#it can even be parade adjacent just GIVE IT TO ME

[sixteenthtry]

Keep in mind that if I don't see Gerard in that slutty ass black parade costume by 2026 It is over for you all.

[princessbrunette]

“you told me your new man don’t make you nut, that’s a damn shame” all mine by brent faiyaz!

kind of toxic ex!rafe coded ngl…

- malibu barbie

ooooooooo !! so this lyric has always reminded me of jj for some reason but i can definitely see the toxic ex!rafe comparison !!

˚₊‧꒰ა 🎀 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

you’re parading this new beau of yours around at a party. your coming out as a couple, one might think. it was laughable, really — even rafe knew this poor excuse of a man looked pathetic in comparison to him. you’re glued to his side for the most part of the night, barely sparing rafe a glance and it’s really getting under his skin. he knows what you’re doing, you had brought him here just to shove it in his face.

the oldest cameron finally spotted his chance when your boyfriend had excused himself to the bathroom. weak, rafe thinks — at a party like this with the dress you’re wearing? rafe never would have let you out his sight. hell, he would have dragged you into that bathroom to have his way with you. if he needed to piss that badly he could have you hold the canon steady, letting you drunkenly giggle with two hands around his cock. this guys got no clue.

you wait in the hallway for your new man, and as soon as that bathroom door closes rafe is sliding up infront of you, leaning against the adjacent wall, pretending he’s in the one man queue to piss.

“hi, how are you?” he acts like he cares, kind and soft smile plastered on his face, not turning smug for a moment even when your eyes jump down to the glimmering chain barely tucked into his shirt, the same chain that used to batter you in the face occasionally during sex.

“hi, rafe.” you resist an eye roll, shifting on your feet with your arms folded over yourself. your body language was practically cowering at whatever seduction technique he was about to unload on you. you had grown stronger, but not that strong. not immune.

“i see uh— see you brought someone. what’s… what’s his name again?” he’s smirking, squinting and waving a hand by his temple briefly like he’s trying to remember. you blink at him, bottom lip begging to pout.

“his name isn’t important.” you defend, not quite realising how bad that sounds until it had left you. he chuckles, raising his eyebrows and looking around casually, lifting his glass to his lips.

“yeah, no… his name is definitely… not important.”

“what do you want? are you just coming here to pick on me?” the pout roams free, his behaviour even making you wanna shove him, stomp your foot — all kind of childishness. you always were terrible at acting unbothered.

“would never do that, sweetheart.” he softens but he doesn’t lose the ego, if anything it grows. “just… just curious, you know— wanna know what the hell you see in that poor sucker.”

“he’s nice. nicer than you, that’s for sure.” you frown, glancing at the bathroom door. what was taking him so long?

“yeah okay, nicer than me.” he chuckles quietly at the floor before pushing off the wall, entering your space. “nice isn’t everything. you know that though, don’t you?” he whispers, and you hate the way you clench from muscle memory around nothing.

“better than being treated like shit—”

“but i fucked you good though… right? that makes up for it. what—what about this guy? huh? make you cum?” he drags the back of his finger down the side of your face and you reluctantly bat him away. you stare behind him at the door, paranoid.

“rafe.” you warn, your tone telling him everything he needed to know.

“what… you tellin’ me he doesn’t make this pretty pussy cum? when it’s just so easy?” his hand slithers between your thighs and cups you through your panties under your skirt. your jaw drops, but no noise comes out. you can’t believe you haven’t pushed him away yet. it just… felt good to have a hand down there that felt right, even briefly.

he chuckles, removing his hand and fixing your skirt. he then lifts that same hand and gives you a condescending pat on the cheek. “just makin’ sure everything still… responds to me. happy to see it does.” he steps away just in time, the lock turning and your new man stepping into the otherwise empty hallway, eyes flickering between the two of you.

“what took you so long?” you bark irritably at the man unfairly, linking his arm quickly to drag him away once he’d stepped out the bathroom.

“oh shit.” rafe chuckles, lightly clapping the guy on the shoulder as you pass him, pulling him away before rafe could open his big dumb mouth. “nice seeing you, sweetheart.” he calls after you with a smirk, watching you bristle at the nickname from behind and disappear. he chuckles to himself once more, lifting his drink back up to his lips.

˚₊‧꒰ა 🎀 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[chorus-the-mutate]

This is an edited repost of the Erzsebet Bathory character analysis I wrote yesterday that I refuse to let go to waste. I tried doing the right thing and tagging all of the necessary trigger warnings only for this post to be completely hidden from the Castlevania Nocturne and Erzsebet Bathory tags. Since I can't afford to tag the proper trigger warnings without being punished please do not read this post if discussions of rape or sexual assault triggers or upsets you in any way. I don't take these topics lightly and they are vital to this analysis of Erzsebet Bathory.

This post also contains major spoilers for this first season of Castlevania Nocturne.

This may seem presumptive of me to say but this thought has been stuck in my head for several hours: Erzsebet Bathory is the most rapist adjacent villainess I've ever seen without her actually being a rapist.

The first and smallest point against her is how often she mentions virgins. I know that Erzsebet's initial mention of virgin sacrifices is supposed to tie into the origin of her alter ego and consumption of Sekhmet but it's super fucking weird that it played into why she wanted to sacrifice Maria.

Next point against her is the lawyer's daughter. I'm not sure if this lady was a virgin but when she's first brought to Erzsebet she's already terrified and too dazed to fight back. It's obvious that she doesn't want to be there and that even if she did that she can't really express that desire. But Erzsebet still takes this lady out of a literal gilded cage, sits down and sits this lady on her dress to admire her despair before drinking her blood. The next time we see the lady she's still dazed. The only differences are that she's dolled up and seems more suggestible. Even with hundreds of people in this ballroom scene the lady is literally ignored by everyone except for Erzsebet who dances with her and parades her around for her own amusement. Everyone else knows that Erzsebet likes to make her victims suffer and they still refuse to acknowledge the lady because Erzsebet has made it clear that she's her possession. Hell the only person who is unhappy enough with Erzsebet to go rogue at this point is Olrox and he STILL IGNORES THIS LADY. When the lady is dragged outside to be fed on again without anyone batting an eye it reminds me of a rapist roofying their target and proceeding to do everything in their power to seem interested in their victim's well-being in order to take them to a second location. And no one speaks up since Erzsebet is the Harvey Weinstein, Prince Andrew or Thomas Jefferson of the vampire world; the embodiment of people in power getting away with abuse until the damage has already been done.

The last and biggest point against Erzsebet is the entire scene where she turns Tera into a vampire. For me personally that is just an allegorical rape scene and it's executed very well. Erzsebet makes her entrance at the abbey as a lioness of a woman, a literal predator who wants to take Maria as a sacrifice and turn her into a vampire to ensure Emmanuel the Abbot's loyalty. Tera protests and offers herself to Erzsebet instead. This is such blatant coercion that Tera refers to herself as the ram Abraham sacrificed to God instead of Isaac. And the only question or concern Erzsebet has at this point is if her sacrifice should be a virgin. The only reasons she accepts the sacrifice are Emmanuel's genuine love for Tera and the fact that Tera is a powerful sorceress. Once Erzsebet settles for Tera and physically lifts her to her level no one can stop her. Maria gets knocked out for trying and Richter gets bodied immediately after. Their only option is to get the hell out of there once Annette makes an opening and Richter rightfully runs for his life. Even Maria, the only person that could look back and see Tera turn, is knocked out and that feels like an intentional writing choice to give Tera one last shred of dignity. Erzsebet holds Tera really close in this sort of hug as she feeds on her and once she's fed she literally sits Tera on her lap for her turn to feed. Then Erzsebet cuts herself and the blood starts dripping down on Tera, starting at her skirt, going to her blouse and reaching her face. At first Tera doesn't react but then her body responds to the blood and she feeds even though she doesn't want to. Even though no one wants this for her. And that is exactly what it's like when someone has an unwanted orgasm. Tera's body is protecting itself the same way a victim of assault would and that paired with the blood on her skirt being reminiscent of the blood on a woman's thigh in the aftermath of an assault hammers home the rape allegory. It's very sad and uncomfortable to think of Tera's turn to vampirism this way but the thought lingers hours after like a grimy film on my brain.

I 100,000% believe that Erzsebet would have been an actual rapist if Netflix Castlevania didn't romanticize Lenore raping Hector and ending their relationship on friendly terms. Not to mention Sumi and Taka's sudden shift from allies to sexually assaulting Alucard out of spite. Castlevania Nocturne seems to shy away from rape and sexual assault in favor of allegories or moments so brief that I missed them unlike its predecessor. So I'm blaming the gratuitous depictions of sexual assault in Castlevania on Warren Ellis, the creator of Netflix Castlevania, who doesn't work on this show for a very good reason.

Everything from her size as Sekhmet to her tendency to torture women and girls before killing them contributes to the allegory of Erzsebet being the vampire equivalent of a rapist. She exudes power and not only does she enjoy making others feel helpless she's also great at it. She is a sadist without honor, willing to parade her lady victim of choice around vampire high society or hang a young girl on hooks to drain dry rather than let any of them die a quick death. The dragged out, needless suffering Erzsebet inflicts along with her preference for women and virgins frames her feeding as something more sexual in nature than the other vampire nobles who simply indulge in their gluttony. Even Olrox feeding on his former boyfriend isn't framed sexually, it's framed as a desperate, romantic gesture to keep his lover alive. And every vampire I remember from Castlevania has their feeding framed as a tool for political power or sheer, simple gluttony. Even the vampire general Cho was shown to be more of a tyrant or a general sadist clinging to power in Japan than a deviant.

Erzsebet's sheer sadism actually contrasts quite well with Dracula's humanity and restraint. He understood humanity, only feeding to survive or strike down the merchants who slighted him. (He probably also used feeding as a tool for political power but I don't think we saw that directly.) Dracula ultimately came to understand humanity so well that he fell for Lisa Tepes, the exemplar of what it means to be human. And that love is why I believe he respected Lisa's wishes and let her keep that humanity instead of turning her into a vampire. And after Lisa's death Dracula stopped feeding entirely, hoping to extinguish his life and take out as many people as he could because he believed that humanity should've been better. He believed that the people who lived alongside Lisa would've stood up for her and they betrayed her out of a mix of fear, religious reverence and apathy. Meanwhile Erzsebet doesn't care about humanity, seeing people like the lawyer's daughter as possessions or people like Tera and Emmanuel the Abbot as pawns to further her own rule. She might be taken aback by Drolta's death once she learns of it but there's an equal chance that she wouldn't even bat an eye.

So what do these points of analysis mean for Erzsebet and Tera's future dynamic as master and pawn? The one thing that's certain is that Tera has been fundamentally changed, forced into an unprecedented nightmare scenario that will drag her down a dark path. But I'm an optimist and I believe that Tera will ultimately be redeemed. She may never be human again but her humanity, her love for her son and daughter will save her soul. Ultimately I hope that Tera lives and recovers from the trauma of Erzsebet turning her. I hope that she goes home to her children and is taken in with open arms. But if Tera dies she will die as Tera, not as a pawn, and that is because Erzsebet could never kill her humanity.

[sparklepocalypse]

Whaddup, y'all? Do I have a fic snippet I can share? Yes I do! Did I finally remember that Tumblr tag games are a thing? Yes I did! Thanks to everyone who's tagged me since uh, I started posting my @aroyallybigbangrwrb fic way back in September, I think was my last fic game participation post? 😅

Here are the first few paragraphs from the Ever After-adjacent mpreg AU that I've been writing for @duchessdepolignaca03 since, um... last spring? Anywho! Have some vaguely historical fairy tale words, behind the jump to save you a scroll if you're not into those sorts of words.

The trouble, Henry reflects, with being the younger brother of a man whose sweeping romance with his new bride had been something straight out of the fairy stories, is that one’s own courtship prospects seem rather dull by comparison. There are interviews, and negotiations, and honestly, he’d had enough of the entire business on day one. Now, it’s day three-hundred-and-something, and Henry is once again standing on the dais in the audience chamber, fussing with his cravat as his mother observes him approvingly. “Surely you’ll find your match soon,” Queen Catherine says for the three-hundred-and-somethingth time in what he’s certain she must believe is a placating tone, but Henry huffs in annoyance nonetheless. Three years prior, while Henry had still been entrenched in studies with his cadre of private tutors, the Queen and the late Prince Consort had made their first attempt at royal matchmaking with his elder brother, Philip. They’d paraded all the eligible and unwed noblewomen within five hundred miles before him, hoping he’d select one as his wife — and he’d gone and fallen in love with a commoner as if to spite them all. Martha is a delightful woman and a welcome addition to the family, but the court has only just begun to recover from the shock that one day, they’ll be bowing to a peasant girl and calling her their queen. The secondary bit of trouble — that Henry has no want of a wife of any sort, whether of means or not — has proven itself to be far less of an issue than he’d initially hoped. Henry had optimistically informed his mother and the Prime Minister of his utter disinterest in the fairer sex as they’d begun planning his matchmaking events. The Prime Minister, in turn, had disappeared into the archives for a solid week, only to return armed with a stack of obscure and archaic but still entirely valid laws allowing the union of two men, which had dashed his hopes of altogether avoiding marriage. The court herald takes his place next to the door with precise, even steps, raising his staff and rapping it against the flagstones three times. Henry straightens his posture and gives his mother an apprehensive glance. She nods encouragingly, and the doors open. “Julian Margrove, Lord Feversham,” the herald announces. “Let the parade begin,” Henry mutters through gritted teeth.

[ultrvmonogamy]

i agree that phrase may be too much of a generalization, some people can just be angry weird and bitter and make up things. especially on tumblr because most people on here have NO fucking lives. but from what i've seen it's been mostly true. on the other hand I have also gotten insane anon hate out of pure jealousy, so it's not impossible that some freak would be lying about you. i'll wait until i see some proof (if there is any.)

i'm sry that u've had to deal w insane anon hate too.

i dunno who has lives or not, but i do know that some of the ppl targeting me are willfully concocting an increasingly wide array of claims abt me and are acting out of pure malice. some others, i'm sure, are just towing the line and possibly think they're doing smth positive for the community. to my mind, the former is absolutely criminal (like waste of oxygen human being level), and the latter is at best ignorantly irresponsible.

i understand that many ppl feel that it's socially responsible to "take the accusations seriously" by further propagating them, but in my estimation to do so without even a single shred of evidence, let alone a preponderance of it is fully negligent. if what ur spreading is not true, then i believe ur complicit in the behavior u purport to condemn. i believe that to spread false claims is not only injurious to the person being slandered/libeled, but also is belittling to ppl who have truly been victimized, and further still makes it more difficult to believe similar claims in general, which ofc include true claims.

wrt your mention of jealousy, i do think that played in at some point in all this bullshit snowballing, but as far as i'm aware it is not at the root. i don't know for certain, but best as i can work it out i've concluded that a certain woman put herself in a position where she either 1) had to admit to her best friend that she'd made a hobby of doing something shameful, deceptive, dangerous to herself and others, and generally gross, or 2) avoid accountability in some way, which as happened was to present a bullshit version of reality that explained away the small part of it she'd inadvertently revealed to her friend.

that's partly conjecture (albeit informed conjecture), but it's the best i can make sense of it all based on what i know, and i think that given the circumstances the most obvious and convenient path for her was to claim that i had done the thing that she had actually done. for all i know someone who reads this on my blog is more aware of the motivations than i am, but what i do know is that i absolutely did not do the thing that i was originally told abt, and i absolutely have not done any of the numerous other things i've since seen myself accused of.

anyway, it started out w some calculated distortions that were reality adjacent but from there seems to have grown into some hellscape version of the telephone game, and at this point it seems to have picked up, like, a sociopathic clown parade throwing their clown grenades at me while circling me on their clown unicycles.

i realize this is still quite vague and abstract, and for several reasons i will likely continue to keep it that way unless faced w an absolute necessity to give concrete details.

fwiw i can tell you that the few ppl who i've shared concrete details with and who have seen some actual evidence all continue be mutuals who reblog from me and converse w me at least semi regularly, and this includes women for whatever that's worth as well. no one that i've shown evidence has blocked or unfollowed me.

obviously i can't verify that without disclosing them, and at this point i wouldn't even be willing to do that if they asked me to, bc this has become a total shitshow n the last thing i wanna do is put good ppl in harms way. if any of y'all are reading this tho and have trusted friends that you'd feel it'd be first and foremost safe but also worthwhile to vouch for me to, i'm def not gonna argue against that.

after the twisted vigilantism and malevolent buffoonery i've seen in the past couple of days, i'm far less inclined to share even vindicating details on a public forum, but if anyone who's got a well-established relationship of trust w me feels the need to know or see some things, feel free to reach out. assuming we've actually got that level of trust, my one contingency is that i'm not comfortable doing via any platform other than signal. it's not gonna happen tonight tho, bc i'm just fried at this point.

oh, but that only pertains to the thing that started all this last april or thereabouts. i've seen so much off the wall spurious shit thrown at me by now and, u know, my ability to prove things don't exist is heavily curtailed by the laws of reality.

anyway, i'm getting to a (probably far healthier) point where ppl can believe wtv the fuck they want abt me as far as i'm concerned. also tbh a bunch of ppl who have condemned me strike me as total hypocrites based on some of the ppl they happily reblog and shower w attention, so like those kinds of ppl can think what they want all the way to they're own self-destruction and make more space for the rest of us.

[amateurenjoyer]

A friend posted this tweet in our Discord:

We got to work sharing our lists. Mine is extremely of a time and a lot of these tracks might not seem like instant joy, but rather, extremely specific joy-adjacent feelings. You can listen to my list here. Anyway, I thoguht it'd be nice to share here with a little blurb for each song under the cut. These are not in a listenable order imo but i think that's a me problem.

Think About Things - Daði Freyr

I'm not a parent and never wish to be one, but this song captures a sense of unconditional love and optimism for the future, and in such a catchy way, I just can't help but love it. Unskippable.

Fifteen Minutes - Mike Krol

I can and have listened to this song on repeat for hours on end. It's short, so that's a lot of listens. A lot. Gets me hyped despite the world ending.

I'll Believe in Anything - Wolf Parade

It's the crashing cymbals that drive this for me, and the feeling of two people fighting to persist in a world not made for them. That's, uh, also optimism!

Gun Has No Trigger - Dirty Projectors

I needed a dirty projectors song on here, I could have chosen so many. but I've been hooked on this one lately, with it's bubbly bass line and salient themes of protest. Gives me chills and that's a nice feeling.

Suffer for Fashion - Of Montreal

I danced my teenage heart out in a press pit 10 feet from Kevin Barnes as this song blasted over the crowd at Pitchfork. A lot of their music fostered a sense of my queerness before i had words for it (and hey, sounds like ditto for Barnes too, though whoof kind of a rocky path there publicly). Maybe the most joyous entry on this list for me.

Float On - Modest Mouse

My dad's driving me home from rehearsal for the summer stock show I somehow got cast in, I'm playing this album for him, we stop and get soft serve while the crickets start popping off for the evening.

I Am Trying to Break Your Heart - Wilco

I liked you, you liked her, we were all best friends. You cried on my bed the day she left town. I should have been jealous but I loved that you could be that vulnerable with me. I think my heart got stronger because of it.

A Nervous Tic Motion of the Head to the Left - Andrew Bird

idk man it's the whistling and violins and that sweet honey voice, what do you what me to say?

Light Rail Coyote - Sleater-Kinney

I don't know that Portland feels like this anymore, it certainly doesn't to me, but my fondness for the picture this song paints cannot be understated. Probably some unhealthy nostalgia. Now get off my lawn.

Only Skin - Joanna Newsom

Sixteen minutes of exquisite chills and weeping and being transported to another place entirely. Sometimes I struggle to feel engaged with the world around me but I'm connected the place I'm taken to here.

This Mess We're In - PJ Harvey feat. Thom Yorke

This is a cheater's way of getting both these artists on this list. Great song though, first song I learned to play by ear.

The Freshman - The Verve Pipe

I'm on the bus to Rhode Island, all the Latin class kids are excited to be staying in a hotel together. My head's on missy's shoulder as Boston rolls by. I'm building a constellation of love and friendship, made up of many points. It's like constructing a myth. I wonder what I should ask the fortune teller when we get to Newport.

I Wish I Was the Moon - Neko Case

Midnight drive to the airport. My father has had one funeral already, but there's two more to go. It's a sad and slow roadshow, but the moon is bringing me peace.

Dirty Whirl - TV on the Radio

I thrummmmmmmm and that's all there is to say.

Bear - Antlers

This song is a tragedy but something about expressions of grief and like calling to like. Hospice as an album is a great comfort but this one track really sings for me.

Decatur, or, Round of Applause for Your Step-Mother! - Sufjan Stevens

I like-a da banjo. Some of the harmonies just slip into my brain folds in a such a pleasing way.

What's Up? - 4 Non Blondes

I'm in first grade and my sisters are in high school, our parents are out of town and the big kids are throwing a party. I'm twirling a red plaid umbrella as a couple of burnouts giggle and stare at its dizzying patterns. Hey, its the 90s! The only song I sing at karaoke.

Washing Machine Heart - Mitski

I'm hopeless and it feels good, actually. I'm smiling. I'm smiling!

Angeles - Elliott Smith

This song makes me think of you and a gift you didn't even realize you were giving me. I think there's another world in which we share a home and become doddering old weirdos together, platonically, if you can believe it. Thanks for playing scrabble with me.

Fuck and Run - Liz Phair

Anger and passion were too scary to let in for so long, and while every minute I spent around you was a foolish and humbling trial, I'm genuinely grateful that a dirtbag came along at the right time and pulled those feelings out of the numbing void I had been keeping them in. I hear you're in real estate now?

[potsnpansies]

Quick little oneshot for @unorthodoxx-page ‘s A Tale Of Spirits! I wanted to explore the tense relationship slowly forming between Azula and Donnie. And Donnie’s issues with sensory that he likely has to hide.

-

The first time Azula noticed it, she passed it off as the spirit’s typical antisocial and self-important demeanor.

This time, however, it's clearly something more.

The first time they were in a royal procession. Spirit and Princess paraded around the city to show off the Fire Nation’s power. Both in large, open palanquins so that the onlookers may be graced with their presence. Azula was bored, it was a typical routine since Donatello had appeared. She glanced at the spirit on the adjacent palanquin and was surprised to see him unusually stiff.

There was an accompanying band this precession, and some children waving sparklers and cheering. Donatello squinted at the sights and sounds, seemingly annoyed. Azula took it as his regular distaste for the Fire Nation and its people.

The second time, Azula, Mai, Ty Lee, and the Spirit are walking through a bustling market. Their bodyguards are covertly stationed everywhere around them, but it doesn’t seem to dim the lively place. Azula hopes to gain information better this way, the group hooded and concealing their status. Peddlers try and shove their goods in their faces, street performers dazzle cheering onlookers, people argue and haggle, and street musicians are stationed everywhere to get a quick buck. It's all very chaotic and loud.

Don’t even get started on all the smells and flashing colors. The gutters reek of refuse, while everywhere is bombarded with smells of spiced meats and perfumes. Azula herself finds it too much for her tastes.

“How much longer do we have to search around this dump?” Mai complained, she never was one for outings.

“I think it's fun! Everythings so.. Lively!” Ty Lee chipped in, much to the glower of her friend.

Azula finished interrogating a fishmonger for any information he may have received and turned to give her posse a short speech on patience when she finally noticed him. The Spirit was as far into the hood as he could, his face pulled into a subtle grimace. He’s uncomfortable, she could tell as much.

Why didn’t she notice sooner? He was usually always prattling on and lecturing to her, showing off his strange knowledge. But he hasn’t said a word since they started walking around. Very well, she can be benevolent.

“We’re done here, guards, to me.” Within mere seconds the five bodyguards which were previously discrete seemed to practically teleport to her position. “Gather information on the avatar, question anyone you might think might have intel.” She sent the chosen guard away, then ordered the other to ready a coach. The spirit was quiet the whole time as well. Even the other two seemed to notice something was amiss.

_

“Aren’t you going to say thank you?” Azula prodded Donatello, the pair had been riding silently for nearly 15 minutes beforehand.

The spirit drew in a slow breath, then released it. He still seemed uncomfortable. “For what?” He deadpanned, but there was a subtle bite to the words she didn’t expect.

“For getting you out of there, of course, it's clear you don’t like crowds. Though I expected a Great Spirit to able to handle more than some rowdy shopkeepers.” Azula smiled, her words lacked the venom they spat though.

“I don’t need your pity.”

Now THAT was a surprise, no comeback? No scathing remark? She had hit a weak spot. Azula pushed further. “I never said I pitied you, you just looked so sad out there, I figured it was the least I could do for such a powerful being” Azula teased. She watched as he practically raised his hackles. The two fingers that had been previously tapping his knee the whole time instead gripped his pants in a moment of anger.

He released his grip and sighed. His palm gently hit his face and dragged downward in a show of annoyance. “Listen, Azula, I don’t do well with large crowds. Is that what you wanted me to say?” His question came more as a sign that this conversation was over. Azula took it. “Very well then, I’ll make sure the fire priests know.”

She always had to have the last laugh, after all.

-

Azula entered the spirit’s room without knocking. The fire priests came to her saying that he had shut everyone out of his dwelling on threat of death. Strange.

Donatello was wrapped in a blanket on the floor in the corner of his room. It was dead silent save for the muffled noise of some strange grating music coming through the device he always wore on his head. He was gently rocking back and forth, clearly, he had not heard her. He stared fixated on the floor, and only when he sensed her movement did he shoot up straight to his feet.

He was furious.

“Get. Out.” He practically growled the words. His gaze pierced right through her.

Azula practically shivered. “Apologies dear Great Spirit, but you can’t threaten the Fire Sages like that.” She tried to lighten the mood.

“Five.” He had never sounded so angry.

“What are you saying?” Azula began to back up.

“Four” by now she had gotten the idea.

She was out of the room by “two”.

-

When Donatello left his room finally, it had been two days. It was only to pluck some food and drink from the apologetic offerings the sages had left before slamming the door. Azula had been putting up with his sulking since the terrifying encounter. But now she had to confront him. He couldn’t stay cooped up in there forever.

And she needed to apologize.

Of course, it's only strategic, the sages had been in a frenzy at Azula since her breach of his boundaries. They were praying profusely for her to not be cursed or sentenced to death. It's not her fault. Right?

Two knuckles softly rapped at the spirit’s door, the guards stationed on either side had been sent away. She didn’t know why she felt the need to do that, but it was already done.

“Donatello. You are required to leave your living quarters at some point.” She kept her voice stern, but not cruel. There was no answer.

“You can’t stay cooped in there forever, the sages are going crazy from your little stunt.” Shift the blame on him, that always works. Sure.

No answer.

Azula sighed. “Listen, I’m sorry alright? I should have asked to come in. I breached your privacy. I, Azula, Princess of the Fire Nation and daughter of Firelord Ozai, apologize.”

For a moment Azula thought that she was just talking to air. Several long seconds dragged on. Azula readied to leave when the door slowly creaked open. Looking down at her was a rather tired spirit wrapped in a silk robe.

“I accept your apology.” And with that, he turned away. However, leaving the door open as an invitation.

Azula took it.

[my-mt-heart]

SDCC22

As promised, I'm going to share my thoughts on everything SDCC, or at least everything I can so far. Hope you don't mind me using bullet points because I'm pretty wiped. But if it's any consolation, I do also have visual aids for once.

The Trailer

I counted two whole shots of Caryl, which is two more than we got in any other trailer this season. There were a couple Caryl adjacent ones too. So that's...better?

Fwiw, I do believe Daryl and Carol are going to have a shared arc this time. It's just...not going to be promoted I guess?

It feels way too late in the game to be introducing variant walkers. The show's breaking it's own canon.

The Panel

I said this on Twitter and I'll say it again here. It was refreshing to see so many fans hyped for Caryl and McReedus again after three months of misery. I am not going to be the asshole who takes that away from anyone. What I will say is...

I am getting whiplash over here. Norman is going on a liking spree and the official TWD accounts are tweeting "Caryl forever" and "We love them too" which to be clear is not hinting at what's to come necessarily, but at the very least demonstrates an effort to convince us they care (and therefore we should care that they care). The thing is, we're not being given anything concrete to look forward to.

Norman's statement that "the Carol/Daryl story isn't over" is pleasant to the ears and I want it to be true, don't get me wrong. To me, it's pretty obvious there is no actual plan in motion right now. If there was, Melissa would have gotten the opportunity to speak on it herself.

It was so, SO lovely and at the same time heartbreaking to hear her talk about playing Carol. I'm grateful for the time she committed to this, but I am left thinking she was there to help AMC convey that everything's all good. "No hard feelings, nothing to see, let's cool it with the backlash and watch all the shows, okay?" And nothing more than that, which is even more heartbreaking. But also, if AMC wanted her to verbally corroborate any of the narratives that were tossed out there regarding the spinoff cancellation, that was their chance. They didn't take it.

My guess is AMC is trying to straddle the fence. They're putting in the bare minimum to keep us hanging around, but they don't know how to give us what we want or if they even can at this point.

The Richonne Spinoff

Again, I do not want to be the asshole who rains on other people's parade. I like Richonne. I'm happy Andy and Danai get to come back and I wish them all the success in the world. They absolutely deserve closure since the movies, you know, fell through :P I definitely would've liked to watch this one if I felt more confident the story would be good. Strong acting can go a long way, but knowing who's in charge and having watched the stories said person has told in the past, well, I'll stop there. It's also just too painful to think about what we're missing out on with Caryl.

I have no idea what the point of a Daryl spinoff is anymore. If not looking for Rick and Michonne, what the hell is he doing in France without Carol? Or if he is looking for them, what impact is that going to have if we already know how it ends? Without a carrot to dangle, what do the largest factions of the fandom (Caryl fans and Rick fans) have to root for? What are the stakes?

This:

tells me the Richonne spinoff is meant to carry the franchise now that the Caryl spinoff has fallen through.

A silver lining:

To me, this implies the spinoffs are going to take place during the time jump, which means we will not end on the depressing note of Daryl and Carol separating for an indefinite amount of time.

The Press Conference

Melissa was supposed to attend, but got pulled out at the last minute, so that's a bummer :/

No updates on the Daryl spinoff

Fan Celebration

Some photos:

If I've missed anything, I'm sure someone will bring it to my asks. I know I have a lot of those to get through, most likely tomorrow. Bear with me.

P.S. Nice to see Melissa and #Caryl trending all day (let me have this).

[friendship-switchblades]

Put your Spotify Wrapped on Shuffle and List the First 10 Songs

Tagged by @greenlikethesea and in spirit by @sparklyslug

pool - paramore - after laughter was my absolute favorite album of 2017, and I’ve returned to it again and again. i was never a FAN of pmore, just knew the singles, but i was totally blown away by the sound and writing on hard times when the mv dropped. i love the new wave (especially talking heads) influences they’ve been incorporating since. there’s bells in pool and they sound like the sparkle of sun on water. this is why is gonna be so weird and good!

i never told you what i do for a living - mcr - the goncharov song incredible fucking song!!! what a way to close an album! i got to hear it live in newark with @sparklyslug, @greenlikethesea, @marchionessofbones, and so many of my other friends who are less addicted to tumblr! the guitars are shrieking, gerard is doing everything from black metal screams to croons to syncopated talk-singing to keep up with a song that’s veering out of control the entire time. like gwarsenio of 2m2ln said in his interview with frank, there’s so many different ideas packed into each song on this album.

personal jesus - depeche mode - mother of all bangers. give it a listen today if you haven’t heard it in a while!

heaven help us - mcr - i understand why the black parade wasn’t a double album, but imagine a world in which this hot little number was played more regularly. it almost feels like the end credits to the tragic second act of a trilogy.

fight for your right - beastie boys - the beasties rule and this song megarules. it’s in my top 100 because it’s on my epic-length killjoys playlist! i haven’t yet incorporated the songs mentioned in the kjverse tweet archive, but @feech-phylicia has put them together HERE

brother - gerard way - literally since TUA issue 1 i’ve approached MCR’s side projects with a desire to maintain a critical eye, and like the work on its own merits and without fan goggles. hesitant alien hit in my final semester of grad school, and i genuinely love it. it’s music for a quiet crisis. it’s music for wondering what you’re supposed to do when you reach the end of your plan. if you’ve never walked around nyc in the rain at night while listening to brother, you haven’t lived, my friend.

the becoming - nine inch nails - i wish i could rhapsodize about nin the way i can about pop punk and its adjacents! i love it, but i don’t know it as intimately as i do other albums that reach my top 100.

26 - paramore - Hold onto hope, if you got it / Don't let it go for nobody / And they say that dreaming is free / But I wouldn't care what it cost me – without being flip, you can tell this is a breakup album. i love when the strings swell under the chorus.

enjoy the silence - depeche mode - i feel like i didn’t even listen to the mode that much this year, but sure! violator is an incredible album. funny enough, the first version i heard of enjoy the silence is the linkin park remix.

bloodbeat - patrick wolf - PLEASE listen to patrick wolf!!!! he was the voice of my queer adolescence, even as i remained closeted to myself.

tagging @andropogonfalons if he hasn’t been yet!

[wordsfromthesol]

Reconciliation

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: togasbetch @malfoys-demigod @pricetagofficial Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader Summary: You seek the help of an old friend when you accidentally end up in the middle of a blood bath. Word Count: 1.8k

It all started ages ago, when you walked into the same class as the infamous Timothy Drake. If it wasn't for the Wayne Grant, your parents would never have been able to send you to such a fancy school…not that you understood that at 5 years old. Since that day the two of you were inseparable. You had practically lived at Drake Manor, and when Mr. Freeze killed your parents, you did. Not that Jack and Janet had any idea.

A few years later Jack and Janet were gone and Tim was taken in by none other than Bruce Wayne himself. Thankfully, Tim let you remain in his house. At first, everything was normal, but after the first year, he started to visit you less and less. He became more distant and secretive with each interaction and eventually, he stopped coming altogether. You made the decision to leave once you graduated high school, after all, it had been over a year since Tim had bothered to come see you. What would he care?

You jumped on a bus, clutching a backpack full of your belongings…and a few things from the Drake Manor. Somehow you lucked into a full-time nanny job for some wealthy family a few hours away. You were afforded a small living quarters, a stipend, and access to anything already at the mansion. The little girl was only 3 years old at the time. It's hard to believe that was 2 years ago.

You and Kaylee were upstairs when you heard a large group of people force their way through the front door. As you peaked out of the room, you saw a parade of people with their guns drawn. Immediately you rushed back into the room and whispered, "We are going to play a game."

"Game?" The child's ears perked up. You nodded your head as you made your way to the window. Opening it, you slowly climbed out and motioned for her to follow. You had no idea how long you stayed up there, pressed against the side of the house praying no one came looking. Eventually, the noises had stopped.

"Wait right here for me, okay?" She nodded as you made your way back to the window. "Don't move a muscle until I come for you." Your mouth hung open as you descended the staircase. Bloodstained the room as bodies littered the floor. As you walked over to the filleted bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Barco, your vision blurred as you felt the back of a hand strike your face. Staggering backward, you opened your eyes to see a man grinning before you. His eyes trailed down your cheek and landed on the sizable ring that graced his own finger. You began to feel the warm blood drip down your cheek. A state of panic washed over you just as you felt your knuckles collide with his ribs. Dodging his next blow, you thrust your shoulder into him and grappled for the gun tucked in his waistband. He looked almost pleased as he stared down the barrel.

"Whatcha gonna do with that, hun?" When you refused to answer, he continued. "You know you're going to be dead soon. What's the point…" Your eyes locked onto his hand, which was slowly inching towards your own.

**

The ringing in your ears had just barely subsided when you reached the top of the stairs. You slowly climbed out the window and ushered Kaylee to come inside. Her feet had just touched the ground as the words lucidly fell from your lips. "I need you to promise me that you won't open your eyes. We are going on a surprise trip." If Kaylee could tell something was wrong, she wasn't letting you know. You walked as fast as you could with the small child on your hip.

Your mind had gone completely blank, your eyes glazed over as you drove. You didn't know where you were going, but your motions seemed instinctive. As you pulled up to the gates, everything began to wash over you. Pressing the call button, the only words you could stutter out were: "It's Y/N. I need Tim." Thankfully, the message worked and the gates began to open. You drove up to the ornate front door, but couldn't force yourself out of the car. A knock on the window shook you out of the trance. It was Alfred.

"Mx Y/N, welcome. Perhaps you and your guest would be more comfortable in the house. I have already summoned Master Timothy." You just nodded as you stepped out of the car. Every move your body made relied on muscle memory: opening the back door of the car, unfastening Kaylee's car seat, placing her on the ground beside you. Alfred led you inside to the kitchen before kneeling down and facing Kaylee. "And what is your name?"

"KAYLEEEE!" She gleefully screamed at him.

"Ahhh, Miss Kaylee. How would you like a snack?" Kaylee's eyes went wide as she furiously nodded her head up and down. Kaylee looked up to you for permission as Tim rounded the corner, already speaking.

"Alfred, what's so --" Tim froze as he saw you sitting at the kitchen counter.

"You my Y/N/N's friend?" Kaylee narrowed her eyes as she glared at Tim. Her eyes softened as Tim slowly shook his head yes. "Make sure they get ban aid. Prefably a princess one." Once satisfied, she turned her attention back towards Alfred and her snack.

**

You turned towards Tim, revealing the gash on your cheek surrounded by a newly forming bruise. Tim rushed to your side, grasping your hand in his, just as the words began spilling from your mouth. "Tim, I'm so sorry. I just didn't know where else to take her. They were dead..."You felt your body giving out, "all of them…"

"Calm down. We'll figure this out. You need rest." He refused to let you speak anymore as he scooped you up from the chair and carried you upstairs. Carefully, Tim sat you on his bathroom counter and began cleaning the wound. Once it was bandaged he brought you over to the bed. "Now what happened?" He looked at you, his heartbreaking as he watched the tears fall from your eyes.

"They're dead. So many bodies. Tim, I can't see anything but blood." You collapsed into his chest, trying to conceal the overwhelming panic.

**

You had no idea how long you stayed like that, all you know is you woke up with Kaylee cuddled to your chest and Tim sitting at the adjacent desk.

"Tim?" His eyes shot up at the sound of your voice. You slowly got up and walked down the hall and into the study. You didn't check to see if Tim was following you, but you knew he was. Ignoring the unknown man already occupying the room, you continued onto the balcony. "I just don't know what happened." Your eyes glazed over as you stared into the distance. You knew if you looked at Tim, you would break down again. "People stormed in with guns. Me and Kaylee hid. Once I came back in, everyone was dead. Her whole family. Their security team. Everyone. And then this man came up and struck me. I thought I was dead. All I could think of was Kaylee, sitting on the roof, alone, confused. And I shot him." You turned around and stared into Tim's dark blue eyes. "They're going to kill me now. Aren't they?" The tears bubbled up, but you refused to let them fall.

"Y/N, how much did you know of that family?" Concern laced his voice. That voice that you hadn't heard in years. That voice that used to be your home.

"They were rich and needed a nanny." You looked down at your fiddling fingers, "I didn't have many options, so I didn't ask any questions."

Tim took a deep breath, pushing down his anger. "They are…were one of the biggest crime families in the country." The words rang in your mind as you forced your eyes back on the horizon. You didn't even realize Kaylee had woken up and walked into the study. Or that the unidentified man took her by the hand and led her from the room carrying a fairytale book. "You really didn't know?" Tim's brows furrowed.

Too many emotions were spinning around your head until one of them exploded. "Why the fuck would I know that?!" You made no attempts to sedate your anger.

"You worked for them for years, Y/N!"

"Well clearly you knew, so maybe an old friend should've warned me!" The anger wasn't geared towards him, not really. Though seeing him again, feeling all this again, that's something you never thought you'd have to do. And that was just the icing on the cake. An eerie silence blanketed the air. "I shouldn't have come here," you mumbled before turning to leave. "I shouldn't have put you in danger."

**

Tim stood stoic as your words played over and over in his mind. He never told you of his nightly activities for this exact reason. So you wouldn't be thrust into this chaotic world. And now here you are, begging for his help, and he let you walk away. Again.

A pillow slammed into his face, knocking him from the stupor. "Probably not a good idea to let them leave. Love of your life, Barco heiress, not a great combination."

"Shit." Tim pushed past Jason, ignoring his snide remarks because unfortunately, he was right. Tim grabbed your arm just as you opened the front door. "Wait!" Tim yelled as he pushed the door closed. "I can't let you leave."

"Wh --"

"Look," Tim cut you off and began pulling you through the house. "I need to show you something."

**

"Where…where am I standing right now?"

"The Batcave." His voice faltered as he stopped in front of his Red Robin costume.

"So you're a superhero? Are you kidding me?"

"I don't have any powers, so I don't think I would qualify…" Tim's voice trailed off as he watched your eyebrows raise and a disapproving smirk form. "Anyways. I can help. I want to help."

"I can't ask you to do that." You tried to turn away, but Tim laid his hands on your shoulders. His eyes lingered on yours.

"You were supposed to be safe. Away from me. That's the only reason I let you go. I was wrong. You're safer with me and I'm not letting you go again."

[rueluxprince]

Code Geass: Akito the Exiled review:

The thing about Lelouch is that he is hyper competent to the point of being overpowered. Give him an army and he’s very hard pressed to lose. The writers in the original series had to throw curveballs left and right at him (mostly a Suzaku in a Lancelot, then it’s metaphysical Geass nonsense, then it’s nuclear warheads), just to curb Lelouch’s trajectory somewhat. We know what he’s capable of. He conquers the world by the end of the series for god’s sake. So when you put him into literally any prequel/sequel adjacent Code Geass plot-line that is not solely about him, you have to do some severe writing gymnastics to not have Lelouch bulldoze over the entire story.

Case in point: Julius Kingsley.

By the time Julius Kingsley is introduced in Akito the Exiled, we have already established our central conflict. On one side is Akito and the Euro-Universe and that rag tag group of soldiers, on the other is Shin Hyuga Shiang and Euro-Britannia. One side is good the other is bad. There’s angsty interpersonal relationships between the two sides, more metaphysical Geass nonsense is introduced, a lot of EU political intrigue is there too. We know our two sides, we know what they are capable of, game set go.

Except Lelouch and Suzaku gets airdropped right in the middle of it. Because fanservice. The creators are basically saying: “if you keep on watching this movie series about a bunch of random Europeans whom you’ve never met and don’t really care much about. We will give you: Lelouch being an absolute Magnificent Bastard. Suzaku as Knight of Seven but on Lelouch’s “side”. Lelouch fighting for Britannia because we know y’all have been writing a lot of “What if Lelouch remained a prince” fan-fictions and this should satisfy you at least a little. All done in newer animation and in High Definition. So watch the series please!” And we all went, yeah okay we’ll watch the series.

And the writers ran into a problem immediately as Julius Kingsley got going. A massive problem. Because if Julius Kingsley is going to be as brilliant as Lelouch, and he will, because he is Lelouch, then Kingsley is going to wipe the chessboard clean all by himself. Lelouch has proven himself to be Greatest Of All Time. He is going to defeat Akito and Leila’s forces, Akito has a Geass that makes him go berserk? Well Kingsley has Suzaku “I have the enemy battalion surrounded by my one Knightmare” Kururugi. Then, as Shin starts wilding with his whole kill-everyone-and-their-mom thing, stomp down his coup as well. Shin has a Geass that exclusively kills people well Julius also has a Geass that can kill people, and a brilliant strategic mind, and unilateral authority to do whatever the fuck he wants. He’s going to takeover Euro-Britannia and overhaul it’s entire bureaucracy just to wrap it up in a pretty little bow for the Emperor.

The story thus becomes useless. You’ve wasted two movies worth of character establishment and animation. Julius Kingsley will get out under your pen and he will make the world his.

And so the writers quickly nerfs him twenty minutes in. Y’all got a small sip of Lelouch being brilliant! That’s enough now! He’s going to have a mental breakdown due to mindfuckery bullshit and be taken out of the story! Because he’s too powerful otherwise! Thank you for your patronage! Goodbye! Which leaves the audience feeling cheated and unfulfilled and very very bewildered.

So we are in a double bind. I want to see exclusively Lelouch being the brilliant asshole he is. The creators want to tell a story with these new characters. No one is satisfied in the end.

(Side note 1: Same thing happened with the new Ressurection movie. Lelouch has Cornelia, both Suzaku and Kallen, Anya and Jeremiah and Sayoko and Llyod and Cecile. He can take over a nation half awake with those powerhouses behind him. And so the writers gave Shamna an overpowered Geass that can “see six hours into the future” just to even the playing field. Else the fight would’ve been over in twenty minutes.)

(Side note 2: Yeah I know that Julius can’t use his Geass, but hey, you could get Suzaku to jump in front of him if Shin orders Julius to die, taking the order. It would serve so many different narative purposes. 1. who’s absolute command is stronger, Lelouch’s live on or Shin’s die now. Battle of the Geass. 2. serves as a metaphor for Suzaku’s inner turmoil, he wants to die but everyone he loves wants him to live and how does he reconcile that. 3. shows that even when Suzaku hates Lelouch with his entire being, he would still die for him.)

(Side note 3: I mean, it’s not a bad story if Julius gets out under the writers and bulldoze over the entire story. It’s honestly a great way to show how brilliant a commander Leila could be. She could go underground to preserve her forces so our group of war orphan pilots survive, or orchestrate political turmoil in Euro-Britannia to keep Kingsley off her back, or divert his military forces away from her E.U. and into Africa. Kingsley is an unstoppable force but it does not mean it will be a bad ending.)

(Side note 4: how would this series end in this half meta half headcanon? Kingsley takes back Euro-Britannia from Shin and gets most of Northern Africa from the E.U., before the Emperor calls him off with a Zoom call. He is also informed that he is needed urgently back in Pendragon, and would be flying back the day before the victory parade in St. Petersburg. Julius is so excited to see the emperor he doesn’t even feel bumbed that he’s going to miss the chanting crowds he’s been promised. He goes into the throne room, and we are treated to a disturbingly heartwarming scene between Emperor Charles and Julius. Like, Charles going full “I’m glad you’ve returned safe and sound. I’m very proud of you. You’ve brought me honor” fond father mode. And Julius is almost deliriously happy to hear it. Then the emperor goes “your reward. The dukedom of [insert place name here]. And some rest. You’ve worked hard these past months Julius. You deserve both.” Then he activates his Geass, and Julius Kingsley collapses before he could get a word of protest out. Suzaku catches him. Last shot is Suzaku cradling Kingsley’s prone form, staring at his eyepatch. Credits.)

[sweetsbfreex]

you’re amazing, don’t worry

A few days before you were laying in bed. Harry laid on his back, while you were on your side, his arm wrapped around your shoulder and your head on his chest. Watching the television displayed on the wall. 

“Can we talk about something before we both doze off?” he asked quietly, his arm going lazily up and down your arm. 

“Sure” you replied sitting up, crossing your legs. While Harry also sat up, pausing the tv too. 

“I know we’ve talked about it a few times, but I think we should go public” he said quickly, which is something when you’re speaking about Harry.

“You- you wanna go public, like let everyone know we’re dating?”

“Yeah I mean, you know the movie premiere is this weekend and I really want to walk the red carpet with you by me” he stated, reaching for your hand in the midst of it. 

“H-”

“I know, I know baby, but I think this could be the perfect time. We can get it over with” he said shuffling closer “I could finally show my girl off to everyone hm?” placing his palm on your cheek, thumb grazing the apex of your cheek. 

You loved Harry; you really did. He is your person, but you just weren’t sure about this. Having to put up with your social anxiety, big events, crowded places, and new people just weren’t your thing. You remember the first time you had met the band, a fidgeting mess, was all you were. 

The door opened to his studio, a smiling, giddy Harry on the other side. You however, were the complete opposite. Your stomach was a mess and your fingers wouldn’t stop fidgeting with the rings on your fingers or the necklace around your neck.

Harry could see from the doorway, pulling you into a bone crushing hug (letting the door close behind him) filled with love, whispering into your ears words to affirm you. “Hi, you’re amazing, don't worry,” he said kissing, your lips.

You smiled up at him showing your thanks, clasping your hands together “Thank you...Oh also can you let the lady in the front office know I said good morning back, my voice just wouldn’t project,” you whispered the last part, earning a chuckle from Harry. 

“Yes I'll do it, you about ready to meet everyone” he asked, looking down at you, concern displayed on his face from the way his eyebrows furrowed together. 

“Can we just stand out here for a bit” you asked. 

“Of course, just let me know when you’re ready. I promise they're not as bad as I make them seem” he says grinning, as he brings his hands put to clasp your face, setting kisses to your forehead. 

When you were finally ready, Harry opened the door, your hand holding onto his tightly, as you trailed behind him. 

‘Am I walking funnily? No you’re fine just don't trip or anything’ you tell yourself, breathing a deep breath in holding it and letting it go. 

“Lads this is y/n!” he pronounced elatedly, stepping to the side so you would be in view, looking down at you tranquil. You could see, looking back a thin briefly the crinkles around his eyes were striking and his dimples deep. 

“baby, this is Mitch, Sarah, you already know Jeff, Ny Oh, Adam, and Charlotte”. You knew Mitch was a man of not many words, so you weren’t too worried about conversing with him.

‘don't sound stupid, don't sound stupid, don't sound...’

A variety of heys were thrown at you from everybody in, you squeaked out a hi hoping everyone had heard and a wave. 

Harry had then pulled you both to sit down in one of the free spaces of the couches resting against the walls of the studio. 

“So y/n, H says your interning at Pinterest, that’s really cool” Sarah says

“Oh yea..Uh, I just look at a bunch of numbers and statistics, nothing too fun” you say, your voice wavering. But inside you could swear your heart was doing cartwheels when you had realized Harry talks about you to his friends. 

“I don't think it’s boring, she’s brilliant, she looks at all these gigantic numbers and comes up with these summaries, it’s amazing” Harry parades, wrapping his arm around your torso.

“Thank you H” you murmur, your cheeks heating up. 

As the time continued before you had to go. There was a lot of Harry intervening because you weren’t really sure what to ask or say, too on the fence of not embarrassing yourself in front of his friends, but luckily as time went on things had gotten better, to the point you didn’t break down before hanging out with any of them. 

“But all those people bub and the cameras, I don’t know, my anxie-”

“I know I can’t control it, but I’ll be there with you the whole time. You don’t even have to tell me your answer right now, whenever you’re ready okay?”

“Yea, thank you” you say. Getting up to stand on your knees, pulling Harry into a hug. A breath of relief coursing all over you. 

“You don’t have to thank me, petal, just want you comfortable”

                                                          -

Now here you were getting ready for the event, sporting a beautiful black dress that had an ascending slit running up the side of the dress. 

“You look beautiful, angel” harry gushed walking over to you, taking your hand as he guided you to do a quick twirl “very easy on the eyes” using that same hand to stop your twirl and instead pull you into him, stationing his second on the curve of your ass. 

“Are you sure if you’re having any doubts it’s ok” he repeated for the umpteenth time. You don’t mean to sound the way you do, you were grateful of course for how caring and understanding he is.

But ever since you had told him yes, he’d check every day till now, just to see if you were sure, reassuring you that he wouldn't be mad if you change your mind, etc. 

“Harry-”

“I know I know, but I also know that you don’t like thinking that you're disappointing me”

“I hate you,” you mumble, bringing your forehead to rest against his shoulder, hating and loving the fact that he knew you so well, you could barely hide anything if you wanted to, but he couldn’t either. 

“Mhm” he hummed, grinning down at your distraught stance.

You brought your head from his shoulder, smiling up at him for reassurance “I promise I'm fine, it’s okay”

                                                           -

This was not okay, you should’ve listened to Harry.

Now in the limo, on the way to the event, it was you, Harry, the band, Jeff, and his girlfriend–Glenne. 

Your foot tapped arrhythmic, both hands tightly clasped around one of Harry’s. It felt like you were going down a really really really high rollercoaster, with how your stomach was twisted a never-ending knot of wires. 

fuck, did it really hurt. 

“Love are you sure you’re okay?” 

“mhm” you responded, nodding quickly letting go of the tense hold you had on Harry’s hand. 

Conversation was flying around you, but you couldn't find yourself to join in with how into your head you were. Thought after thought flying high and low, some doubtful, some embarrassing, and some down right annoying. But you couldn’t help it. What if you had something in your teeth, or you stood awkward, or you trip just walking down the carpet (over nothing which would be even worse). 

God, you were a mess. And the intense analyzing look Harry was giving you was not helping. 

“Okay we’re here guys!” Jeff let out, clapping his hands together a singular time, while everyone else let out their excitement. 

‘When did the car stop?!’

Jeff was the first to get out, everyone else following suit until you were the only one. Looking up from your seat near the door, Harry stood outside, hand reaching out towards you. 

“You ready love?”

You could feel your throat clogging up from those words, the wires in your stomach only getting tighter by the second and in seconds your trembling hands were reaching up to wipe the tears running down your cheeks. Staring at all the interviewers with mics standing to the side of the carpet, the barricade holding back fans, and all the other people strutting their way down the carpet you weren’t sure you could handle all the eyes that would possibly be on you. 

“I- I don't think I can do it, I'm sorry H, 

I thought I could. I can't. I'm so sorry” you rambled, sniffling time to time. Finally looking up into Harry’s sad eyes, you also caught the glance of everyone else who looked at you with solace. 

“shh shh,” he started, passing through the door again to sit adjacent to you, quickly clasping your face in his, using his thumbs to brush away the never-ending tears. 

Your makeup was ruined, nose a debacle, as you tried bringing yourself together, but that didn't seem to work as you only began to hyperventilate. 

“Oh y/n” he said, bringing your head to lay on his chest, grabbing the handkerchief to wipe away at your runny nose. “Mate we’re gonna head out, Jeff let whoever needs to know it was an emergency or something, please,” he asked Jeff, awaiting his response until he could finally close the door which he did quickly.

“No no Harry you can't miss this, please I’ll just go home, it’s fine”

“it’s not fine, I'd have to be out of my mind to leave you like this, petal, it’s okay I'm not mad I promise” he reassured. 

On the way to his place the tears never stopped, thinking of how you had not only embarrassed yourself, but Harry too. 

“I'm sorry I'm really sorry H,” you cried into his chest, even his expensive suit you were messing up, this night could only get better. Only getting a hush and words of reassurance from Harry. 

                                                           -

You were laying on his bed, phone in hand as you scrolled through twitter. You knew this would happen, but you were just hoping by some miracle it wouldn't have, that maybe you’d finally reign control. Harry was in the closet putting on his sweats, and also fetching your makeup remover and clothes for the night. 

Harry Styles Ditched his OWN Premiere?!

What Happened to Harry Styles Tonight?

And last, but not least 

Harry Styles and Mystery Girl!, A picture of you and Harry in the limo, thankfully your face covered as it was pulled into Harry’s chest protectively. And another exactly like it, only difference is Harry’s distraught face was shown looking up at Jeff’s. 

“You shouldn’t be reading that rubbish,” his deep voice takes you by surprise, looking up as he stood in front of you. Your clothes in one hand and cotton pads and your make up remover in another. 

“I know” you mumble. “I couldn’t help myself”

“Do you want to get dressed, and we talk afterwards”

“Yeah” you say grasping the pile of clothes from his palm. Setting them on the bed as you stripped and changed there. Once you were done, you climbed on the bed sitting across from Harry who had just finished dabbing some of the liquid into two cotton pads, handing you the other one. 

You started removing the mascara and eye shadow, since they were sensitive, while Harry began wiping down your cheek.

“I'm sorry I embarrassed you, H”

He stopped his actions, dropping his hand away from your face. His eyebrows brought together and his mouth a line of what you could describe as disgust, but not likely, and one lip tucked up. 

“Why would you say something like that?” he asks, he grabs both your hands guiding you to sit on his lap. Your legs straddling his waist, wrapping both your arms over his neck. He sighed into your neck, bringing one hand to stroke the back of your head. “You didn’t embarrass me, baby, you reacted. You can’t help it, and I would never hold that against you, Yea?”

You nodded meekly in response. 

“I’m proud that you even tried to begin with, I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have forced you to go.” he says.

“Thank you... And it isn’t your fault, you didn’t force me to go. Just...I don’t know. All those people H, what if someone figures out it’s me. Now everyone will see me crying like a baby, it’s even worse that your friends saw me like that.” you sniffle. 

“I know I can’t magically fix this, but I promise you don’t even have to worry about them. They understand and won’t bring it up” he says trying to reassure you. 

“And if the public figures out it’s me, that’s a terrible first expression” you chuckle lowly.

Harry let’s a small laugh come out in return, grasping your face to pull you closer. “We’ll get to it, if it happens...how about after we get ready for bed, we go drive around a bit. Would that help a little?” he asks, eyes overflowing in empathy. 

“Yes please. Thank you again. I love you” you answer sniffling a small smile upon your face.

“I love you so much more”, he says bringing you in for a cuddle.

“We’re not starting this again” you grumble into his chest, receiving a giggle from him.

-

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

[hazbincalifornia]

behold, another grumble about things that do not actually matter in the slightest but I want to say them anyway

it seems like there is a bit of a fankid resurgence on twitter but it seems that it’s partially led by stolaspreg stuff but I just... don’t feel the same about it with stolas as I do with bitz?

don’t get me wrong, I’m happy that people are okay with mpreg and I do think the trans stolas hc is good, but on just a character level, it’s more compelling with blitz for me, and idk how to say that without sounding like I’m raining on people’s parade.

Stolas already is fairly open and desperate for Blitz's affection and would love something tying them together from the get-go (although I could see him being somewhat blindsided by bigotry/hatred from other royals if he got swept up in his fantasy before reality crashed down on him).

Meanwhile, Blitzo is trying everything he can to avoid getting too attached, plus the additional layer of the fact that he already feels like Stolas has too much control over this thing they have and that he isn't worthy at the same time he thinks Stolas is kind of a pompous dick who could toss him aside if he wanted. 

Stolas knows things are a bit complicated but mostly gets swept away in the fantasy, Blitzo's far more in the dirt about the reality of the situation (even though he's too harsh about it on top of his attachment issues) so giving him the kid feels a lot more interesting, especially considering the Stolaspreg ones I have checked out don't go as in-depth and usually have Blitzo be pretty okay with it once he finds out. (Like I said before, getting rid of their messy dynamic entirely with either of them once they know about the baby in a canon timeline and not a jump-forward just... turns me off fics really fast, so I can genuinely count on one hand which of the 30ish mpreg fics in the tag I actually kept up with past chapter, like, five.)

If you enjoy it, more power to you, I do like seeing the art sometimes, but I’m still kind of just nursing my drink in the corner bc it’s another case of ‘surrounded by stuff that’s adjacent to my stuff but I can’t really get into’.

[your-world-with-nct]

— @doyoungcore ty for the inspiration for this post joyce 🥺 consider this a very belated bday present hehe (also apologies for the late post, i hope this longer blurb makes up for it 🙈)

💌 • 4:56pm

browsing the clothing racks for items that caught your eye, you sighed as you checked the price tag of the pair of jeans you’d been considering getting for a while, groaning at the fact that it hadn’t gone on sale yet.

you dragged your feet to the next aisle, looking down at your worn-out sneakers and heading for the shoe section instead, immediately spotting some reasonably-priced stylish boots along with your favourite shoe brand’s name splashed above the display.

“hey, excuse me, hi, do you have a minute?” you would be lying if you said that the man standing in front of you panting and swiping at his forehead wasn’t the most beautiful person you’d ever laid eyes on, your throat drying up at his unbelievable looks.

“oh, me? yeah, i have a minute, are you okay?” you questioned why this man who could pass off as a model was acting as desperate as those people in the town centre who passed out flyers that nobody ever paid attention too, pausing to take in his breathtaking physique.

“i’m so sorry to bother you, but my name is doyoung, and my ex is here with her new boyfriend. i was wondering if you could just pose as my partner for a bit, y’know, until she’s gone,” stranger!doyoung nervously smiled at you, his eyes flitting all over as, you assumed, he was searching for his ex, “if i’m interrupting your shopping, i-i’ll go but, i, i just don’t wanna look pathetic in front of her.”

the request shocked you, but there was a small voice in your head that wanted to go along with it. not only because you felt sorry for doyoung and you didn’t want him to embarrass himself in front of his ex, but also the fact this gorgeous boy thought that you were believable enough to be, well, in his league and dating him, inflated your ego and you had to repay him for doing wonders with your confidence.

“no, no, that’s fine, doyoung! i’m y/n, by the way, and don’t worry, you’re not really interrupting anything,” you grinned at him, trying not to scream when an adorable gummy smile appeared on his face, “just do what you need to do, i’ll go with it.”

contrary to your statement, you couldn’t hide the shock on your face when doyoung went straight for your hand and interlocked your fingers, leading you to those shoes you’d been eyeing, while gazing at you with his twilight orbs, “how about those, babe? i remember you saying you needed more shoes to go with those pants you bought last week.”

considering how jittery doyoung was when he approached you, you were beyond amazed by how easily he transformed into an endearing ‘boyfriend’, helping you reach shoes on higher shelves and asking employees for your size, all whilst making light-hearted conversation with you and calling you the cutest nicknames.

within a few minutes, you were immersed in your role, completely embracing doyoung’s kindness, and even forgetting that it was all an act at times, especially when he tidied away the shoes you didn’t want and wordlessly handed your sneakers back to you, as if it was his silent way of showing affection.

except… it wasn’t; he was just trying to save himself from embarrassment and it meant absolutely nothing to him, whilst, you, on the other hand, basked in the undeserved attention he gave you. the feeling of being cared for was so unfamiliar to you that the slightest acts of service from a handsome stranger had you melting.

it had been almost ten minutes since you were parading around as doyoung’s lover, yet you still hadn’t seen his dreaded ex nor her new boyfriend. seeing as he was currently too focused on picking out his own shoes, you examined the adjacent aisles, looking in all directions just to find that there was quite literally no other couple in sight. either his ex had already left the store, or doyoung was the smoothest man you had ever met.

the new discovery had your brain running at a hundred miles per hour, eventually deciding to keep playing along with doyoung’s little game, you know, have a little fun before you went back to being single and lonely.

“hey, doie, not to alarm you, but i see a couple on their way over here,” you whispered in his ear, coming up behind him as he was returning a shoe box to its rightful place on the shelf, “is that your ex over there?”

doyoung didn’t know if it was your statement or the close proximity that had his heart racing, clearing his throat in an attempt to soothe his erratic pulse, “oh, is it? i-i don’t wanna risk checking though, let’s just–”

taking a page out of the romcom protagonist book, you smirked as you stepped closer to the blushing boy, forcing him to take a step backward against a wall of branded trainers, cocking your eyebrow when you noticed the coral shade spreading across his face, “let’s just stay like this for a bit, i’m sure she’ll hate seeing her ex like this with someone else, huh?”

the confidence oozing out of you had doyoung in mental shambles - when he tried the elaborate pick-up ploy on an unsuspecting you, he didn’t think it would go this well, and now he felt obliged to tell you the truth, although that would mean he was risking rejection and, judging from what he learned about your personality in the past fifteen minutes, possibly an emotional response.

however, it occurred to him that, if he played his cards right, he could walk away today with your number, and a date at the cafè his best friend owned, all he had to do was not to react, which was proving a difficult task right now as he felt your hand on his waist and your breath ghosting on his collarbone.

“okay, okay, fine, there is no ex!” doyoung blurted out, not being able to last any longer with your intense gaze on him, “i-i made it up as an excuse to try and talk to you because, well…”

“because what?” you sat down on one of the small sofas to give doyoung some space, scattered with abandoned shoes that had no pair.

your nonchalant reaction had him furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, brushing off his bewilderment to answer your question, “i just, i thought you were really pretty and i wanted to talk to you. how was i supposed to know you would go along with, all that, so quickly and easily?”

doyoung couldn’t explain the relief he felt when you began giggling, as he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“it was easy enough to pretend, when you’re probably the most likeable person i’ve ever met,” you chuckled, the shyness from before evaporating the longer you stared at doyoung’s beauty, “since you basically tricked me into hanging out with you, how about we actually go do something? y’know, where you don’t have lie to me about what we’re doing?”

“wait, really?” doyoung’s eyes widened, surprised that you still wanted anything to do with him.

“yes, now, let me pay for these and we can head to your friend’s cafè down the road. unless that was a lie too?” you both broke out into wide grins, as you took his hand and led him to the counter, whilst he balanced your purchases in his arms.

you couldn’t explain where that courage cane from, nor why a mere twenty minutes with a stranger made you feel more content than ever; but meeting doyoung was like listening to a song for the first time and immediately knowing it would be your favourite.

[pagesoflauren]

The Highest Bidder Ch. 3 (Ransom Drysdale x reader; sugar daddy!AU)

Summary: A graduate-level education is a costly pursuit. When you move out of state to study in Boston, expenses pile up, leading you to auction off what is apparently your most valuable asset: your virginity. It goes to the highest bidder…who happens to be Ransom Drysdale.

There are no major spoilers for Knives Out. Consider this as an alternate timeline. There will be references to the movie/its characters. This chapter contains some dynamics of the Thrombey family that are revealed in the movie, which--as someone who has seen the movies multiple times--I personally consider to be very minor spoilers. Please read at your own risk.

Warnings: loss of virginity, explicit sexual content/smut, angst, sugar daddy/baby arrangement, dark elements, dubcon, cliffhangers, minor spoilers for Knives Out, swearing, Ransom is an asshole (more to add and if you spot any that I’ve missed, please kindly let me know!)

A/N: Thanks for being super patient while I worked on this! This one’s mostly plot, so I promise the next one will be smutty 😏

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Ransom slams the door of his car as he sits in the driver’s seat.

His fucking family.

There was meant to be a “pleasant Sunday brunch-adjacent get-together” for the release party of Harlan’s newest book. His family is never pleasant no matter what day they gather, so Ransom should’ve known it would’ve turned into a shitshow. 

Walt had been parading around boasting about how proud he was of “his and dad’s new book” to anyone outside of the family who would listen. Ransom’s father decided to pick a little fight with him, despite his mother’s urging not to. 

“But they aren’t your books, are they Walt?” Richard taunted, “They’re Harlan’s books.”

Ransom had parked himself right at the refreshments table, nudging the platter of breakfast pastries closer to himself. He idly picked up a croissant and nibbled as he watched everything unfold. “Shit stirring prick,” Meg muttered as she grabbed a cup of coffee. 

“This is all them, Meggy,” he said, his mouth full of soft, buttery croissant flakes. “I’m just getting a front row seat for the entertainment.”

Meg rolled her eyes and walked away. Walt had smiled simply before replying. “Of course, Richard. Just like how the real estate company is Linda’s, not yours.”

Linda then elbowed Richard, a hard signal to defend himself from her little brother’s jab like the “proud husband” he’s supposed to be.

“At least Linda was able to build something on her own.” Ransom rolled his eyes at that statement while his mother patted his father on the shoulder. 

“Only because dad was generous enough to loan her a million dollars to build that company.”

Ransom dipped his croissant into his coffee and smirked as he chewed. When his father didn’t say anything, his mother blew her cap at both of them. 

It started out relatively quiet before escalating into a full on spectacle. Across the room, Ransom saw Harlan exchange a look with Marta, his nurse, before completely ignoring the situation and returning to the conversation he was having with a guest. 

“You can’t say shit, Richard, you’re getting nothing from his family!”

Ransom laughed loudly at the truth in that declaration. The three pairs of eyes turned and fingers pointed at him before insults were spewed his way. 

Rolling his eyes, he let them at him, not caring what they were saying. It was all true. He was a little piece of shit, an entitled prick, he was all of it. 

Because of them.

Leaving his half eaten croissant in his coffee cup, he placed it on the table and coolly sauntered across the room, slander following him all the way until it was directed back within the group. 

Ransom had grabbed a copy of the book, given his granddad a nod of acknowledgement as a goodbye, then left. If he listened hard enough, he could hear the yelling all the way from the parking lot. Harlan looked a little disappointed as he left. 

What did Harlan ever do for him anyway, besides give him a generous monthly allowance? What did his parents ever do for him? His mother spent her days running a real estate company while his father devoted his time to doing everything he could to get his hands on some of that money. 

And where did Ransom fall in all of this? 

Nobody actually cared about him. They shut him up with money and invited him to parties to make him feel like he was part of something. In reality, his family was nothing to be a part of. There wasn’t anything to them. Just a pile of mystery novels that turned words into money and fed it to hungry beasts. And Ransom was one of them. 

That’s what he was, that’s what he was always meant to be. His mother never let him be a kid. When the grass was bright green after all the snow melted and Ransom rolled around, staining his crisp private school uniform with virescent splotches, she yelled at him. When she instructed her husband to continue the scolding, he gave a half-assed, “Don’t do it again.” The day was ruined after that. 

And somehow, in the moment when he breathed in your perfume, he remembered one of the few moments where he was content: watching the world spin as the sky was down and the ground was up and the conifers looked like stalactites in a strange cave. 

He loved remembering that. And it terrified him. The second he started remembering the brief golden moments of his childhood, he knew it was best to get himself off as soon as possible and take off. He’d hold on to memories of how you felt around his cock for when he couldn’t get between a girl’s legs. 

He’ll never admit to anyone how often he thinks of you and the time he spent sharing a bed with you. 

Shaking his head and starting the car, he pulled away from the party venue and drove through the city. At a stoplight, he picks up the hefty novel and flips it to the back cover.

He reads something about a statue and a dead art historian. Rolling his eyes, already disinterested, he throws the book back on the seat. 

Passing through the university area, Ransom decides to grab a cup of coffee. He pulls into a parking spot, ignoring the blinking red light of the meter as he gets out to enter the cafe. 

He does a double take when he sees you exiting with a man. You look completely different: your hair is in a messy ponytail and your makeup is more natural, focusing on accentuating your features instead of looking glamorous. You’re donning a sweater with the name of the university just across the street. 

He’s rendered immobile at the sight of you. His thoughts come crashing down on him like an avalanche.

It’s been nearly two months since that night. He’s filled the days and weeks between now and then with various girls, all of whom were confident and sexy and unafraid to match his pace in bed. He could have any one of them at his doorstep with a snap of his fingers. 

So why is he suddenly frozen, watching you and some guy walk down the street? 

It was ridiculous, really, how much he had dreamt of your encounter, tried to recall your smell and the taste of your skin. He hates that he never got a sample from between your legs. He’d been so caught up in how you felt around his finger that it went straight to his cock and he just had to be inside you. 

He’s never been so caught up on anyone before. 

When he drinks whiskey, he sees you, turning in your dress and heels. He wonders if maybe he could see you again, maybe you’d be more confident, maybe more experienced…

Have you slept with anyone since July? Have you slept with the guy you’re with now?

His wonder causes him to mindlessly follow after you, sights set on the bright scrunchie that keeps your hair together as he imagines you underneath the guy you’re walking with, crying out as he thrusts into you…

Ransom doesn’t like the idea of that. He hates it, shakes his head to dispel it from his brain. Then he stops suddenly. 

But what does it matter? You weren’t anyone to him, just some girl on a website who auctioned your virginity and he bought it. He didn’t buy you. You weren’t his to own.

He’d be lying if he said he felt he got his money’s worth though. 

When he thinks about that night, besides all the erotic images of your face and how you felt wrapped so tightly around him, there was something underneath the heat and lust he felt. He saw curiosity come across your face multiple times that night and he felt the same. 

He wanted to know what you’d look like on top. He wanted to know what you tasted like (he still hates himself for not taking the opportunity). He wanted to know what sounds you’d make when he went rough. He wanted to know how you sounded when you let yourself succumb to complete, unrestrained pleasure. 

He knew you were holding back, he saw the terror that came across your face when you looked at his size. You barely even touched him. God, how would you touch him? How would your hands feel on him, running over his skin? 

There were so many things he wanted to know about you, so many things he wanted to watch you do. 

It terrified him to remember the brief blissful moments of his childhood while he was with you, and that’s why he left so quickly. But one night with you wasn’t enough.

The thought propels him forward, stepping after you again once he spies your scrunchie again. 

You’re turning a corner; he needs to catch up. His pace quickens. 

When has he ever chased a girl before?

As he rounds the corner, Ransom sees you stepping into a shop, appearing to playfully curtsey as the man holds the door open for you. He slows down a little, wanting it to appear as if he’s casually walking around. When he reaches the shop, he realizes it’s a used bookstore. 

Maybe I can grab Harlan’s book and pretend I’m selling it.

He decides against it though. He doesn’t want to risk you getting away from him. He enters the shop and immediately goes for the taller shelves to conceal himself from plain view. Peeking between the tops of the books and the next shelf above it, he spots you. You’re near the back, looking at the large, brightly colored children’s books. 

Shit, did he get you pregnant?! 

Ransom shakes his head then smiles to himself; he remembers hearing you gasp when he rolled a condom onto himself. He feels his cock twitch at the memory. 

“God, it’s so ridiculous that we have to buy our own books for clinicals,” he hears you gripe. 

“Yeah, but it’s good practice for when we’re actually in the field,” the man nudges you with his elbow, “We’re gonna have to figure out which books will suit clients’ interest and all.” 

“Yeah, I guess. I just wish I didn’t have to do this before work tonight.”

“Don’t you work at eight, though?”

Work? Why are you working when he gave you so much money?

“Yeah, but it’s less time preparing for seminar tomorrow. Not to mention the paper for fluency. Ugh, being a grad student is so hard, Toby,” you moan, leaning your forehead on his shoulder.

A hot puff of air shoots out from Ransom’s nose.

“Oh, stop it, you big baby. C’mon. It’s barely past one. We’re gonna get this done, then go back to my place and study a little. And remember why we’re doing this?” he asks, turning so his front is facing you. Your head sags for a moment, having leaned the weight of your skull on him before your neck straightens. 

“To help kids become better communicators,” you say together, as if it’s a mantra. 

“Exactly,” the man--Toby--smiles. “Besides, it’s Sunday. I’m pretty sure the diner won’t be super crowded like it was for me last night. If anything, it’s crowded with people trying to cure their hangovers right now. Then, when the diner’s empty, you can study. It’s just on the next block over, anyway. They know you’re a student, so I don’t think they’ll kick up a fuss if you crack open a notebook. It’s just you and the cook, too, right?”

You hum in affirmation as you pick up a book and tuck it under your arm. 

“So, that just shows they know nobody’s gonna be there! You’re golden!” 

You giggle as you swat his hand away when he makes to pinch you. Ransom leans forward into the bookcase in an attempt to get closer to you, enchanted by the sound. 

What the hell has gotten into him?!

“Sir, can I help you find something?” a store associate startles him.

“What--no, no. Absolutely not,” Ransom spews, fumbling around with his hands trying to look inconspicuous. His leather jacket squeaks with his movements. The associate looks confused, tilting their head as they watch him. 

“I’m just leaving,” he shakes his head, making his way to storm out the door. 

He makes his way back to his car, taking note of the diner Toby was talking about. It really was on the next block over, hard to miss with a gaudy 50s-style neon green light-up sign and fluorescent pink lettering.

Ransom smiles to himself as he makes his way back to his car. He knows exactly what to do.

The lighting in the diner is harsh against Ransom’s eyes and he blinks a little as he gets out of his car. It’s just before midnight and the streets are empty, save for a few students who are walking into the coffeeshop and drugstores around the block. Stepping in, checkered black and light gray tiles lay on the floor, though he’s certain the gray tiles are supposed to be white. There’s a counter with a bunch of red cushioned stools and booths all around the wall. 

“Evenin’ son,” the cook says as he peeks through the window on the wall beyond the counter. “You just take a seat right up here and our hostess will be right out.”

The man turns away and shouts your name.

Ransom smirks at the sound of your name, perching himself on a stool and immediately getting comfortable. The only thing that would make this better would be if the stools had backs so he could put his feet up. Instead, he rests his elbow on the counter and waits for you to come.

The kitchen door swings open.

“Sorry to keep you waiting--” your sentence stops short and he smiles deviously at you.

You’re in the same makeup and ponytail from earlier, though this time a pen is nestled where your hair is gathered, kept in place by the scrunchie you’ve been wearing. Instead of your university sweatshirt, you’re sporting a denim blue button up waitress dress, complete with a sewn on oval white patch with your name stitched into it. There’s a white apron tied around your waist. 

His smirk deepens more. If anything, this is almost like the start to a bad porn film. One where he’d bend you over the counter and--

“Hi, Ransom,” you greet him, interrupting his almost fantasy. 

“Hey,” he nods, so satisfied in your surprised expression. 

You awkwardly place the menu in front of him and wring your hands a little.

“Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee?”

Ransom hums, pink lips puckering before he answers, “Hot chocolate, actually.”

Your nod is a little perplexed. “Okay, right. I’ll go get that for you.”

You turn to the espresso machine behind you and Ransom likes the view of your ass he’s treated to as he opens the menu. Once he’s decided, he looks up, seeing your back still turned to him as you watch hot chocolate trickle into a mug. He knows it can’t be that interesting.

“Hey,” he calls, disrupting your focus.

You whirl around, ponytail whipping about with the movement of your head. “Huh?”

“I’m ready,” he says, holding up the menu.

“Oh,” you reach into the pocket of your apron and pull out a notepad before plucking the pen from your hair. “What’ll it be?”

He multitasks, reciting his order and watching you at the same time. You seem to be avoiding looking at him, even when you ask him to clarify what bread he wants for his toast. Your eyes briefly dart up from your notepad to his face when you repeat his order.

When he hums in affirmation that you got his order correct, your movements seem to buffer. 

Got her, he thinks. 

You rip the sheet from the pad and hand it to the cook.

“Man, Monte Cristo crepes? At this time of night?”  the man whines.

Ransom gives an apathetic shrug.

“Well, alright then. You better tip our little miss here well so that she can split it with me.”

Ransom watches as you press your palm into your forehead, probably cringing at the idea of him tipping you after he paid you $50,000. 

You turn back to the espresso machine and grab the mug, carefully carrying it to him.

“Whipped cream?” you offer, taking out the silver canister from the fridge underneath the counter. 

“No,” he shakes his head, “I’d prefer having that in the bedroom.” 

You seem to huff a laugh at that and you put the canister back where it belongs. 

He takes a sip, then his face scrunches. 

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Is this imported?” 

It appears you can’t help the bewildered smile that comes across your face. “Um, I don’t know where it’s from, but I don’t think it’s imported.”

“Oh.” He gives an experimental sip, holding the liquid in his mouth before he swallows.

“Is it okay?” you ask.

So you’re a people pleaser… or you’re just a waitress trying to make sure your customer’s satisfied.

“Yeah, it’s acceptable.”

“Oh, good,” you smile, relieved. 

He only nods and turns his attention to the rest of the diner. It really is only the three of you there. Again, the idea of this situation being like a bad porno crosses Ransom’s mind. 

When he looks at you again, you’re cleaning the coffee machine.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Cleaning the coffee machine.”

“No, what are you doing here?”

You turn to look at him. “I’m working…?”

“Well, I can see that, but I gave you fifty grand.” 

Your head whips to look over at the cook. Ransom’s eyes follow, seeing he’s occupied at the stove. He didn’t appear to hear anything. “Fifty grand’s not nothing. Did they not send you the payment?”

“You know, I could ask you what you’re doing here, too. I didn’t pin you as someone who lived in the university area,” you say, changing the subject. 

“I don’t live around here.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Your eyes narrow. He can see you’re strategizing. 

“If I answer your questions, will you answer mine?”

“Sure,” Ransom relaxes as much as he can, though he has to be honest, the stool doesn’t give him that much lounging real estate. 

“They sent me the payment.”

“So, why are you working?”

“I go to school across the street. The money you gave me is enough to pay for the tuition costs not covered by financial aid. But I need to pay for books and rent and groceries. And it’ll be four more semesters until I finish my degree, so I’ll need a little more than what you gave me to keep my head above water.”

So that’s why you thanked him. He helped pay for your education. 

He nods, sipping his chocolate. As a plot forms in his head, he has to admit, for some cheap, unimported trash, it’s growing on him. Said plot would involve him getting what he wants from you and you no longer needing to work in this dump. He goes to open his mouth and you turn with a smile of your own. 

“You said if I answer your questions, then you’d answer mine.” 

“And if I don’t answer your question?” he challenges. 

You smile. “Then this conversation is over.”

You raise your eyebrows expectantly at him and he shakes his head, giving a half-shrug. 

“Just here to grab some Monte Cristo crepes and kill a craving,” he lies. Maybe the craving part is true, though. 

You hum in acknowledgement, though he’s not sure you fully accept his answer. Taking the towels you used to clean the coffee machine, you disappear into the back. When you return, you’re holding a notebook. 

“How long have you been working here?” 

“Why do you care?”

“Just trying to make conversation,” he feigns innocence.

“You don’t strike me as the kind of man who does that.”

Ah, so suddenly you have the ability to get a read on people? What other things does he not know about you? Your encounter at the hotel made him think you were some naive young woman who was sheltered all her life. In the fifteen minutes he’s been here, you’re showing him you’re anything but.

What else is there to discover about you? he wonders.

“I’m just asking because I might be able to help you. Financially.”

“Ransom, I have nothing else left to offer,” you say. 

So you think.

“And your payment was more than generous.”

The cook calls to you and places a plate on the kitchen window sill. You grab it and set Ransom’s order in front of him.

“Anything else I can get you?”

“Nothing...for now,” he remarks suggestively. 

You nod once and open your notebook. As Ransom revels in the cheesy goodness of the crepes in front of him, he watches you quickly jot down things onto the paper and listens to you mutter to yourself. 

As he scarfs down all the greasy morsels and chases each bite with hot chocolate, he considers badgering you more. But seeing how stressed you look, he decides to back off. 

If you were his mother, on the other hand…

When he’s done, he snaps his fingers at you. You look unamused at the gesture but clear his plate anyway. You bring it back to the kitchen. He hears some chatter and the sink running before you return and stand at the register. He’s again treated to a view of your ass as you shift from one foot to another while processing the transaction. 

“I’m taking fifteen,” the cook calls to you.

“Alright,” you shout back, tearing away his receipt and Ransom’s ready with a couple bills. 

“Just keep the change,” he winks at you. “Well, maybe give some of it to your grumpy cook.”

He likes the way you laugh at his comment. 

“Thanks,” you smile at him again. “See you...whenever, I guess.”

“Actually,” he begins, “about that help I can give you…”

You sigh. “I already told you, there’s nothing else I can offer you. You,” he watches as you pause and laugh humorlessly,” You paid for my virginity and you got it. Unless you have a kid who needs help with reading or writing, I don’t think--”

“I’m not paying you to tutor anyone.” Ransom bites the inside of his cheek as he smiles at himself. 

Maybe you can help Walt with some comprehension issues.

“I was thinking...you and I can come to some sort of arrangement.”

“‘Arrangement’?” You lean against the counter with the espresso machine, arms folded across your chest as you face him. 

“Yeah. You live with me, I cover whatever other living costs you need. And you,” he says, one corner of his mouth curls up wickedly as he leans his arms on the counter in an attempt to get closer to you, “You keep me entertained.”

The way your eyes widen slightly at the word “entertained” tells him you know exactly what he means. 

“I don’t think so,” you scoff, shaking your head and walking to retrieve your notebook.

Well, that wasn’t the answer he was expecting. 

“Excuse me?” he asks, appalled. His eyes follow your figure walking to the other side of the counter. 

“I don’t think so,” you repeat plainly.

What even is this? He’s never been rejected by a woman before. They fell at his feet all the time. There were some that played hard to get, but they always came crawling to him in the end. 

He has to admit, though, he does like this side of you. 

“Why not?” he presses.

You look around as if to check if anyone’s around to hear you. “I didn’t even orgasm, Ransom,” you laugh. “I’d rather rough it and have a job here instead of entering an arrangement where I’m not going to get something out of it.”

“You’re getting something out of it,” Ransom says, standing up to follow you across the counter. “I told you, I’ll cover your living costs.”

“I mean something pleasurable, you doofus.”

You turn to go into the kitchen. 

Normally, Ransom isn’t a man who begs. But he always gets what he wants. And hell, he wants you and all the memories you bring back to him. He wants to uncover you layer by layer until he reaches your very core and knows you inside and out.

God, what is this mushy stuff he’s thinking right now?

“Whoa, whoa, wait, wait, wait,” he says. “You didn’t…? And because of that you don’t wanna do this?”

“No.”

“Listen, I can make you cum,” he states firmly, index finger pressing into the countertop as if to make his point.

“You don’t need to get so worked up over this, Ransom,” he scowls when you laugh at him, “You’re a handsome guy. I’m sure there’s plenty of other girls who will gladly take you up on your offer.”

Somehow, you calling him handsome doesn’t stroke his ego. Rather, it feels insulting. This is you letting him down easy. 

Fuck no.

“I don’t want the other girls.”

“Is that to suggest you want me?” you inquire. 

“The arrangement isn’t going to benefit just me in bed,” he changes the subject. 

“Oh, it wouldn’t?” you say, unimpressed again. 

His smirk mirrors yours. 

If it’s a game you want to play, game on.

“How about a deal?” 

Your eyes narrow. “What kind of deal?”

He rests his forearms on the counter this time. “I make you cum, you enter this arrangement with me. If not, you never have to see me again.”

He can see the gears turning in your head.

“Three,” you say.

“Sorry, what?” he shakes his head, confused.

“I wanna cum three times,” you tell him. 

He chuckles to himself. He likes that you’re not afraid to say what you want. Besides, another night with you would mean he gets his $50,000 worth. 

“Easy.”

“Well, then, Ransom, you got yourself a deal.” You offer your hand for him to shake.

Taking your hand, he yanks you towards him so you’re right up against the counter. He leans forward, your faces less than an inch apart. That glint of nervousness flashes in your eyes again and again, he chuckles.

“No. I got you.”

Permatag: @caffiend-queen @fckdeusername @lou-la-lou @bangtan-serendipity

Chris tag: @onetwo3000 @patzammit

Ransom tag: @jeremyrennermakesmesmile

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Additionally, if I forgot to tag you, please gently remind me via my ask box.

[stanknotstark]

Astral Pt. 7 (Loki x Reader)

Ok so i lied Loki doesn’t come back yet, NEXT CHAPTER i promise XD I didn’t realize there was more I needed to write out, strengthening the relationship with the Avengers and such. We’re finally at the part where they reunite though AHH :) (i don’t think you guys understand I’m writing this and I’m getting just as excited as you all at Loki’s return!!! It’s taking everything in me to not post the next part already XD)

It’s two years later, you’re 21, when you’re offered a spot on the Avengers. You accept right away only too sad you weren’t asked before the Chitauri invasion considering if you had been on the team you would have seen Loki in person. 

You had been working over time on one of the command computers trying to run diagnostic on what was and wasn’t working in the system, what had been compromised when a brainwashed Clint had attacked. You had watched the CCTV cameras picking up on just who was attacking Earth. Of course with you having to work over time you didn’t get to visit the God in his temporary cell when he had been aboard the helicarrier. (The sight and knowledge of him being so close to you stole your breath and made your stomach flutter though) However, you thought on this and decided it was for the best you hadn’t seen him, considering he had been delirious for power and subjugation of the human race. You couldn’t help but doubt the invasion was all Loki because this didn’t seem like the Loki you knew. Loki was caring and that one time he even said you may have changed his mind on humans, even if it was ‘meagerly’. 

Something in your gut told you he wasn’t of his own mind too but no one would listen to you. You had your proof though, his bright blue eyes told you. The Loki you had first met had lovely, hypnotizing green eyes. You regarded your proof as 100% foolproof when you got a close up of Clint and Dr. Selvig who also had bright blue eyes. You couldn’t outright tell Fury though because then you would have to explain where you knew the God from and, in turn, then explain where you got your magic from. Luckily Fury had been willing to let slide where you got your powers from when they brought you in on your 18th birthday. He had skirted around the question and when you didn’t give up anything he just outright asked you. You told him you’d prefer if you could keep this one secret, he could have anything else he wanted from you but that. Fury reluctantly yielded to your one demand and let it drop. 

So, you may have slipped past Fury, making sure to touch him, on his way to speak to the Avengers after the invasion and planted a thought you knew would flourish in his mind. The thought that maybe Loki had been brainwashed too and flourish it did. Fury had told Thor that he would talk to the World Security Council about Loki. Fury then came to you and asked you to gather all possible evidence that Loki had been brainwashed then Thor would look over the information and videos to either confirm or deny if it was something he thought his brother would, or wouldn’t, do. 

With you working missions with both Natasha and Clint you made a name for yourself, you were finally noticed by people. No one had given you a super hero name just yet but you vowed, in due time, you’d give them a reason to. Working with both Nat and Clint however did get you a seat on the Avengers. Natasha had written that you were dependable, adept, and a good team player. Clint had written that you adapted to situations with ease, stayed calm under pressure, and would trust his life in your hands. 

So, you walked into your new room in Stark tower that Tony had all to happily given to you. You had an entire floor to yourself. You couldn’t even begin to fathom how much money Tony had in his bank account right now if this didn’t leave a dent in his pocket. You sighed and fell face first into your new bed, forgetting your two duffle bags at the door. You groaned in delight as you rolled on the bed. 

A knock at your door had you snapping upright in embarrassment. You caught the smirk on Natasha’s lips before she glanced to her right and you saw Captain America, the Steve Rogers, standing in your doorway almost timidly. You smiled and made your way to them, holding a hand out to shake the Captain’s hand. 

“Rogers, y/n, y/n, Rogers.” Natasha said. 

You smiled shyly and then nodded behind them. “You both want to go to the living room, probably be more comfortable than here.” 

“From the sounds you made, I think your bed is quite comfy but sure.” Natasha said making you flush again. 

When all three of you settled in the living room you asked Steve the questions you had been dying to ask since he had awoken from his cryostasis. 

“What’s a new food you like that wasn’t around back then?” You asked, relaxing your body into the couch and setting an arm on the top of the couch while the other hung loose on your lap. Natasha and Steve sat on a couch adjacent to you. 

Steve pursed his lips and looked around the room in thought before you looked back at you and smiled. “Not a food per se but I didn’t realize there were so many ways to make coffee.” 

You raised your brows and looked at Natasha with jealousy, “You took him to Starbucks and left me out?” Natasha gave you a smile like a cat that caught their mouse. Steve chuckled. 

“It wasn’t anything too exciting you missed out on.” Steve said, smiling softly. 

“Oh I don’t know, Steve, Your face got pretty red when the barista asked you what you wanted and you couldn’t give her an answer for 5 minutes.” Natasha said, bringing her legs up under her on the couch across from you. Steve sputtered. “You didn’t tell me there would be over 20 choices when I’ve only known of black coffee with sugar!” 

You laughed with Natasha at an embarrassed Steve. 

“So?” You asked Steve who looked at you confused, “What did you order and did you like it?” 

Steve shook his head, smiling. “I ordered a white chocolate mocha frappuccino and it was amazing!” 

“Steve has a major sweet tooth.” Natasha quipped. Steve knocked his knee into Natasha’s. Hmmm not an unwelcome development you smelled but kept your queries about their relationship to yourself.  

“Has anyone shown you the internet yet?” You asked Steve.

“I know what Google is but that’s about it, haven’t really had the time to explore it more.”

As Steve said this an evil smirk grew on your lips, Natasha rolled her eyes at you but was smiling, Steve looked at you innocently. 

Things were great for a few weeks, the world was moving past the alien invasion and rebuilding New York City. Any time the Avengers stepped out of the tower they were bombarded with questions. Questions about the invasion, questions on if there would be more attacks, questions about how come they could parade about with no legal repercussions. The last question made you sit on edge but no one on the team answered it so you let it die out. 

Your days consisted of talking with the team (Bonding, as Steve liked to put it), embarrassing Steve, knocking Tony a few pegs down with your refined sarcasm, laughing with Clint and Natasha as you talked about old, botched missions. Even sparring together in an interactive training room Tony had made specific to each Avenger if you went in solo, and more general if you all trained as a team. The coolest thing about it was that the A.I. Tony imbedded in it would adapt to you so things never became too easy to handle.

Then Thor came back.

 Without Loki, of course. 

Thor took to you like icing to cake. You spent the first few days finding each other’s boundaries in humor and physicality but once you both got comfortable you were inseparable. He was like a brother you wished you had. Then the week passed and he asked the question he had been sent to ask. 

“Would it be alright if my brother, Loki, resided here until his banishment is revoked?”    

You held your breath as the room tunneled and all you could see was Thor. Loki would be coming here. He would be within touching distance. What would you both say to each other? Would he even grace you with a look, let alone a conversation? 

“Y/n?” Tony asked you, snapping you back to what was going on now, everyone had answered. Considering they knew Loki was brainwashed they all said yes, even Clint although his yes was a little strained.

“Yes.” You breathed out. Swallowing the lump in your throat at Thor’s smile. 

“You will love my brother, y/n, he has just your kind of humor, perhaps he could further your training on magic!” 

You forced out a laugh and smile.

“I bet he can, Big Guy.” 

Pt. 6/Pt. 7/?

Tag list: @justfangirlthingies @emelieh99 @high-functioning-lokipath​