#is it something to be proud of. probably not

[sanemistar]

DANGEROUS MAN

contents ★ clan leader!gojo x fem!reader, enemies to lovers, fluff, suggestive (17+), making out, slight mention of biting/marking, reader gets called princess, 1.6k+ wc. ﾉ requested for my milestone event.

event m.list ★ jjk m.list

your parents had warned you several times about satoru gojo, the leader of the gojo clan. one of the strongest clans to exist, along with your own clan. they had forbidden you from speaking him, let alone being in the same room as him. due to the long history and the rivalry between your clan and the gojos, your clans had considered each other enemies for as long as one could remember. you had been familiar with their warnings like the back of your hand, and you had abided by them for so long. though you personally had no ill intentions towards him, nor even understood the hatred against the gojos.

that was, until you had met him in person at one of those boring higher up gatherings that you were forced to attend when you two coincidently went outside to get a breath of fresh air, away from all the tension and awkwardness inside.

the first thought that had come across your mind when you first saw satoru was that he was charming, like one of those charming princes you read about in fairy tales. you’d seen him in pictures before, but never this close. truth be told, pictures could’ve never fully captured how ethereal he looked in real life. you’d never seen anyone like him before, and you probably never would. he was simply out of this world, like a work of art—a one in a million man. enchanted by his beauty, you couldn’t help but stare at him in admiration. your eyes never dared to look away from him, as if they were glued onto him.

“well well. if it isn’t you, the princess from that clan.” satoru’s voice pierced through your ears, waking you up from your dazed state. “you’ve been staring at me for so long, like i’m a statue in a museum or something.” you were unaware of how long you’d been staring at satoru until you saw the confusion on his face as he pointed out. you felt your face redden in embarrassment and you immediately looked down in an attempt to hide your flushed face.

“s-sorry about that, gojo-san. i didn’t mean to do that, i just…” you trailed off mid sentence, unsure of what to say in order to justify your actions earlier. your head was in and your thoughts were all over the place.

you heard a pair of footsteps coming closer to you and before you was none other than satoru. the one man you shouldn’t be standing so close to. your mind was telling you to run away and leave, but your body refused to move an inch. his thumb quickly glazed over your chin, swiftly lifting it up and your eyes got caught in his alluring gaze like a mouse in a cheese trap that was unable to escape before he let go of your chin. you could swear that the spot where he touched you earlier was tingling, as if his touch was electric.

“oh c’mon, no need for these formalities. they mean nothing to me. my name is satoru, so just call me satoru.” he spoke and you were slightly taken aback, you two had just met and he already wanted you to act on a first name basis.

“but..” he cut you mid sentence.

“no buts, it’s pretty easy. just repeat after me, satoru.” he said his name again slowly, waiting for you to say it back. he was pretty insistent on it so it looked like you had no choice.

“satoru.” his name finally rolled off your tongue, and a proud smirk made its way onto his face upon hearing you say his name. the way it came off your lips got him a little excited.

just then an idea popped up in satoru’s head, a reckless one at that.

“why don’t we go somewhere else where it’s just us two? away from all this.” he grabbed your hand gently yet firmly, like he had no intention of leaving you alone.

you knew best that it was never good ignoring what your parents had told you and involving yourself with him. but at that moment, you agreed to go with him. completely forgetting about everything, the rivalry, the hatred, everything. you weren’t sure if that was a rebellion phase or what, all you knew was that it felt right leaving with him.

satoru seemed surprised for a moment by how quickly you agreed to follow him, but grinned and took your hand before dragging the two of you away as you disappeared from the main entrance and into a quieter place where it was just you and him.

you had no idea how you ended up being pinned against the wall with satoru’s tall, lean figure hovering over you. completely blocking your view and blocking you from sight.

“why did you follow me so easily, hm? what if i had a malicious intention of some sort. didn’t your parents warn you about how dangerous the gojos were? especially their leader.” your chest moved up and down as your heart began racing rapidly.

“if you had any malicious intentions like you said, you would’ve taken me somewhere outside the territory. but since we didn’t really go that far away, it’d be useless for you to be doing anything dangerous here.” you began explaining. and satoru seemed so impressed by your smart response.

“you’re indeed very amusing.” he chuckled softly. he rested his hands on the wall, forcing you to look at nothing else around but him.

tension between the two of you began rising, and you found yourself subconsciously looking at his lips.

and satoru was so quick to notice how you were eyeing his lips for a while now.

“you could’ve simply asked me for a kiss if you want it so badly instead of just staring at my lips, princess.” he leaned in as he whispered into your ear and you could feel it heat up a bit in embarrassment.

and before you could get the chance to say anything you felt satoru’s lips smacking onto yours. you gasped into the kiss in surprise, your mind screamed at you to break away and push him off of you. but this time not only your body, but also your heart, refused to. you wrapped your arms around his neck, getting in the mood as you pulled him even closer to you. your fingers ran through the back of his soft hair.

meanwhile, satoru’s hands delicately trailed all over your back, slowly exploring every part and every bit of your skin. he was taking his sweet time touching you all while having your lips against his own, tongue exploring every corner of your mouth.

as the two of you further got in the mood, your kisses had become sloppier and hungrier. teeth clashing against each other as tongues swirled around one another in sync. what started off as a soft, gentle kiss had become a series of deep, passionate kisses that held so much lust and desire in them.

you felt so good that you could almost see stars.

“mhmm..” careful not to make any loud noises in order to avoid getting caught by anyone, you hummed against his lips. and you never knew you had the ability to hum like that ever so sweetly.

you couldn’t believe that you were doing such things with the one man you were never supposed to be doing all of that with.

satoru gojo was indeed dangerous, he was too dangerous for your heart.

the two of you had been making out for almost ten minutes straight. if it wasn’t for your desperate need for air to breathe, you wouldn’t have broken away. but due to the lack of oxygen, you had to break away from the kiss and catch your breath. eyes were only half open, your head was still light and dizzy after that makeout session as you were heavily panting, your lips which were now swollen were still slightly parted as a small trail of drool trickled down your chin.

“you look so beautiful right now, i think i’m in love.” satoru glazed his thumb over the corner of your lips, wiping the drool off. he leaned in once more and began nibbling on the crook of your slender neck and you winced a little as you felt him biting a bit too hard which would have probably left a mark that you would have to hide.

“maybe we should leave all this behind and run away together. it’s a great idea, don’t you think?” he suggested as he looked up at you, his blue eyes glowed slightly in the dark.

you suddenly came back to your senses upon hearing the words he said and slightly pushed him off of you.

“satoru we..” you began speaking, trying to form a coherent sentence. “we can’t do that. we’re supposed to be enemies, remember?” it was more of a reminder to yourself than it was to him that you and satoru would never be anything more than enemies.

“but enemies don’t kiss each other like that.” he whispered as he continued kissing your neck and up to your cheeks, then your nose, then back to your lips. he gave you quick, light pecks before pulling away.

“guess i’ll have to talk to those annoying higher ups of ours and end that nonsense rivalry, cause no way i’m gonna let you be with anyone else that’s not me.”

and the next thing you knew, you were being dragged by satoru into the main hall where all the higher ups were as both of you made a dramatic entrance when he announced that he’d be marrying you before kissing you in front of all of them. leaving everyone in the room, you included, in great shock.

satoru gojo was a dangerous, very dangerous man.

𝜗𝜚 taglist: @unriding @lxnarphase @sylusdoll @itachiiwrites @itoshivy @17020 @creamflix @luv-lies

[pastara-cell]

In light of recent events with iskall85 (+stressmonster?) i’d like to take a moment to thank around 98% of the community. I know its rough, and some people are upset or curious, but the community is handling it wonderfully right now, and I’m extremely proud of everyone who is taking a step back and not harassing creators. Heres a list of things we, as a community, can do to help!

1. Please don’t harass any of the Ccs! By that, I mean Hermitcraft AND vault hunters. I know that you’ve heard it a billion times by now, but I do want to emphasise that they have said they cant say much now, and they’re probably taking it more rough than we are. We aren’t owed any information, even if we would like it, so harassing people will only make the situation worse.

2. Comfort your friends with iskall or stress introjects, irls, fictionkins, alters, etc. reminder that none of this is their fault, and they should NOT be harassed for living their lives as they are.

3. Keep speculation private, or to a minimum. Its human nature of course, to be curious, but discussing it in publicly is a BAD idea. Keep it to the dms, or if you’re going to speculate in your blogs, I recommend not maintaining iskall, and putting the discourse tag in so that people can filter it out.

4. Keep your fanarts and fanfictions up until the situation is clearer, or if you don’t want them up, send them to @pearleisuma to be archived. Just because someone did something does NOT mean that you need to delete anything you worked hard on, it just means be wary making things in the future, involving them, about it, until we get more information.

4. DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, Watch ANY commentary youtube channel videos about the situation. This is how false information spreads, and youtubers are going to look to make a quick buck off of anything they can use to blow up. Please only get your information from trusted sources, such as CC’s twitter pages, any videos released by Ccs/streams, or if iskall or stress make a statement themselves.

5. Dont jump to conclusions! Luckily, mumbo has tweeted out that the situation has nothing to do with minors. Jumping to conclusions will lead to misinformation, so do sit back and wait a bit before any assumptions or conclusions.

6. Take care of yourself. Its okay to be sad about them leaving, its okay to be sad that Iskall apparently did something, and its okay to be curious as to what it is about. As a fandom, try to lift eachother up and comfort eachother, rather than bring eachother down about the situation.

Keep being awesome hermitblr, and stay strong 🫶 we’ll get through this

[fairandfatalasfair]

I don't think Edwin particularly likes his own cold, self-interested analysis or his quick temper or his venomous tongue. I think he's accepted them as faults that he probably won't be able to change, but I don't think he's proud of them.

He tells the Cat King that he's ashamed of wanting to make a case for his innocence, to protect himself in the process of helping others, as though that would undo the good he does. He immediately calls himself out on his own vindictiveness when Despair tells him he was about to gloat over Simon's suffering.

I don't think he's particularly beating himself up for those things, but I do think he thinks of himself as selfish, and possibly cruel, and Charles as the opposite of those things.

Charles is the one who helps Edwin, and their clients, out of the goodness of his heart with no hope of reward. Charles is the one who had the option of heaven and chose Edwin instead. Charles is the one who never has a harsh word to say about anyone. When he says Charles is the best person he knows I think that's part of what he means: that he sees in Charles all the virtues, the kindness and selflessness, that he thinks he lacks.

(Charles, meanwhile, loves Edwin's bitchy side, and I think attached himself to Edwin at least in part because the kindness Edwin showed him in his last hours epitomises the good guy he desperately wants to be. But I don't know if Edwin fully believes that.)

I dunno I just think there's something fascinating in that - in Edwin's ruthlessness in holding himself to these impossible standards, and his view of Charles as someone who meets them.

[milktiicup]

If it isn’t a hassle, could you write a continuation of the pregnancy fic you wrote with mr crawling? Like maybe when the baby is born? 🙏

He’s such a cutie I swear

a touch of home!

“Yeah, she's strong,” you said, a note of pride in your voice. “Probably get that from you.” He tilts his head at that, his grin widening. “Little us strong. Like me? Strong like me?” “Of course,” you reply, reaching out to gently stroke the baby’s cheek. “They’re a little mix of both of us, you know. Your strength, my looks, obviously.”

warnings. spoilers for mc's past, reader is still ungendered / no descriptions of birth

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🌊 ⋅ ˚✮ chapter 1

Life has certainly taken a turn you never expected. Within a single year, you went from living a relatively isolated existence- albeit with some questionable extracurriculars- to residing in another world, leaving said world, sharing your life with a monster, and now, raising a new born. The juxtaposition between who you were and who you had become often left you with a feeling of derealisation.

Taking time off from work (and by "work," you meant the kind of job that didn’t exactly leave a paper trail) felt strange. The phrase retired serial killer felt like a joke every time you thought about it. Instead of carefully planning your next "project," you now spent your days meticulously tracking feedings, diaper changes, and nap times with a part time in teaching Mr. Crawling your language. 

The baby coos, forcefully pulling you from your trance. You blink down at the half folded laundry, a pile of folded and unfolded colourful baby onesies. Whoever you were a year ago would’ve smashed a crowbar into someone’s face for even suggesting the idea that you were doing something like this. 

The baby coos louder, and you can hear the shuffle of Mr. Crawling down the hallway.

“Little us loud,” he says, peering into the bassinette. “Little us okay? Healthy?”

“She’s just sleeping,” you reply, a soft smile on your face. 

Mr. Crawling’s hand hovers over your baby’s stomach, an internal conflict on whether he should pat her, or poke her. In the end, he leaves her be, and crawls over to your side. He leans his head on your shoulder, and points to the laundry with a, “Fold?”

You hum. “Yes, fold,” holding up a tiny onesie and folding it for emphasis, "like this."

He nods enthusiastically and reaches for one of the baby’s onesies, his long fingers awkwardly attempting to mimic your movements. The result was… less than successful, the onesie ending up in a lumpy square-ish shape. Mr. Crawling looks proud enough of his work, so you weren’t about to nitpick about imperfections. 

You smile lightly, and press a kiss to his cheek. “Good.”

“Good, good!” Mr. Crawling giggles, and reaches for another.

The baby coos again. They were awake now, kicking their tiny feet and waving their arms, their soft gurgles filling the room. The onesie Mr. Crawling has in his grips flops to the floor as he crawls over to the bassinette, an eyeless stare peering down. He reaches into the cradle, the baby’s small hand reaching out to grip onto his long grey finger.

“Little us happy,” Mr. Crawling smiles brightly, but falters, “Little us strong.”

You laugh, breathlessly. The baby’s grip on his finger was impressive, her small face scrunching up in concentration. You join Mr. Crawling beside the bassinette, leaning onto him. His hair tickles your face.

“Yeah, she's strong,” you said, a note of pride in your voice. “Probably get that from you.”

He tilts his head at that, his grin widening. “Little us strong. Like me? Strong like me?”

“Of course,” you reply, reaching out to gently stroke the baby’s cheek. “They’re a little mix of both of us, you know. Your strength, my looks, obviously.”

“Mix,” he murmurs, as if testing the word. “Little us.”

The way he said it, so simple yet full of meaning, sent a warmth through your chest. This life you had now was strange and unexpected, but it was also full of moments like this- moments that made you think maybe, just maybe, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

The baby’s face scrunches, and the wails start. Moment ruined. You sigh, deflating like a balloon.

Mr. Crawling reaches into the bassinette, cradling the baby with such softness and care. “Shh, tiny us. No sad. Me here.”

The wail of the baby fades into sniffles, and you turn back to your laundry, folding another onesie with a sigh. Your hands move mechanically, but your mind stays in the room with Mr. Crawling and the baby. The quiet moment, brief as it was, has reminded you just how much things had shifted. From solitary nights with blood on your hands to this quiet domesticity with a baby and a monster.

Mr. Crawling’s movements are slow and deliberate as he rocks the baby gently in his arms, the occasional hum slipping from his lips. Despite his lack of eyes, there’s a sense of focus, a connection between him and the tiny person in his arms. It’s uncanny. He’s good at this. Maybe he doesn’t know everything, but he’s figuring it out with a deep patience that you can’t help but admire. He’s better at this than you ever could be.

The baby lets out a giggle, similar to her father’s as unnerving as it was, and Mr. Crawling looks down at her with that strange, contented smile he always has when he’s near her. "Little us happy now," he murmurs.

You swallow a laugh. "Yeah, they’re happy. You’re good at this." You set down the folded onesie and move toward them, leaning down to kiss the top of your baby’s head. “So good. I think you’re a natural.”

He glances up at you, his expression soft but filled with pride. "Natural. Me... natural?"

You nod, smiling. "Yeah, I’d say so." Your eyes flicker to the baby, her tiny hands still balled up in fists as she rests in his arms. "Maybe you should take her out for a walk. Give her some fresh air." You glance at the window, where the sun is just starting to set, casting an orange glow over the room. "I’m sure she’d love it."

He tilts his head, looking down at the baby for a moment before turning his gaze back to you. "Walk?" His voice is tinged with uncertainty, though the excitement is clear. "Out? Me take... little us... out?"

You chuckle, reaching for his hand. "Yeah, you can take her out. You’ve got it all figured out now. Just don’t go far, okay?"

Mr. Crawling seems to mull this over for a second, then nods vigorously. “Me take her out. Little us see the world!” More like Little us see the apartment complex! He carefully stands to his full height, head edging near the ceiling. He cradles the baby against his chest as if she weighs nothing at all, her tiny face peeking out from the edge of his kimono.

You watch them with a smile as he makes his way toward the door, stepping slowly, deliberately, with all the care in the world for the little bundle in his arms. There's a softness in his movements now, something that never existed when he first appeared in your life.

"Be careful, okay?" you call out, suddenly feeling a pang of protectiveness. The world outside is unfamiliar and strange to him. Even though he’s getting better at understanding it, there’s still so much he’s yet to experience.

“Careful," he calls back, his voice full of assurance. “Little us... strong. Safe.”

You smile, watching as he disappears into the hallway, his laughter echoing faintly. You decide now would be a good time to wash the dishes. The space in the room is quieter now, but still filled with warmth.

As you finish folding the last onesie, you realise just how far you’ve come in such a short amount of time. A year ago, you would’ve never believed any of this was possible. Yet, here you are, in this strange new life with Mr. Crawling, raising your child together.

You step over to the window, looking out at the fading light of the day. The weight of it all settles on your shoulders for a moment. There’s a lot of unknown ahead of you, but for the first time, it doesn’t feel like a burden.

It feels like a future. And maybe, just maybe, it’s one you were always meant to have.

[shizunitis]

How do you think Shen Qingqiu would be affected if he had Xin Mo?

holy fuck i've been thinking about this for months and now that i've been asked i'm kind of lost. anon i love you prepare for a whole lotta yapping

the question is vague enough to both give me room to fuck around and to not know what to focus on. so i'll go with trying to figure out what the chain of events would be, mostly. i'm very sleepy though. that should be taken into consideration.

xin mo uses its masters' trauma and psychological issues against them. which means we just have to take shen qingqiu's issues and ramp them up enough to see what that would do to him. how that change would present itself is highly dependent on how he comes upon xin mo, as well.

first off, what does he want? shen qingqiu wants, in no particular order: to survive, to have luo binghe by his side and safe, and to protect his sect from a wrathful luo binghe.

he dislikes violence but doesn't shy away from it when it's expected of him to be unmoved by it. he's a deeply curious person and likes theorising, cultivation, and feeling powerful and respected. he thinks of himself as a "faker" but is proud of his moral stances, especially when they differ from the original goods'.

his biggest frustration throughout the novel is the fact that he cannot protect luo binghe from the plot and all the suffering that would bring him, and that he is under the control of something so opposed to his own goals as the system.

let's say shen qingqiu were to fall into the abyss and find xin mo himself, and therefore the system's control of him would be weakened, as it was when binghe was down there. this would mean he didn't betray binghe, maybe even took his place. this has to happen because he figures out the system is his biggest obstacle, before he gets to xin mo, or else my whole thing falls apart. maybe shang qinghua plays a part in this, maybe not.

it doesn't matter much how, but if he doesn't come to this realisation at some point, he would not place his target on the system, nor would he get the courage to try to change things according to his own wishes.

so. abyss -> revenge on the system -> find xin mo -> cultivate with it -> get out of the abyss.

first off, the sect wouldn't stand for him using a clearly harmful (to both himself and the world around him) demonic sword, or any sort of demonic cultivation at all, so he'd have to hide it if he were to make his way back. paranoia and fear would probably change him into an overprotective person, someone who slowly becomes less careful about what he has to do in order to protect his people, especially when we factor in how he'd had to, for years, live under the control and supervision of the system.

there is also the problem of getting close to the protagonist again. if he were to make contact, the system would re-activate, and his attempt to kill it would be useless.

he'd draw himself away from the people he cares about so he could watch over them. he would study and try to use the sword to change things in his favour, with the right incentive. the harm brought to his cultivation by the sword would probably force him to become more secretive so he isn't discovered.

he would probably seclude himself away from cang qiong, binghe and most of the world. whether he goes into the demon realm or not doesn't matter. he would rely on only himself, unless he can get shang qinghua involved in his plans. i imagine shang qinghua would be opposed to it, not only because the system would be against it, but because shen qingqiu's death or pain would spell his own destruction (by luo binghe's hand) if he didn't try to stop it.

the threat of huan hua palace and people discovering binghe's true nature would probably allow for the sword to take advantage of him more and more as he uses it to fight against them. i don't think the opm would not go after luo binghe, especially with shen qingqiu out of the picture, so i'm imagining the old fuck would offer luo binghe some sort of help just to get him close. shen qingqiu wouldn't stand for it, and we know that as he gets more desperate, shen qingqiu tends toward pragmatism. he would do what needs to get done, i guess.

"stuck between a rock and a hard place" pretty much describes shen qingqiu in svsss. having that not be the system's fault, for once, would probably push him to the edge enough that he does something extremely stupid and turns the entire cultivation world against him in an attempt to protect binghe from the opm's influence.

i don't think he would go too far, outwardly. he would probably bring more harm unto himself with xin mo than binghe had, and would probably suffer more than anyone else involved. him being so tight-lipped about his own motivations would get him scorned and named a traitor to the human realm. he'd have shen jiu's reputation post-trial, maybe. he would become colder, lifeless, honed-in on his goals.

this was an extremely long-winded way of saying that shen yuan, corrupted by xin mo, would become a husk of his former self. i imagine a moment where he tries to be warm again, that whole fond teacher shtick, and would find himself horrified at how much of an act that is now, rather than acting cold and heartless. i think he'd have turned his caring into caring too much to the point of leaving himself behind.

i had a wip of shen yuan transmigrating into luo binghe and having to lean into xin mo's influence so that he could get luo binghe reinstated into his own body that i put on the shelf at some point. he ended up baiting people into trying to assassinate him, and used their sacrifice as a way to power some sort of revival technique.

shen yuan needs plausible deniability for every action he does, especially ones he sees as morally reprehensible. so. add that to the whole thing above and that's the bulk of it, i think. maybe. god please tell me i make sense i need a shizun headpat

[catsukkii]

Prohero!katsuki — with florist reader

IN WHICH… katsuki was Inlove with a girl at the flower shop, ever since his mom brought him when he was little. He was always a bully to her because he couldn’t process his emotions. Eventually, he went to UA Highschool and moved on to become a pro-hero, leaving them no time to talk and leaving on bad terms, katsuki comes home for the holidays and tries to fix things, but damn she got even prettier.

Pairing; Katsuki bakugo x Afab!reader (she/her.)

Content contains; fem!reader, fluff fluff fluffy, swearing, cheesy love stuff, mentions of katsuki being a dick when he was younger, I think that’s it (lmk if u notice anything else!)

Word count; 1.6k

A/N; WOWOWOWO I got carried away I’m so sorry nobody’s gonna read ts LMAOO

Prohero!katsuki whos smitten with the cute girl who owns a flower shop, his mom used to visit it all the time when he was young, always buying potted plants and pretty flowers to decorate around the house, he always thought the owners daughter was pretty but of course he was a little shit when he was younger and was mean to her.

Prohero!katsuki who knows he was a dick when he was younger, he’s still repairing old relationships since middle school like izuku, he wants to build a relationship with you, but he figured you were off doing something for yourself at this point.

Prohero!katsuki who visits his mom back at home for the holidays, getting to spend time with family. His mom was decorating the house and wanted some pretty red poinsettias for the holiday spirit, of course she would have to visit her favorite florist shop.

“katsuki! do you remember that old florist shop we used to go to when you were just a small thing?” she speaks while putting some garland up, katsuki putting up some christmas collectibles on the shelfs, he froze once he heard this but quickly shook it off.

“yeah ma, I do. you’d drag me there all the damn time.” he rolls his eyes at the memory as she glared at him.

“you were so mean to that little girl! I remember having to yell at you so many times…” she tuts and shakes her head thinking back on the boys antics when he was younger, he has grown a lot and she’s seriously proud of him even if she doesn’t always say it.

“yeah…I know.” he grumbles out lowly, sighing to himself.

“yknow, her mother got to old to run the shop so she’s took over,” katsuki paused his movements at this, gears immediately turning in his head. “I want some red poinsettias, like we always got for the holidays. Why don’t you go get them so you can apologize to the poor girl? she runs the shop all herself now, and she asks about you sometimes.”

she explains finishing up the garland she was wrapping around various things. You asked about him? why? surely it couldn’t of been anything good, you were probably praying on his downfall and with good reason unfortunately.

Prohero!katsuki who immediately takes her up on her offer, she always knew katsuki was smitten with the girl, so it was a little bit of a scheme on her part. He drives over, his luxury car looking silly among your little mint green beetle car in the parking lot.

Prohero!katsuki who sits in his car for atleast 10 minutes contemplating what the fuck he would even say to you. he eventually gets the courage and strides in, seeing you sit with a bored expression twirling a pen in your hand. You got even prettier over the years, he can feel his face flush but he quickly shakes it off. He’s merely here because he was mean to you and wanted to rekindle a friendship, not some cheesy love story.

Prohero!katsuki who walks up to the counter with a gruff expression, crossing his arms and mumbling “red poinsettias…” you look up at him with confusion, barely understanding him.

“excuse me? sorry I couldn’t he—“ your jaw dropped at the sight, fucking katsuki bakugo was here after all these years..and jeez was he hot. He grew to a good 6’ at least and Jesus was he STRONG.

“…katsuki?” You question with a gasp, immediately turning your slouch into sitting straight up.

Prohero!katsuki who clears his throat and speaks up, “yeah…hey y/n.” he sheepishly looked around and scratched the back of his neck, he didn’t know if he could handle looking into your pretty eyes anymore.

Prohero!katsuki who cant help the smirk that crawls onto his face once you smile brightly up at him.

“omg katsuki! It’s been years— holy shit you’ve grown so much!?” you blurt out various realizations and stand up from behind your register, walking out from behind the counter with your hands on your hips, ready to catch up for the time missed.

Prohero!katsuki who is slightly overwhelmed by your greeting, grateful? yes. confused? also yes. how could you not hate him after he was a total dick? then again you truly were the sweetest girl no matter what. You never snapped back at katsuki when you were young, only crying.

Prohero!katsuki who gets a smug look when you talk about how strong and tall he’s gotten. “you’ve grown alot aswell.” he smiles down at you, before averting his gaze to look at his shoes and avoid eye contact at all costs.

“I can’t believe you’re a hero now! I only got to hear about you through your mom, I’ve been to busy trying to keep the shop from closing I haven’t had time for anything else.”

he frowned at this, it must be alot for a young girl like you to handle all by yourself.

“We barely have business and your moms probably the only reason the store hasn’t been closed yet…”

his frown grew evidently wider, you barely have business anymore? you guys had the best shop! that’s why his mother loved it so much! It was cheap, the quality was beautiful, and the service was excellent! how could you be falling out of business?

Prohero!katsuki who wears a look of pity for you for the first time in years. he sighs before looking at you and speaking,

“that sucks, I think you’re the best shop, sorry these extras can’t see that.”

it caught you off guard to hear him so sympathetic, you can’t help but let out a giggle at the irony of his drastic change over the years. you push his shoulder lightly,

“look at you being all nice and sympathetic! the katsuki I last saw would rather die then feel bad for me!” you smiled up at him brightly.

“yeah about that…” he trails off with a sigh. “I kind of came to apologize. I was dumb as a kid and…just a dick for my own personal reasons, but it’s not an excuse when you were nothing but nice to me. I’ve grown a lot and I’m still fixing relationships from back then so uhh..I’m sorry.” he finishes his speech and it makes you frown at his heartfelt words.

“awww…katsuki!” You rush over to him and wrap your arms around him tightly, he stiffens at first but eases into it and loosely wraps his arm around you with a breathy laugh.

“yeah yeah…you were always an emotional shit.” despite his sass he has a wide grin on his face, you pull away from the hug and roll your eyes, a few seconds of silence goes by before it hits you.

“the poinsettias!” you facepalm and rush around the store to where the pretty red flowers were potted, you grabbed the pot and brought it back to the counter where katsuki was waiting.

Prohero!katsuki who watches you intently as you work, “so do you want them potted or just the flower?” you ask simply. “I don’t know what the fuckin’ hag wants.” he replies with a scoff as if you asked him the most preposterous question.

“katsuki! be nice! she’s a wonderful lady..” he rolls his eyes at you and grunts. “I’ll just give you some of both, on the house seriously.” he scowls at you and shakes his head.

Prohero!katsuki “none a’ that shit.” you laugh at his antics, grabbing a knife to cut the stems. “seriously katsuki, we never get business. I’m probably gonna have to put all of these in our already very crowded garden if they don’t sell anyway.” you explain continuing your work on the flowers.

Prohero!katsuki who ponders for a moment before ultimately speaking up and deciding, “alright give me 10. I’ll double the price.” before you can even try to argue he’s pulling out his wallet, causing your jaw to drop and you quickly spin around to fully meet his gaze.

“nono! katsuki seriously it’s fine! I don’t wanna do that especially after all your moms done for the store.”

he gives you the meanest glare he can muster and just continues to ignore you and pull out money, you sigh but are grateful nonetheless. You grab some more of the flowers from their section, equally dividing it to be 5 bouquets and 5 pots. you made quick small talk as you worked catching up on eachothers lifes, he couldn’t help but blush just at your mere presence, not that you were any better off, you couldn’t look at him without your eyes drifting to his muscular body. you hand him the pretty flowers and offer to help load them into his car, he only accepts to talk to you longer if we’re being honest.

Prohero!katsuki who just doesn’t wanna say goodbye yet. “hey uh..I know ma wouldn’t mind if you went for dinner with us, if you don’t got plans that is.” he mumbles and glances around overwhelmed with nerves at your possible rejection.

Prohero!katsuki who lights up when you excitedly scream, “oh my gosh yes! thank you that’s so sweet..” and offers you a ride there, promising to bring you back after dinner so you can get your car and drive home.

Prohero!katsuki who is already smitten with the cute florist girl once again, and gets relentlessly teased by his mother when he walks through the door with her.

Prohero!katsuki who seriously hopes a sweet girl like you will welcome him back into your life, he’ll even help promote your shop if you let him. he just wants the cute florist girl to be just as down bad as he is.

a/n; guys pls this is cute (I think.) give it a chance…

[fancyfeathers]

Another prompt/ask for Fancy! Scenario where Daughter!Darling gets into a courtyard fight with somebody from her school?

Like I’m talking fists flying, scratching, maybe even hair pulling!

Like, who in the Batfam would be horrified to see her come home bruised and who would be immensely proud to see that she beat the other kid to a bloody pulp?

From 🪼

Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling Masterlist

The question is who would be the least horrified/concerned

Bruce gets the call from the principal right around lunch time, he is supposed to be in a meeting but then he gets told his daughter was in a fight and he immediately goes to the school only to find his daughter sitting outside the principal’s office with Damian next to her because the principal left him to watch her. Bruce honestly expected a trip to the hospital to check for concussions, but his daughter looked fine besides a few bruises, and then the other kid and his parents come out of the office, the parents look pissed and the kid looked terrified and was the one who probably needed stitches.

Bruce definitely looked like he got a few grays sitting in the principal’s office with Damian and his daughter. She had gotten in a fight at lunch, apparently the other kid said something to her that pissed her off and it ended up in that kid getting beat up, really beat up. Then when she was being brought to the office Damian spotted her and tagged along, demanding an explanation for her, and Damian was pissed because no she is not supposed to get in fights, he was supposed to protect her, she is supposed to be helpless.

Bruce pays for the other kid’s medical bills and takes her home after she was suspended and oh my she is very much in trouble. It is that type of scene where he scolds her in the car, she is a member of their family now, she has to behave. Damian does not pick fights at school, and he was raised by assassins, so there is no justification that she should either. She is sent to her room and needless to say she is grounded for a very long time.

Seeing as she already spends most of her time in her room in the manor and her mother does not side with Bruce on her actions, it really won’t get the point across. So after some mulling it over, Bruce talks to Dick and she is told that she is going to be staying with Dick in Blüdhaven during the rest of her suspension and probably then some, doing online classes.

The punishment isn’t the fact that she has to stay with Dick but the fact that she won’t have her mom with her. Dick is not as harsh on his little sister, actually getting her to let her guard down and have fun, especially with a little help from Haley. Honestly he understands, her whole life had changed because of them in the blink of an eye, she is not a vigilante in a family full of them, she just is a child and she deserves to be a child instead of just having a bunch of pent of rage and that kid was just the one who popped the lid on the enviable. Honestly for awhile she forgets about a lot her problems with Dick taking her out to see the city during the day and bond with her and tucking her into bed with Haley before he going off on patrols during the night, he doesn’t really need to worry about her running away, he lives in the middle of the city of Blüdhaven, the crime is bad enough that she won’t go running off.

Tim will probably stop by to watch their little sister during the day when Dick has to go into his day job and he is definitely a bit torn up. He certainly is not happy about the fact that do to her actions she is out of the manor until she learns her lesson (not like she wants to be there anyway), but he understands she needs to learn to let her guard down around them so she does not keep her emotions so pent up so this does not happen again. When she starts school work online again, Tim is the one making sure she does it, sending reminders to Dick to check up on her work (he would text her but her phone was taken after she got suspended), or sitting by her when Dick is busy and he is watching her and making sure she is working and helping her out. He is the one who is trying her to break down her walls the most so this can all be over with and she can come back home and…

It doesn’t work that easily.

When she is out at the park with Dick and Tim, taking Haley on a walk after Dick got back from work and before they went on patrol, Dick brought up the idea of family traditions since she must have had some with her mother and since they all are a family now…

“No, we’re not a… you’re not my family.”

Just when they thought they have made so much progress, her hand threatens to slip away from Dick’s grasp, but he squeezes her hand tight and he drags her back to his apartment, Tim trailing closely behind.

Jason is the last to have to deal with this situation after this last incident. He comes to see her while everyone is out on patrol, climbing through the window of Dick’s apartment, taking off his helmet, and sitting down next to her and breaking down for her as much as he can. He knows she does not want to be here and there is no changing the fact that she is not going to be leaving them, if she just pretends to be happy and get along with people things will actually be happier for her, they will never be totally ideal, but they could be flexible if she follows the rules like no fighting at school, let them be older brothers and a father to her, just behave, act her age, and be a part of the family. Just work with them and they will work with her.

She agrees, Jason isn’t one to keep up the delusion, he just does not want to see her hurt anymore, he is a protective yandere by the very definition. Because she agrees he may or may not teach her some self defense moves that Bruce didn’t want her knowing, just to be able to hold her own when need be and not give a kid a bloody nose, if he really deserves that her brothers will take care of it.

(I am also imagining the aftermath of the meeting with the principal, Bruce stressed out and Mother!Darling being like, “hm, maybe she would be a better Robin than your boys-“ “no.”)

[jaehaeryshater]

The King Come Over and his bride Ygritte Firekissed

art by : @shripscapi

Look at my King dawg we’re definitely getting through the Wall!!!

For the last month and a half, I have been working closely with Liesl to design concepts for Jon as King Beyond the Wall and Ygritte as his Queen. Personally, I’m not invested at all in Jon becoming King of the Seven Kingdoms despite him being my favorite character. He’s not very connected with the South and I don’t feel that it’s his birth right or anything, even being the son of Rhaegar. I am significantly more interested in him becoming King in the North, but my interest in Freefolk culture has led me to be far more invested in the idea of him rejecting Southron society as a whole and becoming King Beyond the Wall (this isn’t necessarily mutually exclusive to being King in the North later on).

The motivation for Jon becoming King as opposed to Mance stems from a theory that has been around since AGOT has come out: that the Others will only treat with/negotiate with a Stark. In the prologue of AGOT, when the Others are speaking among themselves before killing the Watchmen, what if they were confirming with each other that Waymar Royce was not a Stark and that they could go ahead and kill him? All in all, it doesn’t really matter if this is true, but rather that this is a plausible rumor that could easily have been passed down among the Freefolk which could lead Mance to conclude that Jon as a leader would give the Freefolk the best chance of survival. It’s not very hard, at least in my opinion, to imagine an AU like this, since survival is the most important thing to the Freefolk during the events of ASOIAF. But is it plausible that under these circumstances that Jon would abandon his Night’s Watch vows? I think so if he can be led to believe that only Stark blood could defeat the Others, but that is not the only factor. Jon Snow is insecure about his bastard status, plain and simple. He’s always lived in the shadow of his Robb, though he loved him. He’s wanted Winterfell, though he didn’t want to nor had any intention to take it from Robb. But he’s known since he was a small boy that he could never Winterfell and that would never inherit anything because he was a bastard. Jon also has thoughts, at least in passing, that Ned loved Robb more than him. He perceives Ned as having been more proud of Robb, of looking at him differently than himself. He’s seemingly always believed this, but there is a sort of confirmation of Jon’s feelings when Ned allows him to join the Night’s Watch without much preparation on what the Watch is actually like. Fully me making assumptions here, not something Jon has explicitly thought, but it’s unlikely that Ned would have sent Bran off at 14 to the Watch without much warning of what it was like, had Bran not become paralyzed. While we never get this exact thought process from Jon, in my opinion it fits into his psychology and insecurity. All this to say, if Jon is offered to be a figurehead, King, a title equal to his brother, but without taking anything away from the Starks or from Robb, that would almost certainly scratch that itch in him. It would be of his own merit, and there would be people behind him that don’t care that he’s a bastard, don’t see him as less than, and are willing to accept him for who he is. Not to mention that it also lets him feel like a hero and as if he is saving something far more precious than himself. And it probably doesn’t hurt that he would be able to remain with Ygritte as well.

We know from the descriptions of Mance and Dalla, as well as from being told directly by the former, that the King and his wife dress like all the other Freefolk, in thick furs. While the Jon and Ygritte arts from above are not particularly ostentatious by Southron standards, they are in obvious contrast to how Mance and Dalla are dressed. My idea was that Jon, having lived South of the Wall in a Lord’s keep all of his life, brought his own ideas to the Freefolk and added a distinction between a King and all other men. Nothing like in King’s Landing, all changes are inspired by his experience at Winterfell. I tried to think of what was achievable by the Freefolk, that would be difficult enough that it can’t be easily replicated for everyone else, but also keeping in mind of what could be done relatively quickly seeing as the Freefolk are focused on migrating South and saving themselves from the Others. The cultures I took inspiration for the clothing from are the Byzantines, Russians, Incans, Aztecs, and Mongolians. I wanted more “open” and flowy clothing, as opposed to more closed off and excessively modest clothing of 1300-1500s Europe that most of Westeros is based off of. Ygritte is still wearing furs, but they are dyed and there is weirwood embroidery in symbolism of the Old Gods and flame embroidery to symbolize her being kissed by fire. Her jewelry are simply clay beads that have been powdered blue. I didn’t want to give her any jewels as I felt it would be too difficult for the Freefolk to cut them directly and just overall would be against the spirit of the Freefolk. However, getting the blue on the clay like that still would be expensive and take a lot of time. I tried to keep the main color scheme surrounding gray as obviously that’s House Stark’s color. Jon’s clothes are similarly nice, with my main concern being him looking intimidating. I want the furs around his shoulders to be black because I wanted to call back to his time in the Night’s Watch without him keeping his psychical cloak, because I’m sure the Freefolk would not want him to do that. The furs are massive and make his shoulders look far larger, in an effort to make him look more intimidating, especially on a battlefield or in negotiations. He also has weirwood embroidery and his sigil is on the front of his outfit (my original idea was for him to have a flag with his heraldry on it, in which case the sigil would have looked far different, with a full length direwolf). There’s a white wolf on one side and either a crow or eagle on the other side (up for interpretation, both are relevant to Jon and one is one of the animals that can be used a symbol of the Freefolk) and the flame in the middle to represent Ygritte. The sigil is more than about Jon, after all, as it’s for the entirety of House Whitewolf, the House he founds. I thought the name fit far more in to Freefolk culture than something like Whitestark or something along those lines. Ygritte was supposed to have sewn on the sigil herself, and was very adamant about it, and that is meant to be why the thread is uneven and more visible than it ought to be. She’s not very good at the craft!

As I indicated before, crowns are not something common to Freefolk. That would be something else Jon would implement. Ygritte’s crown is very much like a hat, very casual. The beads are nice but obtaining them wouldn’t be unheard of, and holly most likely would not be particularly hard to come by. The reason I gave her a crown with holly is that during Christmas in the Tudor period and even before during pagan celebrations, people would go out into the woods and find holly and ivy to decorate their houses with. Holly was a symbol of masculine energy and ivy feminine energy. If you found more holly, it was meant to indicate that the man would rule the household for the year, and if you found more ivy then the woman would rule the household in the coming year (this was a way to “tell the future” not a rule lol). I liked the holly better for Ygritte so I’m just saying the Freefolk had the opposite belief. Jon’s crown is made of weirwood, which was important to me as I feel like his connection the Old Gods is also important as it is something that him and Freefolk both use to guide them. It ties them together. That being said, a weirwood crown is often used for Bran so I did not want to use a design that was too similar to the one used for him. Bran’s weirwood crown usually is made of weirwood branches, however, and not weirwood bark or logs, so I feel like it’s different enough. The frozen weirwood sap, as far as I know, is also unique to this design. There’s also some ivy to parallel with Ygritte’s holly.

The remaining bits and bobs I wanted to explain are the blue rose and then the face paint. The blue rose is obviously something associated with Lyanna Stark, who is widely accepted to be the mother of Jon Snow. I originally wanted to give him a rose somewhere, whether he was holding it or it was in his embroidery, but I forgot to ask during sketching, and then it was too late. But Ygritte holding the blue rose isn’t just about Lyanna. It’s also about Bael the Bard, a most likely fictitious person (or at least, the tale is fictitious, though I personally choose to believe it’s real) that went South of the Wall posing as a bard. He impressed the Lord of Winterfell so much that he granted Bael anything he wished; all Bael asked for was the most beautiful flower in Winterfell. This was granted for him, but the next morning he had stolen the Lord of Winterfell’s only child, a girl, and had left the flower in her bed in her place. He hid in the crypt with her for a year and they had a son together. Bael eventually went back North of the Wall and eventually Winterfell, having no other heir, passed to Bael’s child. Under this story, Jon is descended from Ygritte’s idol (maybe idol is stretching it, but she really likes him), Bael the Bard. Not only him, but all the Freefolk including Ygritte, according to her story. Following the story’s premise, Jon also poses as Bael and Ygritte as Winterfell’s daughter, with Jon joining her home under false pretenses and “stealing her”, as she calls it. So the blue rose has significance regarding both the Starks and the Freefolk. The face paint is inspired by tattooing done by cultures indigenous to North America. Indigenous Americans are not the only groups to use facial tattooing, the Vikings were famous for it as well, but Viking facial tattooing had more patterns based on shapes rather than lines and dots. I didn’t like the shapes so much, but the chin tattoo was one was that observed in all sorts of different cultures. Usually the chin tattoos with the line were on women in indigenous America, but I found some on men in other outside cultures. The dots I didn’t see outside of Native American culture and the claw marks on Jon’s cheeks I found mainly among Vikings. Because these all are an amalgamation of different cultures, we did them as face paint instead of tattoos because it seemed disrespectful otherwise. Not enough research went into it to be a proper representation of any one culture so paint was a better bet than a permanent body modification that is sacred to a number of cultures. The only thing that was meant to be a tattoo was the chin tattoo, which like I said, actually is from an amalgamation of cultures. Among the Freefolk (in this AU), dots on the cheeks are widespread, one of cultural mainstays of their people, and are generally a sign of peace, whereas the claws are meant to look intimidating and is applied to look like blood (Ygritte applies it for Jon) and is specifically used for military leaders. I really wanted to drive home the point that the goal with Jon’s whole look is to look fearsome.

I have so much more to say about Jon as King Beyond the Wall, how he negotiates with the Wall, the different rules he sets in place, how he sets up being King as a hereditary title once his daughter Bael is born, etc etc, but then I’d be here all day and approximately one person total read through all this. Oops! Ask in my inbox if you have any questions because I would love love love to answer them. All in all, shripscapi (Liesl) is so talented and she worked incredibly hard for me. She was extremely accommodating and changed as much stuff as I wanted. She never complained about the million times I decided something was not quite right and she sent me so many updates. I would recommend working with her to just about anybody. It was very cool what she was able to achieve and I got it in time for the holidays so I can enjoy my winter themed pfp on twt. So thank you from the bottom of my heart Liesl, and I hope everyone showers her with compliments because she deserves it. I also hope that people that don’t enjoy Ygritte very much can still appreciate the art and the concept of Jon as King Beyond the Wall. Hopefully I’ve gotten across how much I love and care for these characters to a chronically online degree and nobody accuses me of mischaracterizing them because that would make me!!!! very sad!!!

Bonus Jon with weirwood leaves:

[dissapointu]

Hiiii !!! I have to say, I have been loving your work and been extatic to find a creator/writer who writes as often/fast as you do! Lord knows, the last time I requested something it took a year for someone to reply to it haha. (Do take care of yourself, make sure you don't burnout from writing too much, and take breaks if need be.)

I wantet to request something from you, if you don't mind? If you do you can kindly ignore this, but how about the arcane characters with a Bassist, gn!S/O? What would they think about it? (Totally not asking after getting back into Bass after not practicing for three months lolol.)

Would love to hear back from you! Have a nice day! Toodles!

Thank you for the kind words I’m thrilled you enjoy my writing, and I’ll definitely take your advice on self-care—

Jinx

Jinx is immediately obsessed. She’ll insist on helping you “modify” your bass for a “cooler” sound (whether you agree is another story). She’ll sit cross-legged and watch you play, sometimes randomly yelling, “Play it louder!” She’s your chaotic cheerleader and probably doodles all over your bass case.

Vi

Vi loves the vibe your bass brings to the atmosphere. She’ll lean against a wall, arms crossed, with a smirk as she listens to you play. She might even jokingly suggest you form a band together, though her “singing voice” is a source of humor for both of you.

Sevika

Sevika loves the bass’s deep, resonating sound. It’s calming after a long day. She’d likely listen in silence, nursing a drink, but she’s secretly in awe of your skill. She’ll tease you about “being her personal jukebox” but quietly brags about you to others.

Silco

Silco sees your musical talent as a calming presence amidst his chaos. He’ll close his eyes and let the bass’s vibrations wash over him while nursing a glass of whiskey. It’s a rare moment of peace for him, and he appreciates the grounding effect you bring.

Vander

Vander admires how passionate you are about your bass. He’ll sit at the bar while you play, a proud smile on his face. If you ever play something upbeat, he’ll tap along or encourage the patrons to join in. Your music adds warmth to his world.

Ekko

Ekko is super impressed. He’ll gush about how “cool” you are and ask you to jam with him using makeshift instruments in the Firelights’ hideout. He calls you “Firebug” and says your bass gives off the same energy as you—electric and unforgettable.

Jayce

Jayce thinks it’s awesome and will likely get overenthusiastic, asking a million questions about your bass’s construction. He might even offer to build you a customized one, complete with Hextech modifications (you may need to reign him in before he goes overboard).

Viktor

Viktor admires your precision and rhythm. He’ll comment on the parallels between music and engineering, noting how both require intricate balance. He enjoys listening to you play while he works and occasionally hums along without realizing.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn is enamored with the elegance of your playing. She’d ask you to teach her a simple bassline, though her skills might be… questionable. She enjoys seeing you in your element and always applauds enthusiastically after a session.

Mel Medarda

Mel is drawn to the confidence your music exudes. She finds your passion inspiring and will commission artists to paint you mid-performance. She sees your bass as an extension of your personality—both powerful and mesmerizing.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa respects dedication, and your commitment to your craft impresses her. She enjoys watching you play, often from a relaxed position, commenting on how your music has a grounding yet commanding presence—much like you.

Maddie Nolen

Maddie admires the creativity your bass playing brings to life. She’ll eagerly ask about your inspirations and how you craft melodies. She enjoys the way your music creates an atmosphere, adding depth to any moment.

Lest

Lest’s feline senses are highly attuned to sound, and she finds the bass incredibly soothing. She’ll lay her head in your lap while you play and purr softly. She might even suggest you try incorporating some unique, whimsical elements into your music.

[astrallytadpoled]

Companion Underwear Tier List

Do you know how hard it was to put this together? Did I at any point think I'd be sitting here overthinking underpants? No. Never. I hope all my teachers are proud of me!

Underwear was assessed based on FOUR criteria: sex appeal, description, bulge/clam protection, and bondage appeal.

Are you ready for the break down? Of course you are.

More under the cut!

First up, Lae'zel.

Sex appeal: That is quite the sexy underwear. It being leather means everything is swampy down there, though. BUT that would be a perk for some of you heathens. 9/10 Description: Built for function rather than fun. What? Have you SEEN that thing? Imagine the wedgies you get trying to fight in it! 6/10 Bulge/clam protection: It covers the most important bits, and it's leather, but enough is uncovered that a direct groin hit would hurt 6/10 Bondage Appeal: Leather? Straps? Tie me up, mommy. 10/10 FINAL SCORE: 31/40, or 78% or C

Shadowheart:

Sex appeal: They're a nicely made matching set of underwear 8/10 Description: If pants could brood… Absolutely fucking hilarious 10/10 Bulge/clam protection: Material seems weak, and it doesn't provide good coverage 6/10 Bondage appeal: Pretty generic mildly sexy underwear with a bit of an edge. 7/10 FINAL SCORE: 31/50 or 77% or C

Astarion:

Sex appeal: It's Astarion I'd be eaten alive if I don't give this a 10/10 Description: Embroidered into the cloth: 'If you're reading this, you managed to bed or behead me. Either way, you got lucky.' Made me laugh out loud irl, so 10/10. Bonus 5 points since he embroidered them himself (effort wins points from me ok) Bulge/clam protection: Look it's cloth. No protection there. And it shows his butt wrinkles (+2 for butt wrinkles) 6/10 Bondage appeal: Generic tighty-not-whities do with them what you will. 6/10 FINAL SCORE: 37/40 or 92% or A

Gale:

Sex appeal: Sorry, Gale. That waist. 7/10 Description: Energy crackles around these. Gale wouldn't… Surely he didn't enchant his… Description? Funny. 10/10. But one has to wonder what sort of enchantment he went for. Prestidigitation? Or some sort of temperature control? A smart man would go for prestidigitation. Extra 7 points for the enchantment. Bulge/clam protection: It's cloth, but he's got good coverage going AND they're magic9/10 Bondage appeal: Who likes shorts? Are shorts bondage-able? 3/10 FINAL SCORE: 36/40 or 90% or A

Wyll

Sex appeal: Bonus for cut, but I gotta ding you for the drawstring. Sorry, Wyll. 6/10 Description: Long may these gird the Blade of Frontiers. Yes, yes, we know. You're the Blade of Frontiers. Makes it sound they're his only pair of underpants, too! 5/10 Bulge/clam protection: It's cloth. Do you think Mizora protects his bulge in any way? I doubt it. 3/10 Bondage appeal: They're white underpants. 2/10 FINAL SCORE: 16/40 or 40% or D

Karlach

Sex appeal: It's Karlach, she's by default hot. Look at the cut! The straps! 9/10 Description: How do these not burn off? THAT IS A GOOD QUESTION, GAME, and now I'm wondering too. 9/10 Bulge/clam protection: Coverage is not that great BUT, they can take the heat. They should probably grant some sort of fire immunity or something. Larian, fix this. 8/10 Bondage appeal: They look pretty bondage-y, but also Mama K. 7/10 FINAL SCORE: 33/40 or 82% or B

Halsin

Sex appeal: To be honest it looks like he's wearing something a size too small, Halsin, hun, give your crotch room to breathe. 6/10 Description: Why does it smell like a herb garden? So at least we know he keeps it clean? Unless HE smells like a herb garden… have you considered that? 10/10 Bulge/clam protection: Keeping everything close and tight to minimize damage. Genius. 9/10 Bondage appeal: They can be worked into bondage easily. Halsin provides the vines. 10/10 FINAL SCORE: 35/40 or 87% or B

Jaheira

Sex appeal: The mesh-y vest-y look on the bra, hello? 9/10 Description: Embroidered with little ducks. ….WAIT A MINUTE is that why Halsin likes ducks?! 10/10 Bulge/clam protection: Not very protective, but she goes cougar mode anyway (yes I know it's a panther, I just need that joke in there) 8/10 Bondage appeal: They can be worked into bondage easily. But she's got to be in charge. 9/10 FINAL SCORE: 36/40 or 90% or A

Minsc

Sex appeal: It is Minsc 10/10 Description: Tight, aerodynamic, and built for maximum breathability. Humidity is no friend to hamsters. MINSC PLEASE DO NOT PUT HAMSTERS IN YOUR UNDERPANTS. THINK OF LEMMIWINKS 1/10 Bulge/clam protection: No protection, the hamster is a liability 2/10 Bondage appeal: Lemmiwinks 1/10 FINAL SCORE: 14/40 or 35% or F

Minthara

Sex appeal: It is Minthara 15/10 Description: Woven with as much toughened cobweb as cloth. It is an evocative mental image 10/10 Bulge/clam protection: Spidersilk stronk, but coverage could be better 7/10 Bondage appeal: It is Minthara 10/10 FINAL SCORE: 42/40 or 105% or S

[faithshouseofchaos]

Yaknow maybe you should write a blurb where driver male reader gets into f1 the same time logans dropped(i wanna say kicked because it cant be described as just dropped yaknow?) And theyve been dateing for a while so when he gets into f1 he Decides he's going to ignore the other drivers like they did logan (Except maybe talk to alex a little even tho their on different teams) and reader just demolishes the rest of the drivers on track and gets first for the races left (while being nice to franco only because logan said so) and the other drivers ask oscar why reader is to cold to them and he doesnt know cause readers doing the same to him even tho their childhood friends he even tells them that he's never seen reader this petty and it probably something personal that happend off track and that he'll be better by they end of the season (even tho reader wont)

Cold revenge— Logan sargeant x male reader

Word count — 1535

Fluff with a angst

The paddock was louder than he’d expected, bustling with voices and familiar faces. But Y/N wasn’t here to make friends—not with them. Not when they’d let Logan go so easily. He could feel a flash of resentment bubble up as he brushed past the crowd, heading straight for his garage.

As the season started, his focus sharpened, race after race. He was taking wins like they were meant for him, hardly sparing a glance for the other drivers. He’d see Oscar trying to catch his eye now and then, probably wondering what was up, but Y/N kept things short, tight smiles and nods before walking off. Alex got a little more acknowledgment, mostly because Logan had always had a soft spot for him. And Franco? Logan had asked him to be cool with Franco, so he’d manage that, too.

It wasn’t long before the other drivers started noticing. In the paddock, the whispers grew. During post-race interviews, Y/N’s answers were straightforward, never really engaging with the usual back-and-forth banter. Charles leaned over to Oscar one day, raising an eyebrow. “What’s with Y/N? He hasn’t even looked at half of us since he got here.”

Oscar shrugged, visibly stung, like he didn’t have a clue either. “Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe something off-track. He’s never been this… intense.”

Race by race, Y/N kept winning, his focus relentless. But with each victory, he caught himself glancing at his phone, waiting for Logan’s usual text—a “good job” or a thumbs-up emoji. Y/N knew Logan was watching, but lately, the messages were shorter, more… careful.

By the third race, Y/N noticed Franco hanging back after qualifying. The two exchanged glances, Franco giving him a slight, knowing smile. At first, Y/N wasn’t sure whether to respond, but he remembered Logan’s words, that Franco was “alright.” Begrudgingly, he gave Franco a quick nod as he walked past.

Next race weekend, Franco didn’t hold back. “Good job out there,” he said in his usual friendly tone as they passed each other in the paddock. “Could’ve made it look less easy, you know?” he added with a smirk.

Y/N couldn’t help the small grin that slipped out. “Guess I’m just doing my job.”

Franco laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Well, good to see you’re human after all. Logan would be proud, yeah?”

A flicker of surprise crossed Y/N’s face. Hearing Logan’s name reminded him of the loyalty that had been fueling him, but Franco’s easygoing attitude softened his edge. “Yeah… he’s been watching.”

The next time he ran into Franco, it felt almost natural to swap a few words. They didn’t talk much, but Franco’s relaxed, warm nature was slowly breaking down the ice.

Not long after, Y/N found himself in a post-race briefing alongside Alex, who had a way of putting people at ease. Alex gave him a quick glance as they waited. “You know, Logan’s been talking you up—says you’re unstoppable out there.”

Y/N managed a quiet chuckle. “Guess I have to live up to that, huh?”

Alex smiled, nodding. “If anyone could, it’d be you. Just… don’t let the intensity take you down too, yeah?”

For a second, Y/N hesitated, then nodded. It was odd—Logan had always admired Alex’s resilience and calm, and now Y/N could see why. Alex’s words settled something inside him, easing the sharp edges he’d been carrying.

Over time, the walls began to come down, bit by bit. Y/N would pass Franco in the paddock, giving him a small grin. Alex became someone he actually stopped to chat with on occasion, their exchanges short but genuine. He still wasn’t the chattiest guy in the paddock, but for the first time, it felt like he didn’t need to keep everyone at arm’s length.

By the season’s end, Y/N had found a balance between his loyalty to Logan and his own journey. The paddock had gone from hostile ground to something familiar, and as he stood on the podium after the final race, he couldn’t help but look at Franco and Alex in the crowd, grateful for the unlikely friendships he’d found along the way.

Let me know how you like this! This version keeps Y/N’s guarded personality intact but lets Franco and Alex start bringing him out of his shell gradually.

Finally, after a particularly tense win, Y/N found a message waiting from Logan: Come over tonight? Need to catch up, just us.

When he arrived, Logan had already set up in his living room, a few beers on the coffee table, the TV playing softly in the background. Logan shot him a grin as he walked in, patting the seat next to him. “Congrats, champ,” he said, holding up a beer. “Guess the whole ‘quiet assassin’ thing is working for you.”

Y/N chuckled, easing onto the couch. “Guess so. I’m just here to win.”

Logan took a swig, then gave him a long look. “Yeah… noticed you’re not exactly chatty with the others.”

Y/N shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “Not here to make friends. They didn’t exactly do you any favors.”

Logan shook his head, a fond but tired smile creeping across his face. “I get it, really. But they’re not the bad guys here, Y/N. This… grudge or whatever—don’t make it yours.”

For a moment, Y/N was quiet, letting Logan’s words sink in. He felt a pang of guilt; maybe he’d taken things too far.

But the next weekend, in the paddock, he felt a little lighter. He saw Carlos out of the corner of his eye, who gave him a nod he’d usually ignore. This time, he raised a hand in a casual wave. Carlos blinked, surprised, but returned the smile.

Then, during pre-race prep, he found himself standing next to Pierre, who hesitated before glancing over with a small smirk. “So… you’re finally letting us exist?”

Y/N shrugged, a grin slipping through. “Just maybe.”

As the season wore on, Y/N gradually loosened up—small nods here, a smile there. He was still mostly quiet, but the wall was cracking.

Y/N was heading back to his garage after another win, the adrenaline still pulsing through his veins. He’d barely stepped out of his car when he spotted Oscar lingering nearby, leaning against the wall with a look that was somewhere between curiosity and frustration. It wasn’t the first time Oscar had tried to catch him alone, but this time, Y/N stopped.

Oscar pushed off the wall, hands in his pockets as he approached. “Got a minute?”

Y/N nodded, folding his arms. “What’s up?”

Oscar looked at him, clearly trying to pick his words carefully. “Look… I don’t know what’s going on with you lately. You’re here, but it’s like you’re not. You barely even look at any of us.”

Y/N’s jaw clenched slightly. He wanted to deflect, but he could see the concern in Oscar’s eyes, mixed with a bit of hurt. “It’s nothing personal. Just… keeping my focus.”

Oscar scoffed, crossing his arms. “Come on, mate. It’s not just focus—you’ve been shutting everyone out, including me.” He hesitated, then sighed. “We’ve been friends since before all this. I get that F1 changes people, but it feels like you’re a stranger here. It’s like something happened and you’re just… cold.”

Y/N looked down, feeling the weight of Oscar’s words. He’d been so focused on staying loyal to Logan’s memory in F1 that he hadn’t thought about what it looked like to the people who actually cared about him.

“It’s about Logan,” he said finally, his voice low. “He got kicked out, and they barely gave him a second thought. I didn’t want to let it go, so I guess… I figured keeping to myself was my way of showing I’m not here to be their friend.”

Oscar’s expression softened as he nodded slowly. “I get it. I really do. But Logan wouldn’t want you to be this way, would he? Being here, it’s your time, your career. Don’t let what happened to Logan weigh you down. You’ve got nothing to prove to anyone but yourself.”

Y/N felt something shift. He’d been carrying this silent anger for so long, and now, faced with Oscar’s steady gaze, he realized maybe he didn’t have to carry it alone.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Y/N said quietly. “It’s just… hard to shake it off.”

Oscar clapped him on the shoulder, a reassuring smile spreading across his face. “I know. But just… let us in, alright? You’ve got people here who want to see you succeed, not just win.”

Y/N managed a faint smile. “Thanks, Oscar. I’ll try.”

As he walked back to his garage, he felt a weight lift, and for the first time, he was ready to let the walls down—just a little.

By the final race, he was in the paddock with Logan’s voice in his head, letting go of the need to prove anything. And when he finished the season with a win, he found himself in the center of the team celebration, surrounded by drivers who’d finally started to see the real Y/N.

[lloydskywalkers]

drywall

went to go work on raising hell and ended up missing Skylor, so!! I will always have so many emotions about s8/9 and the aftermath of it, here's another gallon of them.

Two months after they’ve taken back the city and the street lights are finally starting to work again, Lloyd shows up at the restaurant an hour past closing time, sporting a spectacularly bruise and enough blood across his gi to make the Ninjago City Blood Drive team’s day. 

“Hi, Sky.” Lloyd waltzes — or attempts to, it’s more of a stumbling collapse — right in as if nothing’s amiss in the slightest. “Sorry, I’m, uh. Was in the neighborhood and I wasn’ sure…where else t’ go.”

Skylor, still frozen over a stained tabletop with her dishtowel in hand, stares at him. 

All things considered, she should be fully prepared for something like this. It should practically be in her restaurant’s training manual, that at some point you’ll end up confronted with a bloody, half-dead ninja in your door. But given how slow the past few weeks have been, coupled with the sheer exhaustion of dealing with the lunch rush and the dinner rush and the late-night somewhat-inebriated people rush, her guard is apparently down enough to leave her reacting with a simple, useless, “Oh god.”

“Tha’s my grandfather,” Lloyd says. There’s blood at the corner of his mouth — coupled with the bruising, Skylor thinks (hopes) it’s simply from split skin or a bitten cheek, instead of crippling internal bleeding. 

Crippling internal bleeding is enough of a concern to finally spur her into action, dropping her towel and rushing over to help Lloyd finish stumbling through the door. She spares a moment of thanks, that there’s even a door at all — repairs in the city have been slow, since Harumi’s brief reign of terror, and the insurance provider is still holding out on her. 

But the door was a good thing to prioritize, she thinks, bolting it firmly behind them. 

“Sorry, again,” Lloyd murmurs. His jaw is working in the tight way it does when he’s biting back pain, his bottom lip bruised and bleeding. Skylor’s stomach twists. 

You’d think, after all she’s been through, she’d be more accustomed to seeing the people she cares about in pain. That she’d be desensitized enough, to fight back the aching nausea and the gnawing desire to look away. 

Or maybe she’s just a coward. That would track, she thinks. 

“Shush,” she says instead, maneuvering Lloyd further into one of the nicer booths, careful of the blood that’s…everywhere. “What did you do to yourself this time, huh?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Lloyd grumbles, his voice steadier now that he’s sitting down. Unfortunately, he’s only paler under the yellowy restaurant lights, and the blood looks about ten times worse. “I just…slipped. A bit.”

Slipped. Skylor could smack him, if he wasn’t already hurt. 

“Lemme see, then.” She bends down to where she can tug the folds of his gi back, trying to trace the blood to a source. She finally finds it — an ugly wound in his left shoulder, several long gashes across his forearm. A knife, maybe. Possibly a sword, but it looks close-up and quick. It’d need to have been quick, for whoever was wielding it to land this many hits. 

Or Lloyd would have to be sloppy. 

Lloyd gives a stifled, shuddery exhale, a dangerous preamble to tears. Skylor pauses, just for a moment, and deliberates. 

She’s got Nya’s number, carefully keyed into her phone ever since she and Kai started visiting the noodle house. There’s no doubt in her mind that she’d want to know about this — and there’s less doubt that Kai would want to know. if anything, she’s surprised he hasn’t burst through the restaurant doors already, summoned by whatever sixth sense he has that goes off when Lloyd’s in danger. 

But Skylor also knows there’s got to be a reason that Lloyd came here, despite his claims. Just as there’s probably a reason he didn’t call Kai or Nya, or any of the others. 

And perhaps she feels just a little proud, that Lloyd’s chosen her to come to. 

It’s quickly lost in the blood that coats her hands as she begins patching the wound in his shoulder, but the feeling’s there nonetheless. 

It’s a nice feeling, being relied on. Being trusted. 

“Who got you this bad?”

She speaks up mostly to break the quiet. Lloyd isn’t quite like Kai, who likes talking simply to fill a space, but she knows he isn’t fond of silence, either. It’s one of the things they share in common. 

“No one.” Lloyd sucks in a breath as she draws the bandage tight across his shoulder, wrapping it beneath his arm and back over. His eyes close briefly as she ties it off, forehead scrunching up, before he lets out another shuddery exhale. “Some guy, uh — guy on the way home, near the subway. I had answered a call earlier, and I guess — ow, hey—” 

“Sorry,” Skylor winces, as she finishes dumping antiseptic across the slashes on his arm. “It hurts less if you aren’t expecting it.”

“That’s a lie,” Lloyd says, pointedly. 

She shrugs. “So, random subway mugger?”

Lloyd looks away, his cheeks darkening. It’s a relief, to see any color in his face at all. “Sort of.”

He leaves it at that, lapsing back into silence. Skylor looks down, focusing on the butterfly stitches she’s placing across his arm. Were it anyone else, she’d have panicked for actual stitches, but Lloyd heals with an uncanny quickness. She remembers Nya complaining about it, back during the Resistance — how Lloyd threw a fit when his skin healed over the stitches, and they’d had to cut him open all over again. 

She’d probably throw a fit of her own, to be fair. 

“Well, if you see him,” she says, reaching for the roll of bandages. “Point him out. I could use a punching bag.”

Lloyd’s lips quirk, a ghost of a smile. 

“Thank you.”

It’s quiet enough she might’ve missed it, if they were any further apart. Skylor doesn’t miss the meaning, either. She simply shakes her head, wrapping another layer around his arm. 

“I’m just glad you came to someone,” she says. “Instead of half-assing it yourself.”

Lloyd’s fingers twitch. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Uh-huh.”

She can’t pretend she doesn’t understand. Her childhood is filled with fun little memories of patching herself together, hiding wounds from Clouse or her father in an attempt to convince them she was better than she was.

Not that the people Lloyd is hiding from are anything remotely like her father, of course, but there’s an overlap between people you fear and people you love, and trying to convince them you’re stronger than you are. 

“That should do it,” she nods to herself, surveying her work. She feels unusually proud of herself — Skylor’s never really stayed with a team long enough to have many chances to patch people up. It’s rarer that people are so open to her touching them, once they’ve learned what her power is. The ninja are an exceedingly kind exception, but it still makes her feel warm, being given this kind of trust. 

She glances up, eyeing her patient. Lloyd’s still pale, but it’s far better than the ashy color from earlier anymore. “Anywhere else?”

“No.” Lloyd stares at the strip of bandages across his arms, shoulders hunched over on himself.

“I have Nya on speed dial, you know—”

“Its just a few scrapes,” Lloyd rolls his eyes. “It’s nothing.”

Skylor sighs. “Lemme see.”

Lloyd grumbles, but he lets her grab his arm again, wincing as she dabs antiseptic over the smaller cuts. There’s nothing serious — just a few nicks and scratches, the kind you get from eating the ground mid-fight. He’s got one uglier scrape, but it’s about as nasty as a skinned knee, and easily eclipsed by the scar it bleeds through. 

Her fingers falter. She knows this scar — she was there when Kai struggled to patch the wound it once was, back on her father’s island. It’s an ugly, jagged scar, a testament to how Kai’s hands had shook as he’d tried to be gentle. 

In hindsight, it had been a terrible moment. Kai wasn’t sure if Lloyd had picked up the wound from the underground tunnels, Chen’s cultists, or his own brief slip into the madness of the staff. Lloyd wouldn’t say where it was from, even if either of them had been much for talking. And Skylor had been an awkward, purple-scaled fixture next to them, holding the medical kit while the others planned how to kill her father. 

And yet, it was the lightest she’d ever felt. 

Skylor bites her lip. 

She’s never told Lloyd, what exactly he’d meant to her. He likely has no idea, what he’d represented when she’d first met him. 

The son of one of Ninjago’s greatest villains — and people loved him. 

Kai loved him. 

If Lloyd could overcome the hurdle of his parentage and choose to live the way he wanted, if people could look past the dark stain of his legacy and love him anyways, then maybe—

He’d been hope, when she needed it most. And Kai had lived up to that hope, taking Skylor’s half-formed, frail dream and fueling it into a blaze.

Her eyes close, briefly, and she shivers. 

“Are you okay?”

Blinking her eyes back open, she comes face to face with Lloyd’s concerned expression. She shakes her head, looking away. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Embarrassment pulls at her. “Just a bit of…aftershocks. You know.”

Lloyd frowns, clearly not knowing. “Aftershocks,” he repeats. “From…”

His eyes go wide, only for his expression to immediately crumple. “Oh.”

Skylor waves her hands. “It’s not bad,” she reassures him. “I can barely feel him — his power — anymore. Just pins and needles in my hands sometimes, that’s all. Totally…totally normal.”

She hopes. Garmadon’s power had burned, in the way bitter cold feels against your skin, so a bit of numbness is pretty decent tradeoff, if she says so herself. 

Lloyd looks down, expression shadowed and hidden. Skylor could curse herself — she knows better, than to bring up—

“Here.” Lloyd’s suddenly holding his hand out, looking at her earnestly. It’s an almost childish expression of sincerity, one that makes him look much younger — a little more like the Lloyd she met on her father’s island, who beamed when his father ruffled his hair. 

Her chest aches fiercely, and Skylor holds out her hand before she can hesitate. Lloyd takes it carefully in his own, and she watches in fascination as the low shimmer of green engulfs her fingers. Lloyd’s power is as gentle as he is — nothing like the ravaging purple storm that was his father’s. 

“Oh,” she says. “That’s nice.”

Lloyd makes a humming noise. “I’ve been practicing. H-his power doesn’t get along with mine, that much. So it kinda…makes room. For whoever’s stronger, at the moment.”

Skylor fights back a shudder. Realistically, she knows she shouldn’t feel ashamed, that Garmadon overpowered her — he’s Garmadon. The reminder of how his power felt still stings, though. 

It’s a reassurance, that Lloyd’s power is stronger now. His element, if you can even call it that, is probably the one she’s the least familiar with — she’s never tried to copy Lloyd’s power. She isn’t entirely sure if she could, or if she should. Dipping into Garmadon’s power was dangerous enough. Skylor isn’t stupid enough to pretend she has the willpower to meddle with the power of the FSM’s family much more than that. 

“It feels like cheating, kinda,” she finally says. “That fighting fuels his power. How are you supposed to fight back?”

Lloyd shrugs, letting her hand go. “You don’t. You get really good at dodging.”

Skylor leans forward, propping her chin up in her palms. “That’s stupid.”

“Well,” Lloyd’s lips twitch, just the slightest bit. “That’s Garmadon, so.”

His expression immediately fractures, and Skylor can spot the battle in his eyes as he tries to grasp for composure. Her teeth worry at her lip.

She should really call Nya, now. Or try to track down Kai’s number. Or anyone else — it’s nearly two hours past closing, the kitchen’s still a mess, and Lloyd’s blood is all over her dishrags. Lloyd himself is hardly in better shape, the ghostly pale of his skin reminding her horribly of when she first saved them from the Sons of Garmadon, and Skylor is—

Not enough. 

She ought to know that, by now.

But the fact still stands, that Lloyd came to her. A part of her clings to that, and another selfish, awful part of her, the part that festered on her father’s island for so many years, the part that still flinches beneath the weight of her last name — well. 

Misery loves company, is probably the best way to put it. 

“I should…I should probably get going,” Lloyd says, uncertainly. He doesn’t make any move to get up, though, still small and weary where he’s hunched up in her booth. 

Skylor stares at him, and thinks of sitting for hours on the edge of her father’s island, staring at the sun on the water until her eyes ached. 

“Hey,” she says, a bit breathless, twisting her fingers together. “Wanna go skip rocks?”

Quite fairly, Lloyd stares at her like she’s lost her mind. 

They end up on the rickety end of one of Ninjago City’s abandoned docks anyways, a mismatched selection of somewhat flat rocks spilling out of a Chen’s to-go bag. Lloyd’s left arm is tied up in a mangled sort of sling they fashioned from Skylor’s old sweatshirt, leaving him to turn a rock over in his right hand awkwardly. 

“So, funny thing,” he says. “I don’t, uh. I’m not very good at this.”

“That’s okay,” Skylor says, sifting through the rocks they’ve gathered. “I’m not, either.”

“Yeah?” Lloyd sounds hopeful. “I mean, you at least know the trick to it, right?”

“I don’t,” she shrugs. “I’ve never…I’ve never skipped rocks before.”

Lloyd stares at her. 

“It’s not that weird,” she huffs, fighting back the urge to hide. “I mean, I never really had the chance, but I aways thought — I grew up near the ocean, and all these lakes, so I always thought it’d be fun to, y’know, skip rocks, since I didn’t really have…anyone else, to…”

The rest of the sentence is about to turn even more humiliating, so it’s a relief when Lloyd interrupts her. 

“I haven’t either.” 

He immediately flushes. “That’s why I’m not good at it.’Cause I’ve never actually skipped rocks.” 

“Oh.” Skylor looks at their bag, then back up at him. “Well, cool. We’ll both suck, then.”

“How hard can it be, anyways?” Lloyd says, sorting through their rocks. “You just find a flat one, right?”

“Yeah,” Skylor says. “Then you sort of just, frisbee it. I think.”

“Hm.”

“You haven’t thrown a frisbee either, have you.”

“Oh, like you have.”

Skylor presses her lips together, snorting. “Was wondering when your snark was gonna show back up.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Do you not remember half the stuff that came out of your mouth, back at the tournament?”

“You would’ve been out of your mind too, if you had to herd the guys around then — also, bold words coming from you, ooh, how dare you call me a traitor, even though it’s totally dead-on—”

“That wasn’t even close to what I said, and also—” Skylor snatches a smooth rock before Lloyd can, hefting it up. “It’s not like I was gonna admit to you all I was a traitor. That defeats the whole purpose of betraying. Lying my way out of a corner was the smart choice.”

“You’d be surprised,” Lloyd mutters, as Skylor flings her rock across the water.

They both watch as it splashes sadly, sinking instantly like, well. A rock. 

“Okay,” Skylor cringes. “That was a warm-up.”

Several warm-ups later, neither of them have made any progress whatsoever, save to torment whatever fish are hanging out on this side of Ninjago City’s harbor with relentless rock barrages. 

“This is ridiculous,” Lloyd huffs, watching as his rock all but torpedoes into the water. “What’s wrong with us, that we can’t get one stupid rock to skip?”

“Maybe it’s in the wrist?” Skylor flexes her hand, angling it one way then another. She winds ups, throws the rock out, and — nope. 

“I think we’re getting worse,” Lloyd remarks as Skylor sputters, wiping the seawater that splashed up from her face. 

She can’t help but agree. They’re down to a few rocks left, and neither of them have made any progress, much less skipped a single rock. At some point, they give up altogether, seeing who can throw their rock out the furthest instead. 

“This one’s going…” Lloyd raises his arm, closing one eye and squinting as he angles higher. He finally pauses with his hand pointing upwards toward Ninjago City. “Right through that weird oval thing on Borg Tower.” 

“Don’t hit it too hard,” Skylor says. “They just got it back up last week.”

“I’m not hitting it, it’s going through it, weren’t you listening?”

“To you? Nah. I’ve heard you suck at public speaking.”

“Wow, after you forced me into the live broadcast and everything—”

As if to emphasize his distress, Lloyd takes a running start, hurling the rock forward. They watch as it arcs across the skyline, before plummeting somewhere in the harbor. 

“So close,” Skylor murmurs. 

Lloyd flops on the ground with a dull thump, legs sprawling in front of him as he leans back on his elbows. Skylor’s makeshift sling isn’t doing much at all anymore, though it looks like he doesn’t need it to.

That, or he’s hiding pain stupidly well. Which wouldn’t be surprising, if disappointing. 

“Defeated,” he mourns. “Overthrown by rocks.”

Skylor dusts gingerly at the ground before sitting next to him. “They sure got the best of us, this time.”

“Maybe it’s a learning curve,” he says. “That or we missed, like, the optimal rock-skipping development time.”

“Mmh. Maybe we need to recruit a teacher who actually had a decent childhood.”

“If you find someone, lemme know.”

They both laugh, breathless and hollow, because they’re not much else they can say, to that. 

Lloyd sits up suddenly, pulling his knees to his chest. His arms wrap tightly around them, eyes glued forward. Instead of asking, Skylor follows his gaze to the skyline of Ninjago City, the darkened scars left behind by Garmadon and Harumi painfully pronounced this late at night. 

It couldn’t have been longer than two weeks, could it? Their rule over the city?

It feels like years.

She can’t imagine what it must’ve been like for the others — can’t imagine what it was like, ending it. 

It pains her, but Skylor doesn’t remember much of Garmadon’s defeat. She’d thrown everything she had into controlling his power, and when it had snapped back on her, ravaging through her like a cloying poison, everything had gone dark and hazy. 

It kind of sucks, because she’d done all that just to miss the most important parts, but…it is what it is.

What she does remember, besides Nya’s steady voice and Dareth’s panicked yelling, is the blazing warmth that was Lloyd carrying her.

That and his painfully bony shoulder digging into her stomach. 

“I was trying not to get us crushed,” Lloyd mutters, cheeks turning pink. “Sorry my shoulder wasn’t up to cushion-y standards.”

“And I’m trying to say thank you,” Skylor sighs. “But seriously. Put something on those bones.”

“Meh meh meh,” Lloyd mocks. There’s a lack of his usual energy in the action, the dullness to his eyes only made worse by the bruise-like circles beneath them. But it’s still very Lloyd — a flash of the friend she knows. 

“I really do mean it,” she says. “Thank you. For carrying me out of there. For saving me.”

Lloyd stares at her with dark eyes. Not as dark as they were, back when he’d lost his power, but the glow is almost entirely absent.

“You shouldn’t—” he bites off, frustrated. He tosses the rock he’s holding, up and down. “It was never a question.”

He glances at her. “Besides,” and there’s the closest she’s seen to a real smile. “You saved us first.”

Not nearly soon enough, she thinks. 

She should’ve told him, should have asked — should have let him know how it felt to watch her father fall deeper into madness, told him what it felt like to lose hope — what it meant, to move on. 

To cut ties, before they strangled you. 

“How are you,” she says, as gently as she can. Then, because gentle doesn’t always get you through the walls they build— “For real. Not how people want to hear you’re doing, or the answer you think they want. How are you.” 

Lloyd stiffens. There’s a flicker of fear in his expression, his mouth moving on instinct. 

“I’m doing okay.”

Tremors lace through his hand where he holds the rock, shuddering fingers tracing over the rough surface. 

“Okay as I can be.” He looks down, the rock slipping from his fingers as his arms wrap around himself. “I know that isn’t the answer you want, but I don’t…”

He looks back up, the lights of Ninjago City misty in his eyes.  

“I don’t know what people want me to say,” he whispers. 

Skylor wishes he’d screamed it. Wishes he’d snap, wishes he’d find the anger where it simmers inside him and turn it outwards against the world, rather than violently projecting it inwards like a masochistic missile all the time. Anything at all, instead of this hollow brokenness. 

It reminds Skylor a bit too much of—

Well. 

“I know I — things are—” Lloyd swallows. He pauses, raising his hand to scrub at an already-bloodshot eye. “Everything happened so fast. It was like — like getting hit with a bus, then another bus, then she — put the bus in reverse and ran me back over, and I never really had the chance to…to…”

“To get back up?”

Lloyd nods. He picks absently at a bloodstained patch on the leg of his gi. “And I know that’s just a stupid metaphor, but getting back up is…it’s really—”

Lloyd’s pulling threads loose now, tugging hard enough that he’s likely to start unraveling holes in his gi. 

“Can I tell you something? Something that’s not…not so good.”

“Hey, you know me.” Skylor elbows him. “I’m an expert at not-good.”

Lloyd’s eyes are a little too knowing. “You’re really not.”

And she’d turn a mirror on him, if she could. “What is it, then?”

Lloyd looks away, one unusually-sharp tooth gnawing at his lip. 

“I know my dad — my dad I used to have — he loved me. I know he did.” Lloyd sounds, rather devastatingly, like he’s trying to convince himself. “But now that he’s…now that he’s like this, and after everything that happened, I almost wish — I almost—”

He cuts off, covering his face with his hands. “Never mind.”

Skylor stays still, her gaze fixed ahead on a dark spot in the city skyline. If it were her, she’d want—

Lloyd’s voice is a muffled whisper. “I wish he’d never loved me at all.”

Skylor lets out a long, shaky breath. 

Lloyd gives a dry, horrible kind of laugh. “That’s terrible, isn’t it? It’s so selfish, it’s — I’m a horrible person, for thinking that way. But it — it hurts now, to think that — that maybe, now that I’m different — and her — that even my dad—” 

“It hurts,” she murmurs. “To lose it. To think that it’s your fault.”

Lloyd brings his arms over his head, the bandages on his left arm a stark white in the dimness as he buries his face in his knees. Curling up, as if he can make himself small enough the world will finally forget he exists. 

Skylor’s…familiar. 

But then again, is she? 

She swallows. Her father was one thing, but if — if he came back now, after she’s worked so hard to move on — at the height of his madness, what would she do? 

She’s out of her depth, as she’s always been.

But there was a reason she answered the call so fervently, a reason she followed Lloyd without hesitation. Skylor doesn’t put much stock in the Green Ninja, doesn’t put much in any kind of prophecy. But she does care, very much, about Lloyd, and she thinks that’ll take her a bit farther.

“You know.” She looks down, running her finger over their last rock. “You were one of the first people that gave me any hope that I could change. That, uh, someone could love me.”

Lloyd startles, emerging just enough that she can see the green of an eye. “Huh? Me?”

She nods. “Back on my father’s island, during the tournament. I was convinced that…that after everything I’d done, with who I was, there wasn’t a chance I’d find someone who loved me.”

Lloyd frowns, lowering his arms so he can look at her fully. “But I didn’t — Kai was the one who reached out to you. He was the one that saw you. I didn’t…I didn’t really do anything.”

“Yeah. He did. But he reached out to you, first.”

Lloyd stares at her, eyes wide. Skylor smiles at him. “You were good. No matter how bad your family had been. And it…it had been okay, for you.” 

The mistiness returns to Lloyd’s eyes as he looks back to the skyline, his lip caught tightly between his teeth. 

“We’re doing okay, right?” Skylor pulls her own knees up to her chest. “You and me. I mean, we helped, a lot. We fought back for the city. You did a lot more than me, obviously, but—”

“Don’t say that,” Lloyd sounds pained. “Don’t compare it, like I’m — I do a lot more harm than good, sometimes.”

“You don’t say that,” Skylor snaps. 

Lloyd flinches. She bows her head, staring down at her feet. 

“We’re good,” she says, hating the way her voice wobbles. “We’re different.”

It’s occurring to her, how cold it is out here on the water. She hopes Lloyd doesn’t get home with a cold, on top of everything else. 

“We’re different,” Lloyd echoes.

“Yeah.” Skylor swallows. “That has to count for something, right?”

Lloyd makes a small noise, but it isn’t one of disagreement. There’s a rustling as he reaches for the bag, then holds out their final, sad rock. 

“Wanna give it the last try?” He gives her a crooked, half smile. “Make it count?”

Her fingers close over the rough surface, cold against the warmth of his hand. 

The brightness of the sun against water on her father’s island in her eyes, Skylor flings the rock as hard as she can, far enough that it’s swallowed entirely by the harbor darkness. 

If she tries, she can imagine it skipping, just once, across the freezing waters. 

She tells herself, it counts anyways.

[not-available-for-comment]

Wow I do not like this take at all. It correctly defines popular culture while getting basically everything about it wrong.

Yeah, pop culture is meant to have broad appeal. It doesn’t make you a sophisticate to like it. It also doesn’t make you cringe or mean you have bad taste, and it doesn’t mean that pop culture is inherently poorly constructed.

Pop culture is the Reese’s peanut butter cup of the world. Liking it is not groundbreaking. It’s made to be easily liked. Disliking it may make you the minority but it doesn’t make you more correct or special—it just means your taste diverges from most people’s on the topic of chocolate and peanut butter. If you go to a nice restaurant, you won’t expect to see Reese’s peanut butter cups on the dessert menu—you’d expect the chef to make something themselves, ideally with better ingredients and a more complex flavor profile. If people act like there’s no difference between Chef So-and-So’s chocolate torte with raspberry-thyme coulis and a Reese’s peanut butter cup in terms of quality, they’re either not very sophisticated or just flat out willfully obtuse.

But it’s also wrong to say we can’t talk about pop culture seriously if we want to. Perhaps you didn’t explicitly say it was, OP, but generally people equate bad, vulgar, cringe taste with things not worth spending time or mental energy on, and I’m frankly very strongly against that. Things that are broadly popular are useful on a number of vectors. They can tell us things about what broad swathes of people care about, how viewpoints are changing, what people’s power fantasies and aspirations are. And even if they’re just the equivalent of a silly little piece of candy, they can be well made for what they are. Sweet velvety chocolate against the salt and slight graininess of the peanut butter. Just large enough to feel indulgent—for most people it’s most comfortable to eat in 2-3 bites. Melts on the tongue. Sure, I could’ve probably gotten a full paragraph out of Mx Chef’s chocolate torte, and I only got about 3 sentences out of a Reese’s cup, but that’s not really my point.

My point is that yes, some people do seem overly proud of having a diet exclusively of Reese’s peanut butter cups, and I’m guessing that’s what the OP is addressing. But also Shakespeare was lowbrow pop culture. Liszt was a heartthrob musician. Many of our preeminent women writers of the past were published in the equivalent of Better Homes and Gardens or Real Simple. Not every respected contributor to Western culture has come from pop culture—the guy* who wrote “Ode to a Grecian Urn” was not trying to appeal to the lowbrow everyman—but the distinctions are not as sharp as they’re being made out to be here.

You can and in fact should insist on having serious conversations about people who tried to say serious things about the world and humanity in their art. In her essay collection The Death of Adam, Marilynne Robinson writes** an impassioned call to pursuing art and art criticism that approaches ideas expansively and ambitiously, and she ends with the painful phrase, “I miss civilization, and I want it back.” I felt that plea so strongly when I read it 20 years ago, and I don’t want to squash people who want that too. But I’d really, really caution against the arrogance of assuming that just because you don’t personally enjoy something, or you find it gratingly popular, serious discussion of it is not worthwhile. If you wish to pursue an intellectual life, you don’t have to spend all your time in the mud (to introduce a new metaphor at the eleventh hour) but it’s also unwise to ignore everything that grows from it.

___

*that said, while I adore Keats, I also find him very silly most of the time

**I wish I could quote more of it but I had to really ruthlessly purge my library before my last move and I can’t find my copy anymore.

not to be vulgar but the point of popular culture is to appeal to the largest swathe of people. if you like popular culture you cannot claim to be special! you cannot be literary or high culture or whatever floating signifier of intellectual sophistication you want because those are defined by their exclusion. sorry. just embrace your cringe and bad taste that's vastly more respectable.

[ladykailitha]

Of Butterflies and Backstrokes Part 14

Here were at the penultimate chapter. Just one more chapter to go and I am so proud of this little story. I know I said that yesterday but it is just such a good story.

The final chapter will be up on Friday!

In this we a misunderstanding, Eddie gets advice from his new roommate, Dr. Hughes is a saint.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

*throws cliffhanger at you and runs!*

~

Steve had been to a lot of places when he competed but nothing was quite like London, England.

The city was massive for a start. And ancient in ways America just isn’t. Steve, Wayne, and Robin had book their flight through Gatwick instead of Heathrow to save on money and so they arrived ahead of the athletes. Which game them time to see a bit of the city.

Robin squealed with delight when she got to ride on the top of a double-decker bus.

“The only thing that would make this better is if it was purple and had a third level!” she said excitedly.

Max had introduced Robin to Harry Potter and there was no going back. She was a Ravenclaw of course. And a good portion of her clothes were in blue or silver. There was no way to get the original blue and bronze from the book for love or money, much to her dismay.

Wayne just shook his head. He didn’t veer far from his sports and shows, but he did enjoy a good British mystery. Him and Eddie watched Sherlock. Though, everyone watched Doctor Who religiously every Saturday on Steve’s big screen TV.

They traveled over the London Bridge, the real one and not the Tower Bridge that everyone confuses it to be. It’s a regular suspension bridge. Which Robin thought was lame.

They arrived at their hotel and Steve and Robin went into one room and Wayne went into the other. Once they were showered and changed, they went to go meet Eddie at the airport. They waited by the baggage claim for him to arrive.

They saw a bunch of athletes pile out of security and they jumped up and down trying to find in the crowd.

Wayne spotted him first. He waved his arm in the air. “Eddie!”

Those chocolate button eyes lit up as Eddie heard his name being called. Suddenly Steve and Robin were joining in and calling his name too.

He patted someone on the shoulder and trotted over to the three of them. He gave them all hugs.

“Can you believe it?” Eddie squealed. “The actual fucking Olympics. And all thanks to Stevie here, seeing my potential.”

Steve ducked his head to hide his blush. “I may have recognized your talent, but you’re the one who got you here.”

Eddie looked over his shoulder. “Look, guys. I’d love to stay and chat, but they want us to jump through hoops and shit, so I’ve got to go. But I’ll message you once I get the chance, okay?”

They all nodded and once Eddie got his luggage he was sprinting back to the other athletes.

“Well that was certainly something,” Robin said dryly, pursing her lips together. “I realize that he probably has to check in and stuff, but who was that guy he was chatting with before he noticed us?”

Steve’s stomach twisted as he tried to tell himself he had no claim to Eddie. Eddie was only twenty to his own twenty-six. It was good Eddie was meeting people his own age. Maybe... he gulped hard. Maybe find someone to have a fling with or even...He closed his eyes. He shook his head.

“Steve?” Robin asked breaking into his revery with a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, I’ve been calling your name for a bit there. You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry,” he said with a blinding, and blindingly false smile. “Just hard to be here and not be competing, you know?”

Robin and Wayne shared a glance. They really hadn’t thought about that aspect of this trip. They had been so excited to see Eddie in the Olympics that they forgot that had Steve not been hurt last time, he would be with Eddie, getting his badge and room sorted. Instead of here with the family members.

“Sorry, Steve,” Robin murmured. “I feel like such a bad friend now.”

Steve shrugged her off. He looked at his watch. “I think I’m going to call Dr. Hughes.” He walked off in the direction of the exit, leaving behind a hurt Robin and a solemn Wayne.

Once he was out in open air, Steve felt like he could breathe again. The feelings for Eddie plus the weight of not being one of the athletes was just suddenly too much.

He chew on his thumbnail as he dialed Dr. Hughes. “Please pick up. Please pick up.”

“Hello, Steve,” Dr. Hughes said warmly. “I was expecting you to call today for I took the day off to be available to you.”

Steve slumped against the building wall and huffed out a watery laugh. “Am I really that predictable?”

“No, Steve,” Dr. Hughes assured him. “Trauma is that predictable. I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now, seeing Eddie standing where you stood four years ago. All hopes and dreams and to have them taken away from you so quickly. You’re allowed to grieve that. I’m proud of you for reaching out.”

“It’s just so heartbreaking,” Steve said, fighting back tears. “I thought I could be happy enough for Eddie. But I just want to shake him.” He cocked his head to the side. “Or, you know, kiss him.”

Dr. Hughes chuckled. “I was wondering when you were going to admit to that one. You’ve been pining after that boy for so long, Steve.”

“It’s unethical,” Steve huffed, tilting his head back until it hit the wall behind him. “I’m his coach and I’m six years older. I can’t be lusting over a twenty year old that I have authority over. I don’t want to lose him by being removed as his coach. I think that would devastate us both.”

“That’s certainly true,” he murmured. “But you aren’t his coach right now and it might be a good idea to at least confront those feelings and see where it takes you. You can always find someone else to coach him. Promote Robin. I’m sure she’d love that.”

Steve chuckle was a little watery this time. “Yeah, I don’t doubt it. She’d throw me under a bus if meant getting a fancy coaching jacket.”

Dr. Hughes chuckled back. “Well maybe toss in a bag of corn chips and then she’ll throw you under the bus.”

“Thanks Dr. Hughes,” Steve said, smiling now. “Will it be okay if I call you more during the next two weeks?”

“Fortnight,” Dr. Hughes said in amusement, “the British call two weeks a fortnight. But yes Steve you can call me at any time. Doesn’t matter the time, all right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Steve said breathing a sigh of relief. “Thanks again. And hopefully it won’t be too soon.”

“It wouldn’t matter if it was,” Dr. Hughes said gently. “Trauma is like a box with a button in it and a ball rotating around. At first the ball, life if you will, will keeping hitting the button. Over and over again. Then with time, therapy, and good support system the ball gets smaller and starts to ping off the sides and at odd times, often when you least expect it, the ball will hit the button.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Steve whined, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s like in ‘The Emperor’s New Groove’,” Dr. Hughes explained with a chuckle, “when the squirrel pops the balloon and nothing happens but when Kuzco yells Ha! it wakes the panthers. It’s a bit like that.”

“Oh okay,” he said. “I think I get it. Something bad will happen and you think it will trigger it but it doesn’t. Then something you thought you’d be fine with suddenly awakens the sleeping panthers?”

“That’s it exactly,” Dr. Hughes said approvingly. “You get some sleep and maybe a small snack, both will help with the feelings you have.”

“Thanks again,” Steve said and hung up. He looked up to see Wayne and Robin standing a respectful distance away. “Sorry about that, guys.”

“Don’t you be apologizing for being overwhelmed, you hear?” Wayne said dryly. “It’s not your fault we’re a pair of idiots.”

Robin came up and gave him a big hug. “Yeah. We’re really sorry. But you’ve got to tell us when you get these feelings, we can’t read your mind, okay?”

Steve nodded into her arms. “I’ll try to but sometimes it just hits me out of nowhere and I can’t control that.”

“Roger that!” she said with a sniffle. “I’m guessing just now was one of those moments where it just hit you?”

“Yeah,” he said letting out a shuddering breath. “I was watching Eddie laughing with his teammates and it just suddenly became too much.”

“You always were wet, Harrington,” a sneering voice said from behind them. “I just didn’t realize it was that bad.”

Steve turned around slowly. “Billy Hargrove. I was ultimately surprised Jason made it through the trials. Who did you pay off to take the hit in his heat?”

Billy’s sneer grew to a snarl. “You always thought you were better than everyone else, Harrington but look at you now. Crying in an airport.”

“You always were a better liar than you were a swimmer,” Steve scoffed. “Maybe you should run along and leave the winning to the people who know what that looks like.”

“Bitch,” he snapped and stormed off to a rental Jag that was waiting for him on the curb.

~

Eddie would have flopped face first into the mattress but he was pretty sure that if he did, it would collapse under him. His roommate was a guy named Trent York, who also had been his seat partner on the flight over. They had a lot in common. They liked D&D, fantasy movies, and

they both grew up poor.

Alas, Trent not only as straight as an arrow, but was planning on proposing to his girlfriend if he got on the podium for any of his events.

God, he wished he had been able to stick around with Steve and Wayne and Robin. But Steve had been there before and knew how hectic it was when they first landed, right?

Right?

But when he turned around to wave goodbye, Steve had this look. Like Eddie had done something wrong. And as much as he hated to admit it, it took him awhile to figure out why. From Wayne and his friends’ point of view, it looked like he had been flirting with Trent and then hurried to get back to him.

Which had not been the case and he really didn’t want to have have to overexplain to Steve that it wasn’t what it looked like. Eddie already felt like he was pressuring Steve into something he didn’t want to do.

Which he was absolutely not about, at all.

He laid gently on the bed and flopped awkwardly around so that he was face down into the pillow.

Trent, who had gone to the bathroom huff out a startled laugh. “I really don’t want to know, man. Just don’t bring anyone back to the room and I won’t either.”

Eddie mumbled something in reply.

“Sorry I didn’t catch that,” Trent said sitting down on his bed.

Eddie turned his head so that it was no longer smashed into the pillow. “I’m in love with my swimming coach from back home.”

“Ah.”

Trent looked around for a moment and then spotted a folding chair nearby. He grabbed it and set it up next to Eddie. Then sat on it backwards.

“That’s rough shit, Ed,” he said gently. “I can’t imagine what I would do if Lucy was my coach instead of the one of the girls in the club I swim with. Does he know how you feel?”

Eddie sat up and pulled his knees to his chest. “Yeah. And he feels the same. He’s just worried that swimming commission will remove him as my coach and as all the other coaches where I swim are stuck up snobs, they wouldn’t take me on and I’d have to quit again.”

“Ah ha.”

Trent thought for a moment. “There are a couple other options.”

Eddie scoffed. “Like what?”

“Tell them to fuck off?” Trent suggested. “It’s discouraged not forbidden.”

“That’s what I keep telling him,” Eddie said rolling his eyes. “But he’s got some serious trauma and has anxiety.”

“Who did you say your coach was?”

“Steve Harrington.”

“Okay,” Trent said, his eyes wide in shock. “I’ll admit that even I would tap that if I was gay. Holy shit. Plus like God tier level skill in the water, too. Yeah. Okay. That certainly makes things harder.”

“Tell me about it,” Eddie huffed. “So what were your other suggestions for wooing said God?”

Trent pursed his lips together. “Find a coach willing to teach you? Like maybe go to a different pool. Just don’t give up, okay? You really don’t need this right now when you’re about to compete on the world level.”

Eddie let out a shuddering breath. “Thanks, Trent.”

“Any time.”

~

Eddie made a huge show of apologizing to Steve about how he flounced off when he should have been more attentive.

Steve laughed. “Eddie, I’m a neurotic mess and you’re human. I’ll okay. I promise.”

The smile that he got in return was blinding. Yeah, okay. He really wanted to kiss those lips. But he was going to wait until after his first meet.

Which was in only twenty minutes.

“Go on!” Steve huffed, shooing the menace away. “You’ll be late and I will not have that over my head.”

Eddie raced off as he shook his head fondly.

“You always did have terrible taste,” Robin said dryly.

Steve pushed her playfully. “Yeah, sure. This coming from Miss ‘Tammy Thompson Doesn’t Sing That Bad’, I don’t believe my taste is any worse than yours.”

Robin cocked her head to the side and then shrugged. “Yeah all right, that’s fair.”

Steve started tapping Robin’s arm. She turned to growl at him, but he pointed at the doors that would lead to the pool.

“What’s Chrissy Cunningham doing lurking outside the pool?” she asked with a frown.

“That’s what I intend to find out,” Steve growled, stalking over to her.

When she saw him coming she let out a startled yelp. That brought Steve up short. She turned to them slowly, like a deer in the headlights.

He leveled Chrissy with his best stern authority glare that he patented with his youth swimming classes. She wilted.

“I need to tell you something,” she said, nervously twisting her fingers together. She looked over at Robin and then blushed. “We’ll need to hurry though.”

She turned on her heel and dashed in the direction of the judges.

“Wait!” Robin cried out as Steve and she hurried after her. “Where are we going?”

Chrissy whirled around and still walking backward said, “The judges need to know that Jason is planting more drugs in Eddie’s locker right now.”

Robin and Steve looked at each other in shock.

“Shit!” they said together and hurried to catch up.

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @gloomysoup

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @eriquin

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @chameleonhair @sadisticaltarts @dreamercec @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @mac-attack19

10- @aol19 @tartarusknight @morallyundefined

[whokilledsamara]

SHIGARAKI NSFW ALPHABET

{ gift for my beautiful wife ~ @nutsnhonie }

warnings || smut, asphyxiation, fear play, blood kink, marking, rough sex, biting, vouyerism, {more,, but i cant rly think of what to put}

{an: wife wife wife wife wife wife}

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he cant do much honestly, due to his quirk, but he will hand you things like a wet rag,, water bottle,, etc. even though he is an asshole, he still cares about you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his favorite is your hair, since he cant harm that by touching it. but from afar his favorite is definitely your thighs.

on HIMSELF,, he doesnt like much. though he is proud of his dick for some reason,,,

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he doesn't cum as much as the others, but he still fills you up, hence the name "creampie"

will almost always do it inside of you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he definitely watches you masturbate, or watches you while HE masturbates. plug a lil weird but he chill,,

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

hes fucked hookers, or anyone the was willing, but he never cared for them or cared if they finished or not. therefore he is more experienced in HIS job at it. not so much the other things.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

doggy style. though he holds your hips like a british person and their teacup, its still his favorite position.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

doesnt find humor attractive during sex. therefore he is definitely the serious type.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he has a good amount of hair, but keeps it maintained. same color as the hair on his head and has a niiiceee happy trail.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

not very romantic, but does love you. will probably be romanticish AFTER the sex. still cant fathom the fact that you want him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

does it when you arent there. when he is really pent up with stress from either a mission or something else, then he will find different ways to touch himself. just wants to get off a few times.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

asphyxiation, blood play, the usual. he definitely likes choking you to the best of his abilities without actually killing you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

his room, though anywhere you want him to fuck you he totally will.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

you in general, but theres just something about seeing you covered in blood that sparks a match in him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

coprophilia or anything nasty like that.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

prefers giving, seeing it as his best way of getting you off. his chapped lips definitely make the job easier. he does enjoy receiving though as most people do.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

fast and rough definitely. will only slow down if you beg him too.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

absolutely. he loves taking risks of someone catching you. also if he is in a time crunch he will.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

this is Shigaraki we are talking about. of course he will. enjoys inflicting pain on you, risking being caught, etc

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

for him around 4, but thats just for him. if he is going down on you than it doesnt matter. he can go as long as you need him too. gets him out of team things anyways.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

has a few small vibrators that he collected for you. mainly for when he isnt there, though he definitely doesn't mind using them during sex with you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

teasing is almost constant with him. he enjoys watching you squirm and watching your face flush up with embarrassment.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

aside from grunts and huffs, he doesnt make much noise. if you manage to get him in a submissive manner {unlikely} then he will whine from overstimulation.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

absolutely into marking. likes licking blood from cuts he inflicts on you, or marking you with hickeys or bites. another one would be fear play. enjoys watching you squirm with fear as he pretends like he is about to actually touch you fully.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

his torso and arms are toned and he is littered with scars from either fighting or missions. his dick is around 7-8 inches hard, with a slightly darker tip than his skin.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

most likely high from all the pent up anger, but wont force himself on you. {maybe in another fic....}

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

will wait for you to fall asleep until he does, but sometimes he doesnt sleep at all after.

hope you like,,, im not used to his character much since i left the fandom a while ago.

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

[lara4eclipze]

“i love you”

sypnosis -» "I don't care what they say — I love you that's what matters" you scolded manon

beware! -» fluff , angst , crying , comfort, sick , swearing, cyber bullying, stupid hoes

talks -» hey so recently manon got sick and she couldn't attend the MAMA Awards — some lame hoes decided to use this as a way to hate her , friendly fucking reminder she's a person not a fuckin' robot stupid bitches , I hope y'all burn btw...!

taglist (open) -» @nyssalvr @ohmyhaely @vrtualstar @c-yerim @jellaaa

it wasn't much of a secret that the girls especially lara and manon got so much hate when the documentary got released — death threats , bullying , racism and etc — it took a toll out of their mental health especially since they were just getting started being an idol

recently katseye got invited to perform at the MAMA Awards , this was big the MAMA Awards is one of the biggest award ceremony in korea — so the girls spent weeks practicing their presentation for the awards

many sleepless nights and hours upon hours of practice took a negative turn for manons body — just two days before the awards she had to announce her mini hiatus due to her having a fever

obviously she was devastated, but she knew the rest of the girls were gonna do good—although she wished that she could also perform

"babyy i miss you :((" manon texts you , it was pretty early so you went to their dorms , you drive faster than usual sensing something was wrong

you knock on the door waiting for her to open it—well what greeted you was manon sniffling with a blanket draped over her frame

"baby what's wrong??" you ask entering the abode , she hugs you not muttering a word , as your shirt absorbed her tears , you held her head closer to you but you felt like she was burning "your burning up , are you alright?— did you take your medicine yet?" a motherly way of concern starts to take over you

"i-im okay" she sniffles yet again , finally she lifts up her head — her eyes were puffy her nose red and her face coated with her tears

"no you're not baby , tell me what's bothering you?" you sternly said to her , you both sat down on the couch with her clung onto you

"I just - I saw videos and comments that I wasn't sick that I was just lazy but I'm not!—i work as hard as everyone does!" manon exclaims her hands flailing around , angry and upset tears leaving her eyes as she stumbled over her words

"I know , you shouldn't care about what they say — they're just jealous of you" you said comforting her , her frown deepens "no they just hate me" she says , your heart breaks at everything manon had to endure

"I don't care what they say — I love you that's what matters , not some stupid comment made by someone who probably can't achieve the things you have" you scolded — her tears soon dried up and a smile forms on her face

"I love you too" she smiles , her lips now on yours as a tint of pink made it's way to your cheeks — "now take your medicine" you mutter , she groans

"it tastes like shit — I'm not even over exaggerating it" manon mumbles pouting at you

"language and no just because you look cute doesn't mean you won't take your medicine" you chuckle at her attempt to stop you from making her drink her medicine

"no fair"

"you're sick not me"

after watching a movie and finally making manon drink some paracetamol — she peacefully falls asleep whilst her head was on your lap , you made a soothing motion on her scalp

"you're so pretty" you mumble looking at her peaceful face

sometimes you wish that manon didn't go thru the dream academy, or even became a member if you only knew it meant her being bullied online — yet your thankful that she was with people that loved her , eyekons, katseye, and you

manon deserves where she is now ,no one and I mean no one could tell you otherwise — she worked hard and shed her blood sweat and tears for this and for that you are proud of her