rocking the boat, I’m naming names, I’ll be a little goblin starting dumpster fires.

Now, I will say there are definitely further issues in the community that I can’t personally speak on – rampant racism, transphobia, etc. That’s not to say these things aren’t happening or aren’t important to bring attention to, but I am not someone who witnessed it firsthand or experienced it. In my handful of years being active in this community, they are topics that have been brought up a fair few times, which is enough of a sign that it’s an ongoing issue. However, I also have not looked at any g/t related tags in almost a year, so whether or not these discussions are still happening or have been relatively resolved, I don’t know. It’s not my place to talk about them in depth when I would have no idea what I’m talking about or what to reference, in which case I implore others who have unfortunately dealt with this to please speak out about it. There’s other drama I am able to talk about because I went through it myself or by proxy, and so that’s only what I’m going to be relaying in this post. 

I feel like the most infamous implosion was the GTMS/Chamomile-g-tea debacle from half a year or so back, but at the same time based on the messages and DM’s I’ve received, it seems like…a lot of people have forgotten about that, or at least weren’t around/invested enough to know what happened. The quick recap is that @unicornofgt created a written series about giant mech suits that were actually powered by giant humans in a post-apocalyptic setting, inspired by a post made by our shared friend bolshoycorvid about Pacific Rim. It grew into a fairly well known series in the community, and while I had only read the first chapter, I still at least recognized it from my mutuals and some of the tags. 

And then Cham found it and became utterly obsessed with it, pumping out fanart left and right and opening the floodgates for its popularity. And that’s so cool! That’s great that such a talented artist with a large following genuinely enjoys someone else’s work that much, and is introducing it further to the fanbase for people to read! It’s amazing to get that kind of feedback to know people want to make art of your handcrafted characters because they adore them that much, it’s one of the best compliments a writer can get!

Except Cham really started getting into it. Like, helping-create-two-Discord-servers-without-permission, kind of into it. Like, posting-fanart-on-multiple-platforms-without-source-credit, kind of into it. Like, repeatedly-responding-to-messages-about-the-characters-without-consulting, kind of into it. And when I tell you her art for the main characters were everywhere, I mean they were everywhere, not just in the Tumblr g/t community. Tiktok, Twitter, Instagram, they were posted, and they were never credited back to unicornofgt. I had friends send me her animatics of it, gushing about how amazing it was, totally unaware that it was a storyboard to the first chapter of GTMS (which I recognized and told them, at least).

And was unicornofgt mentioned in any of these posts, was their fic linked, was it even noted that these weren’t her original creations she was spamming to every platform? Nope. Not a word. They actually had to repeatedly ask Cham to credit them as she continued to drop the ball, and even so it was too little too late, finally coming in the few weeks before unicornofgt put a stop to it altogether. Some platforms would only allow an additional note to be added via comment, which was often missed or drowned out by the sea of other messages. Other places like Tumblr could allow a full body edit, however that did nothing for the hundreds of reblogs that were already circulating without a link back to unicornofgt, and are still out there, even if unicornofgt had Cham delete her GTMS posts. 

And naturally, if you’re not in the already niche Tumblr community, and even if you’re new to said community, you would have no idea! You would see her post these characters, answer questions about details for these characters, maybe even be invited by Cham to one or both of the two Discord servers for these characters (of which unicornofgt was a member of, but more often than not still not addressed for their story as Cham would take over and talk about GTMS when they were not online to agree/disagree) – Of course you’d naturally assume these are her characters and her story, and even if you knew different, you might become one of the many people swept up in the fandom environment created by Cham, which treated her as the forefront of it.

And please, don’t think I’m taking this out of context. Understand that unicornofgt DM’d me about all of this before they eventually abandoned their Tumblr a while ago due to this situation and the rampant bigotry in the community , and you can read their farewell post here. They told me about the growing anxiety and morphing disdain they felt when it came to their series, because it felt like that creative freedom had been robbed, pressured to morph their original vision to appease Cham, even  at the expense of their own passion for GTMS. They felt unheard, ignored, and pushed aside while Cham got to reap the benefits of their own hard work to bring it into existence in the first place. No matter how much they spoke about it in private with Cham or openly on the two Discord servers (they had never wanted in the first place), it didn’t matter. 

They told me about the instances in which they had multiple talks with Cham about this crossing boundaries, but ultimately not feeling  they could enforce them because as a meager content creator, they should feel grateful that someone so popular was giving their work as much attention as it was getting. Friends and followers agreed with that sentiment because more and more people were becoming unaware who the true creator was, and it seemed on the surface unicornofgt consented. They told me about how Cham had to be repeatedly told to stop and redirect any questions relating to GTMS to unicornofgt, instead of taking it upon herself to answer them, as a majority of the time whatever she said was at best a bad rehashing of unicornofgt’s own explainations that watered down unicornofgt’s characters to “silly stupid little incompenant man” and “big badass woman who loves him sooo much”, and completely ignored bolshoycorvid’s characters altogether. Sure, to Cham’s benefit, she would back down…for a little while, and then start those habits all over again and ignore what was previously requested, especially during the mini internet breaks unicornofgt would have to take since the pressure  gave them further fatigue, contributing to their pre-existing chronic health problems.

 Let’s not forget the free for all fandom that was created as well. Anyone with questions/comments/concerns all went straight to Cham and rarely to unicornofgt. Art requests, ideas or what-ifs, AUs – all to Cham. Her friends and mutuals straight up telling bolshoycorvid that they’ve never read their GTMS fics despite them being a fair chunk of the overarching universe, simply because they were hardly acknowledged in Cham’s art and frequent posting. The influx of underaged users coming in to join the fun and the Discord servers, which unicornofgt had already said they were uncomfortable with and had wanted the main server to at least be 18+ (a request that was, once again, ignored by Cham, who irresposibily never checked the ages of new users to the point any and all of her mod privileges were revoked and all invites were turned off). So many problems came from having those kids in an 18+ space, essentially taken over by Cham, that unicornofgt decided to pull the plug on the entire server and cut finally Cham off a week later.

From my understanding, this fandom behavior was even worse on Twitter to the point the GTMS characters were selected to be used in a roleplay tournament. The host reached out to Cham for her opinion of character authenticity during the rounds, while others were asking if they could use her art/comics for voice acting. Meanwhile Cham sent all of these to unicornogft because she thought it was funny, but  didn’t reiterate to any of these people that these were NOT her characters and if they wanted permission from the creator, they needed to reach out to unicornofgt. Even when unicornofgt tried to pass on this message, it was ignored by Cham’s little fandom, who continued to view her as the creative authority. 

But even worse than Twitter was the Tiktok, where many of Cham’s GTMS videos went semi-viral, still leaving her sitting pretty at 18k followers while neither unicornofgt or bolshoycorvid saw any of it. Hundreds of comments gushed about the art, meanwhile both the true creators were lost in it. Eventually Cham didn’t even ask permission before posting, not bothering to check if it was true to the characters, but why stop to think when those videos are getting views up to 250k, with all the comments telling you they adore you and your work? It is your work, right? 

What’s so insane to me is that you would think for such a talented artist, she would know the value of being properly credited for your work, especially fanwork across multiple platforms. But no, it had to be explained to her the importance of crediting the real creators of these characters in her posts, and the highly contrasting way people consume art, quick and easy to appreciate, vs writing, which takes more time to consume and appreciate. This isn’t some multi-billion dollar international franchise that’s universally recognized at a glance like DC/Marvel. This was a fun little series created between friends and shared with a small community as something new to enjoy for a little while. It’s not a licensed IP, it’s someone’s personal pet project that they enjoy. It’s completely unreasonable to assume a rando on Twitter is going to look at a badass pose of a giant woman and know that it at least came from an obscure series from an obscure fandom by a single person who was just trying to have fun on the internet. Hell, even 4chan users on the hentai board ask for sources all the time, to know who created these characters they’re jacking off to so that they can go check out their other work!! 

Instead, you try to get the source for a GTMS fanart, you likely get Cham, and from Cham you get…no one. Because she failed over and over to  make reference that it belonged to anyone else, via tags or in the text body, until long after it was too late with an edit. And there’s no sense in trying to beat around the bush, that’s borderline art theft. You took a character word for word, design for design, setting for setting, and sold it off as your own. It doesn’t matter that it wasn’t your intention, that you were ignorant of the consequences – it’s what happened and it needs to be owned up to. This isn’t a petty squabble between two teens on fanfic.net about a demonsona OC for Sonic Underground, this is an adult making a conscious decision to post content of something that doesn’t belong to her and not give an ounce of credit. Not only that, it just furthers the divide between artists and writers in a creative space, with the latter hardly ever getting their dues for putting in their effort for a written piece that an artist can doodle in 15 min.

 It was like creating a spectacle out of smoke, a flimsy foundation that was bearing its full weight down on the mental and emotional health of the person who actually created it. In a matter of months unicornofgt had gone from a simple writer of funny size difference things to being forced to watch their vision be watered down for the sake of uwu soft giantess wholesomeness, none of it being done by their hand.

And I think the worst part about all of this, after this whole mess finally came to light thanks to unicornofgt finally finding the courage to put their foot down and cut Cham off completely (both as a friend and for having permission to make anything GTMS related in the future), is that it was unicornofgt who had to leave this platform. It was bolshoycorvid who had to leave, in part for other reasons, but because they were also snuffed during this fiasco as well as both a co-creator and someone who had their own canon OCs/fics in the GTMS world. It was other friends and mutuals who left because they couldn’t stand the toxicity of this fandom anymore, the hypocrisy, the sheer lack of critical thinking and the inability to hold people accountable for their actions. GTMS was essentially abandoned after the dumpster fire was put out and that was it. The series that everyone seemed to fawn over and adore was forgotten at the drop of a hat. 

Why? Because it wasn’t the written fics or unicornofgt that everyone was attached to; it was Cham’s art and her version of an OOC story she was pushing they loved. And once she stopped posting it, that was it. Dead in the water. Absolutely tainted. Can you blame unicornofgt for not wanting to touch their own creation that they had made from the ground up and put so much thought and energy into, all because it had been essentially stolen and ruined by someone with a much larger following? A following that hit over 20K during Cham’s GTMS reign across multiple platforms , might I add, while unicornofgt was lucky to see a fraction of that for the same concept. 

I also want to note again that these are retellings told directly to me from the persons involved, including unicornofgt prior to their leaving, former fans, and Discord members, that I am airing with their permission. I’m also not someone who has a lot of social media or who followed GTMS at all, this is almost entirely coming from the creator (the REAL creator) in the time before they left, their experience dealing with the fallout, and the sentiment that even still they don’t hate Cham, but just wish there was even a single legitimate consequence on Cham’s part (and that non stop self bashing at the rescue of yes-men does not count). And it hurts to see a fellow g/t content creator be so scarred from this, to lose all interest in the things they cared about most and only wanted to share with their friends, due to one person’s inability to stop and think about their actions. And sure, maybe this is old drama, maybe it’s small and petty to still bring up, but it doesn’t seem like anyone else is going to pull back the rug that this was swept under, so it might as well be the local menace to the community to make a long ass post about it. Chamomile-g-tea killed an entire series and drove the creator, the co-creator, several fans and several more friends who also made g/t content off of an entire website because she couldn’t be bothered to not feel entitled to other people’s toys.

I lost a lot of good friends as a result of this, and the g/t community lost a lot of good content creators as well, to the point this really was the straw that broke the camel’s back for me to say fuck it. To sit here and watch my mutuals abandon their Tumblr’s and all their works in favor of avoiding Cham and her followers who keep pretending  she did nothing wrong, acting like her excitement justified her “promotion” of the story, never holding her accountable and accepting at face value her claims  that she had no idea the distress she was creating, letting her act as if she’s the victim of this whole ordeal – nah, chief. It didn’t matter if it was on purpose or not, it still happened, and she was allowed to get away with it scot-free, so I will continually throw this in everyone’s face so that the g/t community never forgets its track record . 

Because I really don’t understand how this entire community can go through the same run around of “is fearplay/petplay morally wrong to create in a place full of minors” (which is another debate I am NOT getting into right now) and cause several blogs to abandon ship over the backlash they received…but a well known artist forces a popular series to be discontinued and runs off the original creator and their friends after she stole their concept, and everyone is just like “damn, that sucks, she just got too excited /:” and pretends it’s nothing? There have been plenty of former blogs that were called out for less and were forced to be accountable for whatever fuckery they were doing. Besides, I thought we were supposed to be thinking about the poor children here, the sweet minors, which was what her wholesome SFW blog catered to. Last I heard from one of her followers she started posting softcore GTS (I wouldn’t know, I have literally 0 desire to scout her blog), which sure, go ham bestie with your titties and light crushing, we all know I’m an 18+ blog. 

But then she continues to interact and mass reblog from minors and bring them into her inner circle, sooo…which is it? Are we worried about corrupting the kids or not? Do minors have the ability to use critical thinking about what concepts are right or wrong, or not? Are people accountable for what they post or is it the responsibility of the viewers who need to heed the tags? Y’all don’t get to have it both ways. Not to mention, I will reiterate again, she never verified anyone’s ages and let them in freely to what was intended to be an 18+ space on the GTMS servers, which created PROBLEMS to the point the servers had to be shut down.

Everyone else can sit around thinking she got off scot-free and never needing to address the fact she destroyed an entire series beyond a meaningless sorry, but I’m not going to forget, even if I’m still the only one left from that era and friend group to be able to tell this side of the story. That hurt my friends just as much as it hurt the community to lose such incredible writers and their beloved content, and that’s inexcusable to me. Writers in general are already treated awful, especially in the g/t community, to the point people have the audacity to complain there’s no new content to enjoy after all the good writers got fed up with the lack of recognition. Art and writing are two different mediums and they both require an insane amount of talent to pull off beautifully – just because you can enjoy a pretty picture in 15 seconds versus a plot-rich fic in twenty-five minutes does not make one superior to the other. But if those fics are continually pushed aside, then why would any creator waste their hours and days and weeks and months making a story for no one to see? 

Writing out concepts and ideas are a labor of love that are graciously shared to YOU to also enjoy. Trust me, I have no problem keeping an idea to myself or to be tossed back and forth to my friends for fun, it’s far less effort to still ‘see’ whatever story I would have jotted down for 20K words. If the community is going to continue treating writers like shit, as demonstrated through this hot mess, then of course no one is going to stick around to deal with it. A talented writer lost the world they built, the characters they developed, the story they were trying to tell, to one single artist, yet they were the one who had to pack it up and call it quits after getting hit with hate, while the other gets to roll in the second hand clout from un-credited posts across various platforms to further their own artistic career.

And frankly, I don’t really care about what kind of reception this post has; if it’s only seen by 5 people or if it’s seen by Cham herself, if people agree or disagree vehemently with it. This blog is also more or less dead aside from the few times a year I drop a new fic or art, so feel free to scream into its void as much as you want lmao

[j0kers-light]

Imagine y/n shows up to joker wearing a playboy bunny suit and ears and fluffy tail with rope in her hands.

I’m squealing just thinking about it.

His Lighthouse: Joker’s Bunny (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Joker’s Bunny - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A STORY UPDATE!

Hey hi anon 🖤✨

I love love loved this imagine! I can’t believe tumblr had the audacity to delete it! It’s been sitting in the inbox since August 7th! Yay for refreshing?

Anyhooooooo I’ve been merging asks to dwindle the numbers down and I came across one that…. well.. It’s not my cup of tea. BUT! If it's up your alley (lol no pun intended) it's implied. I’ll mark it with an ** and let you figure it out. I do regret to inform that this is rather short because I love to tease. I will return to this idea later 😏

I won’t add a tag list until I complete this oneshot!

It was only supposed to be a nickname, an inside joke to use however Joker seemed fit. He gave you so many, it was hard to keep up with them all— yet this one stuck.

You were naturally curious, a timid little thing and overly cautious.

You always weighed out the options presented to you before jumping all in. Joker said it as a joke all those months ago but overtime, it became something more. One could argue that you adopted the moniker.

You responded to it without fuss and rarely rolled your eyes or huffed under your breath whenever he used it.

You would tilt your head and scrunch your nose to really bring the nickname to life. One random day you found yourself accepting the name when you used the emoji to refer to yourself.

You were without a doubt, Joker’s Bunny. He never thought you would take the title so seriously.

Joker groaned to himself.

Whhhhhy didn’t he stay with you tonight? You practically begged him to with those e/c eyes of yours but he stood firm on his ‘I have to go, it's im-port-ant’ spiel.

You pouted but sent him off with a kiss. Now Joker regretted his decision as each boring minute dragged on during this briefing. To be fair, it was important. Too bad Joker wasn’t listening. He spent his time staring off into space. daydreaming about you.

He wondered what you cooked tonight. Was it that new recipe you wanted to try or did you play it safe and fix one of his favorites? He loved your cooking and could go for a hearty meal after sitting through this snoozefest.

His thoughts were plenty and quickly changed. Did you take a bubble bath with that new bath bomb he bought you? Joker saw it in passing and immediately thought of you after seeing its onyx and opal swirls in the store.

If he remembered correctly it was called Night Sky and smelled like forbidden fruits. It had your name written all over it. So what if he stole a few for you?

Joker was envisioning your body soaking in the tinted water when his phone chiming startled him out of the fantasy.

He fished it out of his coat pocket and arched an eyebrow when he saw your message come through. Speak of an angel and you appear.

you coming home?

J smirked to himself after reading the word home.

It stirred up a flurry of emotions within him every time you used it. Joker thought he had no need for a home until you entered his life and proved him wrong. Every person needs a home; his just so happened to be you.

And Joker was feeling a bit homesick.

He found your message a bit odd since you knew he was overseeing a meeting tonight. Did something happen or were you just as needy as he was? He really should’ve stayed at home with you in the first place. Joker sighed and scanned the room.

The team was talking amongst themselves on how to pull off the hit without gaining the authorities’ attention. Joker drowned them out thirty minutes ago. He was only here for appearance’s sake and could care less.

They could iron out the details without him and that became the determining factor to answer your question. With a roll of his green eyes, he replied.

What’s in it 4 me?

Joker watched three tiny dots appear and fade multiple times over a course of several minutes. Whatever you wanted to say was deleted over and over until Joker finally got a vague response.

Come and find out 🐰

Such a sassy little thing you were tonight. A few seconds later, Joker received an attachment pic from you. He took one glance at it and reacted.

“Oi! Where you going, Boss?” A henchman called out.

Joker was already storming out the door to even notice that he scared everyone with his abrupt exit.

They were waiting for Joker to voice his opinion and he just up and left. Not like he cared. The small group however began to panic and scrambled to find a way to revise the plans to meet Joker’s high expectations.

They could all die trying to rob the bank for all he cared. Joker’s mind was elsewhere, solely on you.

His Bunny was asking for it.

It was the only explanation as to why the dying sun captured your sexy silhouette oh so perfectly. When Joker got home, he was gonna ruin you.

Joker didn’t notice Frost coming down the hall in his mad dash to the elevator. Frost took one look at his boss and scoffed.

“Let me guess. It’s either the airheads in the meeting or something B did.” He ignored Joker’s venomous glare yet the lack of response spoke volumes.

“Are you coming back after you fix her attitude?” Frost sighed softly.

The elevator door dinged open upon arrival and Joker marched inside to stab the ground floor button. He locked eyes with Frost and set his demands.

“Don’t bother us unless.. I dunno, it’s err raining cats and dogs.” Which meant no, he wasn’t coming back and they both knew it.

Frost spoke his own reflection as the doors slid closed. “I don’t get paid enough for this.”

There really should be a guide to these types of things. How to look sexy for your lover while wearing a ridiculous outfit.

Perhaps you could write a guide yourself; it beat psyching yourself up to no avail.

You planned this for weeks and now the day finally came to commit and you were having second thoughts.

The last component arrived a little while after Joker left for his meeting and you just couldn’t stall another night. It was now or never.

You wouldn’t have the confidence to do this after today. Just looking in the mirror you felt silly all over again. Knowing that Joker left you on read didn’t boost that confidence any higher either.

It wasn’t that disappointing– Joker constantly left you on read in text conversations, the problem was that he left you hanging after you sent him a risque picture.

It took you ages to get the angle, the lighting, and find a pic you actually liked, before sending it to the clown and he didn’t appreciate none of it.

You checked yourself out in front of the floor length mirror and sighed as your heels clicked sharply on the hardwood. You thought you looked cute, hot even! But your opinion was moot if Joker didn’t approve.

Maybe he opened the message and got busy before he could respond? You told yourself anything except the truth.

He probably hated it and didn’t want to hurt yor feelings.

You puckered your glossy lips at your reflection, preparing to take off the ensemble when you heard keys turning in the front door.

Joker was back in record time. It made you wonder how he got here so fast but that was the least of your worries.

You grabbed his gift off the dresser right as you heard the bedroom door slam into the wall.

Joker was going to leave a dent in the wall if he kept doing that. You told him time and time again to stop. You were about to scold him right then but the fiery heat in his eyes stole your breath.

Joker was a raging bull, just shy of steam blowing out his nose.

His target? Poor ol’ you shifting your weight from heel to heel. You hid his surprise further behind your back and of course, he noticed.

“Whatcha got there.. Bunny.” Joker stressed the endearment more so than usual since you were dressed the part.

You wore your tallest pumps and donned a fresh pair of fishnets to go nicely with your f/c bunny suit. It clung to your figure in all the best ways and the white cuff links and debonair tie around your neck was the icing on the cake.

You looked every part the bunny Joker called you. He admired the bunny ears atop your head; one bent, the other straight. He loved every little detail you had.

Joker slowly stalked towards you with his head tilted slightly. “I asked... Whatcha got behind your back Bunny? Is it a surprise?”

You nodded demurely. So that’s how you wanted to play? Joker just grinned.

“Yeah? Is it…. for me?” You giggled when he tried to steal a peek if not for you dodging his attempts at the last minute.

Joker was all for your playful mood tonight and growled lowly, seeing your sly smirk. You did your makeup so pretty, but he was over the moon seeing your plump lips shimmering all for him. You wore that shade he bought you recently. The one that tasted like strawberries.

He wanted to ruin it and you.

His green eyes roamed down your beautiful face to your neck on full display for him to nibble and mark, down to your breasts practically bursting out of your suit.

He wouldn’t be surprised if you bought it two sizes too small with how your curves spilled out over the leather confines. Joker wanted to lay you down and knead your soft flesh and rip holes in your fishnets. You looked so good and he wanted to play.

There was so much he wanted to do! He grew tired of you ducking and dodging and grabbed your arms roughly. “Gotcha Bunny! Now… let’s uh, see what you oh..”

Joker audibly swallowed as you bit your lip and looked away.

Joker stared at the bundle of rope in your hands, honestly at a loss for words. The bright color would look heavenly against your skin tone and you knew Joker wanted to tie you up for months now. He introduced the idea once or twice and tested out the new concept by binding your wrists.

It excited you and drove him wild. It was high time he got his wish by going all in.

Joker rubbed his thumb against the rope and met your shy gaze. “Y/n… are you sure.”

You nodded and leaned up (even with heels on J towered over you) and kissed his cheek but Joker required a verbal agreement.

“I need to hear you say it, bunny. That you’ll let me uhh, tie ya up? You wanna be my sweet rope bunny huh doll?”

You nodded again but Joker reached out and gripped your chin, “Use your words, bunny.”

You moaned out and closed your eyes. Joker had yet to do anything and you were already worked up. “B-Bunnies don’t t-talk.” You gasped.

Joker was speechless as you finally turned around and let him see the fluffy bunny tail** you wore. You walked over to the edge of the bed and bent by your waist to wiggle your buns for Joker.

His breath was shaky but overly excited for what was about to happen. Joker unraveled the colored rope in his hands with a mocking tsk of his lips.

“What a naughty, naughty bunny girl I have.” 

[yanny-77]

OMG YOU KNOW AFTG?!??&!?!?! fuck yeah!!

I fucking love your FW story and I was just browsing through your tumblr rn and suddenly BAM aftg.

Do you think youll ever write for that fandom?

Oh hell yeah! I could talk about AFTG forever. I always wonder what people think about all my eclectic fandoms. I even slipped a reference to AFTG into Ch 8 of The Underpants Heist. Did you catch it?

I’m not sure how much overlap there is between AFTG and Fourth Wing, but when reading Iron Flame, every time Violet would say “I’m fine,” I’d think of Neil “I’m Fine” Josten. Neither of them was ever fine lmao

I’ve been going hard on AFTG lately because I’ve got TSC brainrot. It’s a big part of the writer’s block I had in April because I just couldn’t make myself think about Bodhi and Ridoc when Jean and Jeremy were right there.

I have a few ideas but I don’t know if they’ll ever leave my head and become actual fics. Before TSC, I never really considered writing fic for AFTG because I wasn’t sure I could do the characters justice. That, and I never wanted to write Riko.

But as I read Jean’s POV, it was like a lightbulb went off in my head. So much of Kevin’s actions and personality make sense now…from giving Nicki shit over chocolate to his attachment to Andrew to immediately asking Neil if he can play. Plus, I absolutely loved Jean’s friendship with Cat and I am so curious about Jeremy. What’s his backstory?

[astrofiree]

Somethings Need to Change

I wasn't going to get my hands involved in this. I initially skilled through harkre's post yesterday and thought nothing of it. Until someone brought it to my attention because there was fighting in the comments. Now while I would like to slug it out in the replies. However...that gets messy. So instead I'm going to put everyone's replies into a reblog and credit them. Cause that's what you're supposed to do when there's drama on tumblr. Make it easier on people to read and know what the fuck is going on. Which will be below the cut.

@dutifullylamps: Summary: A bunch of things that hurt my feelings and I didn’t like so now I’m trying to cause other people to not like this person because I still have a middle school mentality and I’m bitter.

So for those who aren't aware, Harkre's whole post was about how he was signaled out and believed to be a godmodder. I've gone through similar things myself all because for whatever stupid reason people do not know how to communicate on WoW when it comes to rp. Despite it being a major unspoken rule in roleplay in general. Something that's followed on forums, on tumblr, and other mediums. Why it's not enforced on WoW is stupid.

Now when you bring it up, you're treated like shit who have never gotten out of that Mean Girl high school mentality like dutifullylamps has demonstrated. So here let me be helpful and show at least some guides to roleplay since the community seems to neglect that part. These will emphasize on communication.

I would like to point out that ironically one of the ways we learn how to communicate effectively is by pretending we're doing a role and we can talk out what we're going to do, which is different from rp. So why rpers can't communicate is kind of ironic when you think about it in adult type scenarios. Something I was skimming over trying to find the sites above.

Except people will try to say "but it ruins the story. It makes it seem too ooc." My brother in christ you do not work for Blizzard. Who the fuck cares? I don't want you to hit my character without my permission. Though to argue I feel bad for Harkre cause Residiuum events are always clusterfucks. I try not to get involved because they are. Usually someone pre-determines what my character is doing. Sometimes people whisper me what I want to do when I'm the middle of writing my response.

Another thing I don't get with Moon Guard is the need for someone coming forward with clear issues with someone else. The communication line has been dropped or there is none because again...for whatever fucking reason, people on Moon Guard or well....WoW in general never learned how to properly communicate or even roleplay. Which is honestly mind boggling to me as someone who has rped on forums, and tumblr for many many years. I learned how to roleplay. I learned how to communicate. I come to Moon Guard and what I knew about rp was eviscerated. But anyway the thing that ultimately annoys me aside from the lack of proper communication is that people will attack the clear victim, gang up on them, and then support the abuser. And it's always the enablers of narcissists. Why is that?

Then again I that's also a tumblr issue as well. It's happened in other fandoms on tumblr so I shouldn't be surprised. Our reaction shouldn't be "oh I'm sorry that happened." We should be angrier about it and demand more action. We are all in a community and it's up to us to make this community better. One where victims are properly heard and the narcissists gets kicked out and running for the hills and not the other way around.

@onetimeblog: Instead of sending every single residuum member screenshots and claiming how I "stole" your idea for a minecraft server (really?) and thrashing and kicking and just making yourself look even worse?

And now for the moment we've been waiting for. I'm going to break this section by section because oddly, Niklos decided to put this in the replies one at a time and not a reblog. But even then I'd still break it down.

Anyway, the thing is Harkre probably couldn't hold it in any longer because he kept seeing you get away with shit constantly. Usually what happens when you're abused by a narcissist so long. You hold it in, think you're the problem. You try to do things one way, which is the right way. However, that doesn't work. And trying to ignore the problem doesn't work.

You constantly see your abuser handling things normally. While you have to duck out of places because they somehow manipulated everyone around you to make it seem like you're the problem. I wonder if this sounds familiar Niklos cause it's something that you have been doing for years. There's evidence of it. You can only sweet talk your way out of a paper bag for so long. And DARVO only goes for so long. After awhile you finally have the courage to speak up about it.

Problem is you got caught again. Though this time you don't get to talk your way out of it.

When you know damn well Agonyn doesn't listen to anyone. He kicks who he pleases and nobody can say persuade him to, or not to, otherwise. You were kicked out of Midnight Repose because according to THEM, you ran into their voice chat and started yelling loudly and when told to stop, you didn't. I know now, the one that I thought was your friend, was actually you on a second account. And I also know that you have been the one -

I'm going to point out I don't know what point leads to where since reading through the replies is a pain in the ass. So forgive me if this looks wonky.

I honestly doubt that. I seem to remember Brady saying that he was blacklisted from every other guild because of your shit. Honestly another deflection. "Oh they can do what they want." That and the "you have no friends, it's just on another account." Is some serious bullshit. You don't know anything. You're just trying to make someone be your scapegoat.

Find some new material. You suck at this.

when I was AFKing in the cemetery and I got your PM bomb and a link out of nowhere about Tyragonfal and I had to pan my camera around to see Tyragonfal walk by, so far away I couldn't even cast on her. WTF? And now I know - you were stealthing after her, on your lv20 trial, while on your paid account you were PMing everyone she walked by as far as your camera can see, in the same way you did to me for weeks. To a point where you pissed enough randoms off you got -

Tyragonfal doesn't have many people who like her. For all you know it could have been some random that has the same information.

This information that your buddy is a notorious sex pest. Yeah. I too have the dark knowledge of knowing that and I received it from someone else. I can't remember who linked me it. I know for a fact it wasn't Harkre. But Tyragonfal has other people that don't like her and would try to track her down and do the one thing most trials do in Stormwind...and no it's not look for erp.

Inform the public that there is a piece of crap in our midst and maybe they will stop playing the game. But sure let's turn Harkre into the scapegoat cause he's the ONLY person outside of Brady to actually say something against you.

So like… don't blame me. Nobody pushed you out, you pushed yourself out. The people reporting to Agonyn? Not me - it's all the people that fought your toon while your wore the Residuum tag only to see you log out after hours of emote combat - of which I wasn't even involved in. I just was told. And when a player told you that they don't want to RP with you anymore? You told him "You are involved whether you like it or not." And now you are hyper fixating on me.

Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit. You're one of the principal people organizing the Residuum events and you're always the stare of every single show. There is NEVER a Residuum event where you're not there. Either as the main star or the supporting actor. Never the extra.

Residuum has to do things exactly as you planned it. For example after the week long attack you had Residuum people at the funeral vigil thing as candles. I thought it was weird when a guildie at the time had to take part in it. Even weirder that they were there again as floating candles. I thought nothing of it.

But it's plainly obvious that you control everything. Much like how you control the Cathedral. Ever thought it's odd on how there's no one else that does their own thing in the Cathedral. Everyone has to tow your line. Gee....I wonder why that is? Maybe because you're a control freak.

I wouldn't put it past you to whisper to Agonyn and tell him to kick Harkre or even complain. You did it with Brady. You did it with the Divine Inquisition. That's your thing and even Irwin said it best. You act as thought the Cathedral is yours. Except it's not yours. It never was.

reported and suspended. So like.. harkre? Find a better hobby at this point. Everything you claim, I have receipts on. And now you just openly outed yourself as the level 1 troll that's been harassing me on two accounts - and I know you have a third account you are happily RPing on as well. Because you just don't hide yourself that well. Why don't you focus on that third, unblemished, untouched character and just enjoy RP -

Oh, bullshit. You have jackshit. You have ZERO receipts. If you did you would have posted them already. That's the thing with narcissists like yourself, Niklos, you talk a lot of hot fucking air. A lot. You bullshit more than a politician. But when it comes down to it, you won't produce shit.

And the best part of it is....there's evidence of you constantly bullshitting.

Even your so called post about Brady's accusations, you came up with no screenshots. No fucking evidence. Give it up, Niklos. You should be the one who should play a different game. You should be the one making a new unblemished character. Maybe start anew on Wyrmrest. You'd be great at it. Best part about it is...

There's no one there that you can abuse. Hell you can move your whole guild there.

Let This Be a Message To ALL Community Leaders:

Your role in a community is to not treat everyone like they're your Barbie.

Your role is to facilitate roleplay in a concise manner that makes it fun for everyone. It is not meant for narcissists.

If you cannot fulfill this role, then maybe it's High fucking time for you to step the fuck down.

I'm sick and fucking tired of narcissists getting away with shit. Getting away with treating people like shit for simply saying no. For standing up for themselves after being doormats.

Moon Guard needs to fucking change and for the better.

Edit: Thanks to @certifiedooc for pulling up the related posts. I added it for clarity.